Bishkek - Day 2

My dear readers,

It is with great sadness and frustration that I inform you that this will be my last post for the foreseeable future. My laptop was stolen, and it will be incredibly difficult to continue to present my adventures and photos to the world without it. I don't want to present you with anything that's half hearted - I'd rather present nothing to the world than something that isn't a quality I can look back on and approve of.

Right now, I am mostly hoping that I didn't lose too many photos and documents that were not backed up to cloud storage yet. My pride hurts. I'm determined not to let 1 bad memory ruin all of the good memories I've had here in Prague. However, I am now faced with the difficult decision of whether I can afford (and justify) replacing it. If so, how, and with what? Suggestions for what to get, and information on how to obtain an affordable replacement are very welcome. 

If you feel so inclined, donations to help ease the pain in my wallet, and budget for continuing this adventure, will also be graciously accepted via PayPal. (Kmt04@my.fsu.edu)

I will need the support and encouragement of you, dear readers, more than ever now. I can't help but think that this is a sign to give up on this entire travel writer endeavor. I hope to turn that sign around and create something even more fantastic in spite of it, though. 

In the meantime, I'll continue to post on other social media platforms, but just in case I do throw in the towel - I want to thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for reading. I hope I have been able to entertain you, as well as open your eyes and hearts to things you otherwise never would have considered. 

And now, I present you with what I hope won't be my last post...  

I know y'all have just been DYING to know how things went after my first day in Bishkek, right? Did I have a panic attack? Did I cry all day long? Did I get auctioned off as a bride to the highest bidder? You'll just have to keep reading to find out!

Bishkek Day 2: June 22, 2015

So far, adjusting seems a little easier than it did last year. Maybe that’s because I can read most of the signage around me. Kyrgyz is the national language, but Russian is the official state language, so most signs are written in both, and at least it resembles Russian a bit. Georgian is beautiful, but so completely different from any other language that I know, that there was no hope for me to decipher anything. I know if I stick it through, it should make me a better person, right? And if any of you judge me for starting out feeling like all I want to do is get the hell out of here, and then ending up loving it – why don’t you try to do something like this? You’ll see just how hard it is. It’s a freaking emotional roller-coaster, add on top of that (even more so than last year) the stress of having nothing to come back to when it’s all over, you’d be ready to cry yourself to sleep every night for a few weeks too.

It’s still hard to wrap my head around why anyone would want to visit here, at least not for 2 months… and certainly not for their last opportunity to go abroad for such an amount of time… but the view I finally got to see when walking to the bus stop today… that may just be a factor in it. When I finally looked up from the rough gravel road I was walking down with my neighbor's daughter, and another student who was placed with the family next door, I finally saw the mountain range ahead. Holy crap. They seem so massive. It’s hot as balls around here right now, but still gets cool at night, and those mountains are still covered in snow. I’m not talking about just the very tops of them, a good hunk of those mountains are still white. After seeing that, I’m beginning to think that some of our weekend excursions will finally make me really appreciate this place.

The Tien Shien Mountain range as it appears from Street No. 5 in the Рухий Мурас (Roohee Mooras) neighborhood of Bishkek.

Trying to get to school today was fun, for everyone apparently. Some people were dropped off by their host families. It seems they were able to place everyone in at least moderately well off families, and some in much better off families too. Most of us are out in those suburbs, I’m not sure if that’s supposed to make me feel safer or not… yes it’s harder to reach them, and most of the families out here have to be fairly well off to be able to afford to build a house out here, but the difficulty to get to & from school, and the main areas of the city leave me a bit wary. The possibility of going out one night does seem within reach at least. Cabs are cheap it shouldn’t cost more than $5 to get home from just about anywhere in the city.

Speaking of how cheap things are here… I took out 4,800 SOM today, that’s about $80USD… let’s see how far this goes… It’ll cost me 20 SOM per day for my marshrutka rides to & from school, 120/week to keep my local phone turned on, and lunch today, which I split with Masha, was a tasty  dish called Pide (I think it’s Turkish) and 2 bottles of water,  know how much that cost? 300SOM… ya know how much that is in USD? Less than $5… I told my host mom that today, and she said that was expensive, and suggested a cheaper place. Holy crap - it gets cheaper than that!? I wanted to lose weight while here, but I don’t know if I can resist such cheap tasty foods, because I know I can’t get them in the states.

Our pide 3 ways, cheese, egg, and meat - basically Turkish pizza

Tea, as my family poured it, red, as I like it.

