Finally, I waited for Yulka, and we headed off to spend our "first night in Manhattan"... the hostel room was a 5x5 meter space. But at that moment, I didn't care at all... =)

In the morning, we set out to fix our SIM card issues, which weren't working because the frequency of the mobile phone brought from Russia didn't match the American one.

So, here's a smart tip: check online if your phone's frequency will work (if you want to bring it, although it's much more practical to buy a NET10 there - 300 minutes for 15 bucks).

We were starving since we hadn't eaten in a long time, and Yulka took me to an amazing cafe where, for $8, I ate a huge plate of salad with chicken breast and baked potato with gravy. Thanks, Yulia. I didn't even expect to find such a cheap place to eat =)

Then we met up with Gleb (a friend of Yulia's from Moscow) and went for a walk around Manhattan. I had less than a day left before my next flight (to Hawaii), but even that time was spent well))

Towards evening, we headed to Brighton Beach (the Russian village), where I dipped my feet in the Atlantic Ocean for the first time. But honestly, the impressions weren't great... the beach is gray, the water is cool, and there are cigarette butts lying around. There, we met Lena - Yulka's friend and colleague from last year. A few years ago, she moved to the States after winning a Green Card. She was one of the first people to help me in the States. People who stay here to live, legally or illegally, behave differently. But I hear from many what Lena told me on my first day in America: "When I moved, it was very hard. And people who already lived here told me they had been through hell and that I would too. But I think they just overdid it. You have to remain human." When Lenka found out I couldn't use my bank card temporarily, she offered to lend me money... knowing we might never meet again. I didn't take it, but thank you, Lena, for your kindness.

For the rest of the evening and night, Gleb entertained me in Times Square; we went into the M&M's store and sat on the red stairs... that's probably how almost everyone who comes to America starts.

Right now, I'm writing all this while sitting at Newark Airport, catching up with American coffee with an unlimited amount of cream, which a kind, sleepy girl from Burger King let me take. I tried sleeping on the metal chairs, but it didn't work out. It's about 12 PM in Moscow now, my mom isn't answering my emails begging her to send the PIN code for my card, and I haven't slept for about a day since the 3 hours I got before that.

An Indian orthodontist entertained me here; he sat at my table and started asking, "Where are you from and where are you going?" He has Russian friends. Lenka gave me sandwiches with eggplant spread and meringue, and we devoured it all before it went bad))) He calls me 'The Daria' (he's parodying 'the' based on how I pronounce it). It's brutal... laughter aside, I didn't think I had pronunciation problems.

On the way to Newark, I was the only passenger, and the driver offered me to sit next to him, and we chatted the whole way. He migrated from Costa Rica, I arrived from Moscow a few hours ago... and we were both heading to Newark. =)