A Letter

Dear Moscow,

I'm back.

I missed your smells -- your stinky, smokey, stuffy smells. I missed your people rushing to get away from the cold, especially the women wearing ridiculous heels clicking effortlessly over the patches of ice. I missed your business lunches and endless cups of tea. I didn't really miss your vodka, but we can talk about that later.

This time, Moscow, I'm not as intimidated by you. I know my way around; I speak your language (usually); I know you're harsh but you're awfully pretty sometimes. I am very glad, as you know, that I'll be here another semester. Now I have more time to process all the culture you've thrown at me and make some sense of it all. It will be difficult and full of things that won't make sense to my little Western-bread mind. I will try, however, to understand what's going on and I won't judge you for your misfortunes. You do lead a tough life, but I like that; I know what I'm getting myself into, this way.

I wouldn't mind if you'd let the sun stop by once and a while, for we used to be fairly good friends and I haven't seen him in a while. In the meantime, I'll make do with your best friend, snow. By the way, do you think it's bad that I think just below freezing is a heat wave? Yeah, I don't think so either.

Well, Moscow, I hope you're as ready for me as I am for you. Things will probably get epic (I've heard this happens when one can see Russia from one's house), and I'm positive we're going to enjoy ourselves this semester.

From Russia with love,
Kara