Have you seen the trailer for Andrey Zvyagintsev’s new film “Leviathan”? It looks incredible!
The film is about “someone who had a direct clash with power” in rural contemporary Russia. I love Zvyagintsev’s gorgeous cinematography, and his thought-provoking plots. An interview I had with him a few years ago remains one of the most enjoyable interviews I’ve done in Russia – he seemed such a creative, curious, artistic, and thoughtful person.
Calvert Journal has a very nice review of this film. This quote about Moscow stood out to me:
“People say Moscow is made of rubber, it stretches…Many people try to go there as it gives you a chance to survive, it’s a very rich city. Unfortunately the country is built in such a way that the centre attracts the peripheries, not the other way around. Moscow is like a separate state and that’s a cause of envy in provincial towns. The country’s gigantic — it’s impossible to follow everything and keep it under control.” -Zvyagintsev
“My time in Moscow…made a man of me…made me an artist…there was a reality and a brutality of life that I think was very important, as a young American, for me to see.”
- Jon Bernthal
Great quote (via this article) from “Fury” star Jon Bernthal who learned to act in Moscow. I can relate to his gratefulness towards Russia. I look back at who I was before I moved to Moscow and who I am now – at first I didn’t like the person I felt Moscow was turning me into. Now I’m thankful for the person I’ve become, and barely even recognize the girl who flew into Sheremetyevo airport with two suitcases and big dreams seven years ago. I wonder what sort of person moving back to the Midwest will make me?
What about you, friends? How have you been shaped by the brutality or softness of where you are currently living? Are you who you want to be? Are you surprised at the type of person life has made you into? Are you grateful? Not yet?
All for now. Lovely Moscow metro photos, no? They’re by Israeli photographer Tomer Ifrah who wanted to explore the metro as “a place of social contact and as a cinematic backdrop for everyday interactions.” You can see more of his work here.
Moscow now is a distant place I see through Instagram posts, and newspaper headlines. It’s stills of red October sunsets on stone buildings, and walls of traffic. It’s depressing stories about the falling ruble, repressive new laws, and spats with the West. It’s Facebook pictures of friends picnicking in city courtyards, launching projects, debuting at theaters, going to yoga classes, traveling to Ukraine, and Paris; working, growing, moving on.
I miss living in a world capital, and feeling the buzz of traffic, people, politics, and the entire world moving by outside my window. I miss the opportunities, the art; I miss being in the thick of things; I miss brushing up against the lives of my friends – their work, their art, their drama.
I’ve been in the U.S. for several months now, and still feel like I’m in a holding pattern. I’m waiting to find a job. My suitcases are still packed, waiting for a renovation to finish before I can put my things away, and settle in. It feels like I’ve been in transition; waiting, waiting, waiting forever.
It’s not that I want to go back to Russia, but it’s hard to be in a holding pattern for so long. One life has disappeared, and I seem to be unable to pick up my new life. So much of my daily existence has disappeared that I feel disoriented. With so much of my new existence on hold, I feel swallowed up other people’s lives, routines, identities, homes.
I wouldn’t exactly call it writer’s block, but it’s hard to carve out time to blog when I can’t even carve out a spot to put my computer down.
Yesterday, a new acquaintance encouraged me to give myself a little grace. When you go through huge life upheavals, it’s completely normal to be thrown off balance. If I’m stressed out, or emotional, or not getting as much done as I’d like to, there’s a pretty good reason for it.
So that’s where I am this October: waiting, waiting, waiting, and a bit frustrated to still be waiting. I miss parts of my old life, but I’m thankful to be here, and excited for what our new life will turn out to be here.
Thanks for hanging in there with me, friends. I’m not exactly sure how Breakfast In Moscow is going to change over the next couple months, but I’m excited to see what will happen as I transition, and move out of this holding pattern.
Until then, a few links to brighten your October day (whether it’s a gray one in Moscow, or an on-fire one in Minnesota):
True story: after my first stint living in Russia I went to visit my cousin out of the country for a week. She and her roommates had a huge stockpile of plastic shopping bags in their kitchen, and I actually asked if I could have some of them to take back with me. After just a few months I’d sunk deep into the Russian plastic bag obsession.
Moscow has been HOT the last few weeks. Friends keep posting videos of midnight IKEA excursions to take advantage of the air conditioning and then, of course, this happened in St. Petersburg.
