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Travels in Russia

KLM Rocks Across Europe!
Santa Claus in Moscow
Television Is a Time Suck
The Reality of Irrelevance
Salute Mayor Luzhkov
Impeachment Happens
I Am Not The Only One...
I'm Back! Did Ya Miss Me?
Chechnya Burning
Weddings in Winter
The Jews Are Here!
Gailyn Goes to Town
Is There a Central Bank?
Santa Barbara is Real
Nick's Thanksgiving in Russia
Den' Rozhdeniya = Birthdays
Those Crazy Expats
It's Just a Few Drops of Vodka...
Elections Are Always Rigged
The Blind Leading the Blind
Good Russian Grooms
You Say 'Boris Berezovskiy' Fast
Too Cold to Care!
Russian Oil Towns
Sneaky Siberian Tigers
Which Way is St Peterburg?
Where am I again? Oh, yeah...
I Love Me Some Vodka
It's a Gosorg Halloween
Hunger Comes to Us All
Why Don't They Just Learn English?!
Post-Crisis, Life Goes On
Is Yeltsin 'The Man'?
Murmansk - Brrrr!
Taganka Hides Her Secrects
These are Communists
It's a Power Vaccum
The Commies are Back
Propaganda is Good for You
You Better Buy Russian!
Sex Ed Soviet Style
Party over, oops outta time!
Russian Healthcare in Moscow
What Russian Financial Crisis?
YE Prices in Russia
The Hungry Duck
Russian Caviar Mafia
Magical Mushrooms
Shhhh! We're Bear Hunting
Soviet Street Scams
Bez Dollarov
A Koshka Konspiracy
On The Dacha
The Banking Implosion
Surviving Army Life
Shashleek is Steak on Steroids
Dacha Thinking
Beach Weekend
Dos Vedanya
Hello from Vladivostok
Equality Means Only She Works
Jogging is an Extreme Sport
Russians Have Reunions Too
My Folks in Massive Moscow
Better than Fireworks
Miners Are Real Men
The Russian Mafia is the Roof
No One Smiles in the CIS
Russian Brides Rock
Laura is My St Pete Connection
Change is in the Wind
Chuck Norris' Beverly Hills Casino
The Expat Woman's Predicament
Street Food is Yummy!
Spring Flowers Make June Leavers
The Provinces Are Provincial
Ever Take an Elektrichka?
The English Invasion
Nuttin Like New Money
Rules Are Made to Break
All Black is Russian Fashion
Easter Memories = Easter Dinner
Politics, Russian Style
Theresa Tries to Russify
I Go to Gay Clubs Worldwide
I Hide on Women's Day
New & Shiny: Nizhny Novgorod
Psst! Wanna job in Moscow?
Fili Park Has All the Bootlegs
Web Page Reactions
Take a Break at Dom Odaha
Expat Living in Moscow is Swank
Why Are You Remonting?
They Look Like Telephones...
In Need of a Decent Hairstylist
Smashing Bottles in Red Square

Readership

Russia, June 22, 1998

One Year Anniversary

Looking back after a year makes me glad I'm here

You know your home when you see St George
Welcome to Moscow!
The men who run finance
Me and my crew
Me and my joe-cool friends
The non-work crew
Wow, time flies when you're having fun!

Last June, as I can remember with clarity like it was yesterday, I stepped off the plane and into the chaos that is Sheremetyevo 2, Moscow's international airport. Into a very Russian van, we 40 odd PCV's climbed, deep in culture shock and high on adrenaline. This was it, the culmination of several months, to several years of planning. The Western Russia Peace Corps Experience.

That summer was quite a roller costar. We watched as the younger brothers, then the older sisters, and finally the desperate mom's lined up outside our run-down dormitory, waiting for a chance to talk (or more) with an American.

Then, we sat nervously as our Russian host families were announced, hoping they were people we could stand for three months of co-existence. For those three crazy months, we attended classes all day long, the first classes in years for many of us. Finally, after long days studying, and longer nights getting into trouble, we all went to the US Ambassador's house to become volunteers.

Some went on to actually be volunteers, and are out there now, doing what they came here to do. Some waited three torturous months, hiding from the militzi or singing the Brady Bunch theme song if they were caught, before joining the lucky volunteers. Others, a select few including myself, we not so fortunate. We either walked away, looking for a more efficient Russian experience, or were swiftly asked to leave Russia by the not-so-friendly provincial governments.

I was lucky enough to land on my feet, with a good job to pull me out of the mess I was in. Now I am not going to say it was easy to transition form the Peace Corps experience to the Price Waterhouse experience. That was one of the most frustrating and depressing Decembers ever, but I do believe it was needed to let me get on with my life. I am now quite happy with the turn of events, and how 1998 has shaped up so far.

In February, I was able to go back to my birthplace, Bali, Indonesia. I even found the hospital where I was born, and the rice paddy house I spent my first few months of life. A kind of homecoming and realizational experience rolled into one. If I wrote you a letter from Bali, you already know I was deep in though on that tranquil tropical isle. After my return, I could see the spring and all the change it brings coming to Russia, and I am glad it finally came with a vengeance.

Now I sit here, with good friends all around, and I am glad I stopped at the Peace Corps booth, on Adams-Morgan Day so long ago. I have lost a few friends and a woman or two since I stepped off that plane, but it was worth it (or I keep telling myself that anyway) to get where I am one year later, living life and loving the world.

Wow, time flies when you're having fun!

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