Remember  how I was guesstimating how old my host “mom” is, well she finally asked me how old I am today, and was relieved that she was older… by 2 years… yep… she’s 30… but she’s also shown me a lot more around the house to help me feel more at home, probably because I’m so old lol. I’ve got the gate code, a key, have been shown where to get clean drinking water, been told there’s something called максим (maksim) in the fridge, I think? She showed me how to make my own tea (which I learned today that if you like it красный/red it means you like it strong), and also how to use the washing machine. My host mom last year wouldn’t let me do my own laundry, which is super sweet, and shows some cultural differences, I think. Even though I lived with her family for 2 months, I was always still considered, and treated, as a guest. Btw- tea is HUGE in Russian & Asian cultures if you didn’t already know that. Here (at least at home) it always comes in a concentrated form out of a tea pot and poured over a wee strainer with a few loose leaves in it, then diluted with hot water. It's served in a small bowl, called a пиала (piyala), add a sugar cube or a preserved strawberry and it’s even more delicious than it was originally. Speaking of strawberries… ermagherd… we got the BEST smoothies/смузис today! For about $3, it was so incredibly fresh and tasty… there will be many of those consumed this summer.

A fine example of taking your tea красный (red).

I’m pretty sure I’ve got a much more traditional Kyrgyz family than the students I’ve talked to today. Most of them had minimal exposure to their families and their customs because they just got in this morning at 5am, then had to be at school by 9am (for most of us it’s at least 25min to get to school) then we walked around the city… had I known we were going to walk so much, I would have worn a much different outfit… Yeah… walking around the city for hours on day 1 is one is pretty much one of my least favorite things to do… do you know how many of the things I remember from it? Umm… none. I remember where the nearest bank to get money is, and the shopping mall near the school, which is where I need to get off my marshrutka… we’ll see how well this goes tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll have the girls come with me for a while before I need to figure it out on my own. I think I have a pretty good handle on it, but I need to get used to keeping an eye out for my stop somehow, having to ask to get off at a stop, and to flagging down the marshrutkas. In Moscow, we got on and off at pretty standard stops, so they always stopped, whether anyone was waiting or not.

One of the few marshrutkas in my area.

Oh, I guess I should explain what a marshrutka is, since most American cities don’t have them, though I hear NYC has a few underground ones. A marshrutka is a minibus/van that only goes along a fixed route. It costs a little bit more than riding a traditional bus, and is way more crowded, but they often stop closer to where you want to get on and off. There’s no A/C, and the driver breaks harder than I do… at least the one on the way home today did… needless to say, this is a place where I will be showering at night to get the nasty of the day off… and maybe taking some whorebaths with wetwipes during the day. I managed to find toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, Nivea hand cream, and bodywash today for about $17 total, but normal body lotion seems to be elusive, maybe it’s just the store we were in… and I forgot to look for hand sanitizer… I need that, my hands feel dirty all the time.

Just like Russia and Batumi, A/C doesn’t exist in these houses, but heating is provided by the city… too bad it’s not cold out… The room I was in for testing today had a small A/C unit, but it was too little too late. It was so stuffy and warm in that room that I started to fall asleep DURING my placement test… so… hopefully my results still place me in the proper level.

Also, as I’m typing this, the wee little hellion is pant-less, playing hide and seek with his big sister. Not gonna lie… I envy him a little. I already miss living alone. His happy noises are hard to differentiate from his upset noises too, unless he’s legitimately crying.

So, what makes a Kyrgyz family so different from other families? Well, in Batumi, my family’s flat was perfectly normal, actually I really loved it. Small, but cozy, well decorated, and that balcony… you couldn’t beat an evening sitting out there, watching the families of the neighborhood head out for evening walks, eating perfectly ripe watermelon as that cool sea breeze rolled down the streets. Here, well yes it’s different because we’re in the suburbs, but everyone’s house out here feels a lot like a compound. There’s high cement walls with gates around all of them. There’s a carport for the Mercedes my family owns (yeah, their car costs about as much as the student loan debt I’ve got now) and when you go inside, you immediately take your shoes off, if you didn't already do it outside. In Batumi, it didn’t seem super necessary that I take them off right away, I’d walk into my room and take them off there, but my host mom would always get on to me for not putting on a pair of slippers/flipflops for walking around the flat. Well, she kept it so clean, I really didn’t see a need to do such a thing. Anyway, here it’s fine to walk around inside the house without shoes or slippers on, which I prefer anyway. I know I can leave them by the door, but I don’t want to crowd things too much, so I’ve been carrying them up to my room. Also, you need a pair of sandals/flipflops for walking around outside. THIS seems to be what makes my family different from other families… there’s a table to eat at outside under the carport, and a garden behind the house, between 2 sheds, a separate kitchen for cooking in when it’s hot out (there is one inside the house), and a table in the room next to it for meals when it’s hot out, as well as another stove of sorts in there too. I think for bigger meals. To me, it looks like it’s meant specifically for making dishes like plov, or beshbarmak, but I’m betting that’s not the case. I'll give you a better tour in a later post.

