Πούσκιν: Ταξιδιωτικός οδηγός, τιμές και δωρεάν διαμονή · 2026

VKViktoria Khrapova31 Ιαν 2015Διάβασμα

These double 24 hours (we flew out of Russia and arrived in America at almost the same time on the same day) were intense and super-duper cool! On the morning of June 6th, we took a "Peter Pan" bus to our future place of residence: the state of Massachusetts, the Cape Cod peninsula, the city of Hyannis. We rode and rode and finally arrived at some bus station. With great difficulty, we dragged our suitcases to our modest dwelling. The place was empty, and the doors were open... hmmmm, we walked in awkwardly... such silence! We shouted, "Is anyone home???" (again, scenes from a movie came to mind) and heard a sound, yeah, someone was coming down from the second floor. I'm remembering it now, and it's sooooo funny ^_^ Five scared girls standing in the living room of a house, possibly not even the one we were looking for, and we walked in calmly without asking anyone (the open doors were practically saying "come on in"). Anyway, we were standing there listening to footsteps, and suddenly a Latino guy jumped out from around the corner, so cheerful and smiling, we all flinched and our mouths dropped open. We were expecting an American named John, but it turned out to be a Latino guy named Jose. But we were at the right address, we found that out later. John is the owner of the house, but he doesn't live there himself. And Jose is one of the permanent residents of this house. He is from the Dominican Republic. There was also a Mexican guy named Kevin (they took American names, yes), our beloved Felix, also from the Dominican Republic, and an American named Brian (looks like a little Pushkin). And so, as a friendly family, we lived for two weeks, then a group of girls from Moldova arrived (slightly Russian-speaking) and another group of girls from Romania. And that's when the real madness started)) in a good way! A house full of people every evening after work. Our friends, their friends – and just parties every day! * Cape Cod is a tourist peninsula with numerous huge sandy beaches. People from Boston and nearby cities and even states come here to relax on weekends, just to take a break from the hustle and bustle, the cramped skyscrapers. In the center of the peninsula, specifically in the city of Hyannis, there are many souvenir shops with shark teeth =) hoodies and t-shirts as souvenirs. There is also a large Cape Cod mall, where you can go to the movies, eat, get clothes, and buy groceries. * We started working a week later; we had to fill out all sorts of papers, get our SSC, and do other chores. Most "vacancies" in the food industry are in fast-food restaurants. We worked in one of those - the Dunkin’ Donuts coffee chain. Our favorite cafe was in another city, yes-yes)) in West Barnstable. Initially, we were supposed to buy bicycles and do a daily run to work, and if we had the strength – back) But we had a wonderful, simply gorgeous manager – Hafsa. She is from Pakistan. And judging by her size, she has been working at the cafe for quite a long time and loves her job very much. She herself expressed a desire to drive us like a pack of sardines... from home to work, and back home, right up to our fence. But with a condition!!! On the condition that our work schedule would start at 5 AM. Heeeeeee! Yes, but we were already waking up at 4-5 AM, not having managed to fully adapt. We agreed. Here is some coffee and donuts from Dunkin' Donuts for you (most Americans prefer very sweet iced coffee with many flavors). And here are two more donuts xD (me and my traveling frog and Azerbaijani friend - Aisha, all in one person). * I adored my job. I told you I'm a coffee addict, and the coffee there... aaaaah. And the donuts?! Simply divine. But not everything was like a fairy tale; I did runs through the streets of Hyannis every day and continued to fight the donuts after the run, but already at home, on the floor. And you know, it helped. Only about +2 kg in America! That's gorgeous! Girls and boys, don't relax. Eat and run=) * O