Also, obviously, things are heating up politically. Economist husband went to a McDonald’s over the weekend and found it had been vandalized. And Russia banned imported food in retaliation for Western sanctions. Who expected that? Russia is changing quickly, and I don’t like the direction it’s going. More and more of our friends are thinking about leaving. Of course I’m still in the honeymoon phase of transition to a new place, but being here in the U.S. makes me so sad for Russia – all the missed opportunities, squandered hopes, and pointless frustration that happen when you live in a country or a city with leaders more interested in stealing, hiding, and controlling than upholding the law and working to better the lives of their countrymen.
Alas! I stray dangerously close to the proverbial soapbox, so let’s talk about what a great month August is, and all the wonderful things going on in the world:
“Putin speaks more and more in terms of Russian vastness, Russian exceptionalism, of Russia as a moral paradigm” -David Remnick
“He (Putin) really does kind of superimpose the way his system works onto the way he thinks our system works. He grossly exaggerates the role of the C.I.A. in the making of our foreign policy. He just doesn’t get it.’” -David Remnick quoting former U.S. ambassador to Russia Michael McFaul
“Commercialism had obliterated the European culture he (Dugin) loved and reduced its citizens to a state of profound “loneliness.” As for the Americans, he found them “honest and clear and pragmatic and very free, and they are not so corrupt or hypocritical or decadent as Europe—but they are absolutely wrong at the same time in the metaphysical sense. They have a cult of real evil there. What they have taken for the most important value—individuality—is absolutely wrong. . . . I think American society is simply insane.” -David Remnick quoting Aleksandr Dugin
I’ve heard that adapting to a new culture (or re-acclimating to an old culture) goes in waves starting with a honeymoon phase, then rolling into shock, recovery, and adjustment before starting the whole cycle all over again.
We have been in the U.S. for over a month now, and I think I’m still in the honeymoon stage. I’m still basking in all the exotic, wonderful parts of my new/old home. I wonder how long it will last?
Here are a few first impressions of our new life in the suburban U.S. :
Everything here is sooooooooo easy!
Yard sales! they’re amazing
The consumerism gets to you right away, and eats away at your soul – at least it’s eating away at mine. I have to consciously step away, and tell myself “less is more!”
The choice of what you can buy and where you can buy it is overwhelming. We’ve gotten away with so very little shopping for such a long time, that it’s paralyzing to be presented with so many stores, prices, and options. It takes me ages to get through stores – I dawdle, for example, in the yogurt section trying to absorb all the different choices, and decide what to purchase, and whether or not to purchase right away or shop somewhere else (organic! grass-fed! non-fat! full-fat! Greek! pro-biotic! smooth! creamy! pasteurized! ultra-pasteurized! pineapple! vanilla! plain! pumpkin! blueberry! sugar-free! natural! soy! non-soy!) I fight between the urge to snap things up like some deprived Soviet hoarder, or just stare at the dairy section for ages.
People’s yards are amazing – i love going for walks and just looking at the way people have landscaped their spaces. Beautiful. Refreshing
I feel so much calmer here – birds tweeting, wind in the trees, clean air, happy baby. It brings so much joy to my heart to see the wildflowers on the side of the road, and the summer clouds in the sky. It’s not that there isn’t green/nature in Moscow, but it’s so much more accessible here. I’d forgotten how soothing I find it.
I love being able to drive and get around, and see family/friends
I love my church here.
because everything is easier, I have so much more time. I play cards. I go for walks. I set up long Skype dates. I clean. I play with my baby. I hang out with my sister. I pick strawberries. I go to bed at 9:30. I have actually purchased (at a yard sale! $2!) and re-finished a Thonet-style wooden rocking chair. I’ve stripped the wallpaper in my mother’s basement. It’s incredible how much you can get done here.
I’m on my computer/iPhone a lot less.
Anna seems to be sleeping a lot more peacefully and regularly. She’s also less fussy as she’s not cooped up in an apartment for most of the day
I try not to be, but I’m a little freaked out by how friendly people are in public. My knee-jerk reaction when someone starts chatting is to get away as soon as possible. I’m always really suspicious of what they’re up to. Are they trying to swindle me? Are they weird? Are they flirting? Will they hurt me? It’s crazy! It’s super uncomfortable – all my alarm bells go off. I have to actively remind myself that they’re just Minnesotan, and that’s just how they normally interact with others.
Also, I’m surprised at how I’ve turned so (white suburban) American so quickly! I wear Teva sandals and shorts. I drive a compact SUV. I even started on the Paleo diet with my sister the other week! Seriously! What’s happened to me?
