I heard Russian spoken more than I expected throughout America. As Stephanie and I took self-portraits in front of waterfalls, ate breakfast on sandy beaches, and strolled down the streets of cowboy country, I heard little pieces of soft “l”s and clustered consonants, sounds uttered fluently only by dexterous Russian tongues.
Retrospecting on my years in Oregon, I was consistently surprised by the proliferation of Russians and Ukrainians living in the Willamette Valley. Sequestered religions, marriages made online, intellegentsia who settled at the university after fleeing their oppressive state, and somehow this trifecta of immigrants, despite their backgrounds or grounds for leaving their home have united in a fertile region.
So here I am in D.C. finding my own reason to leave my home. [“So when you run make sure you run to something and not away from.” Lyrics courtesy of the Avett Brothers] The lacks and deficits that exiled the religious and marital and academic refugees are the same lures and desires I want to see first hand. Most Russians, if interested at all, are incredulous when they hear of an American’s intent and wish to travel or live in Russia. To many expatriated Russians, it is such a distasteful desire, one comparable to a Londonite’s urge to settle in Hoboken, New Jersey.
How to explain the draw of Russia and her people? To me, it’s like smelling the perfume of a passerby and after accidentally catching an alluring whiff, I want to invade the personal space of the wearer* and ask her where she got the scent, is it affordable, what flavors am I smelling, how often she sprays the stuff, etc etc. The wearer is mostly affronted by my candor and interruption of her journey, while only slightly flattered, she is most likely amused by my over eagerness on the subject. If any of you readers admitted to reading Twilight, I would compare the disproportionate obsession of Edward (a sexy, mysterious, immortal vampire) with Bella (a hum-drum, insecure klutzy mortal) to most Russophiles’ attention toward the country they love, but are not native to.
In the meanwhile, at this orientation, I get to geek-out about Russia in a room filled with other Russia-lovers. We compare study abroad experiences and cross-list our friends to discover that everyone knows someone who knows someone else. The Russia world, it turns out, is quite small.
*Disclaimer, this is only an example. I don’t actually do this to people. But I might start.