My first attempt to break away to the States ended in failure. The agency we applied to with my friend, to which we honestly paid both the first and second program installments, suddenly closed down. Those who have gone through the process of collecting all the paperwork for a trip to the States and finally found that coveted Job Offer, those who know what it costs, will surely understand the hurricane of emotions we experienced when we found out that all our efforts and hopes had gone down the drain. To say I was upset is an understatement. I remember it like it was yesterday: I sniffled, sat on the sofa, and started racking my brain on how to "break the news" to my dad, who was the main sponsor of my failed trip. The hope that the program money would still be returned to us was still flickering deep in my soul, so I explained to him as confidently as possible: "Dad, they'll return everything, every last cent, I swear, they promised, so why have any doubts? We just need to wait, just wait! And if they don't, I'll just go work somewhere in my hometown of Vitebsk this summer, no big deal." Dad listened to my carefully prepared speech and said he didn't believe in such things, advising me to prepare for a Belarusian summer at the dacha: a lake instead of the ocean, draniki instead of burgers, organic strawberries, blueberries, eggs (everything is organic: grandma = quality guarantee), quiet family gatherings instead of noisy American parties, bike rides to nearby spots instead of weekends in Washington or cozy Philly – was this what I had dreamed of for so long, was this what I had been preparing for all year? But, as they say, things happen. Nothing you can do about it.

Photos from the archive of that very "dacha" summer (June-July 2014, film and digital)

"Grandpa, let's take a selfie!" - "What's that?" - "Just smile!"

To cut a long story short, my hopes of getting back dad's hard-earned $1000+ were not meant to be; the theory that elders are always right proved true once again – we didn't get back either the first or the second program installment. I accepted this as a fact that needed to be pushed out of my head as quickly as possible – we were sad, and then we moved on. How did Turgenev put it? "We'll fight yet, damn it!" Yes!