Today, in search of peanut butter and tofu, I walked half a mile down Novoslobodskaya to Азбука Вкусна ("Tasty Alphabet") an upscale grocery store on the inner ring road. Everything's imported and has a little flag next to it of the country where it's from.

I weaved my way among the cutely-uniformed salesgirls and powersuited midday clientele and found a tiny little jar something Jiffyish for $7 and a half-sized package of tofu for $9. I scoffed at the tofu and stared longingly at the peanut butter for a few minutes, thought about buying a $2 cucumber (I ended up going to the market instead and paying 50 cents for 3), and left emptyhanded.

The media keeps reporting that Moscow's the most expensive city in the world, which is funny because the average salary is $1000 per month (what I make now--Giant Midwestern Underground Fungus gave me a raise--plus I don't pay rent). Being a familyless, carless, healthy person, I can easily put away half of it and not feel like I'm scrimping.

If $1000 is average, that means that for every one of my students who occasionally steps out of class to tear one of his employees a new one on his fancy Nokia, there are dozens of people who make approximately nothing. The markets largely make it possible for people to get by (a loaf of bread costs a quarter), but that could be changing. Immigrants from the former republics run the markets (Salim the fruit and nut man, who I was buds with until he got pervy, is from Kazakhstan, and the woman who runs my favorite veggie-stand is from Azarbaijan), but they're getting forced out as the government cracks down on illegal immigration. Eventually the chain groceries might be the only option.