The Atlantic Ocean in my room

In an attempt to explain the preeminence of the SuperBowl in American culture (and thus justify our decision to stay up until it's commencement at 3:30AM), one of the other American students and I brainstormed a list of the most 'American' events (top 4: 1) SuperBowl, 2) World Series, 3) Thanksgiving, 4)Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade), and inadvertantly shocked our EU counterparts sitting across the room as we began to hash out just what exactly 'American' culture comprised.

In no particular order, here was what left their jaws on the floor:

-American's affinity for parades. Memorial Day, Independence Day, Christmas, Thanksgiving, and so on. Apparently in Germany, Gay Pride parades and Carnival are the only games in town. Ten points, Maineville, Ohio.

-Decaf coffee. The idea of drinking coffee for the sake of its flavor is apparently lost in translation. On a related note: Dear Jesus, can someone puh-lease send me some f-ing Starbucks VIA or something?? I am dying.

-'Pop'. 'Pop' is Midwestern for "soda". This may also be lost in translation for those of you who have never had the pleasure of living anywhere but the coasts in the US. Consider yourselves educated. You're welcome.

-Citizens United ruling. For the record, this is shocking to me as well. As my friend Mathieu so gently put it in his lovely French accent (which made it sound much more sauve): "OK. You are fucked." Yes, yes we are.

-Bill O'Reily. Again, me too.

-Frying vegetables in bacon or other related pork byproducts (Holla, Paula Dean).

American culture 101:

Shock and awe:

Three feet (ok, ok, about one meter- sheesh) and an entire world apart:

Downgraded and delighted about it

In my last post I made reference to the time I spent working in marketing. Following undergrad, I worked for a few different private companies selling advertising and then moved into consulting for non-profit groups after cultivating some skills with branding and pitching fundable ideas. Good clean fun.

In addition to the fat paycheck and the graft- clients were always super generous with inviting you to try their new restaurant, spa service, or offering you shopping discounts- there was a whirlwind air of importance that went with the whole industry. Wine tasting parties, club openings, charity soirees, industry galas, and high priced cocktails in hotels too fancy for any self-respecting Ohio girl to consider staying in...for four years, I cavorted about DC and Miami pedaling ads and whooping it up.

While the glitz and the glamor of all of this swank was shiny and new, at the end of the day it felt hollow. I grew up with more than a little of an idealist streak in me, and had gone to college in pursuit of a career in public service. I wanted to work for equity, to be tugging on the arch of the universe towards justice. But that's not what I did. Following college I got freaked out by the amount of student loans I had, and I slunk into a commissioned based sales job in advertising. While my friends worked their way into jobs doing things that actually made the world a better place, I helped carpet cleaning companies headed by convicts sell services to wealthy Washingtonians. Once I got thin, I moved from the horribly parasitic company I had started with and got into the print advertising business. This was where the fun and parties- and WAY better pay was. I had a total blast selling copy, creating ads, and schmoozing my way through Georgetown. I loved it- but I didn't like the person I was becoming.

In place of my goal of one day being able to influence policy, I now wanted to one day own a Lexus SUV. I wanted a big house, a big diamond ring from my fiance (some dreams come true- thanks Will!), and a big salary. What I had right away was a big ego. My job required a lot of bravado, and I brought it in spades. I was defensive whenever any of my close friends- the ones who knew what I really was passionate about- suggested that maybe I should consider moving into public service again.

This changed when I realized how much I was overcompensating for feeling insecure about my decision to not pursue my original career intentions. With the dedicated help of my fiance, I retooled and applied to graduate school. Here I am, three years post my decision to start taking GRE prep classes, sitting in a (very cold) Soviet era dorm in Moscow City. The lush lobby of the Miami Gansevoort has been replaced by a concrete entrance-way with faint overtones of cat box and cigarettes. My slinky party dresses are wrapped away in my DC closet, and my current wardrobe leans rather heavily on our friends from Target and Kirkland Signature (that's Costco for you folks not 'in the know'). My taxable income is now about what I paid in taxes while I was in advertising. My most dearly held goals today have nothing to do with what I drive, how big my house is, or how many widgets I can sell.