In general though, things are just really, really great. One of the things I realized almost right away is how comparatively great it is to have a baby here. I’d always told myself that, as long as you were a decent parent, and didn’t live in a war zone that childhood would be great for your kids. It didn’t matter whether you lived in suburban Minnesota or Moscow - childhood is such a wonderful time that you’d have good memories no matter what. Now that I’m here though I’m really, really glad I’ll be able to raise my daughter in the U.S. I love having a yard and walking trails near our house. I love being able to have her outdoors all the time – taking her on walks, to strawberry patches, and family get-togethers, and swimming pools. It may be cliche, but this is a GREAT place to raise a family.
Honeymoon phase is in full swing!
Have you ever moved back to your home country? What was hard about it? What was great about it? Any advice for the rest of us?
Thanks so much for stopping back here. The move has been so much more time-consuming than I thought it would be! It’s been hard for me to make time to post. But I miss the blog. The introvert half of me misses the reading, reflecting, and writing lifestyle that comes so much more naturally when you live in a 1-room Moscow apartment.
I’m not sure how this blog will evolve over the next few months, but thanks for bearing with me, and for coming back to read. Your comments, emails, and hellos have been so encouraging!
Until then, here are a few thoughts for the start of your July week:
With all the buzz about Flight 17, I thought this article gave a great perspective on the current situation in Russia.
What is so great about living in Moscow you at times may wonder?
It is, in my humble opinion, those bright diamond-clear moments that are totally transcendent.
White nights strolling along the river. Coming in to hot tea, good friends, and a warm apartment from a freezing black December day. Life-changing conversations in an over-priced cafe with terrible service, but really good baked-bread. Ballet, painting, music and sculpture that reaches out and touches a part of your soul that you hadn’t even known existed. Personalities so deep and strange and lovely that make you see the world in a new, surprising, and more grateful light.
You have to wade through a whole lot of crap to get there, but those moments of beauty stand out stark in this city. Moscow, in a nutshell, is weeks and weeks of crap until you fall into one bright shining moment so lovely, and so unlike something you would experience anywhere else.
The lows are lower in Moscow, but the highs are higher. There’s just very little insulation.
How has your week been? We are trying to settle into things here in the U.S. We’ve spent the week car shopping. (So overwhelming! So many choices!)
Will you celebrate the 4th of July wherever you’re at? The U.S. embassy in Moscow usually has a great party… We are looking forward to fireworks here – I haven’t celebrated the 4th in the U.S. for 7 years.
It’s taken me forever to write this post. It’s so personal! But I think I would want to read something like this. I definitely would have wanted to read it a year ago when we were making decisions on where to have our baby, and what to do for pre-natal care. So, hoping that it will make for either an interesting read OR a helpful guide to anyone choosing where to have their baby, here goes…
Not long ago, I read an essay by Ariel Levy wherein she said that giving birth was the most real thing that had ever happened to her. I don’t know if I could say the same about having Anna, but it was an incredibly vivid experience. One of those action-packed, stressful memories where you have some new, momentous decision to make every few hours.
Being in an international marriage complicates things like having babies. For us, the decision to have a baby in Moscow was one we came around to gradually. I was pretty confident I could get good healthcare at EMC and the Perinatal Medical Center – especially as being pregnant in Moscow had been such a breeze – but I was sad that I wouldn’t be near my mom, sister, and brother when baby came. Eventually though, we decided to stay in Moscow for the birth because
economist husband wasn’t ready to leave his job and I wasn’t ready to leave him and risk being on separate continents when baby was born.
obtaining health care and insurance in the U.S. seemed too complicated and expensive at the time – we had found a doctor we liked at the EMC, and a fantastic personal insurance rate with CIGNA
So, we decided baby would be born in Moscow.
It was the end of November, almost two months until my due date when I switched from my gynecologist at the EMC to the Perinatal Medical Center, where I started seeing the obstetrician (Dr. Maria Borets) who would be overseeing my actual birth.
My first impression of the Perinatal Medical Center in southern Moscow was a very good one. Economist husband and I went on a hospital tour, and loved the clean, spacious rooms, the incredibly kind and polite staff, and the fact that we’d be able to have a doctor that spoke both Russian and English. The staff promised that economist husband would be able to be with me for the birth, which was the main reason we’d chosen to have the baby in Moscow. Several of our friends had had babies there, and they’d all had a great experience. Plus, they said, the food was great, and they took really good care of you. I was looking forward to it almost like a (painful) hotel stay where you get to leave after the weekend with a sweet little baby in your arms.
