Monday, Sept. 14I think I’ve found my match and living in Russia is definitely going to give me a run for my money. As soon as the cabin door shut in JFK, I knew there was no turning back. I realized that this was going to be one of the biggest challenges I put myself in. Ask my parents because it was the most tearful departure since Nursery School. On the other side of the security checkpoint, I pulled myself together. I grew a pair (of balls, mom), put on bright pink lip gloss, and held my head higher than the sky. Then Lankika called to say goodbye, and I cried some more. Pathetic, I know--but I was scared!!!!
Look, we are all curious as to how this will play out. I am an American-born Thai woman (who is often mistaken for being Central American, Peruvian, Malaysian, Filipina, even half-black) living in Samara, Russia. What brought me here is a mix of: (1) let’s-leave-the-motherland gene I inherited from my maternal side and (2) I was the runner-up (i.e. 2nd place, i.e. loser) for a competitive fellowship that would have put me in Manila.
When we landed in London, people clapped (I bet they were Russian). When we landed in Moscow, the whole plane clapped. Domodedovo Airport in Russia was crazy (think: Old Bangkok airport chaos). No one spoke English. The lines through immigration looked like a mosh pit of Russians. Who did I find? An Argentine businesswoman. HAH! Actually, it was comforting to find some form of familiarity in such an unfamiliar place. Thank you, Gabriela.
I am armed with only one college semester of Russian training. Luckily, I perfected universal sign language when I lost my voice a few weeks ago. Hooray for me. Actually, I can read and speak enough to get by, but with great difficulty of course.
Friends, I packed more than 40 kgs/100 lbs of my life. I did not overpack, but I definitely brought more than basic necessities. When I arrived at the little airport in Samara, I realized how stupid that was. I couldn’t have been more embarrassed when I collected my checked bags. Being the first American hosted by this organization, my image projected, “I’m from America. We like things big. I have a lot of things with me because I can’t live simply like you all.” Please note that from America, we are allotted 2 free bags up to 20 kg each whereas European travelers are only allowed to check 1 piece. So I blame British Airways for letting me make a fool of myself.
I live in the old part of Samara, right along the Volga River. This city is bigger than I expected it to be, but it’s not as dense as cities we are used to. I live in a REALLY TINY flat with 5 others, all volunteers from throughout Europe. It’s furnished by Ikea basics.
Fortunately, everybody is friendly so far. We mostly speak English in here, some know Russian, some don’t. This is an MTV Real World set-up, but with Europeans + 1 American in a tiny, not-hooked up crib. This is a really bad situation. They recently moved everyone into this tiny flat that wasn’t even meant to be lived in. There is no kitchen, but there are kitchen appliances. There is a washroom (sink and toilet), and a separate room with a shower that looks like a time-machine. There will be a meeting to sort this out though. It seems like we are all flexible and can handle any situation, but it may cause neurosis in the long-term.
My first night was atrocious. I am usually able to sleep through ANYTHING, but like I said, I met my match it Russia. It woke up in menopausal-like hot flashes throughout the night, tossed and turned constantly, and was eaten up by ONE mosquito.
I am happy.
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