I was in the shower room of my dorm the other day and had a moment of undiluted gratitude for the changes that have taken place in my life since starting grad school. Surrounded by a) no shower curtains; b) mildew; c) faint wafts of cat urine (why is this even in the shower room?????), and d) light green paint a la mental institution circa 1973, I laughed out loud thinking about the differences in my surroundings. Grateful that no one else was in the room with me (did I mention there are no shower curtains? I think this needs to be reiterated a few times), I giggled like an idiot, feelings of gratitude for my life today washing over me as the hot water splashed over my shower-sandal clad self.

I know living in a Moscow dorm with 200 or so other twenty-somethings studying international affairs, economics and sociology is not everyone's definition of happiness, but for me, right now, I can't think of anywhere else I would rather be.

Fancy party- catering by Магйолия

Sumptuous dinner: spaghetti in the kitchen with new friends!

Subzero provocative attire

My first jaunts abroad were to destinations that culturally dictated a wee bit of decorum in the sartorial department. In Cambodia, it was downright inappropriate for women to wear tops more revealing than a t-shirt, and most local women would wear button up long or three quarter length sleeves. In Bali, this was a bit more relaxed, but for the most part it was tourists (myself included) who danced the line between gauche and disrespectful- tank tops, bikinis, crappy beach sarongs for everyone! In case decorum didn't dictate a modicum of modesty, vestiges of colonialism finished the job: in both Cambodia and Bali it was common to see women wearing cotton gloves, long sleeve sweatshirts with the hood up, long pants and socks with sandals on motobikes, all in the name of cultivating as pale an appearance as possible. Slather on a little bleaching agents, wrap up in your cotton hoodie, and your ready for an 80F degree day of fun!

Moscow has inverted this approach. Despite the fact that it hasn't gotten over -14F for the past week, every day I have seen at least a few women in miniskirts and countless in high heeled- I'm talking four inch stiletto- boots, and, points for ingenuity: one in shorts with tights at school (although let it be said that we rocked this look during winter of fifth grade at Kings Mills Ohio Elementary School). Given that it's approx. a million degrees below freezing from October to March, and that women's social capital seems to be tightly intertwined with their physical appearance (yes, even more so than in the US), Moscovites have innovated a number of ways to look hot even in Arctic weather. A-Line cut parkas, slinky fur lined leather jackets, voluptuous mink and rabbit and lamb coats abound.

For me, in the US the onset of winter is like a sigh of relief- sweaters! leggings! Ugg-ly comfortable boots! No more trying to look adorably emaciated in tank tops and cotton skirts. Hooray! Bring on the 2% milk and full fat yogurt!

No so for our foxy fur-bedecked cousins to the east. Indeed, the name of the game seems to be how to dress as provocatively as possible without courting hypothermia on the way to class, club or crappy-yet-awesome dive bar (try Kruska in Red Square...trying to find a link- stay tuned).

While at first blush this may seem very different to modus operandi a la US, I actually think the style of dressing here is reflective of something that translates trans-nationally. I've had a few of the Russian students I've become friendly with mention to me that it's not uncommon for women from lower socioeconomic backgrounds living in areas outside of Moscow will come to Moscow in part to try to meet wealthier men in addition to attempting to gain more prosperous employment. The less clothes=more prospects equation is part of the game- more on my personal adventures with this phenomenon in upcoming posts. (As I have yet to venture to a club late night, I have yet to see this for myself, but apparently in some of the more popular clubs it's women who get turned away and men who are coveted by the club promoters: there's a surplus of young, beautiful women trying to meet well-established men, and not enough folks to foot the bill.) Is this not so dissimilar to the US? Perhaps women don't peg their entire future on their ability to land a well-to-do gentleman friend, but, speaking for myself at the very least, my economic prospects have improved dramatically since losing 100+ pounds.