EKElnara Kainazarova15 Δεκ 2014Διάβασμα

Hi everyone! My name is Elnara Kaynazarova, a participant of the Work and Travel USA program in 2014, and I'm planning to go again in 2015 and 2016. I'll tell you my "little" story, perhaps the story of a typical person who participated in the Work and Travel program, or maybe you'll find it interesting. Let's start from the beginning: I registered for the program thanks to my friend. I remember her saying, "You can go through any company, but IEC.Exchange is the leader." After calling the coordinator, I arranged a meeting. Once I submitted all the documents, I had to look for a job. It didn't seem that difficult to me; you see, I'm the kind of person who likes to dive headfirst into things. But thinking about the USA as a country where I might be in a couple of months felt like an illusion. My parents, having paid for the whole program, still didn't believe that I could actually go to the famous America. Finally, in May, I received my long-awaited J-1 Visa. It's amazing that when you are busy all the time finding a job, housing, and buying tickets, you forget about the most important thing: you are actually going to the States. This isn't visiting grandma in the village; this is the country our grandparents didn't even dream of. Our journey began long before arriving in America; you see, I traveled from Aktobe to Moscow by train. As soon as we arrived in Moscow, the atmosphere changed immediately. In 2.5 hours, we had to get from Kievsky Railway Station to Sheremetyevo Airport. It seems easy, but for an eighteen-year-old novice who ended up in a foreign country—maybe not so far away, but still—it wasn't that easy: 2 metro rides, 2 km on foot with luggage, the Aeroexpress, and Muscovites of different nationalities rushing everywhere. No one wanted to help. A smiling grandmother started shouting at me, saying we were "invaders," and most people, when asked "how to get to such-and-such metro line," would turn away or answer with a sugary smile, "I don't know." Having somehow reached the airport, we took off immediately. After 10 hours of flying, we had completely forgotten the euphoria we started with; moreover, we even forgot where we were flying to. But that was my problem; you see, I'm from the West, and I didn't really want to fly to Astana or Almaty and fly out from there, so be smarter—it's better and easier to fly out from Kazakhstan, and the price is the same. My companions were going to another city, but I stayed in New York for another week, so to speak, to see the city for which all this was done in principle. New York is an amazing city, with many smiling people of different nationalities. A city where tomorrow you won't meet today's tourists—new people, new faces. Of course, this is a city that never sleeps, a city of tourists. But I'll talk about New York later. In general, after existing in it for a couple of days, I set off for my little Ocean City, the one in the state of Maryland. And believe me, it was the best decision. So when you choose a city, choose one that is perhaps small but cozy, so you don't miss home so much. That day could rightfully be considered the first day of my summer. The first month was the usual work-home-work routine; we were getting used to a new life, a new rhythm of life. The first holiday in the States was July 4th, Independence Day. I always wanted to be part of something unusual, so we dressed up in red, white, and blue colors, went to work, and then coordinated a small party with our employer. My work team consisted of three Kazakhs and about 10 Americans. I consider them not only colleagues but also my friends; in 4 months, they became my family. It's nice to wake up in the morning and go to your favorite job, to see the faces of friends. The Americans were surprised to notice that we actually know what fireworks are. We taught them Russian and Kazakh, and not the bad words, but normal ones, sometimes even literary ones. We argued with them about who is greater, Pushkin or Lermon

