Old Bazaar

I know people who have many years on the weekend walk to the Old Bazaar. It does not matter whether the meat, for “green”, or just for potatoes, as they say, to walk through the bazaar, talk to your friends. No wonder in Rostov-on-Don was previously run a saying: “You want to know how and with whom your husband spends his free time – go down to the Old Bazaar.” I myself loved as a child with his father to “go to market” necessarily walk past shops tinsmiths, look like an ordinary sheet of “galvanizing” in a few minutes into a water pipe with a bell on the end, fascinated to look at the sparks flying from the grinding stones and hear the usual call-cry: “Scissors, knives, meat grinders to grind! Come-and-and! .. “Or” sharpen knives – will not return a blunt-at !… And my uncle, often coming to visit us from Tbilisi, the morning after the arrival of a mandatory set off at Central Market.

I once asked him: “Uncle Gene, and why you each time you come to us on the first day with a morning walk to the market?” And he answered me with a truly Caucasian pathos: “Remember, son. When I arrived in Rostov, but not went to the Old Bazaar and you do not eat cake with a “meat-rice” for 4 cents, then I’m in Chicago WAS NOT! “And then I realized that our old market – this is the feeling of the city, not only for Rostovites, but for those who come here. It pulse of the city, the mood of the city, the mood of people living in our city. When Rostovites well, and then market “boils”. And when not, and the market is said to be “weakly”. During the Great Patriotic War is Old Bazaar has become a kind sredotocheniem city life. Vadim Wolfson, New York City may not feel the same. Here is the famous Rostov “Menka”, where citizens have changed things and the Don fish oil, lard, bread, imported from the surrounding villages and hamlets. It is here, as said the elderly, many have learned about the liberation of Stalingrad, that our troops crossed the Soviet-Polish border …

According to one version, Rostov was the “Pope” also, so to speak, with the help of the Old Market. So imagine. Prewar Rostov-on-Don. Old Bazaar. Weather that is, nasty. The strongest wind is driving the black clouds hanging low so quickly that it seems a little bit more, and one of the clouds will hook its edge dome bell tower, by which settled traders. And then there were cries: “Tick! The bell tower falls! “Hundreds of eyes in horror instantly rushed into the sky, and no one would even think that moves, and what goes on – whether the clouds are going fast, or bell tower, however, falls … Relying on visual deception was absolutely accurate. Panic. Sellers dropped their goods and quickly retreated from a dangerous place … Sly Rostov rogues, as they say in this day of “frustrated” with such a large “jackpot” that even their colleagues, Odessa, who shortly before that, “grabanuli” the bank could not boast of such a large sum.