First days in the States, Honduras

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Departure

May 26

Well, I left St. Petersburg just fine. I packed on time, although there was a little panic that I had forgotten something, or that I hadn't managed to pay for my phone card online. There was an unpleasant tension in the air.

There was a difficult moment when my parents were seeing me off at the train station for Moscow (my flight to the States was from Sheremetyevo). I realized that if everything went well, the next time we would meet would be in 4 months... and I couldn't be absolutely sure that everything would go well. To be honest, I wasn't even sure about the next day, because before this, I had never traveled alone on such trains... Generally speaking, I had never done anything alone before: I hadn't lived alone, hadn't worked, hadn't cooked, hadn't traveled... And although I was almost sure that I could do all this at a high level, now I was facing a real test.

In short, I was really scared, but when problems arise, the strength to solve them also appears. I didn't show it and acted confident. It was very hard for my parents even without my panic; my mom was crying, my dad was looking intently into my eyes, trying to understand how I was feeling. Now it is perfectly clear that it was much harder for them that summer than it was for me...

Personally, the following helps me:

"Emotional pain is also a loss in survival potential... Only a person does not lose body tissues, cells, or physiological functions. They lose close relatives, loved ones, personal belongings, a dog or a cat, or they lose status or respect, etc... A psychologist would say that a person's loss (whether of important objects or close living beings) leads to a decrease in factors contributing to their survival, and therefore they become upset."

Taken from Wikipedia. I enjoy reducing all manifestations of human activity to animal manifestations whenever the opportunity arises =) Maybe it will help you too, like realizing that you are above the problem itself?

There. The conductor orders everyone seeing someone off to get out. I get on the train, wave to my folks, the train starts moving...

May 27

Then there was Moscow, the mood was good, a new city, everything was curious. I had about ten hours before the flight, so I managed to walk around Red Square, the Kremlin, and sit in an internet cafe on Arbat. I had forgotten a copy of my military ID at home, and the cops could have hassled me, which was not at all what I needed right now. I called, my mom sent it, and I printed it out. It's better to ask the salespeople in any store on Arbat exactly which basement the internet club is in - that's how I found it. Three hours before the flight, I enter the metro. Rechnoy Vokzal station. From there, shuttle buses go to the airport terminals. I think I need Terminal 1. People are all around with bags, also in a hurry, some are worried. One such nervous guy is being led out of the shuttle by "security guards" by his arms; they start hassling him that he didn't pay for the shuttle bus and now he's going to pay a fine, otherwise he won't go anywhere. He makes excuses, is in a hurry, is worried, and takes out his wallet. I felt sorry for him. Such things would hardly have worked on me; if you don't count that I'm just healthy, I have invaluable successful experience in getting a military ID from the military enlistment office. Since then, I know how to fight bureaucratic arbitrariness and I'm not afraid. I could have helped the guy, but I was already sitting in the shuttle, and it was packed. (By the way, these buses seem to run every half hour, it makes sense to wait for a fresh, empty one)

Flight

At the airport, I realized that I had no idea what to do next. (The last time I flew was a long time ago with my folks) The mood was excellent, I found a couple of girls in IEC t-shirts, I walked up and said "Me too!" and smiled like an idiot =) Then I got to chatting, accidentally spilled a bottle of water on myself; in general, I am absent-minded and happy with life. The guys told me how boarding the plane is organized. Two girls are going for the second time, to a familiar place, one to Los Angeles, the other to New York, the others are pestering them with questions. They are bandaging their bags - well, I also taped a note with my flight and employer's address to mine. Then I still took both my bag and backpack on board - they allowed it.

We are flying with Italian lines, Alitalia, to Milan on some small plane. 3 hours 45 minutes. The plane is an Airbus Industrie A320. 6 seats in a row. This is cool - flights! Well, you know yourself what feelings you have when you fly far; for me, it's just happiness.

At Milan's Malpensa Airport, we have an overnight layover (overnight flight). All night, people from our plane wander aimlessly around the huge, empty, and closed terminal, looking for open shops or just wandering around. My acquaintances are just girls, and I don't really fit into their company and conversations - so I separate and explore the terminal on my own. It's interesting where everything is, the signs aren't in Russian, well, you can imagine - all winter in the nauseatingly familiar university/home, and here I've broken free =) Then someone finds a small shop with overpriced water and sandwiches, the guys come running from all ends of the terminal, the saleswoman grumbles at us and tries to close the shop from time to time.

I want to sleep. The problem is that all the benches here are divided into seats by armrests. Most try to fall asleep sitting up, some manage to lie down by bending intricately between the armrests. I figured that next time I should take a foam pad and a sleeping bag, then I'll be like a king. But for now, since the cafe finally closed, I collect 8 chairs, arrange them in two rows with the backs facing out, take off my sneakers, and settle down perfectly on my things in the resulting nest. It's a bit hard, but much better than sitting =)

May 28

In the morning, the internet machine started working, I send a message to my relatives. It annoys me to report back, but I know they are worried. They announce boarding for our plane, now it's a huge Boeing 777. There are nine seats in a row here. The flight is 8 hours 23 minutes as far as I remember. I get a window seat, I give it up to a new acquaintance for whom this is her first flight. Although I really wanted to stare out the porthole myself, you can't refuse here...