АКАся Кандауроваsamara_8520614631 · 28 Ιουν 2012Διάβασμα

"The next day I said goodbye to the general and set off for my destination." A.S. Pushkin "I was approaching my destination." A. and B. Strugatsky Early in the morning, I checked out of the hotel in Portland, where I had stayed overnight immediately upon arrival. The driver said that Yarmouth was about 15 minutes away—much closer than I had thought when studying Google Maps. The driver was a regular morning visitor to McDonald's and, at his employer's request, agreed to give me a ride for free. What could I do for him as a sign of gratitude? Only the most delicious McMuffin for breakfast, which I mentally promised myself right then and there. The small McDonald's space, just like the world on Google Maps, turned out to be completely different from what I had imagined. As the employer said, there was no Drive-Thru, which automatically nullified half of my last year's experience, and the entire kitchen was located around the perimeter, so the employee had to be able to do everything in this single space: grill, sandwiches, salads, desserts, etc. I realized with regret that I would have to master the grill. The main thing: it seems I won't get to work on my beloved, tender, and hot fries at all, because only those who assemble orders—that is, the Most Important Managers—handle them here. While I was trying to accept this as a given, a cake with the inscription "Welcome, Anastasiia" appeared on the table right next to the registers, and a helium balloon with a smile on it was straining upward toward the ceiling. I took the balloon home—I couldn't resist, it was so nice; and I cut the cake as part of tradition and treated everyone. Regarding the balloon. Yes, it hung at home for a very long time, smiling, and was my only roommate (later, ants joined the number of roommates—just so you know). But how I carried it home, across the main street, in view of the cars stopped at the intersection, is a separate story. Just the same, a couple of days later, I dragged a lamp, and then a bicycle. The employer donated all this as humanitarian aid. For some reason, he considered the attic I was renting inconvenient or something, asked ten times "Is it really okay there?" and, apparently not believing it, brought these things out of compassion. The bicycle, he justified, was a spare, and the lamp was old ("But a very sexy one!"). Also, the landlady prepared a bunch of kitchen utensils in the apartment. This American trait—to help not with words, but with deeds—is wonderful. Remember, Ilf and Petrov admired it when the very first passing driver helped them with a broken car. But our complaints about life and delicate mental organizations have no place here. And to be honest, that's very good. The first impression of the northerners was that they were somewhat cold. Subsequently, this was confirmed. They are more or less similar to people from central Russia, minus the "Russian soul" wide open, which was just mentioned. Focused on work, reserved, calm, and not involved in other people's problems. But—more intellectual and smart. "More" is in comparison with Texas; in all my assessments of America, this is the starting point one way or another, which is natural, right? This was one of the ideas of this summer—to compare the American North and South, and I did not expect the difference to be so great. I have always said that for me, America is the people, meaning I will never write about how clothing brands or prices for netbooks differ here and there (especially since, it seems to me, they don't differ at all). I am insanely interested in what Americans are into, how they spend their free time, whether they know anything about Russia, how deeply they let you into their world, and what principles and values they are guided by. So, on all these points, Maine is radically different from Texas. It's so strange: it's like arriving in the same country as a "long-timer" second-year student, but everything has to be started almost from scratch. I even bare

АКАся Кандауроваsamara_8520614631 · 22 Ιουν 2012Διάβασμα

So, I've been in Maine for almost two weeks now—the "attic" of the United States, the northeasternmost point, bordering Canada and the ocean coast. I had dreamed of coming here since last year, when fate, in the form of the International Exchange Center and a ready offer, threw me into Texas—which I don't regret. If only because that summer, the Great American Dream took root in me, resulting in a month of diligent and this time independent job searching, "blindly" wandering through labyrinths of online forms, and finally, on the very last day, a letter from my future employer. That's how American dreams tend to come true. Why Maine specifically? Honestly, I don't know. I was just looking at a map of the country, not knowing anything about any of the states, when suddenly one, in the upper right, looked back at me. Fate, as Evdokimov used to sigh. Now, of course, one can find rational explanations: like the fact that in the northern border regions, they are supposed to speak French, which I once liked, and that the Atlantic is nearby. And now I already feel and understand that there is really something to this—being on the edge in the north and east; and the state motto, Dirigo—"I lead"—sounds, damn it, so romantic: it turns out that with every rotation of our planet, it is Maine that leads America into a new day and sees the sun first. When zooming in on the map, another feature was found, and as a philologist, I fell in love with the names of the towns and places. "It probably affects one's worldview," I wrote to my employer in the spring, "when you live next to your own little Poland, Paris, China, and Oxford." There are also wonderful Cherry Fields and Green Forks here. True, it later turned out that their own Parises and Polands (as well as Odessas and Saint Petersburgs) are scattered all over America, but it didn't matter anymore. So, I am in the USA for the second time. We flew into Boston in rain and cold, and the three hours in the drizzling, shivering capital of Massachusetts were not memorable for anything. Except perhaps that the girls wear rubber boots—and this is right now, on the eve of Pushkin's birthday! From all this, a five- or six-hour Amtrack, Downeaster train, which connects two states, takes you to Portland. I save five dollars and take the 5:40. The clean and very comfortable, spacious Amtrack for some reason travels backward—well, okay. The view from the window is currently according to Wikipedia: "Over half the territory is occupied by forests." Yes—coniferous, deciduous, in which even nostalgic birches flicker, as well as rivers and lakes, lakes... Beauty, I can imagine how in clear weather the sun and clouds are reflected here on the surface of the water—like in a mirror, and a mirror as far as the eye can see. And now the weather is such as happens for some reason every time Harry Potter goes to school—gloomy and cloudy (by the way, the older the grade, the darker the clouds); so the train in my consciousness, which hasn't seen dreams in two days, turns into the Hogwarts Express, and it seems that the castle towers are about to rise above the lake. But the architecture presents other wonders. At several stations in a row, there are buildings like abandoned workshops of an old factory—long red brick buildings with half-broken windows. Not renovated, not demolished... semi-ruined, as if that's how it should be. Well, at least under the gray clouds, they look truly impressive. At the small, neat, and very beautiful stations, one or two people get off the carriage, take out umbrellas, and disappear into the fog and drizzle, behind which their town lies. On the road through the rain, pieces of streets are visible—winding, drowning in greenery, and for some reason reminding me of Europe. There were none like these in Texas, dry and drawn with a ruler, just as there was no such weather and, apparently, nothing like this at all. This is, in general, apparently, a completely different America, which I will