Not having internet at home is still kinda rough. Last year that was a good hunk of what kept me from getting homesick. I really pride myself on being a bit of a nomad and able to just go anywhere without missing “home”. Yesterday, I wasn’t missing “home” because, well… I don’t have one anymore… instead, I was missing Istanbul, where in a matter of days, I felt at home. It helped that I had a sweet flat with wifi, and my cell phone still got free data and texts though. Here, like in Georgia, it’s $0.50/text and $5.99/MB of data, so… needless to say, I’ll be shelling out the cash soon to buy myself a 4G data plan and mobile wireless router with one of the companies around here. It’s a 10 hour time difference, so the only convenient times to have any hope of getting in touch with anyone back in US is late at night when I’m relaxing before bed, and early in the morning when I’m getting ready to go to school. Which is about 1pm or 9pm for most of y’all. If I just sit at wifi cafes after class I’m really going to be missing out on a lot of the socializing, which is really one of the most important parts of this program. (The friends I’ve gotten to hold on to from these programs are some of the most fierce friends I could ask for) Besides, at 2pm when class gets out, it’s still only 4am on the East coast.

Speaking of relaxing before bed, I’ve got just a little bit of mental energy left in me to work on some draft messages (since I can’t send any until I get to school in the morning). I really should work on getting to bed earlier. But at least my hair has a familiar and comforting scent to it now that I’ve been reunited with my favorite shampoo and conditioner scents, which aren't sold stateside for some stupid reason. Oh, and my family put TP in the bathroom- WOOT! (It’s the little things, right? Lol)

Side note… the call to prayer here sounds very different from what I heard in Turkey, I’ll have to make recordings and post them as well for you to compare. Maybe it’s because I’m further away from the source, and there aren’t competing calls, but it sounds very different to me.

End of Bishkek Day 2.

Is this home?

So, take me back to Constantinople...

Okay... I'm doing things out of order, but that's because the topic of this particular post is, in my opinion, hilarious... I'll go back to my 1st visit to Istanbul and my time in Bishkek later, this needed to be posted before all of that... we'll just have to Tarantino things a bit, so here goes, Istanbul - Round 2:

It's true that one never steps in the same river twice. Returning to Istanbul, the city is the same, the experience is different.
The Old City as seen on the ferry from Kadıköy (Asian side) to Karaöy (European Side) about to dock.

DISCLAIMER - this post makes generalizations of Turkish men, and is not meant to offend those who break the stereotypes, though it may serve as a guide for them to be wary of their actions in order to further defy these stereotypes. I'd say I'm sorry to the few who may stumble upon this and do get offended, but I'm not. If you get offended, chances are you're afraid that you're one of these guys and can most likely benefit from reading this. This isn't just my, or an American perspective, this is what almost every foreign woman is dealing with here, and it's overwhelming, especially for those of us who are virtually invisible back home.

Right now, there is only 1 word I can think of to describe Istanbul... Istanbul is... THIRSTY... if you don't know what that means, I refer you to Urban Dictionary: Thirsty. "But Kate, every city has its share of thirsty guys (and girls too) why do you think Istanbul is particularly thirsty?" I'll get to that in just a bit...

This time I'm traveling alone, which I highly recommend everyone try at some point. However, I was concerned when I first got to Istanbul that I'd feel lonely. So, I thought it would be a good idea to find other ways to socialize with locals and other travelers, other than meeting them at my hostel, especially since they usually have great suggestions of where to go and what to do beyond the normal tourist attractions. Plus, I figured a little company doing these things could be nice too. "How are you accomplishing this goal?" you ask... oh man... this is where things start to get interesting...

