It so happened that I have always lived at the intersection of Western and Eastern cultures. Naturally, my acquaintance with the USA began remotely. I watched, listened, and read: the TV showed American movies, Western music flooded first the audio cassette shops, and then music channels. Many still remember the real MTV. Perhaps that is why I did not feel any hostility toward this country, and to some extent, I even felt the need to dispel all those silly rumors that hovered around the States myself. Better to see once...
Perhaps I caught the most perfect time to carry out my plan: twenty years ago, people sacrificed a lot to go to the States without having the opportunity to get to know this country. I simply found out about Work and Travel. Before this, I had never been outside the CIS, and on my own at that! Was I worried? You bet! Phew, it's good that I wasn't going to fly alone, but with my boyfriend. But more importantly, I intended to experience this in person, not from the handouts of the internet or Zadornov.
On the night before the flight, I didn't sleep. Packed suitcases stood in the corner, giving me no peace. I still couldn't believe that I was flying to the USA this summer, and not spending the summer as usual at home, where every street is walked and familiar. The feeling that I was setting off on a journey did not leave my heart, as did the anticipation of adventures.
As soon as I landed, I realized that I was already in the States: a huge queue at the airport, colorful, bright, and so diverse. And so my acquaintance with another culture began.
Four hours remained until our departure to our first city, Virginia Beach. By subway, my boyfriend Adilet and I reached New York, or rather, its very heart — Times Square. Here, a thrill gripped me. Despite twelve hours of flight and fatigue, I looked with childish, inexhaustible curiosity at the place where movies were filmed; a place I had seen on screen in childhood. There were so many people that I involuntarily felt as if they had flocked here from all over the city, forming a human sea with its own currents. Diverse, multifaceted, and insane New York! A city-legend; a city that Spider-Man saved; a city where superheroes and the mafia live, and to which King Kong was brought back in the 20th century! Times Square stepped off the film strip, spread out in episodes from hundreds of movies, played in my head with familiar actors and memorized lines. Even before leaving, I was worried that people would point fingers at us or whisper suspiciously — that's how a person heading to a new country worries — and only upon finding myself in Times Square did I realize how much I had flattered myself. What was happening looked like a closed film set: we caught an awards ceremony for TV series actors; people were walking around who were so strange that tourists like us realized that it was pointless to keep our mouths shut; a turn in any direction threatened to reveal a new miracle. 360 degrees of endless surprise, exclamations, and camera flashes.
Standing in place, we only watched the movement of people, but as soon as we moved, everything came to life. The feeling resembled entering a river current: as soon as you start walking, you realize that you have already become part of the wave.
It was not without comedy. An incredibly friendly Iron Man, Mickey Mouse, and Spider-Man called us over to take a photo. Pleased, we took photos, and only when the cartoon gang demanded five dollars did we realize that one has to pay for a photo with childhood heroes. We were confused, not yet used to the fact that five dollars is not that much money in the States; we ran with our suitcases, caught up in the human current of the eternally busy New York. Surely, the scene where a huge mouse and two superheroes are chasing you looks quirky.
New York painted caricatured people whom we never imagined seeing in life: half-naked people in caps covered in tattoos could run out of the general flow, fly up to scaffolding, and start doing pull-ups; others, in suits, rushed like locomotives through the streets without taking the phone away from their ear, and sometimes managing to chat on several at once. In general, people in New York are a separate story. They could sit on the steps with a cup of coffee or a book, or sprawl right by a shop on the curb. And what was even more stunning — no one paid any attention to it. At first, it seemed wild, but looking at the soles of our shoes, everything became clear — the streets turned out to be clean and dust-free, although paper trash, like newspapers, was often encountered.
Four hours spent in New York immediately set the mood for the whole trip. We are in America, and this is just the beginning. From the Greyhound station, we took a bus to Virginia Beach. The air conditioners were working in the cabin; Americans seem to have become completely accustomed to artificial cold, because we were terribly cold! But a few hours in the cold paid off — we got out by the foaming Atlantic Ocean.
