Siberian Sabbatical

As I collect my thoughts for this article I sit at the edge of the meadow behind my house. The scent of wildflowers and grasses linger in the air after the sprinkle of rain. Rays of sun poke through the clouds that are the making of an incredible sunset; soon it will be supper time, and my mother has prepared some of my favorite foods – sweet potato fries, meatless meatloaf (cottage cheese replaces the meat), a salad made with greens other than iceberg lettuce, her secret recipe cherry pie, and to top it all off, a big cold glass of skim milk. If you had described this scenario to me a little over a month ago, I would have probably been sent into a deep depression and longing – mainly because I hadn’t eaten a meal that didn’t include cabbage and beets for the better part of a year.

I left you all a little over a month ago in a hotel room in South Korea. I had so much to look forward to, seeing people from my pre-Russia life, sleeping in my own bed, and eating something other than a variety of soups – many containing only beets, potatoes, and cabbage – three times a day. Now that time has passed, I have eaten my fill of all that yummy processed American food, kissed my mommy three times in the Russian way, and slept 22 hours straight in my bed as soon as I got home. This last month has taught me a very important lesson: the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.

The past couple of weeks have actually been the hardest of the last year for me. I would have never thought that coming back and having to re-adjust to eating whatever I want, sleeping as late as I want, and doing whatever I want, would ever be so hard. I went from leading this incredible life to, well there is no better way to say it, being dumped back into my old life. I feel these bitter resentments toward having to return. I hate to say it, but I don’t like having to be a regular 17-year-old punk back in the USA.

On top of that I have had to get through reverse cultural shock. It is very hard to get used to the time change, a 14-hour difference, and getting used to American culture was an experience. I remember arriving at O’Hare and waiting there. My first meal in the United States I indulged a little – a cinnamon roll with chocolate milk. It really dawned on me the national weight problem there and then, watching these huge people waddle in front of me was very different after living in Russia, where you already know what most people eat. I was an immigrant fresh off the boat. Even before I had arrived home, I knew that it was going to be awkward to re-adjust.

I have been forced to adhere to the rules of my old life. I feel like I am in a time warp. I was in Siberia for a year and came back to a society and culture that has advanced a year while I was away. Where did all these new movies and music come from? When did the grocery store start carrying pomegranate juice? When did all my friends get their drivers’ licenses? Why the heck doesn’t Brett Favre play for the Packers anymore? Only in the United States would the latter make headline news for two solid weeks.

Back at my real home, Russia is just a dream. It seems like I have just awoke from a year long slumber and I have had this wild dream filled with adventures to far away countries with a host of a number of characters. That is what is hard for me; it is an incredible struggle to get up and to start my day. What do I get myself for breakfast? Hopefully something other than soup. Where do I plan on going today? With whom do I want to spend it with? I have to re-invent my whole life. I must instill new goals and values for what is to come. Where do I go next is the main issue that concerns me now. I can only hope that the knowledge and wisdom that I have gained from my year abroad can lead me down a successful path of life. I can only hope that the greatest change is that which is unseen.