I promise you, I am no smarter now that I wear a size 6 than I was when I was a size 20. In the first year that I was in a right sized body, my salary increased- I bullshit you not- $22,000. I did not get a raise; I was in sales, and all of a sudden I had male clients who were delighted to meet with me. Let's meet in your office, I say. Oh no! Let's do lunch at a cafe to talk about my advertising plans! After all, what could be more lovely than having a nice lunch in a very public cafe with your favorite young saleswoman wearing a cute Nanette Lapore sundress? It's not my intention to sound arrogant, but the facts of the matter are that once I was thin, my sales increased over 25% in one year, I was offered four jobs in one month (three by men) when I made the decision to move companies, and I frequently had the door held open for me, had compliments from men at bars, shops and cafes, and, notably, one marriage proposal from a complete total creeper client (whom my fiance told off when said creeper called my cell phone one weekend. Thanks babe).

$22K more valuable:

Is this not so different from what's happening here? In DC, it's cold for about 26 seconds compared to Moscow, so we can get away with looking like walking Eddie Bauer ads during Snowmageddon. When I first arrived, I was amazed that women here would go out so scantly clad- how could they stand the weather??? It's not like living here attenuates the effects of the cold- my Moscow pals are just as reticent as I to go out in this weather. But reflecting on this a bit more, if 8 months of the year are going to be spent in subzero weather AND the treatment you receive from others is tied closely to how, um, appealingly you are dressed, it's somewhat a matter of survival to suit up in stilettos and skirts.

Isn't it comforting to know that women's value is conflated with their appearances everywhere? It really is a small world after all!

Encountering other cultures....hampster style

My roommate's home university is in the Netherlands. I need to find out if it looks anything like "Hampsterdam".

On a related note: I miss you, Will & Schevograds.

Traveling without a destination in mind

OK kids. For those of you keeping score from home, today officially marks the beginning of week two in Moscow. I am here for the semester studying sociology at the Высшая Школа Зкономики (Higher School of Economics) at the National Research University. The past seven days have flown by, and I have much to fill in, but for now I feel that the best course of action is to start with a blow by blow of first impressions and reflect a little on what, exactly, I want to get out of the next twelve weeks.

I left Dulles in DC Thursday January 19, after a grueling and ridiculous Visa mishap. My letter of invitation kept getting delayed due to bureaucratic hurdles and a last minute heads up that I needed to change my passport...the week of Thanksgiving. Great. Long story short, once I had new passport and letter of invitation in hand, I headed to the Russian consulate with my money order in hand and visions of Red Square dancing in my head. Dodge Georgetown traffic, park car, ask security guard to let me in, get back in car, go to correct entrance, park again, go through security, go out of building where security is and into building where visa office is (pant pant pant) and finally arrive to face a rather dour woman who looks rather unimpressed with the efforts I have taken to get the damn visa. After a cursory glance at my paperwork, she points out the million and four things I had filled out incorrectly (ok, just three), and says that I have do reapply online and come back that afternoon.

Oh, and, by the way, that they won't let me into the country until January 24.

Great.

Because of the shenanigans that had happened in getting my letter of invitation, I only actually received the letter in hand three days prior to my departure date. There is a five business day waiting period from the day you apply for a visa to get into the country for student visas. Awesome. I am so glad I missed that on the website.

But wait! Good news! I can write a letter of appeal to the Head of the Consulate, and then they MIGHT let me in on the day I am scheduled to touchdown in Moscow, only three business days after I apply.