ККириллstriklend · 16 Νοε 2009Διάβασμα

Can trees be interesting enough to spend a whole priceless day on them in the USA? "Depends on which ones, but generally - no," you might say. That's what we said too, as we rolled up to Sequoia National Park. Turns out they can, if you do everything according to an ancient Indian-Spanish-Russian recipe.) The recipe was traded to us by a mage (who was also a security guard) who protected the local holy spirits from the corrupting influence of civilization.) Take: - high mountains - about 20-25 - a winding road with the best views, climbing high-high and leading far-far away - 1 piece, with bonus spurs - forest trails - about 8-10 - the clearest and warmest mountain rivers with waterfalls - about 3 (the waterfalls are way more) - the biggest trees in the world - lots of them, all labeled - the biggest tree in the world - 1 piece, also the most labeled one) - California weather - 1 piece Mix thoroughly in an area no bigger than an hour's drive, season with sun, sea breeze, the scent and sound of the most coniferous forest in the world, garnish with Indian myths, huge pinecones, and places where the gold rush virus grew and multiplied, and serve in the beautiful packaging of Sequoia National Park. The first thing we saw when we drove in was an awesome little river to the right of the road. It was called Death River, but in reality, it was more alive than anything.) We pulled over to the shoulder and got out. The river flowed below in a small valley, so we had to climb down about 5-7 meters. And now, picture this - you are on the biggest rock among many scattered around, right below you is a spot where sparkling water gathers before falling from a low waterfall. The little pool is quite deep, but so clear that it takes your breath away! And it's very hot. Question: what would you do? JUMP, OF COURSE!!!! And we, stripping off our clothes, flew into that pool, splashing into the water and whooping in the spray. AAA, it's so cool here!!!!!!! When you swim up to the waterfall, the water starts to suck you in and slowly drags you along, you pull yourself to the very edge - and there it is, churning downwards. You can lie on a rock and have the waterfall water flowing under you. That was definitely the first time in my life!!! A bunch of sun blinding your eyes, the river flowing down from the mountain, everything shimmering, mmmm))) We definitely liked this park=) After sunbathing right by the waterfall on a rock for about 15 minutes, we headed further (stupid lack of time, spending an hour there - you wouldn't even notice). We drove and drove, and then suddenly, bam, we realized a cruel joke had been played on us. Seen the movie "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids"? Same story. We drove into a thicket where the trees were 4 times bigger than the ones before. The smell of pine needles was 4 times stronger. And we were just as we were.) And you would feel uncomfortable here if it wasn't so interesting what was next. And next - more. Trees, I mean)) It's cool here that you can "walk" along a sequoia - the length equal to the tree's height is laid out on the ground. And you walk and walk, walk and walk, wondering when it will end, and it turns out you've only reached the lowest branch))) Same thing in Rome, by the way. St. Peter's Basilica is built in such a way that you never see how huge it is. The letters inside near the ceiling seem the size of a hand, but in reality, they are taller than a human. Michelangelo (its architect) said that the cathedral is a model of the Universe - "You are in it, but you will never understand how huge it is." It's the same story with the sequoias)) And likewise, you hardly realize how old they are. Because it's hard to understand that you are seeing someone who was growing peacefully when there was no Pushkin in Russia, no Napoleon in France, no William the Conqueror in England, and no Charlemagne in Germany, and not only no Muscovy, outskirts of Paris, Londinium, and Cologne, but no Russia, France, Germany, or Eng