By the way, it is quite possible to find out in advance where which seats are, roughly www.seatguru.com, just keep in mind that different airlines arrange the letters and numbers of seats on the same aircraft model differently. For example, on the same Boeing 777, row 20 on Alitalia corresponds to row 15 on American Airlines, on Alitalia the economy class row is divided like ABC_DEG_JKL, on British Airways like ABC_DEF_HJK, and on American ones it's all messed up: AB_CDEFG_HJ ...

While we are flying, people are having fun, everyone is excited, chatting and making plans. Lena, my neighbor from Irkutsk, was planning to go to Atlantic City with numerous friends (but in the end, the summer was in Florida, Fort Walton =) they are going to take a taxi to the Port Authority bus terminal, some experienced guy promises that it will be cheap and simple. I quietly think about joining them.

I took the contacts of all my friends from the flight. Later, when we had more or less settled in, it was fun to call each other and ask how everyone was doing, share impressions, maybe someone would need help. I was sure that I would be the one helping, but when things weren't going well for me at all, one good girl, Nastya, morally supported me over the phone at the right moment, helped... Besides, if anything, there is an opportunity to leave for a better place based on a tip. So if you are going for the first time - collect emails as much as possible, they will come in handy =)

We are descending over New York, holy cow, here it is, America, real, and you will have to settle in here yourself. It gets scary. A couple of nervous jokes, people close up and think about their own things. We land at JFK on May 28 at 13:50. A short goodbye on the plane, now everyone is on their own.

New York

The first airport employee I met was black. Well, I have warm feelings towards black people, you could say I went to America to see black people in their natural environment, they are hilarious. He smiles. A long line for passport control, we are standing mixed with Italians, laughing.

I passed control, what to do, I pester my acquaintances, no one intends to discuss anything. Everyone's eyes are wide, they are bustling, "Bye, good luck!" and they scatter. Well, okay. I look at a group, and Lena and her friends have surrounded a taxi - it turned out that the price (I don't remember what) was not for the whole taxi but per head, expensive. The guys are nervous, arguing, some kid gets into the car and everyone follows his example. The herd instinct worked. I only manage to throw out "Good luck" and I am left alone.

I can calmly look around, feel the moment, the mood is just excellent, contrary to expectations. I arrived successfully, now the second no less exciting point of the program - to get to Philadelphia today, and then to the town of Exton where I have an offer for moving.

I decide to hell with this taxi, I'll try to get to the bus terminal on the airtrain and then by metro, as written in our IEC book. After all, it's interesting what their metro is like - and I might only get here a second time on the way back at the end of the summer! Excellent decision, I praise myself for it. Here it must be said that although I have long been used to the fact that I rarely make mistakes, in general, ALL the decisions I made over the summer were practically ideal, and this is surprising. I personally believe that the gods love me =)

The Airtrain is a cool topic, nothing complicated, there is a map at the stop, you can spin around as much as you want until you arrive where you need to. I first need to get to the terminal where there are computers with internet. By trial and error, having spent seven bucks on broken machines where half the buttons are missing on the keyboard, I found out that in the middle of Terminal 4 on the first floor, the information desk gives internet on a normal computer for $3 for 4 minutes. Then I got out on the airtrain to Jamaica Station (I liked the name more than Howard Beach, besides, it turned out later that it's faster through Jamaica)

At the machine, I choose a $7 card, metro+airtrain trip. This is not difficult - everyone around you can help you here. It seems to me now that getting anywhere in New York for the first time is much easier than getting anywhere for a beginner in Moscow! Despite the vastness of the city and the complexity of the metro, here you just need to ask the staff - they will explain peacefully and clearly, repeat 2 times if you didn't understand =)

Nevertheless, the metro here is really terribly tricky, just a ton of lines (I used to think there were a ton in Moscow, in my city there are only 4), and there are several platforms at the stations. My brain is simply unable to accept the New York subway scheme as a map. Also, the system is not ordinary, there are express and local trains, the first are fast and stop only at stations marked with white circles, the second stop everywhere. Both types come to the same tracks, so you need to watch what is written on the trains. Is the metro in St. Petersburg noisy?? You haven't been to the New York one!! The trains are just deafening, the staff here works with earplugs, you have to wave your hands to attract attention =)

Everything around is so interesting, everything, absolutely everything. People! Holy cow - so much new information. While I was riding in the metro, hundreds of new thoughts, solutions to old problems, long-forgotten sensations were rushing through my head at a crazy speed - that's what it means to give your brain new impressions! You need to feed your brain! Here is one of the fresh thoughts: if the brain is starving for a long time - you become stupid...

I was riding and thinking, who of my acquaintances has been to New York? and I have been... It didn't even occur to me then that this summer I would see another good hundred no less stunning places.....