In the first minutes, my breath was taken away: the high humidity simply took away the air! As soon as we crossed the threshold of the house, everyone immediately fell onto the beds. Few people slept on the plane: some were worried, some couldn't sleep in the seat, and some were reading guidebooks — as a result, sleep until this very house left our company. I woke up sixteen hours later, early the next morning. We set off in search of our jobs, fortunately, they were all a two-minute walk away: almost all available work was spread along the shore. Whether we were lucky, or the management itself was imbued with the coastal calm, but on the first day, we did not work.
I returned home, opened the curtain, and the ocean was roaring outside the window — the best start to a morning in my memory. The sun had already risen and was shining generously, luring us to the water. I won't say that I resisted much. In an instant, I unpacked my suitcases, found a swimsuit, a towel, and slippers. The air still seemed heavy, but I knew — give it time, and everyone will get used to it. You get used to good things quickly.
Soft sand under my feet held the warm summer sun, and the water tickled, swirling with whitecaps. For the first time in my life, I stood on the shore of the ocean; the water surface stretched far beyond the horizon, and the thought that this was only the beginning of the adventure sounded in unison with the opening view. I spent the first day on the beach, sunbathing, swimming, and photographing everything that caught my attention. And what could not catch my attention? The velvet sand and salty waters of the Atlantic captured us until the very evening. That night, I fell asleep happy.
The next day turned out to be truly American — we went to look for an additional job. That's where the second bottom opened up: everyone looked for a place on their own. Competition began, although it remained friendly and playful. Oceanfront Street is the main one where program participants look for work, and what was my surprise when it turned out that it was entirely Russian-speaking. My first job in the States, and in general, was the position of a housekeeper, or maid. Work at the Grand ocean hotel from 9:30 to 15:00 — I can't say that it was the most difficult thing in my life. Moreover, the thought that after a hard day's work the ocean would meet me warmed me up better than coffee in the morning. Adilet got a job at the same hotel. His name underwent a funny change: it seemed complicated to Americans, and somehow imperceptibly and smoothly he became the native Ed. This name took root, and soon Ed replaced Adilet at work.
The weekend arrived in this small tourist town, and they are worthy of a separate mention. As soon as Friday evening arrived, the streets came alive: everything around lit up with lights, clowns, cotton candy sellers, and magicians appeared. It seemed that on the weekend the town became a traveling circus. It is impossible to convey how relaxed the people are there, in comparison with New York. People are in no hurry, their movements are measured and languid — what can you expect from them, a coastal town by the ocean.
At some point, we realized that buying a bicycle is much more profitable than spending money on public transport. So we worked for a month, getting around by bike and spending our evenings on the beach.
Closer to July 4th — Independence Day — I got a job as a waiter's assistant in a restaurant. What kind of money that was! On the very first day, I received 100 dollars, instead of my 7.25 an hour. This work became a new leap: hundreds of visitors asked for snacks, drinks, and dishes — in one day I improved my English in a way I hadn't in a month. To learn to swim, you need to jump into the water — that's when I rethought this phrase.
The holiday was coming to an end, and Ed and I decided to take a risk. Having found a job in Washington, we requested confirmation and soon were already waiting for the bus; packed suitcases were calling us on the road again. I had another reason to rush to Washington: my grandfather had friends there working in a hospital. One cannot overestimate the opportunity for a medical student to see how doctors work in another country.
Washington immediately struck my heart. My grandfather's friends said that he had passed away literally twenty-four hours ago. We arrived late in the evening. We spent the night at a friend's; I couldn't sleep. Death touched me. I began to perceive everything that opened before me more brightly and sharply. The next day, we found an apartment through ads: the landlady turned out to be a woman from Shymkent, Aunt Nelya. Sometimes the world turns out to be so small. We paid for the first month, and "renovated" the second: I scraped the paint off the house and painted it, and Ed fixed the porch during this time. These construction efforts took no more than a week, and we saved quite a bit. Here it is, the essence of capitalism on the example of one house! But what an apartment we got, compared to a room in Virginia Beach: a basement with a kitchen, a bathroom, and a plasma TV showing Russian channels.
