Radka Rubilina: New Year’s Troubles, Armenia 2013/14

30/03/2014 21:26

Oh, this inattentiveness of mine!

With my head always somewhere in high transcendent spheres, no wonder things were happening the way they were. I get groceries, go back home, take a look at my bag, and…all apples I fully and dully paid for are missing.  I am thinking, “Are the local salesmen turning in to thieves before the New Year?” and then putting back on my winter cap, warm mittens, tights, and snow boots and heading out to the ‘minus fifteen’ freezing air again. I was walking slowly toward the fruit store on the frozen street, however, as I was placing my foot on the first step of the store I could already notice a widely smiling salesman.  “Hamedže, džan,” he started and even though I did not understand him a word I did notice that he is handing me two bags with my apples. I silently apologized to him. 

However, today at work - and what a damn coincidence - I had found out that yesterday, as I was buying salami and wine for a New Year celebration, my purchased salami must have gotten lost somewhere! Being a day late, though again with my winter cap, mittens, and boots, I am on my way back to the store. “Oh, here you are! Yesterday, you left two sticks of salami here; I will bring them to you in a minute,” a smiling saleslady made her kind effort before I could even ask my coy question.

And then, a third situation: I am in a rush; I need to buy a little fancy purse for dinner events. At the store, I had already placed an order. But, as I am in this great rush, I am simply giving the saleslady my money and off I am with a driver. All of a sudden there is a phone call: Radka, džan, you paid me about two thousands more; you know, I really would not like to rob you of your money.

Summarized in three words: Armenians move me.

Nevertheless, the main point of all these mishaps is about to emerge. “What are you eating?” my husband is asking me. “Seeds, grains; they sell these in bags here. It is very tasty, just a perfect little snack.” 

My husband dumped some of the seeds on the table and examined them with a strict look for a minute. “It ought to be cannabis….,” he said.  “Please, you just see cannabis everywhere! They would not sell cannabis in a supermarket, no?” Now my friends, you must know – in case of any ideological dispute in our family, we literally must resolve it. So, we both put on our winter caps, warm mittens, and boots and are heading toward the market. We approached a salesman standing next to his big bags with seeds and Zenja pointed at one of them: “What are these seeds?” “Cannabis, of course, džan!” answered the wildly smiling salesman.    

Now, is anyone still surprised that I am constantly forgetting something somewhere???