And so, on May 19, 2017, I boarded a plane for the SPb-Moscow-New York-Denver route. The most unforgettable, fun, happy, and intriguing 4 months of my life had begun.

I was afraid of the transatlantic flight: I thought 9 hours would feel like an eternity, but it was a wonderful and, most importantly, a maximally comfortable flight! Thank you, Aeroflot.

Only a few minutes remain until I step onto the territory of my dreams. But for now, you enjoy the view of New York from the porthole window...

I was flying out of rainy and cold St. Petersburg to warm America (or so I thought). After all, neither I, nor my friends, nor my relatives thought to check the weather in Estes Park, my final destination. I arrived in Denver in summer sneakers, jeans, and a light jacket. It was night, and I justified the cold by that alone. But as we were driving in the mountains, I saw SNOW. They told me that a few days ago, so much snow had fallen that the main highway was closed. HELLO! My friends who were meeting me there didn't even tell me about this. To say I was in shock, bewilderment, and confusion is an understatement. Overcoming snowdrifts, I finally reached my bed after about 30 hours of travel.