Fab fiance and I had become a one car household over the Christmas break, and I had to get back to the house to trade off the car so he could drop off some paperwork across DC that afternoon. I zoom back home, grab lunch and fiance, and we head out for visa adventure round duex. After he ran his errand, we zipped over to the Bethesda library and I redid my application, as well as wrote a letter of appeal. I had already had to change my flight once do to the letter of invitation being delayed, which had cost me a pretty penny. On the way back to the Consulate, letter of appeal in hand, we made the judgement call that if I had to change the flight again due to the business day waiting period, we were going to call the trip off. It's been my experience time and again that when things don't line up, even with my best efforts being applied, it's usually not meant to be. This is not to say that I walk through life waiting to have things handed to me. Quite the opposite, I work very, very hard and push for those things that I feel lead to pursue. However, when I have a gut feeling that something is off AND things keep falling through, I have learned that it's better to back off. When I do feel lead to pursue something and have a gut feeling that I am really, really supposed to do it, things generally fall into place far better than I could ever possibly manage on my own. With delay after delay of letter of invitation, changed flights, steep and unexpected costs, and now visa shenanigans, I was beginning to doubt if I was supposed to go.

I had done a lot of soul searching as to whether or not to pursue the opportunity to come to Moscow- weighing almost four months apart from my fiance, friends, dog, playing Aunty Beth to my amazing niece Piper Claire, and workplace fun against the opportunity of a new adventure. Unlike my time in Indonesia and Cambodia, I was heading to Moscow with rather nebulous idea of what, exactly, my reasons were for coming. I went to Cambodia specifically to research policy maker's perceptions of victims of sex trafficking, to Indonesia to practice ethnographic field methods with the ever brilliant Dr. Leslie Dwyer. My decision to go to Moscow had been based much more on "why not?" then on "why". I felt strongly- and still do- that coming to Russia would be an opportunity to gain insight that will help me be a better researcher, and maybe even contribute to spanning gaps in communication and policy priorities once I mature past my current academic larva status. Especially in a world with nuclear weapons, I think it is vital to have people who are trained in conflict resolution who have background understanding of both Russian and American culture. Perhaps I won't ever contribute to such work, but, at the very least, my time in Indonesia and Cambodia has taught me that I will learn as much about myself while abroad as I will about where ever it is that I am visiting. With these musings in my head, I accepted the chance to go and trusted that more would be revealed.

Rushing back to the Consulate three days prior to departure, misgivings about my amorphous motivations ruminated swirled through my mind as I wove through mid afternoon traffic on Wisconsin Avenue. To go or not to go, that was the question. And Olga, the woman at the Consulate who suggested I petition to get into Russia prior to the five day waiting period passed, was about to give me an answer.

Back through traffic, park again, security again, out the door again, into the visa office again, pant pant pant again, and I smile at Olga as I hand her my new and improved visa application and my letter of appeal. Three anxious minutes later, she returned and nodded curtly. "It's a yes."

YES! So, here we go. On to Moscow!

What started out as a bumpy trip prior to departure went surprisingly smoothly given my past experiences with international travel and my proclivity for clumsiness more generally. I ended up having no seat mate in my row, and, with the help of our good friends at Tylenol PM, ended up sleeping sprawled out, Piper style, the entire ten hours to Moscow.

Good thing too, since as soon as I got to the HSE International Dorm I was whisked back out into the cold (less frigid than expected) by the other seven George Mason students who are here studying with me. Destination: International Office. So many firsts happened within the immediate 90 minutes following my arrival: First metro ride (AMAZING- each station is different, and beautiful, and full of art and marble and mosaics AND...the trains run fast and on time and don't wobble so I haven't gotten train sick even once- those of you who know me very well can appreciate the magnitude of this miracle); first hike in the Moscow climate (cold, cold, coldycoldcold); first experience (of many so far) getting lost looking for some office to which HSE has given me crappy directions; and first experience gelling with the other George Mason students. There are eight of us all together, all of whom were selected as fellows to come study at HSE on a Federal Improvement of Post Secondary Education (FIPSE) Grant to foster an exchange between scholars in the US and Russia. Our group dynamics are fantastic- everyone has been really attentive to making sure that the others are accounted for when we go out, no one has a stick up their ass or is oversensitive, and everyone is a really genuinely interesting person (well, I guess I can't really make that call about myself...). Within about 2 hours of being in Moscow, the stress and craziness of getting to Moscow had faded. I was very, very happy.

