Back in the USSR I could not believe what the people here at home care about. Everybody was hustling to reach the actual goal, small meaningless achievements that sped up time. To me it was clear that there is enough of everything for everybody, even too much. I myself was merciless overstrained by the plurality of choices. Concerning the super- or the jobmarket, the menu in my favorite deli, the books in the library and the cinema schedule, everywhere was the line-up unbelievable. Even my personal wardrobe challenged me. Otherwise the variety of the last was necessary to find a matching dress for the many different manifestations the weather could form. Anyway, I could hardly stand it anymore.
I never felt that I fit in here perfectly, but the actual feeling was way different. Did I change? No, but I made experiences. Did I fit in the other society? Not even close, but nobody there expected that from me what was pretty calming.
Feeling welcome, live in peace, that’s what it is about. Not the things and choices producing the fear of missing something. I know that now, so I will surely go back one day. Maybe for good. Then again, there is one thing here way better than anywhere else:
by Rixi Holland
the gighopper 