During my sophomore year of high school, I participated in the Russian Exchange Program offered at my school. Based on a worksheet I filled out describing my likes and dislikes, I was assigned a partner from a high school in Moscow. In November, she came to visit us in New York, where she would come with me to school and go site seeing with the rest of the Russian group during the day. Then in April, I went to Moscow and spent two weeks with her, going to school with her, and site seeing with my American group during the day. For a few days towards the end of her time here, her group went on a trip to Washington D.C., and while there my group and I went on a trip to Saint Petersburg for a few days.
It was such a great once in a lifetime experience for me, and I am so glad I did it. I enjoyed it so much, I wrote about it in one of the CommonApp essays that I sent to all the colleges I applied to. I pasted it below for you to read, and I think it does a better job explaining the program and what it means to me than I could in my previous paragraph:
It is spring of my sophomore year, and I am spending two weeks with my Russian exchange partner, Masha Leonenko. I arrive at an airport, board a plane with my fellows classmates, and disembark at another airport. I wave goodbye to my family in New York, and wave hello to Masha’s family in Moscow. I leave my country behind and enter a new one, but I am to learn that while scenery and culture might change, people are constant.
I am surrounded by people different than me, but none are aliens. On my way to school with Masha, I notice, regardless of whether it is Tretyakovski Station or Grand Central Station, people pack into trains like sardines. Students in school put their jackets away in their lockers and spend the day in their designated classes. There are classes that Masha likes and classes that she does not, just as there are classes that I like and classes that I do not. I discuss the math problems on the board with my fellow American classmates also on the exchange, I listen along during History class, and I watch “The Great Gatsby” in English class.
At night when I see the Russian production of “Monte Cristo”, it strikes the same spiritual chords as Broadway’s “The Phantom of the Opera”. I am proficient in Russian, but not fluent. However, when watching the Moscow production of “Monte Cristo”, the language barrier does not hinder the experience in the least. The emotions and tensions of the moment shine through the acting, voices, stage directions, and other visual cues. When my eyes close and I hear the music, am I in New York or Moscow?
When the wind blows, it still sends shivers down my spine. When it snows, it is still cold to my touch. The stunning museums I visit and my host family’s hospitality melt all stereotypes away. If I misbehave, I am not sent to a gulag labor camp. The KGB are not having me followed, and the Communists are not brainwashing me while I sleep. On Masha’s windowsill a rose blooms, and on her rug the ginger cat----Musya----plays with string.
We are two different people living on opposite ends of the globe; Masha Leonenko and I have many differences. She is used to snowy days and city nights, whereas I am used to leafy days and cozy nights. She lives with the remnants of a controlled society but an evolving freedom and I with the spirit of a great society and beacon of freedom. She has blond hair and blue eyes, and I brown hair and brown eyes. She has a cat, and I have two dogs. Masha is an only child, while I am one of four.
Even so, Masha Leonenko and I are mirror images. Our basis for joining the exchange program is the same; our love for culture and exploration through experiencing other languages, places and people.
Russia and America are not the same; no two countries are. Each has their own blend of unique cultural characteristics. During our time together, Masha and I celebrate our differences, and they do not inhibit the growth of our friendship. This program is not a culture clash, but a culture mesh. My time in Russia teaches me that regardless of our national identities, we are all human. We are the same while we are different.
This is of me and a Russian man on Arbat (a strip of cobble stone streets with venders, restaurants, and shops), Moscow. He drew a magnificent charcoal sketch of me, which I am holding in the photo and still have hanging in my New York bedroom.
This is of Masha Leonenko, my classmate's Russian partner, my classmate, and me (from left to right). We are on a tank featured in a War World II memorial park near Masha's flat. Another Russian student is taking the photo.
While it may not make sense why I included this on a blog which is supposed to be primarily about animals, no matter what interest we have in this world, I believe it is important to broaden our horizons to encompass the entire globe in our thought processes. Through the internet and phone services, the world is becoming an increasingly smaller place; in order to care about one another and the animals that live in other parts of the world, we must strive to learn about and respect other cultures, especially if doing so pulls us out of our comfort zone.
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