On March 22nd, I signed the contract, and by the 24th, I was already rushing to the bank to pay the first installment, but that wasn't meant to be. In my personal diary, there is the following entry: 'March 24th. While trying to open a bank account, I discovered that my passport was listed as wanted.' The situation was completely absurd, as I hadn't broken any laws and hadn't lost my passport, but I still couldn't open a bank account. However, at the local passport office, I found out that my passport had been blocked in the city of Nizhny Tagil. Without thinking twice, I went to make a scene—to sort things out—at the FMS office in that city. It turned out that someone had filed a report about a lost passport, and by some stroke of bad luck, the clerk had carelessly blocked my passport by mixing up one digit. Upon returning home, I had to write several statements, after which my passport was finally unblocked. And, by the way, no one in any of the offices even apologized. That was the first test, after which I heard, 'maybe it's not meant to be.' But I haven't believed in fate for a long time. I believe that you have to fight.

I decided to be truly desperate and try to find a job on my own. For almost two weeks, I sent out emails, but received no replies. I really wanted to go to Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts, at that time, but most of the jobs were already taken, and there was absolutely no housing left there. There was nowhere to delay, so I agreed to a job through an agency. It was a job offer at the beloved Dunkin Donuts on Cape Cod. I didn't care anymore, I just wanted to be done with it all and leave. But that wasn't meant to be either. The sponsor didn't confirm this offer. There was no proper explanation for it; many of my acquaintances went on this offer without any issues, but I was refused. I tried calling the sponsor, writing to them, but all to no avail. There was only one explanation: the sponsor was worried that there was no housing left on the island, as too many students were heading there that summer. In a rush, wiping away tears of resentment, I signed another offer. It was May 4th. I cried because every time I built a more or less good plan in my head, it collapsed. I cried because I wasn't going to my dream island and wasn't even going to a place where my acquaintances would be. I cried because I signed an offer in Texas (read: a desert with cowboys and tequila). It was only later that I realized some higher forces were pushing me in that direction. My first American summer was spent in Texas, and it was the best thing that could have happened to me.

On May 19th, my Texas offer was confirmed, and on June 6th, I passed my interview at the consulate and received my J-1 Visa. I won't dwell on the interview for long, as it went very easily and quickly that time; they asked me standard questions about where I study, what I plan to do in the future, and what I will do in the States. By the way, there was also a question about why I chose Texas. I didn't lie and say it was the dream of my life; I explained that I had no choice since I applied for the program late.

If you are interested in how I was refused a visa in 2017, stay with me, I will definitely tell you about that later.