James Bond. Nuclear missiles. Suspicious men in trench coats concealing pistols. The initial impression of Russia I had somehow acquired throughout my life could primarily be attributed to the creative license of the numerous gangster movies Hollywood has to offer. Despite various history, anthropology and political science courses, I continued to maintain an image of Russia which most closely approximated a frozen wasteland run by terrorists. The fallacies of my perception of Russia were apparently not confined solely to my own imagination; when I informed my friends that I was to spend a month in Russia I received incredulous looks followed by the sort of farewells one might receive prior to going to war. And indeed I had, for all intents and purposes, resigned myself to the fact that for four weeks I was to do battle with a culture foreign in the extreme. The shock I received upon arriving was, therefore, perhaps as significant as that which I might have encountered had all transpired the way I had imagined. Instead of being gunned down or mugged upon setting foot on Russian soil, I discovered instead a city whose beauty and culture rivals that of Paris or Florence. In fact, it did not take long for me to become enchanted with the myriad museums, palaces, cathedrals, monuments, restaurants, shops and, most importantly, people I encountered during my stay. Certainly, there were times when I thought I might swim home rather than endure the agony of not speaking the language for another minute, but that feeling lasted only as long as it took for me to develop the street smarts to adjust to my new environment. Sometime, from the first day I arrived and didn’t want to stay, to when the last day came and I didn’t want to leave, that environment grew on me and left an indelible impression.

While the numerous historical buildings and sites we visited helped me gain an appreciation for Russia’s history, it was the people I encountered who were immeasurably more telling of contemporary Russian culture. My first impression was that not everyone appeared to be old, stocky grandmothers as I had for some reason pictured they would be. Rather, I was surprised to see that people appeared, on first inspection, just as they do in other parts of Europe; tall, thin and well dressed in dark colours. However, the overall image I intially gained while walking down the streets of St Petersburg was somehow very different from that one might gain in London, Paris, or any other Western European city. The people’s demeanor was somewhat resigned; some walked slowly, almost dejectedly along the road as if they were merely engaging in a directionless ramble with no clear destination in sight. Others were the complete antithesis, pushing their way fiercely through crowds in the metro, always looking directly forward on the escalator and pushing toward the doors to ensure their seat on the train as if waiting the couple more minutes until another one arrived were an unthinkable trauma. Whether in a hurry to get somewhere, or having nowhere to go at all, however, the people on the street shared the same impersonal and somewhat intimidating air. Whereas in America, one could conceivably stop almost anyone on the street to ask for directions and get a pleasant response, I felt as if stopping a total stranger on the streets of St Petersburg and imposing myself on them would be a terribly rude affront. Thus, my first impression of Russians was that of a rather somber, melancholic and unapproachable people.

In time, I quickly learned that my initial impression was wrong, as they often tend to be. Whereas my first impressions of Russians seemed to hold for the older generation, I noticed that the younger people ( around twenty-five years and under) seemed very friendly and happy. They held animated conversations with each other while walking down the street or in the tram and attended public festivals, concerts, bars and night clubs in large numbers. They were not embarrassed to sport brightly coloured hats and other paraphernalia, wave flags and sing merrily as they strode down the streets arm in arm with their companions. At the beer festival, watching the bridges open at midnight, at the parade celebrating the birthday of St Petersburg, outside the sports arena and in concert halls- young Russians always seemed to be having a great time, laughing with their friends. In bars and clubs they chatted merrily, mingled, and danced with energy to American music. Even on week nights they were out in numbers and on any given Tuesday or even Monday night, one could find young people walking the streets with drinks in hand, loudly whistling and cheering at those who walked by. Girls often held hands as they strolled through the mazes of Gostiny Dvor and young couples displayed more affection than do their American counterparts, standing close on the escalators of the Metro, gazing into each others’ eyes and kissing. It was as if the young people of Russia relished something that Americans have apparently overlooked, taken for granted, or merely forgotten in the rush and bustle of their overcharged lives. Young Russians seemed to have retained the ability to ‘stop and smell the roses’ and the desire to do so as often as possible. Thus, the young people of Russia stood in sharp contrast with the old and even strangers approached me on the street and initiated conversation and gave the impression that they were always looking for fun and ready to party.

