What are your views on cheating?

“If your significant other cheated on you, would you want to know?” my Russian professor asked. I immediately froze, looking to my friend Ryan at my right, trying to gauge his expression. We were sitting in the middle of our phonetics class, a regular part of our study abroad program in Moscow. We had just read the first few pages of “Anna Karenina”, the part when Prince Stepan awakes to find his house in turmoil after his wife realizes he has been carrying on an affair with the governess. “Of course,” I responded, without giving it much thought. Cheating had always been an act that I considered inherently wrong—along with stealing, murdering, and lying. Ryan nodded his head in agreement. “Really? Are you sure? Well, consider this.” My phonetics teacher began telling her own tragic story of an unfaithful husband—how she had learned of a one-time incident, promptly  requested a divorce, and didn’t see him for twenty years. Standard enough. But then, she continued....
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The Case of the Lost (Stolen?) Wallet

My brother often likes to ask me, “Why do you always act like you know where you’re going when you don’t?” My boyfriend often wonders how I managed to get this far in life.  Fair question. Full disclosure, within just a few months of moving to Moscow, I lost my new Russian bank card, misplaced several re-loadable metro cards, left my apartment keys on the garbage chute, and was involved in an incident that required police assistance.  And these were far from my first debacles on foreign soil. My first test of “survival” came a year before, a few weeks after I had moved to Nizhny. In college, I studied abroad twice in Moscow, but this was always under the supervision of a fully-staffed, Northwestern-approved study abroad program. I spent nearly all my time with a cohort of other American students, lived with a host family, and was never more than a phone call away from my Resident Advisor. But in...
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A Prelude

A Prelude

I hate when Americans find out where I live. And I hate when people in Russia ask where I’m from. Because the inevitable question always follows: Why? The answer is decidely long, complex, and truth be told, I’m not actually 100% sure of the answer. I spent my formative years in a small suburb of Chicago with a population of 20,000. Conservative, Catholic. I dreamed of becoming the first female President of the United States. My knowledge of geography was…elementary, to put it mildly. (For most of my life I was convinced that Chicago was located to the far west of Illinois, hence, I was very confused as to how Lake Michigan bordered the city). Of course I knew that Russia was a country, but I certainly never had any inkling that I would build my life there. Comprehending the full trajectory of events that led me here, having spent all my adult life in Russia, requires further exploration, but there are...
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