Back to Russia(n) - part 3: I left a piece of my heart in Moscow...

Russia without Russian: seriously?

I had taken my glasses off for the identity check and after a while, it seemed like the paperwork was over, so I put them back on. The lady noticed it and said quite peremptory: "There is nothing to see". So, I took them off again haha. But by then, since it was my last day, I was like "OK, that's the default mood...".

Even just being able to follow the conversation between the policemen was enough. The day they were at the entrance of my block of flats was apparently a routine check - according to my landlords.

I still ask myself how I would have freaked out if I didn't understand a word. I could understand that one was not happy with me not carrying the actual passport around, but a copy with the stamp of the Embassy. The other one said: "No, look at the stamp of the Embassy"... Embassy, embassy, embassy... that probably saved quite a bit of hassle. Then they asked me the number of my flat. And then also my phone number: OK.

But what if I had no clue? I still repeat that following and grasping is better than sinking in confusion.

The interns I was more in contact with barely went out on their own. The language was the biggest problem. I can't help but think: "What a waste of time, what a waste of opportunities". All of this is even more true now after the start of the war, since who knows when the next students will be able to have a similar experience.

I also remember that one day an alumnus of my university came to a class to talk about experiences abroad and he said something very wise: "The biggest thing you're going to bring back from your Erasmus or internship abroad is the language". And indeed... let's be honest, what I brought back from that experience was 80% what I took the initiative to do on my very own, in my free time or not.

I was also seriously surprised by the diplomats who didn't have great skills either. Honestly, between some networking party and the stuff they had to do, I think that if someone knows that he/she is going to spend at least one year in a country then you should think about grasping the language. But well, that's of course my personal opinion. I cared about the Russian side of my experience waaaay more than the Italian bubble I was in.

And actually, the disorganization of the Embassy ended up being a gift, because for most of my weeks there I was given a place in the same room with the Russian translators and interpreters: the real companions of my adventure there, whose kindness I will never forget. It means that I was listening to Russian chitchat 8 hours a day for three months: maybe that's why I still understand almost 90% of videos like the ones on Tatyana Klimova's YouTube channel... haha.

Honestly, it was a gift from God, because I would have got crazy if I had to stay with the other interns.

What did I do?

I tried to have a social life as intense as possible, with Italians, and Russians, and just do whatever I could do in three months (I even went to the Iranian party for Nouruz! - the Persian New Year coinciding with the spring equinox).

I cannot forget of course that whenever I would mention the Embassy with the other Italians the reactions were not that great or were sarcastic, to say the least. Let's still remember that they gave no instruction or guidance whatsoever. I still don't find it that fair. I understand the idea of throwing people in the mess and having them sort out their situation autonomously, but I'm sure I wasted a lot of money that I could have just used better (accommodation) if only I had a bit of information...

Of course, the Italians I talked to didn't criticize me personally, but rather the system and so on and it was not my responsibility. However, with every joke about me working at the Embassy, something inside of me was growing more and more.

First of all, I understood that diplomacy was not for me.

Secondly, I started getting intolerant to labels. I realize that I don't want to put my face on a work badly made just because I have no choice. This happened once with an intern who left me some work to do she had done very badly and I had to sort out the mess by staying longer - of course, she had already left to go home no? :) Lovely colleagues...

The idea of hating putting my name or face on a crappy job reached its peak in 2020, but by that moment I had already decided to quit my previous employers.

Of course, labels don't say everything about you, but in any case, you were part of an organization and you did spend there most of your day, most of your weeks.

I also do not spit on the plate where I ate, because I was there thanks to the Embassy, but by the time I left, I couldn't stand it anymore because it felt too much like a waste of time.

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A little seed growing?

I have strong individuality. I don't mind doing anything alone if being with others is an obstacle and I rarely suffer from loneliness, because I have a very intimate circle of people to rely on who give me all the emotional support I need.

I went alone literally everywhere in Moscow, exactly because I didn't want to wait for the others to decide to step foot outside their place. I had no fear, I was never really scared, I would just say that I was high on adrenaline for three months in a row... and the consequent drop had some repercussions once back to Italy haha.

This hate for labels would just grow more and more in the following years because I never found a place where I could think: "Yeah, I'm proud of saying I work here".

It was ok every time, but with experience, it became more and more "meh...", to the point of not wanting to give my professional business cards, but rather something personal - which I had done in Moscow on purpose! I didn't have business cards of course, but at least they had no label (thanks to my brother for designing it - none of the numbers works anymore ;)).

Lessons learned

In the end, I understood that probably it's needed, but I hated hierarchy, especially because of certain people. I had hated professors for quite a while and my tolerance threshold has got thinner and thinner...

Russians, the translators, will always be in my heart. The Italians... mmm I'm still in contact with one of them, but I don't miss that environment.

I'm not ashamed of saying out loud that I look forward to things getting back to a sort of normality. I say it for the experiences I had, the contacts with the average people and so on...

I thought that I didn't like that label because of what I had seen inside, but six years later, I think I would have ended up not tolerating any label in any way, even if I liked the workplace, etc.

I hate being responsible, or sort of, for things I've done on behalf of someone else. Especially if the quality of the output is questionable. I didn't want to report to anybody, even if of course being part of an organization is the only choice to "do" something in certain domains although sometimes it can help.

The last week I spent in Moscow was tragic. I was so happy for being "nobody" there, for having my freedom, the thrill of going to live alone for the first time in my life.

In that week I had an evening routine: taking the metro from Smolenskaya to Ploshchad' Revolutsii; from there I would walk up to Okhotnyj Ryad. I would sit on a bench at the Manezhnaya Ploshchad'. Watch that marvelous view and cry. Helpless.

I even started talking about a syndrome, the "Muscovites", that terrible wave of Moscow-sickness that sometimes still overcomes me after so many years. In those moments, I just listen to my Russian playlist on Spotify, and - well - I go with the flow...