The Russians whom I met and with whom I became well acquainted further modified my initial impression. While the mood on the street seemed to be rather more reserved and somber, everyone I came to know personally, no matter what age, was extremely friendly, talkative and hospitable. I felt as if they were welcoming us not only to their homes, but to their country as well, as if they were genuinely glad that we had come to Russia at all and wanted to show it to us in its best light. From the host families of other students whom I met, to our visit to the dacha, and all the tour guides we encountered in between, I gained a sense of welcoming and celebration. The Russians truly seemed to appreciate the simple joys of living; good company, health, food and drinks, a beautiful cloudless day. The tour guides seemed to hold a sense of pride in the beauty and culture of their city which transcended the requisite interest any tour guide would naturally display to a group of visitors. They continued to explain every painting, brick and shade of paint in intricate detail as if not to do injustice to any aspect of their rich heritage, or to deprive us of the opportunity to get to know Russia better. The young Russian students whom we met at the institute seemed more outgoing and determined than we to engage in games and for us to get to know each other. One girl handed me her number and urged me to call her whenever I wanted to go out, others students we bumped into on the street were very friendly, even when it was not an official event sponsored by the Institute. Indeed, all the young people I came to know fairly well were eager to go out with us at night and have fun and speak English. They seemed very interested in America and our culture, in contrast to those on the street and in stores who seemed to scorn us for being foreign. Thus I encountered in Russia, as I do in other parts of Europe, the curious dualism whereby people profess their contempt for America, but seem to hold an unspoken admiration for, and curiosity about, it. On the whole, the people I came to know in Russia were incredibly friendly, charitable and hospitable, helping us with our language, as well as our appetites and making us feel welcome to their country. I realized that had I passed these people on the streets I would, in all probability, have dismissed them as being unfriendly and cold and understood that all those whom I did perceive in this manner would undoubtedly be overwhelmingly more receptive in a more intimate setting. The only explanation I can offer for this contrast is that the older generation has encountered so much hardship and seen so many lies, unfulfilled promises and betrayals by their own governments in the past that they have become, however unintentionally, wary and distrustful of those they do not know, and reluctant to treat strangers as friends too quickly for fear that they should prove to be enemies.

Many of the differences between one culture and another lie in the details of every day living. The food in Russia was very different to that in America, which seemed to deepen the difference between the two countries significantly. When I first arrived, I tried everything with curiosity and, in general, enjoyed everything I tasted. However, after the first week or so, it dawned on me that were I unwilling to be so adventurous, there would, in any case, be little alternative. It was funny to think of Russian food as being perfectly ordinary to Russians, as opposed to it being the mystery it was to me. In America, I am used to eating fast food on a regular basis, in fact, I eat very little healthy food at all while at school. I found it very interesting therefore to see how Russians considered pilmeni a "snack". To me a snack constitutes plenty of sugar, food colouring and other chemicals! I also noticed that the food was very greasy and fattening. My host mother explained to me that fresh vegetables and especially fruits were very hard to come by, since they were grown primarily in the south, if at all (cold temperatures being a limiting factor). At ‘home’ I ate lots of cheese, breads, soups and some pasta- everything being smothered in a generous layer of sour cream, a tradition I gratefully left behind in Russia! I believe Russian food to be relatively nutritious, albeit lacking whichever vitamins and minerals are present in fruit. However, I am sure their diet suits their purpose of keeping them well insulated during the winter months. I cannot write a paragraph about food without mentioning ‘blinys’, my staple while in Russia, nor the Idiot Cafˇ which we frequented often and which provided the ideal setting for lengthy chats and laughs.

My experience in Russian stores was, on the whole, slightly unpleasant. I felt as if the sales people were fairly intolerant of my lack of language skills and were consequently condescending. Of course, there were several exceptions, but this remained my general observation. I imagine, however, that their attitude was not any more impolite than mine ( in their shoes) might be toward a Russian tourist in an American store who couldn’t communicate. On the whole, I found the stores to be well stocked and with plenty of articles I would have no idea where to find in America. In Gostiny Dvor, for example there were goods ranging from pencils, to CDs to knitting needles to shoe insoles to gadgets for one’s computer. Even in American malls, a consumer would be hard pressed to find such a variety of goods. Before I came to Russia, I expected it to be very deficient in this area and was pleasantly surprised to see that there seemed to be no end to the diversity of goods they had available. In fact, I discovered that I could find as many items as I might need in Russian stores that I could not find in American stores, and I found this to be particularly true for food. To my delight, I found dozens of kinds of chocolate bars, cookies and flavours of juice and potato chips that one cannot find in America. Furthermore, I found this convenience and variety of options to be true of public transportation in St Petersburg and Moscow, although I had an incredibly difficult time flagging down a taxi in Moscow, and eventually resorted to the metro.

