Thank God for Drinkable Tap Water

                After only two panic attacks, I am now in JFK waiting for my flight to Reagan. The first of these occurred when I discovered I was at the wrong airport in St. Petersburg – there are two Pulkovo airports, one for international and one for domestic. I needed domestic, as my connecting flight was to Moscow, and thence to New York. The second occurred whilst checking in at said airport, when the woman was having a considerably difficult time registering me, and a Turkish man started yelling at both of us. I also met two American students on the plane, a true Californian hippie who tried to convince me to do peace corps, and sat next to a nice young man visiting his girlfriend in DC for three weeks from Kazakhstan. His English and my Russian were about equal, so we managed. I think he’s planning on proposing whilst here. So cute. Oh, and the Aeroflot plane that took me across the Atlantic was dedicated to Osip Mandelstam. Appropriate, much?

                Now, being in New York, I’d like to point out some beautiful things about this country. I can drink the tap water. Did you comprehend that? I can go up to a water fountain and drink out of it, because they exist here. I can brush my teeth with that stuff that comes out of a faucet. I am legitimately so excited. Secondly, I am currently typing on a laptop in an airport terminal. This would be a very, very stupid idea in Russia. You know what else? People speak English here. I can order food in English. I can smile, I don’t have to haggle, and my debit card and my cell phone are no longer useless plastic. My fingers have literally forgotten how to text. Really. I tried it earlier, it is significantly harder than I remember it being.

                And the not so beautiful things – literally the first thing I saw when I walked off the plane into customs was a row of posters with the word “accomplishment” written on them. One of these has Miss America on it. Way to embarrass me the minute I step onto your soil, America. Also, the customs officials are extremely inefficient here, compared to Russia. It’s pretty no nonsense there. Here they screw around. And, finally, I can think like a foreigner now and point out a fact that is obvious to everyone in the world except insular Americans – Americans are filthy rich. I can currently see Vera Bradley tote bags carried by cute little blonde teenagers, wearing their Abercrombie hoodies and leggings, hair in a soccer-style side ponytail. This is the least classy, most obvious wealth I’ve seen in… a while. At least in Russia, they have the good sense to use money (if they have any) to dress nicely. Assuming, of course, that they are not новые русские.

                So, yes, being in America is nice. But such a culture shock.