Puerto Rico: Travel guide, visas and free housing · 2026

OEOlga Emelianovaolenenok · Aug 2, 2013Read

The last few days have been completely uneventful: just work, work, work. At the hotel, I'm now being trained by another girl – Liz from Puerto Rico. She is much stricter and more demanding. She makes me redo a lot of things just to make sure they are done right. It's a bit hard to communicate with her; sometimes it feels like I'm a huge nuisance, even though I'm actually helping. After all, we do her rooms together, which makes it easier for her. But when I apologized for being slow, she said very kindly and cheerfully that it was fine, she just wants me to be able to handle it on my own later and know how everything works. At the restaurant, I was so sleepy. I drank decaf – a type of coffee with double caffeine – my favorite. Especially if you dilute it with heavy cream. Honestly, there are so many different types of milk in America! While back home we only have milk, melted milk, and things like kefir, ryazhenka, or whey are different products entirely, here a nutritionist's soul would rejoice. Half&half, heavy cream, reduced fat milk, milk, chocolate milk, sweet milk, and so on. They are all sold in identical jugs, differing only by their labels. There were few customers, and Andrew and Sarah (his wife) decided to have dinner at our place as guests. I didn't know about it, and when the waitress asked me to bring them bread, I was very surprised! I felt so nervous right away: going to serve the boss! Thank God they were drinking bottled water, which meant I wouldn't have to go to them often (usually I fill glasses with tap water and make sure they are always full). At the end of the evening, Carol (an elderly waitress who served Andrew's table) asked me if I wanted to eat. Naturally, I said no. Carol winked at me and left. Half an hour later, the sous-chef handed me some chicken – a real dish. He said it was from the chef. I was so surprised and embarrassed! Do I really seem that pathetic, hungry, and whatever else????? They fed only me, how awful! Although it was very tasty. Actually, all the waiters encouraged me, saying, 'Eat, don't get distracted, we can handle things just fine ourselves.' Another awkward situation: the sous-chef came up and asked how the chicken was: - Wonderful, thank you! - Ok, better than in Russia? - Mmm.. I don’t think so.. - Ok…ok… The cook turned away and went back to the kitchen. And that's when a burst of laughter erupted! Everyone who heard it started laughing, patting me on the shoulder, and joking. That cook was laughing along with everyone else, and I was even more embarrassed). Apparently, this is now the 'joke of the day.' I said thank you to Sarah and Andrew. There is supposed to be a party tonight. Russian guys who stayed in the USA at some point and now live in Philadelphia are coming here for the weekend to hang out and are throwing a party. They provide the drinks, we provide the good vibes. The rumor has already spread all over Wildwood – it's going to be a mega-cool party where all the Russians will gather. I was looking forward to it, I even invited an American girl from work – Lauryn (she declined at the last minute:))). The plan was: after work, around 11, we go there together with Sonya, Anya (my roommates), and Lesha with Alena. Alenka got sick, so they stayed behind. Anya had been partying all night in Atlantic City, so in the end, it was just Sonya and me. Actually, I was the only one who got home at 11. Everyone working on the boardwalk is going to be late today because Friday is a busy day and sales are going well. I waited for Sonya until 1:00 AM, or even later! I was already sleepy, tired, and almost gave up! It's a good thing Sonya convinced me! Around 1:30 AM, we pulled up to 120 Glenwood Ave. A bunch of bikes, music – some guy told us the party was upstairs. So many people, and most importantly – everyone is speaking Russian! (There were a few Americans and other foreigners, but so few that they dissolved into the crowd). We had just walked up, and someone was alread

AAliyaastana_85855875237 · Oct 31, 2012Read

Hooray! The Vienna-New York flight has finally appeared on the horizon :)))) The happiness of 56 people knew no bounds, although I think the Austrian Airlines representatives were just as happy :))). New York. Do you know what you see before passport control in New York? A painting covering the entire wall above the passport desks... A breathtaking view of New York after a 20-minute air walk, by a modern artist with a phenomenal memory... A mesmerizing sight... Passport control went fine - thanks to my English teacher ;) but there's nothing to be afraid of, just smile and don't panic... And everything will be 'hakuna matata'.... Do you know the best way to travel abroad? How to be happy even far away from your loved ones... Yes, someone was right - taking a trip with a loved one is a test of the strength of your shared frayed nerves :)))) or if it didn't work out somehow, don't despair - the world will take pity and adapt to overcome any distance with the help of Skype and Ova... ;) love and be loved... The story will continue from my boyfriend's perspective... Well, finally... Last summer was so enchanting that I decided to make a second march across the States this year too... I wanted to show my close friends how independent you become here and how you get the most necessary life lessons... Our group was met and taken to our destination by my good acquaintance - a guide to the Land of Dreams - Chris, who told funny stories and shared his impressions of interesting places he had managed to visit along the way... Upon arrival, the girls were slightly taken aback by our place of residence and our neighbors, tanned representatives from Mexico and Puerto Rico :))), then I started a tour of our summer city-haven - Wildwood, New Jersey. To be honest, private houses are very beautiful everywhere in America, coastal towns are distinguished by cheerful and friendly residents, the sun is friends with the rain and doesn't let you dry out on a hot day, life is like in a commercial :))).