We came home, chose a doctor, and I went back for my first visit with Dr. Maria Borets soon after.
When I went to the PMC at 35 weeks for my first check up, I got a very different impression than I’d had from the hospital tour. The staff was still very kind and polite, but the way the day clinic was run was more Soviet/Russian than I’d realized. After the clean, calm, and personalized atmosphere at the European Medical Center, the PMC felt like a conveyor belt. I came in, donned plastic shoe covers, and visited the accountant right away where I had to pay in advance for all the services I’d need that day. Then I was given a handful of receipts (талончики) that I used to visit the ultrasound technician, obstetrician, and the technician who administered fetal heartbeat monitors to a roomful of pregnant women. After I had my various tests, I brought a handful of paper results, and documents in to my chosen obstetrician (Dr. Borets).
My pregnancy had been completely healthy and uneventful up until that point. EMC doctors had warned against lifting anything heavy because my placenta was looking a little low on ultrasounds, but they assured me it would move up by the time the baby was born.
At 36 weeks, on my second visit to the PMC, however, the obstetrician informed me that, not only would I have to have a C-section, but that I would have to be immediately admitted to the hospital.
This was a complete and total shock. I had been getting around just fine with absolutely no signs of complications at that point. I had actually been planning to go in to work the next day. When I asked the obstetrician why I needed to stay in hospital, she said it was because my low placenta meant there was an increased risk of bleeding which could put me and the baby at risk.
At that point, I refused to stay in the hospital – I was still a good 5 weeks away from my due date, the baby’s heart rate was totally normal, and I hadn’t had any bleeding at any point. The doctor made me sign a release form, saying I understood the risks, and I went home to stay on bed rest and scour the internet to figure out if either I or the doctor was crazy. From what I can tell, women with placenta previa in the U.S. are usually only admitted to hospital if they start bleeding, so I felt pretty good about my decision to stay home. But just in case, economist husband and I made plans to move into a friend’s apartment near the hospital. We wanted to be within close driving distance should I start bleeding or anything else.
The week passed uneventfully, and at my next weekly check-up, one week before western Christmas, the doctor again insisted that I be admitted to the hospital. Later she explained that this is not only common practice for a low placenta in Russia, but is also actually the law in Russia – if a woman has a low placenta she is supposed to stay in hospital after 34 weeks.
It was incredibly stressful to make the decision to stay in hospital. I felt that the doctor didn’t explain her decision very well to me. I had heard that Russian doctors like to show their professionalism, and knowledge by ordering lots of treatments and directions to their patients, and expecting them to obey without discussion. I had hoped, however, that this clinic, supposedly the best in Russia, would be different. It felt like I was being bullied into the hospital, instead of making the decision myself on the basis of what the doctor told me. Still, it was my first pregnancy, and the doctor insisted that the baby would be in danger if I didn’t. Plus, our insurance was supposed to pay for it.
So I was taken down to the first floor of the hospital where I filled out some paperwork, had my winter boots packed up into a plastic bag, and then had the surreal experience of being weighed, measured, showered, and shaved (!) by a nurse. I was shown to a room, and immediately had an IV put in, and a dinner brought to me. Economist husband showed up later that night with my things – I had packed a bag in anticipation of this possibly happening.
It was the week of western Christmas, so I had an incredibly difficult time getting my insurance company (CIGNA) to approve the hospital stay, and spent several days on the phone to them, trying to sort things out. Finally, on Friday, they said they couldn’t approve the stay, so the next morning we packed my bags, and went to live in a friend’s apartment nearby. I wasn’t convinced that I needed to be in hospital anyway, so was glad to have the excuse of insurance to leave.
For the next week I visited the hospital’s day clinic every morning to monitor the baby’s heart beat, get a shot, and sit for an IV drip. By the end of the week, however, ultrasounds were showing that the baby hadn’t grown at all, my amniotic fluid was down, and my placenta hadn’t moved up, so the doctor again insisted I be admitted. That day was probably one of the most stressful days of the whole experience. I couldn’t tell what exactly the problem was, and felt like the doctor was doing more to scare me into submission than to explain and help me understand what was happening. I called the U.S. to talk to a friend of a friend that was an obstetrician, and they said they didn’t think I needed to stay in hospital. Economist husband was at work and couldn’t come down to give me a hug or help me scour nearby grocery stores to find the coconut water and marrow bone that they recommended I eat to help boost amniotic fluid and blood flow, so I was waddling around southern Moscow in the sleet scared and extremely pregnant, hauling bags of frozen spinach, and coconut water around, and asking store clerks to check whether or not they had any soup bones in their back rooms. I spent most of the afternoon overwhelmed and in tears.