I've got to rewind a little bit here, back to Bishkek - week 3, I believe. I'm sitting at a cafe with new friends and they mention something about one of our classmates being on Tinder, which was surprising purely because of who that classmate was, and Tinder's reputation. (Again for those of you who don't know what it is I refer you to Urban Dictionary: Tinder)

So... these friends, being the drunken enablers they are, encourage me to download Tinder, which I did, because I thought it would be funny... If I had known then what it would turn into... there will be another entry reserved purely for the shenanigans that ensued in Bishkek, I'm sure you'll enjoy it...

ANYWAY... I arrived at my hostel in Istanbul around 10am (local time) on Sunday, September 13th. While waiting to check in, I enjoyed some çay (чай, tea), and once I was bored with my Facebook feed, decided to check my Tinder in hopes of finding some new people to hang out with... I NEVER SHOULD HAVE GONE DOWN THAT RABBIT HOLE! Well, actually, it has made for some interesting times, and y'all are getting my 1st entry in 4 months as a result of it, so I guess traveling down that tinder rabbit hole ended up being a good thing.

Here were my parameters: show me men within 30 miles of my location, ranging in age from 23 - 35... yes this makes me look like a panther, but whatever, most of my closest friends are around 23 years old anyway, so quit judging! I fully expected it to be filled with fellow travelers, and some expats... in hindsight, that was really dumb, since half of the men we found on there while in Bishkek were Turkish pilots or flight attendants...whatever, I hadn't slept in over 24 hours except for a nap on the plane...

So... here's where things start to get out of control... remember, I never used Tinder in the US for fear of it being just way too depressing that I wouldn't match with anyone, and even if I did they would only want to hook up for sex, which if you know me, you know that's not me. At all.

Within just a few hours, the matches, and messages began to flow... so did the Facebook and Instagram requests (actual numbers to follow), and considering everyone in my hostel left for the day before I got checked in, I decided that getting coffee with one of these men who messaged me wouldn't be a bad idea. I mean, why  not? It's a Sunday afternoon, let's get coffee, show me somewhere cool, maybe make a new friend to hang out with later... it actually was pretty lovely... he brought me to a hidden gem of a cafe, that I never would have found on my own. 

Even my date had trouble remembering where this cafe, not far from Galatasaray, just a few blocks from Istiklal Caddesi, was located. We had to walk through a corridor, and down a few flights of stairs before coming upon this lovely place.

We chatted for a while, and coffee turned into beer, and chatting turned into probing whether or not I'd go home with him... I insisted that I was too tired to stay out much longer and needed to adjust my sleep schedule to Istanbul (when we left at 7pm, it was 10pm in my head). We walked back to Taksim Square, where he tried one more time to convince me to go back to his place to watch the football match (re:soccer) and drink wine. I politely turned him down, and went back to the hostel. Since then, our only communication was 4 weeks later when he propositioned me for a one night stand.

Seriously bro? You didn't even pay the whole check.

By the time I got back to the hostel and could start checking my social media and Tinder again (I hadn't turned my cell service back on so I'd been relying solely on wifi for communication) the floodgates had opened. 41 Instagram requests. In less than 12 hours.

As I began to tell a friend about this, he gave me the brilliant idea to collect the data and post a blog entry, so really all of the credit should go to him. (Thanks Phil!) At that point, I started to crunch the numbers... I had about 20 matches, and 10 messages - I was batting .500! Plus 4 of the men who had messaged me were actively pursuing a meeting... 

Here's what I've learned first hand about the stereotypical Turkish man: they seem to really love Instagram, photo filters, selfie sticks, working out, not writing anything in their profile descriptions, creeping on girls they see on social media, thinking they are the sexiest thing alive, and foreign girls. Not giving you enough of an image? Okay, imagine the biggest douche-bag, "God's sexual gift to women," frat boy you've ever encountered... got it? Now, give him a beard, a tan, and generally dark features. Then, put him in clothes that would make you play "gay or European?". Toss in some broken English, add a foreign accent, and there ya go! The stereotypical Turkish man.

Now, think about how young, western women are portrayed in popular films... THAT is what these men tend to expect. THAT is what they imagine will happen. Regardless of where you meet them - tinder, couch surfing, facebook groups, even people you meet through other people - they're all just as bad. Now, this is just another generalization, I know there must be some very good Turkish men out there, who knows, maybe I'll even find one to keep? However, in my interactions with men here so far, even when they are trying to go against the stereotype, they still fail to avoid it completely.

