Reflections On My First Voyage Abroad

Until this month, I had never left the country. Not even to go to Canada or Mexico. I'd never even been on a trip for more than a week. So for some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to change all this and ship off to Russia for a month. It was one of the best decisions I've ever made. I saw Russia's two biggest cities, visited four art galleries, marveled at eight churches (and a monastery), saw twenty-one plays, road the metro forty times, and ate, this is a conservative estimate, one hundred and twenty Russian pancakes. It was a busy, busy trip. 

I ended up getting a lot more than I bargained for. I really couldn't have anticipated what it means to be with a different culture, or what it's like to not be surrounded by my native language. These experiences ranged from amazing (discovering the Russian passion for culture, be it literature or theater), to charming (discovering how kind most people were, and having fun conversations in my broken Russian), to frustrating (constant difficulty and embarrassment while ordering at restaurants), to terrifying (being taken aside by security at the theater and asked questions/given instructions I couldn't understand). I'd foolishly thought that culture shock wouldn't be so bad, but by the second week of the trip my language skills were shot, my energy was gone, and my frustration with the country had peaked. Thankfully the frustration waned, and writing this from the US all I can think about is how I can't wait to go back to Moscow some day.