Challenges in Living Abroad

When I discuss living abroad, people tend to think that it requires a lot of courage, especially one is not familiar with the language spoken in that area. I try to communicate that it's easier than you might expect, and everything quickly becomes routine. The real difficulty comes when you step out of the routine and have to do something dependent on actual conversation in the language.

On a regular basis, I hardly speak any Russian. The cashier at the supermarket asks me if I need a bag, and I say "I don't" (or, "yes, big please"). Then they ask me if I have a card, and I say no. Honestly, that's probably the only regular exchange in Russian that I have. Sometimes people will ask me for a cigarette ("no" covers that as well) or directions ("I don't know"). On the train, security sometimes asks for my ticket, and I don't even have to respond to that except to give it to them. So for ordinary situations, I use only four different phrases.

Speaking a language that you're not familiar with is uncomfortable and puts you at a disadvantage. In Vietnam it was always easy because if you had fair skin, people assumed that they would need to speak English. So in Vietnam, people were always accommodating me, and it was never very difficult or uncomfortable. In France and Russia of course, that's not the case, so you have two options. First, you could follow the example of my co-worker. Any time he is required to communicate with Russians, he proudly declares himself English (pointing to himself and saying Англииский) and from there either hopes that the other person knows some English or he gets along as best he can using gestures. I can't imagine doing this for a variety of reasons, so I use my broken Russian/French/whatever as best as I can until the result is satisfactory or one of us gives up in disgust.

So last week I had to do a couple of things that I dreaded because they involved actual Russian conversation. First I had to go to the national library of foreign literature to try to register for a Japanese test. I had no problem getting past security because I had practiced my introductory phrase ("I'm looking for the Japanese department"), and from there I was merely asked for my passport and then I was given directions. Arriving in the Japanese department, I had a lot more difficulty with the receptionist who was trying to instruct me on how to register. She said a couple words I wasn't familiar with, and I showed my foreign-ness by being at a loss as to how to ask her to clarify. She ended up speaking very slowly and loudly like I was a disobedient child, which was embarrassing. I got most of the information I needed though, and overall I felt good about the experience.

Later, I had to go to a photographer to get photos taken for the Japanese test. I was really hoping that I could just use some kind of machine, such as the ones seen in the film Amelie. But I didn't know where such a machine was, so I had to enter a small shop alone, the first time I've done such a thing in Russia. On the stairs in front of the shop there were three people smoking, and after I entered the shop I realized that they were the people who worked there, so I had just walked into a shop while the shopkeepers were outside. That was my first embarrassment.

I had no problem saying that I wanted passport photos, and the picture taking went smoothly. But then the photographer asked me if it was for a Russian passport and I realized that I could be making a mistake. He told me to check outside at the kinds of photos, so I was able to tell him the correct size. Unfortunately I told him using the wrong preposition (something like 3 along 4 instead of 3 by 4), but he understood. He had to tell me to sit down several times--I don't know why I didn't get the idea the first time. Eventually I got my photos though, and left feeling quite accomplished.

Sadly, I realized that there were still sections of the test application that I did not understand at all, and since these sections required my signature, I ended up deciding to forego turning in the application, and thus I missed the deadline. Ah well, maybe next year.

Russia: The Next Generation

Or something like that.

So I arrived in Russia with very little incident. It was probably my least pleasant flying experience though for three reasons: I was getting sick, the flight meals were skimpy and unappetizing, and there was no way to watch films. This makes me sound spoiled. I suppose I am--this was the only overseas flight I've ever taken in which there was no TV. Eight hours is a long time to read a book (well, most books) and I like to take breaks with a film or two. Plus, it's the only time I really watch the latest films. So I was quite disappointed, and I recommend that anyone travelling overseas avoid United Airlines if possible, unless you've got several snacks packed and a really good plan for entertainment.

I don't usually talk to people while I'm travelling. One time I was reading a Japanese book and a Chinese couple sitting next to me noticed and asked me about it, and then we talked a little bit. I think that was pretty much the only time I've had a real conversation with fellow travelers. But this time, in the Geneva airport, a couple of my fellow travelers to Moscow struck up a conversation. The first was a Thai girl who worked in America but was traveling to see St. Basil's Cathedral because it was on her bucket list. She said that she went to Rio de Janeiro last month and saw Christ the Redeemer. I should have asked her what her job was.

A few minutes later a fellow American started talking to me--he was a Russian major studying abroad this semester in a smaller town. He had had a pretty crazy life, it sounded like, but he still seemed a bit intimidated by Russia. Also, he was arriving with no contact information, no idea of who would pick him up or at what time, and with only a calendar year of Russian under his command. I wanted to help him, but the line at security was enormous, and when I got out my taxi was waiting and she rushed me out the door. Hopefully he made it okay.

Every time I start a full-time job I wonder, “can I really do this? Can I really survive this way?” My first full-time job involved selling car parts. I decided very quickly that I couldn't survive that way. In France I survived, but I felt pretty terrible doing it. In Vietnam I was super nervous for the first few days, but somehow I eventually got to the point of enjoying it. It was pretty rough for my students, but they were used to worse I suppose. On my first day in Russia I had a complaint from my boss, and on the second day the students complained about me, so it was pretty rough. I made it through though because I didn't feel that either problem was really my fault.

Tuesday was my first time teaching in about seven weeks, and I was pretty nervous. This morning I unexpectedly had to make a trip to the central office in Moscow to pick up my textbooks, which left me only a couple of hours to prepare for six academic hours. Everything went swimmingly though, and once I started teaching I mostly knew what to do and never really felt nervous. But still I wonder—will I be plagued by doubt in my abilities for the rest of my life? Is this a condition especially prevalent in the field of teaching, and if I took another job would I be spared of it? I suppose there aren't many jobs where you have long breaks in the middle like this, so the reasonable answer would be yes. Thoughts?