Case in point: one of those 4 men pursuing a meeting with me managed to claim me for an actual date the next day. He wore a suit. I wore a dress, painted my nails, and put on makeup. He delivered when he promised a beautiful view, and that he would not only make me smile, but make me laugh. He got us the best view possible for a Monday evening without a reservation, and in such a popular area. He ordered for both of us (because I'm laid back and am willing to try anything new, not because he's that much of a chauvinist), and when the bill came, he didn't give me the opportunity to even offer to pay, claiming that he wanted to show me his city, so it was his honor. (How effing adorable, right?) 

Our view for a sunset dinner at Midpoint on Istiklal St.

After dinner, we walked along Istiklal Street, and he walked me back to my hostel, like a gentleman. That's where he began to fall short in his efforts to defy the Turkish man stereotype. At the beginning of the night he tried to emphasize that his parents moved here from Greece, and that he hated the way Turkish men treated women. He asked if the men had been treating me well, and if the man the day before had tried to kiss me or not, which then turned into probing whether he had a shot at getting a kiss, or even more... bless his awkward little heart... we also haven't talked since the day after the date.

Even with the language barrier (another post on that will be coming soon), this was a much better date than my 1st ever date last year. Those of you who remember that night should remember how stressed I was leading up to it, how the date itself was only alright, and how I quickly learned to be glad that I never dated. (Who the HELL would choose to put themselves through the stress of choosing an outfit and makeup - ugh!)

Still wondering where those numbers I promised you earlier are? These aren't all inclusive as it got just too hard to keep up with counting the various types of requests I've received across all of social media, but here's what I've got for you:

By midnight, day 1:
25 matches, 15 messages, 5 actively trying to meet, 50 Instagram requests

By 9:30am day 2:
Didn't even bother counting matches, 5 new messages, and 59 Instagram requests

By Day 6:
I had no internet access for 7 hours that day, and came home to 19 new messages (plus 6 I didn't read before I went out for the day).

Here we are, about 5 weeks in, and I've stopped counting matches, messages, and active attempts to meet me. I'm now sitting at about 15 Facebook requests, a few couch surfing messages, and over 40 Instagram message requests. I only had 98 followers before I got here, and only follow 87 myself. I should figure out how I can somehow profit from adding about 200 new followers, huh?

If I really played my cards right, living in Istanbul would be the cheapest place ever. Eat a big breakfast at the hostel, then go on a date with a different guy every night, right? Let these poor chumps think that they've got a shot with me, get free dinner, a nice view, sometimes decent company and drinks, then never talk to them again. Boom. Cheap travel at its finest.

Still not convinced that Istanbul has more of a thirst than other cities? There will be more posts about how men treat foreign women, and dating fails, trust me. Wondering why it is that you won't hear many local girls complaining about this thirst? Is it just that they expect it, because it's their culture? No. That's not why. It's because it doesn't happen on this kind of scale to the local girls. Why? Because of double standards. Virtue is still incredibly valued around here when picking a wife. So, the men want to go out and slut around and think that hey have some sort of sexual prowess, while the women are expected to remain chaste. Even if they don't remain chaste, they often have to fake it when they finally do get married. I tried to find credible sources of statistics regarding this issue, but I failed. This isn't exactly a procedure people want to boast about getting or performing, after all. Instead, I will refer you to a website for a clinic dedicated completely to hymenoplasty located here in Istanbul - for the low, low cost of $2,500 you TOO can become a virgin again! Why on earth would a woman want to go through losing her virginity twice? There are many reasons, most are based on societal pressure and fear of violence against her from her family or husband if it is discovered she isn't a virgin on her wedding night. Some women will only date casually outside of their family and friends' social groups, so if they should have an indiscretion, it will be harder for the influential people in her life to find out.

Again, I must add a disclaimer - virtue isn't important to EVERY man around here. I've talked to a few young local men, and they at least feign that they believe this double standard is ridiculous. They do admit that it is also one of the reasons why the locals thirst so hard for foreigners. The men can slut it up without harming the virtue of a woman they may actually want to marry. They can also keep lying to themselves that their women have remained chaste just for them, and that they actually have any sexual prowess.

Now we come to today's lesson: be picky. Be picky as hell when talking to men in Turkey, ladies. This place is a sexual dessert and foreign women are the oasis which the menfolk have been praying isn't a mirage.

And lastly, for your entertainment pleasure, I leave you with some of the weak ass game that these boys try to pull:

Nope. Not anymore.

