And now, for the reflections...

Well this is it. It is 7:00 am and I am sitting in my trusty little blue and white kitchen, cup of coffee in hand, looking out at the gray Russian sky and thankful that I will be escaping before fall really gets a chance to settle into the Urals.

I woke up on my hammock bed to the sound of the hot water fighting its way through the pipes [which sounds frighteningly similar to machine guns] and blaring techno music in the courtyard. In other words, I woke as I do every other morning here at dorm #6. I tried to lay still and drift back to dreams of America, but it was too late—I am too excited about coming home and too anxious about my upcoming cross-continental travels to trick myself back to sleep. And thus, here I am, sitting in this [surprisingly clean at the present moment] kitchen, reflecting on the past year.

Just as I was at a loss for words while I was writing up my Fulbright final report last week, I am for once silenced as I stare at the computer screen this morning. What was this year? How can I sum it up in one page? A success? A struggle? Somewhere in between, perhaps? Despite my best efforts at setting realistic expectations, I certainly arrived last August with grandiose notions of all that I could do in a year: from mastering the Russian language to working my ass off for the women of Russia to somehow seeing all of this massive country. If there is one thing that Russia does well, it is quickly and efficiently bringing one back down to earth and disillusioning the idealists. My goals were quite soon cut down into more realistic, bite size pieces. Throughout the year, I worked on this language that I will never speak fluently with various levels of effort and success. Perhaps that best thing that I can say about that is during my last weekend in Kalinovo, I spoke Russian continuously without grasping or stumbling for words and without a massive headache by Sunday evening. I know that I will never sound eloquent, but I believe there is something to say for simply being understood.

And the women of Russia? I am leaving them in about the same position that they were when I came. And after a year of observing and dabbling in the Russian non-profit world, I think this is probably as it should be. I can support, I can help where help is genuinely needed, I can offer stories of American successes and struggles, but at the end of the day, this is ultimately their fight to fight. I now understand the overwhelming complexities of domestic violence in a country like Russia and I am awestruck with the respect that I hold for women like the founders of Ekaterina, who choose to devote their lives to battling the problem despite these intimidating odds against them. They are brave, they understand the incredibly long road ahead of them, they keep their spirits high and light despite it, and they are damn good at what they do, even on the days when it feels like throwing a single stone into an ocean. Many of my favorite moments from this year happened while watching these women in action: from listening to Anya regularly counsel women over the phone with such ease and experience to watching Olga Nikolaevna take on the stereotypes of some stubborn policeman or lawyer at a training session, irony brewing in her beautiful black eyes all the while. It is in this area of my Fulbright experience that I had to most seriously rework my goals and plans, but it is consequently where I learned the most. I am returning to America with new ideas about our role in organizations like Ekaterina and with problems like domestic violence [that’s a whole separate conversation for those of you who are interested]. If anything, I am proud simply to have volunteered for an entire year. I got the opportunity to regularly explain the amazing concept that is American volunteerism and to show that I, indeed, considered it a privilege to get to spend a year in the Urals volunteering. I will be able to continue my relationship with Ekaterina by doing things like translating and database fun online and I look forward to learning how these women will progress with their work as time goes on.

And seeing all of Russia? Well, that was certainly an unrealistic expectation, but for the time being, I have seen enough. I look forward to someday returning to Russia, to visiting the friends that I have come to love so well and to perhaps again try to tackle the problems I just discussed, only with more experience and resources at my disposal. But for the present moment, I am inexplicably excited to land on American soil, to walk off of the plane and hear all those loud voices booming in the airport, to walk by the McDonald’s and Pizza Hut and Starbucks, to smile at the man who will serve me my first cup of to-go coffee and be smiled back at for the first time in a year and to think to myself “ah, родина”.

And yet I cannot end this last entry there, because here I am still sitting in this kitchen, trying to figure out how I am going to walk away from this dorm that I so fiercely hate and love. I can confidently say that I will not miss the water turning on and off and brown, nor the pipes freezing and sending me into near hypothermia, nor Artyem, our neighbor who has a lovely habit of boiling meat cutlets in his underwear in the shared kitchen. But what success we have had in turning a fading Soviet dorm into a home and an odd mix of international students into a family! Where would I be this year if it were not for Jen, Josefina, and Midori? Probably curled in the fetal position on the curb somewhere, crying and cold. These girls have made this experience worthwhile and, in the words of Midori, they have been my Russia. An American Christian missionary, an American fliberal feminist, an outspoken Swedish writer, and the self-described most-untypical Japanese girl in the world. Yes, we were an odd bunch and that is what has made our family so fantastic. This is undoubtedly what I will miss the most: laying in Jen’s bed with Midori, passing hours with meaningful and meaningless conversations; listening to Josefina and Midori argue through the thin walls and catching the moment when the bickering transitions into laughter; moving back and forth between Biblical analysis and feminist theory with Jen, both of us convinced that there are countless similarities in our respective professions; drinking beer and playing cribbage on the ironing board with Jen on the days when Russia got the best of us; and all those amazing days when the four of us managed to gather somewhere together, be it the road home from the university or the ski slopes or right here in this kitchen. I will miss the laughter, I will miss Russians’ confused faces while watching us interact, I will miss turning to watch Midori’s face after Josefina makes some ridiculous comment, and I will miss the comradery of all of us trying to tackle and survive Russia together.

This self-indulgent reflection has gone for far too long and the sun has managed to work its way through the clouds in the meantime. I am off to enjoy my last three days in the Urals. I cannot wait to see all of you soon—email and call and let me know where you will be in September! Thank you all for listening and reading this year, as well as for supporting me with letters and emails and phone calls and packages : ) I never could have made it without you.

Signing off from Russia,

Byeeetsy Hoooooody [as I am known in this part of the world]