And very, very cold.

I have tons of fun stories collected in just the past week, but will sign off for now with the following: I have realized over the past week that this trip abroad is going to be very different than my last two adventures overseas. I headed to Cambodia and Indonesia with a specific set of questions, and here the only question I came with was "why exactly am I here?" And I think that has turned out to be a good thing. People are getting to know me, rather than getting to know my research interests. The pressure of having to produce something is off, which has been a little anxiety producing in and of itself (I'm in grad school- aren't I supposed to be stressed out???). Instead, I have been getting to know the other international students, having thought provoking conversations about things I find fascinating (the importance of a united European Union, why Obama is an awesome badass that everyone should love, and how to cultivate an appropriately sheepish demeanor when arriving 10 minutes past the 1am curfew at the dorm. Yes, I am 28 and Yes, I have a curfew now).

The beautiful discovery is that people are being incredibly eager to talk to me about their experiences related to gender, sexual violence, military culture, and war without any prompting. I am just happy to be hanging out with folks, rather than asking questions, and people are starting conversations with me based on what they have overheard me say to professors or to others about my work. Having made a conscious decision to not engage in formal 'fieldwork' or data collection while I am here has had the happy side effect of freeing me up to hear what others want to tell me, rather than what others feel they should respond to me with based on what I want to ask.

Perhaps this should have been an obvious point- that people are going to be more open if you just let the conversation flow, and let go of a specific guideline- but so much of research methods focus on 'extracting' data rather than absorbing what is happening around you. Even when engaging in 'participant observation', in the back of my mind I was always so focused on trying to gather every detail of what was happening that I often missed the genuine human connection element of the interaction.

I am more and more clear about what exactly I want out of this experience. One week in, I am certain that I am committed to 1) learning as much of the language as humanly possible in 12 weeks; 2) traveling as much as possible- because really, you can't put a price tag on saying 'well, when I was in Siberia' at your next dinner party- while still doing well in classes; 3) not freezing to death; and, 4) letting go of outcomes. Perhaps the last goal seems incompatible with the very idea of even setting goals/priorities for while I am here, but I don't think it's incongruent to have things I would like to do while I am here and still be open to surprises.

I have no idea what adventures are about to unfold here, and I am excited about the possibility of the unexpected.


Dressed and ready to go. Bring it on, Moscow.

Language practice fun-time.

Flying through the first week

Dobre utro (good morning) comrades! The first five days in Moscow have flown by so, so fast! Classes start this afternoon, Russian tutoring each evening, and much, much revelry and fun each night. One of my biggest reasons for coming here was to have fun- grad school, prep for marriage, family obligations, and so on can make me feel wrung out sometimes. I LOVE my life with my partner, my friends, and my social life at home, but add the obligations of grad school, fellowship work hours, and family drama, and sometimes it's just a little too much. Having a semester that feels like I am free to float around sightseeing, enjoying classes with just a few hours of work on long term projects for my fellowship. I am soaking up each minute and having a blast.

Much more to say about first impressions, meeting new friends, and dorm shenanigans, but off to class for now.

Emerging from hibernation

I’ve been linguistically constipated for the last few weeks. That, and I haven’t stopped moving since, oh, December 25…West Wing marathon excluded.

I had this fantasy during finals that I was going to get so much done during the break. I was going to work on a reflection article, get two of my papers I have been toying with forever finally submitted to the journals I want to pitch them to, and then- to treat myself for being sooo good- I was going to watch the entire series of the West Wing back to back to back. Welp, at least I kept my date with Sam Seaborn (who would, by the way, point out that this is very crappy writing.)

Just touched down in Moscow yesterday, have lots to write about already but need to take a little post jet-lag nap.

Dasvidaniya until then, comrades.