I was 16, and I remember exactly what my mother cooked me for dinner the night before I left for Russia as a student ambassador, because I threw it up, undigested, in the kitchen sink the next morning. As I stared into the sink several hours before my first international flight, I realized I was afraid - as well as excited. I was right to be. It was only six months after the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Tensions still ran high between Russia and the U.S., and if the KGB wished to interrogate me or my group while traveling, there would be no one to stop them.
I had prepared for several months before the trip by studying conversational Russian with a Russian immigrant family. I nervously packed and repacked for the trip - I was told we might not always have enough food, so to bring peanut butter and other high calorie, shelf stable foods. The water in Russia could make us sick, so I had to pack iodine and water filtration systems. I packed gifts for home visits. Oh yes, and enough warm clothing - one of the cities we were scheduled to visit was 200 miles North of the Arctic Circle. Even though it was July, there was a chance we could encounter snow in Murmansk.
We began our journey in Finland - chartering a bus across the border of the Soviet Union. I remember the tension we all felt when we reached the border - our leaders told us not to speak, not even in a whisper, on the bus, while guards - armed with machine guns - reviewed our passports and visas. We breathed a collective sigh of relief when they finally waved us on. We were in. We made our way to the first city on our tour of peace promotion - St. Petersburg, formerly - as of six months ago - Leningrad.
St. Petersburg is a stunning city built along a river and mostly Western European in design. It was absolutely beautiful. We visited The Hermitage - pictured here - the Russian Circus, and the Summer Palace. We walked the Neva river, taking photographs. It was a gentle entry into Russia - basically as glorified tourists, and I was astonished by the architecture and beauty of St. Petersburg. It looked nothing like the photographs of Communist Russia I’d seen on the evening news.
After several days of sightseeing, we moved on, by bus, to the next city - a smaller city named Petrozavodsk. This was where our outreach to Russian students was to begin. We visited with Russian children at a camp deep in the forest. The sound of their laughter and play was refreshing after all the silence in the streets, in our hotel lobby, in the buses and trolleys. We had been instructed never to speak in public places, for fear the KGB was listening.
It wasn’t until returning to our blood splattered hotel lobby later that evening, that we truly understood the reason for the silence. If you speak up, the KGB might just come beat the crap out of you and drag you away, like they did to a man staying in our hotel.
We traveled by train to Murmansk, the city North of the Arctic Circle. This was where culture shock began to set in for me. I found myself starting to feel starved for beauty. The architecture was… cold, uninspired, cement, utilitarian. We had just enough to eat at every meal - which consisted of mostly beef or lamb, and rice. The few vegetables we were given to eat were cucumbers, tomatoes, and beets. The only fresh fruit we were given were unsweetened cranberries. I was grateful for the food, but overwhelmed at the thought that if we were being given the very best of what was available, what were the Russians eating?
It was in Murmansk that we were sent into home visits, spending time with students our own age. I can’t lie, I was filled with despair when I saw the unimaginative, cement-block residences and the trash lining the stairwells. Fatigue and apathy lined the faces of the parents of the students I visited with. Hopelessness. They did not have enough food to feed me, so I gave them my gifts, and drank hot, sweet tea with them instead.
Not all was heartbreaking and dreary in Murmansk, though. One evening, I went with several Russian students to a nightclub. I happened to have the Prince album “Diamonds and Pearls” on me at the time. I gave it to the DJ to play a song or two, and he ended up playing the entire album. The club-goers were ecstatic, and we all danced our butts off. Since they had little exposure to American TV and radio, it was the first time anyone in Murmansk - besides me, of course - had ever heard the album. It snowed the day we left Murmansk. It was July 4th and I remember feeling particularly homesick for America, hot dogs, fireworks, and summer weather as the white flakes fell.
As a young woman growing up in a safe, suburban city South of Portland, I'd never experienced the kind of danger I felt while traveling in Russia. It wasn't just because of the KGB - young women, especially American women, were treated like prey. A fellow female ambassador and I had to fight off a molester on a crowded trolley - in silence. The same young woman and I had to push our way past two men who pinned us in an elevator so they could grope us as we exited. In our hotel in Moscow, the final city on our trip, I was chased up four flights of stairs by a gang of Georgian (the country, not the state) men, before pounding on another student's hotel room door and escaping inside. Thank God I could run fast.
By the time we reached Moscow, the last city on our trip, I was disillusioned with my position as student ambassador. How could I be an Ambassador for Peace when I was perceived as being Prey? How could there be Peace in a nation that had no Hope, or Prosperity? How do you Inspire people who have only felt Oppression, Hunger, Fear, and Despair for years and years?
I was at a low point emotionally - traumatized, homesick, and discouraged - when I was blessed to witness the VERY FIRST concert held in Red Square in FIFTY YEARS. The Square was packed. I will never forget the excitement and joy of the Russian people in the audience that night - it was palpable and infectious. As music was heard once again after being silenced for so, so long, tears of happiness were on the cheeks of many in the crowd. Some even danced together on the cobblestones.
This, I thought, this is how you foster Peace. This is how you inspire Hope - with Music, Freedom, and Joy.
With Love From Portland,
