Here I am.
My name is Richie, not Ritchie, not Richy, and definitely not Ritchy.
I moved to Portland knowing little about it last August. I am a student at the University of Portland, set to graduate in 2015 with a degree in Business and German studies. Other than that, I had no other real reason to leave my home of Anacortes, Washington. I had lived on Fidalgo Island for almost all of my life, excluding my trips to other countries. After 17 years spent surrounded by water, trees and clean air, Anacortes had finally managed to make me feel confined.
The first time I escaped this confinement, and possibly the first time I realized I was actually confined was when I made it to Saint Petersburg, Russia. I went with the Anacortes Sister Cities Association to Lomonosov, a suburb of, perhaps, the greatest city on earth. I spent three weeks touring buildings which were more ornate, more beautiful and more historically significant, than I can even now fathom.
While in Russia, I had my first experience with being completely lost. Although I had taken it upon myself to learn some basic skills in the Russian language, I could only communicate on the same level as a kindergartner. One could say I was humbled by this experience. Thankfully, everyone in Russia seemed to have a mastery of the English language that more than compensated for my child-like vocabulary.
After my three weeks, I cried as I not only said my goodbyes to my host family, but to the host families of my friends as well. I was fundamentally changed by this experience, and was thirsty for more. Anacortes could no longer contain me.
My next adventure was much more random. I spent eight weeks in Kazan, Russia. Don’t know where that is? Not many people do. It is 500 kilometers east of Moscow. Still lost? Google it.
I received a scholarship from the Department of State’s NSLI-Y to study Russian Language at Kazan Federal University. Although the program focused on language, I learned so much more.
Kazan was home to Vladimir Ilyich Lenin. That’s the same one after which Leningrad was named. Needless to say, I was in a revolutionary center. Lenin even went to KFU, where I had the chance to sit in the same place as he.
I had many opportunities to explore the Republic of Tatarstan, including a trip to Goluboe Ozero (lit. Blue Lake). This was an extremely cold lake. Let me repeat: very, very cold. This was a thrilling contrast to the heatwave Russia had been experiencing that summer.
We also explored things such as the House-Museum of Tukay, a famous Tatar poet, as well as Raif, an orthodox monastery with delicious, and holy, spring water.
Kazan itself had quite a few peculiar spots itself, from a mall featuring a giant ring, named literally ‘the ring,’ to a temple bent on exemplifying all religions. The temple of all religions was actually one of my favorite parts of Tatarstan. It showed the character of the people of the city. Kazan is made up equally of ethnic Russians and ethnic Tatars, who are Russian Orthodox, and Muslim, respectively. They are an outstanding example of two different faiths who have been able to live peacefully as neighbors and members of the same community for hundreds of years.
Even after two whole months getting to know fourteen other amazing teenagers, once again I had to leave a place that changed me. Even by this time, my whistle had not yet been fully wet, and I was looking to get out and see the world.
My next stop was France.
Yep. I made it. After four years of studying French with Madame Backlund, I had finally made it to Paris. But first, I went to Avignon, in Southern France.
And to Marseilles!
I spent a week with my host sister Louise, the one most left, and her best friend Claire, the one most right. I attended school with her, hung out and learned what French kids do. It wasn’t a huge change from what I did pack home, with a few differences: they could drink alcohol, while we could drive. I’m still not completely sure I would rather be in their lot.
After spending what felt like a lifetime in Avignon, I had to say goodbye to my transitional family, and left for Paris on the TGV.
In Paris we did all of the typical touristy stuff, visit the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Musee D’Orsay and the Sacre Coeur. Fortunately, we were able to go off the beaten path a little bit. We went to part of a mass at Notre Dame, had liquid chocolate (I still cannot fully describe how amazing this cup of melted cocoa was), and I even had a late night adventure with another Anacortes native.
That’s right. My experience in Paris was finally complete. I saw a homeless man sleeping in the park. I was ready to go home.
After getting back to Anacortes, I only had a few more weeks until graduation. Bittersweet is too mundane of an emotion to express what I felt. Release, gratification, and bliss don’t quite get the job done either. Not only had I been around the world, but I had a chance to leave Anacortes, and I did.
At the end of my summer I packed up my bags and made it to the University of Portland. I was starting over. Here at UP I have met some amazing people, and had some amazing opportunities. I am currently an intern for a non-profit, and volunteer for another non-profit in the queer community.
Next year, I am off to Salzburg, Austria. Come September I’ll need to by a parka or two to survive the Alpine winter. In Salzburg, I will have opportunities to travel to Vienna and other cities, as well as structured trips through the university including a week in Paris (!) and a tour of Italy and Greece.
So, now you know where I’ve been, where I’m at and where I’m going to be. Nevertheless, I will always come back to Anacortes.
Richie off Fidalgo 