The next morning I went into hospital again, and was admitted. It felt like a relief to have made a decision, and to not have to totter around looking for spinach and liver. I settled in for another few days of IV injections, billowy hospital nightgowns, and having food brought to me on trays. The doctor said they wanted to monitor me for a week, and that if things didn’t change significantly, that I could expect to have a scheduled c-section in mid to early January.
More on THAT in the next post…
Here are the pros and cons of prenatal care at Moscow’s Perinatal Medical Center in my opinion:
PRO: the place is incredibly clean. Everything is sterilized, they make visitors wear shoe covers, and they send someone in to clean your room at least once a day. You can pretty much eat off the floor.
PRO: Everyone is very friendly. Just about every member of staff I met was really helpful and kind. The nurses were gentle with administering shots, and there was always someone on call to help with anything from a question about finance, to getting an extra pillow, to having a maid come in to wipe up the floor if the shower leaked.
PRO: The food is great! They feed you six times a day, and it’s all really delicious (Well, except for the few times I got cow tongue as a breakfast side)
PRO: You get your own spacious room (with a fridge!), and your own bathroom- I know this is a rarity in many Russian clinics, and even in some U.S. and European hospitals.
CON: I didn’t really like my doctor. She seemed to have the attitude that she was the professional, and I should just shut up and listen to her without asking too many questions. This was incredibly stressful. She didn’t seem to want my input or even my questions on any of the medical decisions being made. I wish the care had been more interactive, or even that the doctor had taken the time to explain things more fully to me.
CON: I didn’t like that they pushed hospitalization on me. I wish that they had tried to think of an alternative solution, or at least discussed things with me. I know that this is normal in Russia, but I chose this clinic because I didn’t want the normal Russian birth experience.
CON: The treatments suggested to me were much more invasive than I would have liked. I wish they had worked harder to give me less invasive options, and I don’t like how quick they were to jump to the conclusion that a c-section was necessary.
CON: I guess this is true of just about every hospital experience, but I hated the feeling of being caught up in some giant machine. The nurses and caregivers, while very kind, had their own systems, routines, and procedures to follow, which didn’t leave a lot of time for explaining to me what was going on, listening to my concerns when it came to big medical decisions, or deviating in any way from their habits to give individualized care. It felt like being on a pregnant lady assembly line where you were passed from one person to the next as quickly and efficiently as possible.
CON: It was incredibly expensive. By the time everything was added up the bill was around $40,000. There is no way we could have afforded it without insurance.
Well, that wraps up the report from the prenatal part of my hospital stay. I’ll be posting Part II about the actual birth later. Thanks for reading!
P.S. If you are in Moscow and trying to decide on where to go for having a baby, and have any questions about the pmc or emc or doctors, or insurance, or anything, don’t hesitate to email me (firstname.lastname@example.org). I’d love to hear from you!
We’re leaving so soon! There are a few thoughts that keep rattling around in my head over and over as the move gets closer: It’s really happening!In just a little while we’ll be there, and we won’t be back in Moscow for such a long time! Are we making a mistake? This is a good decision. Man, I’m going to miss Russia…
One thing that helps a little when I start to get anxious/homesick/nostalgic is going back over the list of things I’m excited for in suburban America. I’ve been making this list for over a year now, and it does make the move a little more exciting.
With no further ado, a list of the top 35 things I’m excited for in suburban America:
Being able to order things from Amazon.com (being able to order anything online and have it delivered)
no traffic jams
Target (and Trader Joe’s, and Whole Foods, and Costco, and Walmart, and ALL THE STORES!)
Not having to make new friends every six months because all my old friends have moved away
Living near my mom, my sister, my brother, my sweet little niece, and my fantastic brother in law.
Italian food with Sarah, long talks with Anne, possible work dates with Bethany, being on the same continent as Mandi, and reminiscing with Amanda – living near all those dear friends
$5 rotisserie chicken at Cub Foods
a slower pace of life – getting home from work at 6 or 7 instead of 10 or 11pm
not living in a rental (having clean carpet!)
