Hi everyone! My name is Elnara Kaynazarova, a participant of the Work and Travel USA program in 2014, and I'm planning to go again in 2015 and 2016. I'll tell you my "little" story, perhaps the story of a typical person who participated in the Work and Travel program, or maybe you'll find it interesting. Let's start from the beginning: I registered for the program thanks to my friend. I remember her saying, "You can go through any company, but IEC.Exchange is the leader." After calling the coordinator, I arranged a meeting. Once I submitted all the documents, I had to look for a job. It didn't seem that difficult to me; you see, I'm the kind of person who likes to dive headfirst into things. But thinking about the USA as a country where I might be in a couple of months felt like an illusion. My parents, having paid for the whole program, still didn't believe that I could actually go to the famous America. Finally, in May, I received my long-awaited J-1 Visa. It's amazing that when you are busy all the time finding a job, housing, and buying tickets, you forget about the most important thing: you are actually going to the States. This isn't visiting grandma in the village; this is the country our grandparents didn't even dream of. Our journey began long before arriving in America; you see, I traveled from Aktobe to Moscow by train. As soon as we arrived in Moscow, the atmosphere changed immediately. In 2.5 hours, we had to get from Kievsky Railway Station to Sheremetyevo Airport. It seems easy, but for an eighteen-year-old novice who ended up in a foreign country—maybe not so far away, but still—it wasn't that easy: 2 metro rides, 2 km on foot with luggage, the Aeroexpress, and Muscovites of different nationalities rushing everywhere. No one wanted to help. A smiling grandmother started shouting at me, saying we were "invaders," and most people, when asked "how to get to such-and-such metro line," would turn away or answer with a sugary smile, "I don't know." Having somehow reached the airport, we took off immediately. After 10 hours of flying, we had completely forgotten the euphoria we started with; moreover, we even forgot where we were flying to. But that was my problem; you see, I'm from the West, and I didn't really want to fly to Astana or Almaty and fly out from there, so be smarter—it's better and easier to fly out from Kazakhstan, and the price is the same. My companions were going to another city, but I stayed in New York for another week, so to speak, to see the city for which all this was done in principle. New York is an amazing city, with many smiling people of different nationalities. A city where tomorrow you won't meet today's tourists—new people, new faces. Of course, this is a city that never sleeps, a city of tourists. But I'll talk about New York later. In general, after existing in it for a couple of days, I set off for my little Ocean City, the one in the state of Maryland. And believe me, it was the best decision. So when you choose a city, choose one that is perhaps small but cozy, so you don't miss home so much. That day could rightfully be considered the first day of my summer. The first month was the usual work-home-work routine; we were getting used to a new life, a new rhythm of life. The first holiday in the States was July 4th, Independence Day. I always wanted to be part of something unusual, so we dressed up in red, white, and blue colors, went to work, and then coordinated a small party with our employer. My work team consisted of three Kazakhs and about 10 Americans. I consider them not only colleagues but also my friends; in 4 months, they became my family. It's nice to wake up in the morning and go to your favorite job, to see the faces of friends. The Americans were surprised to notice that we actually know what fireworks are. We taught them Russian and Kazakh, and not the bad words, but normal ones, sometimes even literary ones. We argued with them about who is greater, Pushkin or Lermontov, whose novels are more instructive, Tolstoy or Dostoevsky.

Several times we watched the sunrise on the beach.

On July 7th, I went to a Beyoncé concert in Baltimore. Baltimore is not a big city, it's cozy, and it's famous for its National Aquarium—by the way, one of the magnets with an image of a tiger shark is hanging on my wall. The aquarium was of the greatest size with 4 sections: dolphins, sharks, flora, and jellyfish. Definitely take note, it's worth those $40. But the evening with Beyoncé could not be exchanged for anything; that's when I understood what a "world star" means. Energy was bursting from her; I was standing 10 meters from the stage and saw her live. Of course, for this, you had to try and find tickets closer. There I met three African-American women with whom I plan to meet next year. I remember calling my mom the next day and telling her about the latest events; she was screaming with happiness because Beyoncé is her favorite singer, even though she doesn't understand English.