Moscow is not a big place.
There she is, in all her patchwork glory.
Today, I got off work early, and needed to go to the Post Office to mail off the Giveaway package. It was so lovely out that I decided to open up every window in the house (except for the one in the living room, which is stuck shut and only Paul can open.) The post office is very close to our apartment, a walk that should have taken only 4-5 minutes, however, living in a small town, that walk took 15 minutes. Why, you ask? Because only nearly every block I ran into someone that I knew, and had a good chat. There is something nice about running into people you know, pretty much everywhere you go. It’s a great way to keep up fellowship with fellow church members.
After I left the post office, I didn’t want to go home to an empty house, so I decided to take a walk. Street musicians greeted me downtown, the sun shining brightly through the branches of the trees. I stopped and got some coffee, settled down to read my book in Friendship Square, (The Zoo Keeper’s Wife, very good. An incredible true story from the Holocaust.) but never got more than a a few pages through my book without someone stopping to say hello.
The Saturday Farmer’s market is the highlight of Moscow’s small downtown district, with fresh produce, art, craft vendors, lots of food, live musicians and crowds of people to watch. Moscow also provides some amazing people watching. We have a lot of… for lack of a better term, hippies. The dread-locked, hemp clothed, “Don’t Pave Paradise” bumper stickered people. Those, co-mingled with the sorority girls and frat boys, makes for an interesting combination of people, coexisting in a small town.
I wasn’t sure that I’d like living in such a small town, but now I realize that it’s this kind of small community that I thrive on, and it may be a harder adjustment moving to a bigger city when that time comes. You should all come visit me out here and see how pleasant living in a small town can be. (That means you, Hilary!)