Why Having a Host Family is Great

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.

 

Posing as a Russian Polar Bear

Article in "New Novgorodian Newspaper" about winter swimming

 

The Bird Feeder

Feeding chickadees in the Botanical Garden at Moscow State University

Photo by Alex Davy.

 

It’s good to be back

Over the winter holiday break, I had some paperwork problems that led me to envision what would happen if I had to go back to the U.S. now, six months before the end of my program.

That fear is gone now, but in its place is a renewed thankfulness for the opportunity to be here. Russia is still a damn hard place to live some days, but I’ve been trying to enjoy the sweet moments, like this handful from yesterday:

-At the grocery store, helping a tiny, stooped babushka make sure her storage locker was locked. It feels great to help people, even in very tiny ways, when you’re used to being the foreigner always seeking help.

-Wishing one of the international studies employees a happy old New Year. (By Russia’s old calendar, yesterday was New Year’s Day.) Not only did it make her smile, it reminded me of a language learning cheat: if you can’t remember how to reply to a well-wisher or a compliment, simply compliment someone else and listen carefully to their response. Plus, then you’ve made another friend by giving them a compliment.:)

-Picking up a long-awaited Christmas card from my grandmother, which folds out into a 3-D snowglobe. As I carried it home, it made everyone smile–the postal workers, the dormitory door guards, and another foreign students from Morocco.

-A cab driver, during my five minute ride, telling me he’s never talked to an American before. He couldn’t find the words fast enough to ask me about my impressions. I told him that I appreciated everyone’s hospitality here, and he agreed. Then he went on to tell me that his wife had been a world champion gymnast. Her talent got them invited to Canada, where he said they had a small hope of emigrating to, but they weren’t allowed to leave the country. It was a sad story, but we parted with good wishes. I hope I can find his taxi again before I leave.