NPR in the car (and driving in general)
almond butter (and quinoa, and kale, and sweet potatoes, and year-round berries, and all that food that’s so hard to find in Moscow)
grilling in the backyard
baby changing spots in all the public restrooms
a relatively trustworthy police force
freedom (you can taste it as soon as you get off the plane)
clean tap water
affordable steak restaurants (ANY sort of affordable restaurant!)
Everything in my language all the time
Great customer service being the norm
The laid-back relaxed atmosphere that comes when life is predictable, and people are friendly and open
the beautiful wooded walking trail behind my mom’s house
The exciting possibility of summer road trips! And summer camping!
Decent plumbing (the bathroom doesn’t constantly smell like sewer)
The unknown future
being around for all those weddings, graduation parties, family dinners, and baby showers that I’ve had to say no to for so many years
It’s been a strange week. It’s very surreal to think that we’ll be leaving all of this soon. Economist husband tells me our life in Russia will be like a dream. One morning, not long from now, we’ll wake up, and the entire seven years we’ve been here together will have faded away like a breeze rustling the edge of a curtain.
We are saying our goodbyes, packing our bags, and researching health insurance in the U.S. Sometimes, when I stop to think about leaving, it hurts, and I get a little panicky, and nostalgia hits me like a wave. It’s such a big change, and it’s so emotional, and I know I’m going to miss Moscow.
Specifically, I’m going to miss the following things about Russia:
the way Russians always have tea with lemon after their meals, and eat their cake with a spoon
How quickly this city changes: new laws from the Duma every spring, random (and nonsensically) placed metal detectors in the metro, expats washing up on Moscow’s shores every time the season changes, the sidewalk constantly being dug up and re-laid, etc., etc.
the sound of trolleibuses out my window (the sound of everything out my window)
walks in the park
the metro (LOVE not having to take care of a car, love the democracy of it, the efficiency. Altho def. more complicated now that I have a baby)
Debbie. Joy. Nastassia. Masha. Catherine. Albina. Many friends have moved on from Moscow, but there are many I will leave behind.
the fantastic news I’ve been able to report on here – it’s hard to beat larger-than-life personalities like Putin, Lukashenko, Lavrov, Kadyrov, Nazarbayev, Tsiskaridze…
the Bolshoi. The Tretyakov. Gorky Park. Tverskaya Street.
the people – people are so interesting here – smart, cultured, international. Artists. The expat community here is either super isolated, or super dedicated. Russia isn’t a top expat destination – they don’t exactly make it easy for people to move here, so those that do come are often crazy intense russophiles who are incredibly dedicated to learning more about, and loving this country. I get so inspired by them. I love it!
long summer evenings
the way guests here always take you up on offers of tea, and just about any food you have to serve them. No all-American “Just ice water, please,” here!
Conversations in which you don’t have to explain the meaning of the word ‘dacha’, ‘babushka’, or ‘remont’ and in which everyone can relate to and understand your funny stories about riding the metro, and the scary kiosk sales ladies.
Our warm apartment (why do Minnesotans keep their homes so terribly cold??)
Long, hot showers, courtesy of city water heating
The U.S. embassy – they’re fantastic
summer trips to Europe – much easier to do from Moscow than from the U.S.
Being able to walk places easily (cafes, stores, metro, parks, family – all within walking distance)
The random stuff you can get from babushki selling their wares at the metro (peonies! teapots! cornflowers! pumpkin!)
Stores that are open late and just across the street for when you really, really need to just pop out for that nutella to spread on your midnight crepe snack.
the summer camp/college dorm room atmosphere that allows you to make friends easily in the expat community
The view out my eighth-story window
Being a foreigner – living here as an expat that speaks Russian has opened so many unique and fantastic opportunities for me here.
My life. I’m really, really, really going to miss my life here. I moved to Moscow with two suitcases, and only knew one person, and God gave me a beautiful life here – a home, a career, dear friends, a husband, and a daughter. All praise to Him.
Mostly, I’m just going to miss BEING here, being connected to this city. It’s nothing specific, it’s just the feeling of home I have in Moscow that I don’t have anywhere else. This quote from Miriam Adeney sums it up well:
“You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart always will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.” -Miriam Adeney
I hope your week has been good. Mine has been a bit surreal, on the countdown to moving away soon. I’m suddenly so nostalgic for Moscow in May: long evenings, warm weather, the sound of trolleibuses humming in from my open window, and taking walks in the park with this little lady (who has recently acquired a sunbonnet, and little puffs of hair on her head).
Here’s to hoping you have a lovely (4 day if you’re lucky enough to be in Moscow!) weekend!