My spring break in Russia was way better than PV

When I answered nonchalant inquiries about my spring break plans, people would ask me the same one-word question with furrowed brows, worried looks, and confused faces: “Why?”

I would launch into the rehearsed answer about my best friend’s recent move to Moscow, Russia, which almost always lead to another “why?” Some were curious, some were concerned, most thought they were probably saying a permanent goodbye — I was simply excited.

My best friend had moved to Russia for college, and I had barely seen her since high school. I wasn’t worried. We killed it at the long-distance game, having that kind of friendship that could easily survive a nuclear war, which I later learned the Russian metro stations were built to survive.

When spring break started, 16 hours and two planes later, I landed at the Sheremetyevo National Airport (which, like the majority of other Russian words I learned, I still can’t properly pronounce). A few hours later, instead of being in bed, I was at my first Russian bar with Catherine, friends she considered family, and a drink I was able to use my real ID to order. Most of her friends barely spoke English, but we still somehow bonded with the help of vodka shots and Catherine’s translating. Little did I know the people I met that night would, in barely a week, become like my family, too.

Russia was breathtaking — rich with history and architecture — and I think being a broke college student strangely allowed me more of an opportunity to appreciate its beauty. After a long conversation (in Russian) between Catherine and her friends, they decided on a few places to take me that would be representative of Moscow without breaking our bank accounts.

One day, Catherine and I spent hours just riding Moscow’s Metro, getting off at random stations. Each station was dedicated to different things: soldiers, architects of the war, women in history, farmers, students… the list goes on. It seemed every single person in Russia was historically commemorated in some part of the Metro. It’s safe to say I will never be able to ride the NYC subways again without being vastly disappointed.

The next day, she took me to one of the many parks there, where I not only saw one of Moscow’s castles, but also got to experience firsthand how Russians travel — apparently, skiing is not just how some Michigan students choose to get to class. Oh, and they’re above snowmen: snowsnails are the thing there.

Really appreciating the local architecture

A few days later, it was my birthday. We spent the night in a bar and walking through the streets of Moscow, and I was gifted a beautiful Russian scarf, flowers, a set of shot glasses, and a t-shirt with Vladimir Putin on it  — I’d say those were pretty representative of Russia and its culture.

When I look back at my spring break in Russia, I remember being welcomed with open arms by Catherine and her family and friends, and the mutual excitement they felt to show me a new country, their home. I remember the belonging I felt when we all somewhat successfully cooked Pelmini (a Russian dish) together, had a snowball fight outside St. Basil’s Cathedral, went to a really fancy Russian restaurant to take pictures and then left to eat at a cheaper restaurant, and walked among lit up trees on the slippery cobblestone streets of Moscow.

When people here think of Russia, they think of politics, danger, restraint, and alcoholism. When I think of Russia, I think of a sense of community, pride, and history. Spring break afforded me the opportunity to learn about a whole new culture, adding more to my knowledge than just the stereotypes I had in my head. Sure, Mexico or Florida would have been fun (and is hopefully something I will get to do in the future) but I wouldn’t give up my experience for the world.