It turned out that we arrived a week before our work started; for us, this meant that a week of adventures in the capital had started! We settled in Gaithersburg, and the subway appeared in our lives again. In Washington, by the way, it is much cleaner than in New York. First of all, we went to the White House. There was terrible heat; at that time, I didn't think that a simple walk would exhaust me so much. Small drinking fountains are kindly placed along the streets: I cannot convey how they saved us from thirst on our hike through the cultural capital of the States. Soon, the realization came that the measured pace and lethargy of Virginia Beach were left behind. A working city spread out before me, where people are tense, busy, and caught up in the rush of weekdays: entertainment in Washington costs money, and quite a lot of it.
I was surprised by how many squirrels there are in Washington's parks! Every few meters we came across this little animal; at some point, I thought we had fed the entire squirrel community in the city. I imagined as if one runs away full, tells its own, and they run from different corners of the park.
Finally, we reached the White House. It turned out to be much smaller than my imagination painted it, but yes — it is indeed white. If it didn't have such significance, I would have considered it an ordinary, albeit beautiful, mansion. In general, we walked around a huge number of attractions. Deciding to list everything, I risk writing a small book about my visit to just one city.
Endless museums scattered throughout Washington were shocking. Almost all of them turned out to be free, and as you know, it's hard to pass by something free. We visited the museum of modern art: a strange place filled with no less strange works. We were also in the aerospace museum. Of course, Ed liked it much more than I did; however, this museum is scientifically unbiased — a huge number of stands are dedicated to Soviet aviation and cosmonautics. For example, there is the first satellite launched into Earth's orbit.
I cannot betray myself and remain silent about the food in the States. Perhaps it was in Washington that I got acquainted with world cuisine: starting with classic, purely American fast food, reinforcing this with Italian cuisine that is no less familiar to Americans, and ending with Ethiopian. I was struck not so much by the presence of an immense choice, but by its accessibility. People there are not surprised when they see all this deliciousness.
The week was coming to an end, and work appeared on the horizon. Initially, we transferred to a Vietnamese-Chinese restaurant, but by that time Aunt Nelya helped Ed find a job at a construction site, which is why we rarely saw each other at the restaurant.
Vietnamese are amazing people. I cannot convey how close I became to them. Almost every evening we relaxed together, played bowling; the days were entirely occupied by work. There was no shortage of visitors, but it must be said, I did not feel like I was in a working atmosphere; we joked, chatted — all this resembled a family business. It was a revelation for me to work like this, freely and easily.
Soon, they showed me a Buddhist temple built near Washington. The feeling that I was initiated into something close, personal, pinched my chest: I seemed not like a worker from a restaurant, but a friend, a close person. The place plunged into calm, as if I had plunged into cool water in the heat of the midday sun. In the center of America, in its very heart, busy and business-like, there was a place for a corner of peace and happiness. I was introduced to Zu, an amazing woman, the abbess of the temple. Kindness emanated from her, sincere and childish. Such a state is impossible to fake. After this meeting, perhaps, I realized how many people simply put on kindness, just as if it were a hat or glasses. It also seemed surprising that a cat with a question mark on its back and 7 pads on its paw came to the temple. Whether it was a coincidence, an accident, or a sign — I didn't know, but it plunged me into some kind of unconscious thrill.
The last days were crazy. I realized I wouldn't have enough money for everything that looked so tempting from the shop windows — banquets were added to the work at the restaurant. It is interesting that Korean, Vietnamese, and Chinese weddings differ little from Kazakh ones; the differences are visible only in languages, outfits, and the color of the guests.