Port Authority - I buy a Greyhound bus ticket to Philadelphia, $24, seems like for eight in the evening. A slice of pizza and water, 5 bucks. There are many of our guys around - it's easy to single them out from the crowd. Why - I don't know, you unconsciously slide your gaze over people, unconsciously stop your gaze on someone, well, this happens all the time, and then you notice that this someone suddenly swears in Russian... It's a 3-hour ride, I slept through almost the whole road. Night, Philadelphia - well, cool, but I don't have time to admire, I need to look for the train station. I try to figure it out using the map in our book, it seems like it's 5 miles to the station, well, what to do - I'll walk. Just in case, I ask - it turns out that the Amtrak station is right across the street from the Greyhound bus station. I note to myself that it's better to ask first than to figure it out yourself! $5 ticket to Exton. It's night and I'm alone at the station. The cashier explains for a long time how to get on the train and where to go.

Everyone I asked for help asked me ten times, invented their own versions of the question, I had to desperately shake my head and use sign language, and then they repeated it five times so that I would understand. And in St. Petersburg, it was considered that I had good upper-intermediate English, I even took places in district olympiads at school (twice third =). like that... The train drops me off at 11 pm at an ordinary platform with an Exton sign. The railway track passes over a deserted highway, there is just a forest around and, if you don't count the full moon in the sky, which illuminates everything quite well (for the moon, of course), it is absolutely dark.

Exton

So. I'm a good boy. I made it to Exton. The excitement evaporated, I want to eat and sleep (after 2 days of adventures with the flight and the road). And all around is darkness, forest, and no houses there or other signs that people live here. Cars pass by occasionally. I only have the address of the motel where Vanya stayed written in my phone, the mobile doesn't work here, he doesn't know when I'll arrive. I decided that I would walk along the road, get to civilization, and ask there. Where to go - it doesn't matter, so first to the right. After about 15 minutes, I come out to shops, the lights are on, there are no people. Closed. A lonely jeep is standing in an empty huge parking lot, a woman seems to be sitting in it. I walk up and ask - she gets scared, locks herself in the car, and starts the engine. Damn, don't drive away! I walk away and stand peacefully smiling. She opens the window, thank God. "Could you please tell me how to get to the motel!", I name the address: "Coach House Motel 1464 Pottstown Pike, West Chester, PA" (you can find it on Google Maps). She thinks I should have gone in the other direction from the station.

Well, I returned - I walk along the forest for about an hour, but it seems like an eternity =) Cars rush by. Finally - there is a motel on the hill, I see the sign! I climbed the hill - an American roadside motel, well, like they show in the movies. A ton of rooms in a row, each has its own door, in front of the door is a place for a car, in the middle of the building is a two-story section - the owner probably lives here. It's 12 at night, and here I realize that I have no idea which room this Vanya lives in... daaaamn... I knock on the owner's door for half an hour - no one. There is a "no vacancy" sign on his door, maybe he slipped away somewhere? I knock on the last room - there is rustling, they wake up, but don't open the door. Understandable - they are afraid. Shit. I'm not going to knock on each of the 20 rooms. It got really cold, I realized that I had missed out on a place to stay for today. Simply because I didn't prepare my arrival well.

Behind the motel is a 24-hour Wawa store, at a gas station. I went in there to eat and warm up, it's one in the morning, the clerk is looking at me strangely. But I'm not leaving here - it's really freezing outside, even though I put on all my warm clothes including a wool hat. As a result, he called the manager.

The scary manager turned out to be a great guy. For half an hour he asks me questions, trying to find out if I'm a psycho, he believes my story with difficulty. And in the end, he offers me to spend the night at his place. I must say that he really saved me. Because by this time I had already started shaking from the cold, hunger, and just nervous exhaustion. I don't remember the man's name anymore, bald, about forty, we drove to his house for a whole hour, in a red convertible, he praised my English and asked about Russia, he has a fancy one-story house, lives with a huge fat St. Bernard =) He gave me a bed, and before passing out right in my clothes, I remember a thought flashed through my mind, what if the guy is gay, I decided that I would handle him if anything and fell asleep.

The guy turned out to be normal and very hospitable - in the morning we sat on the porch and drank hot chocolate, and the St. Bernard was yawning comfortably, basking in the sun. The guy told a bunch of all sorts of things about local life, said that it's impossible to live in Exton without a car, there are no sidewalks here, and advised me to move to the neighboring student town of West Chester, "there are young people there and you should like it". He also said that he is saving money to go to the Middle East and is currently taking Arabic language courses... It turned out that he knows Russian history perfectly, many times better than I do, to my shame. He said that good Russian guys worked for him last year, and if I need money - he will help me with work too. Then this kind man drove me to look for the office at the address on the offer, which turned out to be a hangar hidden far away. Somehow they heard us pulling up and came out to meet me. My appearance was quite effective, in that red convertible =) I said goodbye to the kind Wawa manager who helped me so much and took his contact (which I later lost to my great regret).

"You must be Alex?" a healthy broad-shouldered man smiles. This is David, my boss. Jewish, by the way...

A new page of my life in America has begun.