See Russian Red

A few days ago one of my fellows came to a small Russian city. That was his first visit to Russia and it happened to be my city, the city where I am born and raised, where I got my university education, the city where I no longer live. I was curious to get his observations and culture shock points, so I asked him to share those with me. Eventually, he did. He did share, though one more thing was revealed: throughout all these days he was afraid to walk down the streets on his own, he was avoiding the policemen when he happened to see those and generally was so alert that it made me sad.

“You have woken up a patriotic dragon in me”, I said after he had asked me if it was safe to walk, in fact, around the miraculously safest and generally the most blessed area in the entire city.

Later on I got to know he was not just alert, all that time he was scared to death of the city and the country.

The city, where I am born and raised, where I never talked to policemen as there were no reasons for that to happen and have never been fined (though I did jaywalk at times, amen). The city where I could walk at night on my own and never had even a slightest trouble, although, there is no country, I guess, where a young girl can feel totally safe walking on her own at night.

Previously I thought that the communication and travelling can make a difference, widen your horizons and open the world for you in its brightest colours.

No. There is some homework, some mindwork to be done. Would you be so kind to never leave your country (better, even your home region) if you cannot think in the following way - “Not better, not worse, just different”.