Because GOD FORBID a girl has a life outside of tinder!

Oh yeah baby, you know how to turn me on!

If at first you don't succeed...

I no answer to u because I no want to...

At least he gave up earlier than others?

Awww... thanks sweetie, but I'm not your babe...

Hmm... maybe if I try writing something vulgar in another language...

HAHA! That LITTERALLY made me LOL

OOOh... a married man... just what I always wanted!

He actually understood the reference... he might be a keeper!

Title credit: "Istanbul (not Constantinople)" by The Four Lads (cover by They Might Be Giants)

One year later...

I kept telling myself that I'd go back and hit all the points I didn't get to before, and that I'd go through my photos and post more, especially since y'all don't really know much about my time in Georgia... then life hit and I got busy and lazy. Let's see how much I can get through before I set out on this summer's adventure... Think of it as a countdown of sorts... and a way to kill time during my many layovers...

A lot changed in me while I was gone, and when I initially got back, I never wanted to those changes to go away. Well, unfortunately most of those changes fell by the way side eventually. A lot has also happened in my life since I got back. I moved into my 1st big girl 1 bedroom apartment, taught 2 levels of Russian, was awarded a scholarship to study Russian this summer with CLI in Kyrgyzstan, successfully passed one of my Master's comprehensive exams, majorly mucked up my life and career path, saw some of my favorite country singers in concert, had 2 of my friends from CLI come visit, went on my 1st real date, very nearly fell in love, had my heart broken more times than I can count, ended numerous friendships, nurtured old friendships, forged new friendships, and added 2 more bridesmaids dresses to the collection. I've technically graduated from FSU, yet technically haven't and am still sorting out that mess. I take my last exam in less than a week, 2 days later I leave Tallahassee for good.

Now I'm packing up my apartment and putting everything into storage indefinitely, reevaluating how much I actually wanted to pursue a PhD, starting the job hunt, and literally running away from my problems with this adventure to Kyrgyzstan this summer. My wallet hates me, my credit cards love me, and I'm coming to terms with being in debt for the rest of my life. I'm trying to view this all as an opportunity to really enjoy being the person I am right now: young, intelligent, unattached, and adventurous.

Perhaps one of the biggest struggles I've had this year, is with the feeling and fear of being trapped. My original post graduation plans have fallen through, and now I'm stuck looking for a job that I hadn't considered. I'm terrified of getting stuck in a rut again. I'm reluctant to settle for a job that only allows 2 weeks of vacation time, if that. I don't want to be trapped in a job I don't love, but took just to pay the bills - tied down to a life-sucking demon of a job, stagnant, and if I'm lucky, complacent. The silver linings of the biggest heartbreaks I suffered last semester have become apparent, and that fear of being trapped is driving me to make not just the best of the situation, but to thrive in spite of it. I refuse to settle for a life I'm not happy with.

Why do I fear being trapped so much? Because I wasted so much of my life before taking the leap and going somewhere, anywhere, let alone leaving my comfort zone. I spent years working for a terrible company, in a position that was the lowest on the payroll and respect meter, even though I had more degrees than my supervisors. I spent my undergraduate years trying to be responsible, racking up as little debt as possible, and taking classes all summer long so I could finish 2 degrees as young as possible. Those summers were the prime time for me to have just gone anywhere. This is the last of those summers for me - I'm determined not to waste it. I can't believe how much time I spent bored around Tallahassee when I could have gone anywhere else and found an adventure. While I feel I appreciate these adventures more because I'm older, I regret not starting earlier. This may be my last chance to not just travel abroad, but to live abroad, to have the chance to experience another culture in depth and be accepted into it. It may be my last chance, but I sure hope not...

My advice to you, dear readers, as I reflect on the year since embarking on the adventure of a lifetime:

Travel. Travel young. Travel far. Travel for an extended period of time. Travel like you'll never have to pay off your debt. Travel outside of your comfort zone. Travel despite fear, responsibility, and obligation. Most importantly, travel with an open mind and open heart. Let travel change you.

So, here's to the world, and to experiencing as much of it as I can. Here's to finding a career that won't tie me down or trap me in one place. Here's to the longest word in the Russian language (достопримечательности) and all of the new ones I'll see this summer. Here's to long layovers and even longer flights. Here's to the kindness of strangers. Here's to the bonds forged amid a foreign culture, and all the unforgettable sights and experiences. Here's to the people who make us feel safe, at home, and loved. Here's to open homes, and open families with open hearts and open minds. Here's to changing for the better. Here's to travel...

