I started the day at 4am in a small house in Kenner, Louisiana, and by 7pm I was aboard a plane to Moscow, Russia. I left at dusk in New York, and after seven hours of chasing the sun, I was watching the sunrise over the Norwegian tundra. Thousands of feet below me, I could see nothing but a vast ice land, and the pink shades of the morning were streaked across its snowy canvas. I have never seen scenery more beautiful; it was a painting made possible only by the hand of God. After the calming effect of the view wore off, I became nauseous, nervous, and excited as reality hit…I am actually about to live in Russia for four months…I am not in Louisiana anymore (if i had a dog name Toto with me, I would have told him so).
First thing I noticed: how tall and beautiful most of the Russian women are, with facial expressions that appear to show interest in nothing. They seemed to have perfected the art of being coy yet confident, and it somehow added to their beauty. Me, I don’t know how to not be interested in everything, and so I knew I stuck out like a sore thumb. Shrieking and exclaiming, “I cant believe I'm in Russia! Look at all the snow!” probably didn’t add much to my attempt at blending in either.
What I am finding, though, is that even if they seem cold outwardly, Russian people are very warm and friendly on the inside. When we got to the hostel, we were immediately greeted and taken care of by the Russian students here. We have spent all of our time so far with our Russian friends, and have had a ton of crash course vocabulary lessons. We point and say it in English and they repeat in Russian…and then again in Russian…and then yet again. Today i wrote the alphabet out over and over on the chalk board. (а б в г д...) They giggle at the way I say things but I don’t mind, and I usually laugh along with them. They laugh at how many times I repeat things and how I get frustrated trying to say it with their deep accent. “are you saying a “p” or a “t” sound?” I ask them. If only please and thank you could get you through life, then I would be set. Oh, and I can say “nose” and “goodnight”. (not sure what good those words will do me). Needless to say, learning the language is going to be a challenge. My roommate is from france, so I am also surrounded by and trying to learn some French. For some reason, the little Spanish that I know frequently comes out. I guess I subconsciously group all other languages together as just “foreign”, and my survival instincts tell me to just speak something not English! Perhaps, I’m just crazy. Who knows what language I will end up speaking. Spengrussench? Probably.
The hostel is very basic and homy, and im very comfortable there. At night you can hear the wind ripping through the tops of the buildings, and am grateful for my bedside heater fighting for me. I think, though, that I am managing moderately with the cold, and it really isn’t terrible so far. I’m not suggesting wearing flip flops or anything, but a pair of long johns, jeans, a sweater, jacket, hat, scarf, boots, and gloves should suffice :). There is snow on every surface, and the pathways look like something out of a winter wonderland. Snow covered trees line the roads and it transforms the big industrious city into a quaint and cozy town. Even a big statue of Lenin was covered in snow. I must say, the man is much less intimidating with a snow hat and shawl on.
I know God has led me here, and I know he is good. I cant wait for what tomorrow will bring. Praying for home, always.
with love.
some pictures of the hostel:
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