Travel Log

I've journeyed to several foreign countries in the past year - England, Iraq, Jordan and Russia. I'm planning to compile short memoirs for each of these trips, which, eventually, you'll be able to view on this page. So far, I've only written a synopsis of my Russian excursion, but the layover for the rest shouldn't be long.

Wanna venture a guess where I spent Spring Break 2001? Cancun? Jamaica? Miami Beach? Try the frozen North. I traveled to Moscow for a six-day stay, thanks a working relationship between UNC-CH and a university located in the Russian capital.

Inside the Kremlin on a typically rainy day in Moscow. It might not have been brilliant of me to stand in this downpour with the camera shutter open; but, hey, the shot was certainly worth it.

Ten students from the School of Journalism and Mass Communication were selected to visit the institute - MGIMO, a school for foreign relations and one of the most prestigious universities in Russia. I suppose the School wanted to send Russia our best and brightest to show ‘em what we Americans are made of. But we were quickly put to shame by the students at this institute, where knowing three languages fluently is a sign you’re not trying hard enough. Some of the students could speak in five different tongues.

We attended classes at MGIMO, designed especially for us - to teach us about Russian politics, culture, and a few other things about the mother country. We also received a lesson in Russian while there – a few hours of intense drills in vocabulary and grammar that left us able to say, with complete confidence, “ya ni gava ru pa ruski,” which means, "I can’t speak in Russian."

Some of my group from UNC-CH, dining at an Armenian restaurant with several of our friends from MGIMO. Yelena is the only one pictured here - front and center, drenched in the light from the flash.

But we managed nonetheless. The students at MGIMO showed us around Moscow and took good care of us while we were guests in their country. Their command of several languages was quite welcome when we needed to have something translated. And, believe me, we had to have EVERYTHING translated, from menus at restaurants to the Cyrillic characters that differentiated the men's room from the women’s lavatory.
Well, we certainly couldn’t match their language skills, but we’d be damned if we'd let these Russians out-drink us. Our last night in Moscow, we threw back many a vodka with our new Russian friends. It might’ve been downright chilly at these altitudes, but we were feeling downright warm and complacent right about then.

Home to the Bolshoi, in this theater we saw a ballet about a hero popular in the old Soviet era. Surprisingly, he's the Roman slave Spartacus. (Photo courtesy of Brian Bedsworth).