A Canadian in Russia

For some reason, the whole time here felt like a century. Either it is due to the fact that my days are so emotionally and physically full, or just the strangeness of it all, but I feel like it has been ages since I’d left Tuebingen, or even anything remotely related to Germany. I don’t feel like I am in a relationship right now, I don’t really feel like anything else exists at all other than what is surrounding me at this exact moment. I had no idea that Russia has such a “cut-off effect” but it sure does. It helps me understand why some Canadians come back to Russia for a visit and end up staying, getting caught up in all the hype and “business” and the crazy metropolis pace of life here... it is hard to remember what life was like before coming here… and it has only been days! Russia is like that-it sucks you in totally, and you either love and accept it, or you don’t. For me, it has always been the ultimate “break from reality” when I needed one. Now that I think about it, it was the perfect place to go after each of my major relationships failed, to get refreshed, dive into a whole other world and culture and forget, forget, forget.
 Life moves at its own pace here, in its own whirlwind. It feels like a time capsule, a whole in cosmos, an "Aleph"-effect, as described by Paulo Coelho-somehow, this crazy city has time-bending properties of some kind. In a span of 12 hours, everything can change as fast as the neon signs on the streets do: this morning I was extremely worried about the state of my relationship, deeply convinced that I wont be able to get on and enjoy my day, convinced that my relationship is failing and I will have no one to return to once in Germany and now, I am just happy to have made it to my friend’s home in one piece, somehow being able to find my way in the dark, avoiding shady and drunk people and offers to “spend the night” from every second passer-by car. I’m here, 2 hours later, but I am safe. And that is enough to be happy about for now.

I had no idea I would feel like this. No, I don’t love Moscow and no, I am not impressed and sad to leave, its just different… I thought I would care about how I look in front of my friends, but I don’t. I would have been just as comfortable in my harem pants and a random shirt with flip flops; I feel like I have no one to impress, really. The guys on the streets are so ugly anyways, the only good-looking well-groomed girls I’ve seen are few and far in between; the rest I feel completely superior to. But, in the end, I just don’t care. I don’t care to meet more people, go to more places, see more things, etc. I am just as content to sit in my friend’s tiny kitchen and drink tea and discuss life all day –these are all things unexpected.

Also unexpected was the ease with which I was spending all day with my best friend from 3rd grade, with whom I have barely spoken to for the last 7 years, yet when we saw each other for one day only and spent the hours wandering around the core of the city, the communication flew as effortless as if we get together for lunch every Friday. And with the same ease, we parted ways for another indefinite amount of years as I went on to continue my adventures elsewhere in the world.