AAnastasiamaknast · Mar 22, 2010Read

While The Simpsons is playing in a language I don't quite understand yet, I'll tell you about 3 planes, 4 cities, and a dozen people. Moscow. With a large suitcase stuffed with black bread and a big younger brother, for the first time in 20 years, I learned that on the bus you have to pay not only for your brother but also for the suitcase. The knowledge cost me my last 100 rubles. Plane 1. There were many of us students flying via Work and Travel. I teamed up with 3 other girls flying far away from their hometowns. Two guys sitting nearby were flying to Italy as volunteers to pick oranges. That's why it was so important for them to learn how to say "How much does it cost" and "Prostitute" in Italian. Rome. 15 hours of waiting in the transit zone, knowing that the Colosseum is no more than an hour away. I could write a guidebook for the Roman airport. We watched movies, slept on benches, and drank morning Italian coffee. It reminded me of the movie "The Terminal". Plane 2. A woman around 45 from Puerto Rico sitting next to me was telling me about life in Spanish-English and giving sound advice. And then she asked me to teach her how to say bad words in Russian. My cheekbones ached from laughing. New York. They forgot to send the suitcases, of course. Had to wait. The flight to Washington was delayed by 5 hours. Had to wait. And that's when I saw a movie on my "favorite" topic in real life. Girls from Syktyvkar—a friend was supposed to book an electronic ticket to New Orleans. It turned out her friend had problems with her credit card. I went to find out what could be done for this girl, as she barely spoke or understood English at all. You can only buy a new ticket for the day after tomorrow. So she, flying in high heels and torn tights to a Mexican guy she met last year (and what did she work as without English?), didn't have $300 with her. I don't know what happened to her; my plane was leaving. Plane 3. Slept. Washington. After a day and a half, I finally went to sleep in a real, clean bed. Advice: you need to travel with money, check all purchased electronic tickets to ensure the payment went through, and travel to a place of residence you've already thought out in advance! If you think everything through in advance, everything will be cool. If not, you'll feel like Tajiks in Moscow. And learn English. By the way, here is a cool site for spoken language: http://www.eslpod.com/website/index_new.html Big adventures to everyone! P.S. Write questions and feedback, I'll be glad! :)

YTYauheni TuravetsDec 15, 2017Read

A little bit of everything Cape May is a cozy little resort town, the southernmost point of New Jersey, located right on the Atlantic coast. According to Wikipedia, the population of Cape May as of 2010 was 3.6 thousand. But in the summer, this number usually grows to 40 thousand, and that is truly the case. According to Travel Channel, Cape May is among the top 10 beaches in the USA. Standing on the ocean shore for the first time, you catch yourself staring at the mighty water element, spellbound, simply enjoying the moment. It’s impossible to put into words, although, of course, it doesn't compare to the impressions of seeing the REAL New York for the first time. But more on that below. Beauty of the Atlantic Ocean The house where we lived We lived outside the city, renting a room on a summer veranda for four people. I had the chance to work in one of the best restaurants in Cape May – 410 Bank Street restaurant. We got to work by bicycle. I worked as a kitchen prep – in Russian, a kitchen assistant. My job involved cleaning and chopping vegetables and fruits, making salads, and peeling shrimp. I liked the work. But at the same time, there were some difficulties – I’ll be honest, I hadn't really held a knife in my hands before. The chef demanded fast and precise task execution. I had to learn everything quickly, so the first week became a very serious test of resilience and patience, which (I believe) I passed quite well. In the restaurant, I worked with people from different countries: Serbia, Puerto Rico, Romania, Italy, and Russia. At work, I spoke mostly in English. It was not only a good experience interacting with people of different mentalities but also excellent practice for my English and expanding my vocabulary. For the first two weeks, I had to learn the names of products on the fly and remember where everything was in the kitchen; I had to ask things two, three, or even more times. It is worth noting that the chef was friendly and always ready to explain and help. My conclusion is: don't be afraid that you will do something wrong and get fired for it. Americans are very friendly, open people, ready to listen to you and help with words and deeds. The main thing is to be hardworking, self-confident, and just believe that everything will work out! After some time, I knew exactly what I needed to do and how, and the chef appreciated it, which also led to a raise. At first, I earned $9.5 an hour, so to speak, I was on probation. After 3 weeks, my salary was increased to $10 an hour. I tried to give my all every day, working more than the 8 hours stipulated by the contract. I also want to say that our restaurant had so-called overtime. After working more than 40 hours a week, we received $15 per hour for each hour of overtime, which, of course, was very pleasing. And now a few words about the second job. At the second job, I also worked in a restaurant. The Blue Rose restaurant, according to Google, was among the top 5 restaurants in Cape May in 2016. I worked as a dish-washer, which, in my opinion, is one of the least favorite positions among students. My workday started at the first restaurant at 8 a.m. and ended at 5 p.m., then at the second – from 5 p.m. to 12 p.m. I had one day off a week, very rarely two. One week I even had to work all seven days. At Blue Rose, I worked as a dish-washer for more than 2 months, and it was a kind of record because, before that, no one had worked that long in this position. Honestly, it was quite hard because I was on my feet all day. Most of all, I lacked sleep – we slept 4-5 hours a day. But I proved to myself that I can and I know how! There were also funny incidents at work. Together with my friend (we both worked at Blue Rose), we had to unload a garage full of accumulated paper. We didn't even notice how, out of nowhere, a skunk appeared!!! And what do you think, this stinker kept us from working. It kept walking around us, entered our garage, and we couldn't do anything)) Af