My memories of Russia are an avalanche of different museums, palaces and cathedrals, each more breathtaking than the last. Mine and Sylvia’s host mother used to be a tour guide and she had an endless list of places for us to visit, which we did, until the point of exhaustion! I was completely awed by the spectacular palaces I saw in Russia, primarily because, before my arrival, I was not even aware that such splendour and wealth existed in Russia. What fascinated me most, however, was how close one felt oneself to history. Some of my favourite moments were when we went to the house of the famous Russian ballerina Matilda Kshesinskaya and actually walked in into the study where Lenin worked and from where he delivered his speech when he first returned from exile, as well as seeing the very spot where Rasputin was killed in Yusupov’s palace. I found it absolutely fascinating to see so many events I had learned about all my life in history classes replayed before my eyes in their actual locations. With so many breathtaking palaces and monuments, St Petersburg and Moscow seemed to be very dynamic cities; the high points, by popular estimation, of Russian culture. However, I found our visit to Novgorod to be just as enlightening and beautiful. I was fascinated by the ancient ruins still preserved, especially the small hill which surrounded the city, as it had done since the tenth century. Novgorod seemed to be a truer representation of what life must be like for Russians throughout the rest of the country, away from the bustle of city life. I found it to be infinitely more peaceful and serene than St Petersburg or Moscow and equally rewarding in a different way.

My trip to Moscow was an enlightening and memorable experience; many things conspired to make it both enjoyable and, at times, frustrating. Not speaking the language was an obvious stumbling block and the source of much irritation. Feeling like a foreigner and receiving condescending looks from shopkeepers and people on public transports was equally unpleasant. I also disliked the way I sometimes felt like an incapable child when trying to perform the simplest activities, such as buying stamps, or reading a bus schedule because of the language barrier. However, the fact that I am trying to list five things I disliked and can only come up with three, which are all essentially a variation of the same thing, is a good indication of the positive light in which I regard my experience in Russia!

My favourite moments were probably when I was on the boat to watch the opening of the bridges, on the boat in Novgorod, watching the beautiful countryside unravel by water, and the afternoon we spent at the Dacha because it afforded me a view into real Russian life and our hosts were so friendly and hospitable. Especially memorable were the discussions I had with my host mother over breakfast and dinner on topics ranging from politics to dairy products and music. I love to remember the times we shared genuine laughter as we related stories to each other in broken English over a steaming cup of ‘chai’. I also loved the White Nights, taking the metro, walking through the markets and watching all the vendors display their wares, stopping in little cafes for a cup of ‘chai’, the festivals, the concerts we attended and taking the sleeper train to Moscow. I cannot list all the people I encountered whom I will always remember and who left me with a wonderful impression of Russia. My favourite thing about Russia was not anything that actually has a name; it was the adventure of seeing so many fascinating historic sites and the way in which they became all the more significant in light of all the people I met and the impression of modern Russia I gained in all my daily activities.

As I visited all the sights of Russia I took hundreds of pictures. When I arrived home I placed them in an album with neat little captions underneath so that I might not forget a single moment. In looking over my album, as I often do, however, I realize that the experience was much more than can be summed up in precise phrases beneath postcard like pictures. What really made Russia so memorable for me could never be captured on film. The monuments and palaces I visited were truly captivating, but it was my relatively mundane, quotidian activities which taught me the most. It was my encounters with strangers on the street, the friends we made, the food we ate and the public transportation we took, and primarily my host family who really afforded me an insight into contemporary Russia and which helped dispel my prior misconceptions of the country. Before I arrived in Russia I packed very few clothes in which I could go out at night because I genuinely did not believe that the country would have anything in the way of clubs or nightlife. At the airport in New York I bought sixteen snickers bars, which I planned to ration because I believed that I would hate the food and starve for a month. My preconceptions of Russia are a source of great amusement to me now. I have seen and relished everything about Russian culture which those Hollywood movies, in all their cinematographic brilliance, failed to capture. And, in a sense, I failed to capture it too, as I look back over my picture album or try to verbalize it for my friends and family. But if I never find tangible expressions of my experience in Russia, it will at least remain something I can never loose.