Let me be clear, I live on my own by now. But a host family is a great resource (if I may treat them so instrumentally, for a moment) when you’re new to a city and, in general, a country. They correct your language, they criticize your imported social norms — which you can then change or keep, according to your character — and they can generally just be a lot of fun.
Today I stopped by and chatted with my host mother and sister. After a bowl of soup and some sunflower oil-slathered fried potatoes, they taught me a few of the ways of the world:
- If a man wants me to wear something, he should buy it for me.
- I should never admit to a potential professional contact that I hit it off with that when I say “I have to go home,” I mean back to my boyfriend’s place.
These moments are especially ironic, considering my Fulbright research is in gender studies. But as always, I remember not to take Russia too seriously, so as not to seriously damage my psyche.
As another American woman who researched in Russia shared with me, Russia has balms to soothe the wounds it causes. In her words, there was no stress here that couldn’t be overcome with a good cry, followed by a pastry and a tiny plastic cup of espresso from Sever, a St. Petersburg confectionary.
I’d add that a quick visit to the host fam can’t hurt, either.
