Going native

I have a confession to make. A few days ago, I pushed a woman on the bus. Like the back of my forearm met the center of her back and I pushed. Hard. In my defense, pushing is a way of life here, particularly when it comes to public transportation. But I am ashamed at my overwhelming feeling that I have, in fact, gone native.

So, yes, there’s the pushing. But there’s also scowling. People scowl here for no reason other than the fact that it’s what you do. As a Midwesterner, who grew up learning to be kind to everyone, it’s quite off-putting. However, I learned quickly that if I tried to smile at someone, I was only going to get an even bigger scowl back. So now I scowl. I’m developing a wrinkly spot between my eyebrows.

And what’s the one positive thing that could come out of going native? I could improve my Russian speaking skills. Unfortunately, the pushing, scowling, and general unpleasantness of my daily encounters has led me to stop using Russian at all. Improving my speaking skills seems like so much work for almost no positive outcome. So I’ve been reduced to pointing and stuttering most of the time.

Well, at least I’m still leaving the house. That’s something, right?