NONatalia OshaninaDec 13, 2017Read

Our work routine didn't start right away. Mid-June in America is still the "off-season"; students are in school, and resorts are empty. A restaurant that agreed to hire three Russian students turned out to be a trendy spot. It had a panoramic view of the lake and the setting sun, typical American cuisine (sandwiches, french fries, steaks, and local fish), a huge dining room, and a kids' play area. All three of us had offers for the kitchen as cook's assistants, but only Misha was sent there—Yulia and I ended up as bussers. First encounter with the workplace View from the restaurant terrace A busser is a waiter's assistant. Their duties include walking slowly between tables to find an empty plate or glass ("Excuse me, are you done with this?"), taking them to the dishwashing area, and cleaning the table after guests leave. You are also constantly asked to bring salt or call a waiter, but those are minor things. Overall, it's not a back-breaking job. Misha, meanwhile, was cooking full-time in the kitchen. No medical certificates, no gloves or hairnets—in the States, they are much more relaxed about hygiene (perhaps it's different in big cities). So, after this summer, we both know who will be the home cook in the family... The perks of our positions were also different. Working in the kitchen meant terrible heat, constantly cut fingers, interacting with a micro-colony from Puerto Rico, and unlimited access to food—as you can imagine, the latter REALLY cut our expenses. However, the kitchen hated weekends—with a tenfold increase in workload, their pay didn't change at all. The busser position was, perhaps, more pleasant. You had to force a smile, carry heavy loads, drop plates, act completely clueless in conversations with guests, be on your feet constantly, and on busy days, run for hours without stopping. But the tips were directly proportional to the workload, and we mostly interacted with American waitresses. Everyone was friendly to us—but only as much as social etiquette requires. The restaurant manager politely thanked us for the souvenirs from Russia without even opening them; waitresses could chat with you very nicely one evening and not even say hello the next day. Whatever they were discussing, the same cliché words always sounded: "Cool! Amazing! Great! Oh, it's so much fun!". And everyone smiled that strange "work" smile that you will never see in Russia. We were required to do the same. On the very first day, the boss said: "Smile, girls, you're not in Russia anymore. Smile or I'll fire you". At the end, he added a smile—so it was a kind of half-joke. But in general, everyone was friendly. My parents' fears about prejudice against Russians in the States were completely unfounded. First of all, America is a country of immigrants, and Russians are clearly not the smallest nation there. Besides, most people were simply unaware of political news—Americans are not very interested in the outside world, especially one so distant. Their news doesn't make us "enemies of the people"—they just don't mention Russia. Those who had an idea about the complicated relationship between the two states expressed sadness about it, but never aggression. But back to work. As I already mentioned, in the first weeks, up until July 4th, there was… no work. We came to the restaurant two or three times a week (it turned out to be about 12 hours, not the promised 40), worried a lot about our budget, and desperately looked for a second job. Your most loyal friend and main assistant in finding a job It seemed that searching on the spot would be much easier than searching from across the ocean. But that wasn't the case… The city was just waiting for the influx of tourists, and extra hands were truly unnecessary. We visited absolutely every establishment in the city—and again, only one place agreed to take us. More precisely, a bakery agreed to take Misha, and Yulia and I got jobs as maids at a hotel. From that moment on, work became our everything