Just before leaving, we visited Six Flags America — an immense colossus of entertainment, including an amusement park and a water park. While the sun was sitting in the sky, smiling with warmth, we went to the water park. I wouldn't wish such slides on an enemy: straight as a pillar; to go down it, you had to enter a capsule, and at the most inopportune moment (and you are never ready for this!) the floor simply falls out. It seems that since then my heart does not trust my mind, and as soon as I remember the slide, it immediately starts to ache, hiding in the far corners of the chest.
The next lesson I learned already in the amusement park: when going down a roller coaster, you shouldn't open your mouth. Why? Well, first of all, I still don't know what kind of bug I ate on the fly, and whether it took root, and secondly, when the mouth is open, the cheeks pull up to the very ears!
Somehow, the two months spent in Washington came to an end. It was time to say goodbye. I had to fly home from a place that had partly become my home. The people among whom I worked, had fun, and rested became dear; parting was difficult. And again, packed suitcases, and again the road calls. For the last time, I was returning from work along familiar streets. One evening we got on a bus and rushed to New York; until the very disappearance of the bus station, when it looked like a small needle eye, I followed my American friends with my gaze. A difficult night, but at least without freezing air conditioners in the cabin.
Early in the morning, Ed and I were already standing in New York, but not in Times Square like last time, but in a no less curious place — a stronghold of Asia — Chinatown. Yes, yes, in that very Chinatown where the heroes of the movie Rush Hour visited. There we rented a room in a small hotel.
Chinatown is a huge quarter in New York. It houses a huge Chinese diaspora; there is an Italian quarter, a Russian one, and God knows what else. We had two days left before the flight, of course, there was no talk of work, and we decided to dedicate them to exploring New York!
Perhaps three months in America sharpened my gaze, but having arrived in the Big Apple for the second time, I began to notice details; and as they say, the salt is in the details. Again I went down to the subway, and realized how dirty it is: sometimes, in a dark passage, one could glimpse a rat! On the first day, we went to the symbol of the States — the Statue of Liberty.
It is interesting how many faces New York can have. A city of difficulties, opportunities, crime, culture, classics of the USA: perhaps, in this mini-state, anything can happen — which will remain in memory forever. For me, New York again appeared as a cozy and romantic city. On the ferry sailing to the island of freedom, we met newlyweds from Russia. They were spending their honeymoon here. Until the very arrival at the island, I listened to the story of their love. Truly, this city is capable of the quirks of fate!
For the first time in my life, I stood at the foot of that very statue that previously looked at me from pictures, postcards, and posters. A blue-green woman pointed her hand with a torch to the very sky. Now it is hard to believe that it was once made by the French, so much did it fit in and take root.
The second day turned out to be more cinematic. First, we went to Wall Street, and contrary to the name of one movie, we met not a wolf, but a bull: a huge statue of a bull cast in gold under the sun. I will not mention what needs to be rubbed for luck; and as for where tourists stick their heads for a successful shot — even more so.
Finally, already in the city itself, I paid attention to the yellow taxi. There is an incredible number of these cars — on the main streets, the yellow color is everywhere; it is unusual to realize that to go somewhere, it is enough to approach the curb and stretch out your hand.
Evening — the last evening in the States — turned out to be wonderful. Already after sunset, we went on an excursion to the Empire State Building. The opening view was etched in my memory in an instant, a bright frame: it seemed that night New York sparkles with millions of lights, reflected by the starry sky on the ground. Yes, it was the night sky that this city resembled with the onset of darkness; it sparkled during the day, but it lit up exactly at night. This view shone as the last gem in my journey. The next morning I was already flying to my first home, leaving the second, newly acquired one.
And so my adventure ended; although no, it didn't end — it took a break. America left incredible sensations. I expanded not so much my knowledge of English, but my horizon. I visited another country, on my own; saw a foreign culture, found new friends, walked through cities that I had previously seen only in cinema; learned to be responsible for myself and my life. Is this not growing up?
