“Oh my God, teach me how to pray, to believe, to have patience, to excuse, to love.”
-Chekhov
The first time I left the country was maddening. On the day I flew across the Atlantic I woke up late, hung over from the going away party the night before, still had not packed, and the side of my car was found dented and beat up behind my house, with no recollection of why or wherefore this might have happened. Needless to say I knew I was in for an exciting trip. I packed my bags, made breakfast, drank too much water to cure the hang over, and parked my car where I could blame the damage on a hit and run while I was gone to Russia. Already this mighty country was being used to benefit my future.
Somehow I made it to the airport on time with all my belongings, a few friends, and myself. We were all there for the same purpose, besides adventure. We were going to study at the Moscow Art Theatre in Russia, to see where the history of modern theatre began, to walk in the midst of legends and heroes of the modern theatre, and last but certainly, least, to fulfill a three-credit requirement for school.
My first impression of Moscow can be described in one word. It’s the first word that came out of my mouth when my parents asked, “How is it?” My reply; “Mighty.” I felt like I was being swallowed whole as I walked down the main drag on the way to the school for the first time. The buildings were enormous, but not the enormous you’d think of when in New York or Chicago. It was an enormous that made a story of a building the height and width of two stories and two building in the United States. The Architecture was detailed and hung over the streets like giant waves. The churches were magnificent and magical. They made me feel run down and not worthy to believe in what the people of those churches believed in. I would feel the immediate urge to leave any church I stepped into. I stopped going into churches.
The clouds in Moscow fit the architecture. A canvas of ‘mighty...