Landing

Well, I started this post as my plane began the descent into MCO, and I'm finishing it in my 1st big girl (1br) apartment in Tallahassee.  I still can't believe that this great adventure has come to an end. It began May 1st with a short trip to NY to see friends and family, and that's just how it's ended on August 20th. That's 3 months and 20 days since I've been in the state of Florida. 

Here's a little tip for anyone flying out of the NYC area, if you fly out of Westchester, you get some amazing views of the city. It was cloudy when we took off, so I didn't stare out the window like I usually would, and nearly missed these sights.

Manhattan, Central Park on left

Governors Island between Manhattan and Brooklyn

(Ellis and Liberty Islands)

Plus, it's such a small airport, you don't need to get there super early, or freak out about how to find your terminal, or deal with city traffic, and it only cost about $15 more for a flight to Orlando. Thank you Jet Blue. 

Yes... this is how small the Westchester airport is

Somewhere along the Atlantic coast of Florida, perhaps Daytona?

And how appropriate is this? Pitbull came on the station I was listening to on the plane as we flew over some very familiar sights... Sandy beaches, azure waters, deep blue lakes and rivers, dark green pines, the grids of central Florida suburbs with their snaking highways to connect them, and what looks like a wildfire in the distance, yup... that's FL for you, always getting blown away or burnt down.

As my plane touched down, something strange and uncontrollable happened... I felt a tightness in my chest and started to cry. The little kid sitting next to me must have thought I was crazy- he's starting a family vacation to the happiest place on Earth, and sitting there in a teal dress and black cowboy boots, I couldn't wipe the tears away fast enough.  At least my seat was at the back of the plane, so I had some time to compose myself before disembarking-23A, same one I sat in to fly to NY nearly 4 months earlier.

The fields & suburbs of Central FL

I forgot how big MCO is; that I'd have to take a shuttle before getting to the baggage claim. I stood there, starring out the window at familiar, yet strange folliage, hoping my ride wouldn't be hard to find once I reached the main terminal. I called as soon as I got off the tram, and didn't get an answer, but she found me. С первого взгляда на мою самую лучшую подругу, и я заплакала... как ребёнок. - Upon seeing my best friend, I cried like a baby. Ugly cried in public. Not from the happiness of seeing her, we've gone years without seeing each other. Not from being back in the states, or FL, or "home". I couldn't stop crying because this meant it was over. (And the fact that I was ugly crying in the airport made me more embarrassed, which led to more crying) This crazy, hectic, stressful, awesome adventure was over. The problems and stresses of real life awaited me... 2 months later & I still haven't addressed some of those issues... She tried to make me feel better by telling me that her daughter, my god daughter, told her that morning that she was so excited to see me, she thought she might cry. So I'm on the same level as a 6 year old when it comes to controlling my emotions apparently... actually worse, because she did a great job of not crying when we picked her up from school, while I fought back tears. This time because I couldn't believe how much she grew up while I was gone. The day I can't pick her up and smother her with kisses after being gone for a long time, will be a very sad day... for me that is, she'll be glad I can't embarrass her in public anymore.

So, while waiting for my luggage, I offered up some Imeruli Khatchapuri to Teri, to hold us over till we could get home and get lunch - I don't care how unsanitary it may have been to keep that stuff with me all the way from Georgia, but my host mom made it for me, and I needed it. I needed it to comfort me, just like when I was sick and she made me tea. I was sick when I left Batumi too, my host mom, again, did everything she could to make me, a very stubborn girl that never takes medicine, feel better. She even sent me home with some crazy Georgian лекарство (medicine) that burns so good when you put it on, mainly because it will clear up your congestion in a jiffy. Cultural note: in Russian, you always drink medicine, even if it's a cream you rub under your nose.

Here's a practical lesson for you, one I encourage you to use states side: if you ever sit near someone who doesn't know how to cover their mouth when they cough - punch them. Punch them right in the throat. They deserve it and everyone will thank you for it, because they were wanting to do the same thing, but were too afraid. And to those of you who don't cover your mouth when you cough- when people call you out on it, it's not a joke- we're judging you and plotting to murder you in your sleep because you're going to get us sick, ya nasty.

And I'll leave you with that for now. The past 2 months of adjusting back to "normal" life can warrant their own post. Plus, there are still so many photos to go through and stories to tell later, I want to do them justice!