Nazi?

Over the last few weeks, I've been getting a little braver about trying out my Russian on people. You would think that, living in Russian, I wouldn't really have any option but practice. And it is true that I get plenty of practice saying "200 grams of that salad, please," "yes, a small bag," and "May I have a crepe filled with all sorts of Russian food like mashed potatoes, sour cream, and pickles" (easier to say in Russian, actually), but other than that it is actually really easy to avoid situations where more would be required.
A couple of weeks ago, I ran into one of those unavoidable situations, though. Everyday it seemed my apartment was just a little darker, and it wasn't all to blame on the quickly-shortening days. No, my lightbulbs were all burning out, one by one, and I had no idea really where to get new ones. My roommate always bought them last year. Of course, I should have looked up how to say "lightbulb" in my dictionary, but I never thought about it at the right time. So, with nothing but the idea that they might be in the supermarket, I went looking. No luck. I decided to go to a little grocery store where I'd be able to actually look at every shelf closely. Still, no luck. But there I found a nice woman willing to listen to me fumble with the Russian I did know to ask about this item. Basically, I said: "I need something, but I don't know how to call it in Russian. I have a lamp, but no light. I need this." and then motioned with my hands screwing in a bulb. She somehow understood me, told me the name of the item, and sent me to a store that actually sold them. I was elated, mostly because I was able to understand her entire answer.
That adventure gave me the courage to try more. Last Thursday, I decided to try to buy some peppers and tomatoes from this woman selling them from the back of a truck in a lot near my apartment. I wasn't really sure of the protocol for how to do this. I could see lots of vegetables and a scale, so I knew it would be by weight. I was nervous it was a bring your own bag occasion, but I decided to try and hope that they'd at least be willing to sell me a bag as I always forget to carry one.
I managed to bobble through figuring out the process and was then the proud owner of some incredibly cheap sweet peppers (the good tomatoes for the day had already been taken). Amused by my accent, the lady selling the produce asked me if I was German. In my defense, I'd like to point out that this woman was from the Caucasus and had a funny accent, but I didn't understand the questions. I asked her to repeat herself, and she just said "Nazi?" Horrified, I said "no, no, no (no's come in threes here) I'm from the USA." She and I chatted some more, with her accusing me of being a bad student of Russian. I explained that actually I taught English. I didn't catch everything she was saying, but pretty soon she was inviting me to that most traditional of Russian pasttimes, walking and sitting in parks and drinking beer. I didn't really know what to do, so I started pretending to understand less and changing the subject back to tomatoes. In the end, she put her cell phone in my hands so that I could type in my number and she could invite me later. It was important, you see, because she was a poet, as she proved by reciting poetry at me. I quickly typed a number that closely resembled mine, but differed on a few digits. The trick will be when I want more peppers...