Being alive

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” Oscar Wilde-

Have you thought what it actually means to be alive? Eleven years ago, I wasn’t able to answer this question. I was just a regular 19 year old girl who had a life like other 19 year olds have. Having such a normal, regular life was making me numb, selfish, and somewhat apathetic to everything around me, but I was’t able to realize it.

My life was like an endless dream with no vivid impressions or emotions, and this is exactly when my story starts. Not just a story of me moving to another country, but a story of me formating as a person I’ve become.

It was a winter 2010. At that time I already lived apart from my family for two years. I studied at the university for tourism and hospitality business major. That day I was walking home after regular college classes.

My mom called me and while talking to me said that she has a surprise for my upcoming birthday. She offered me a choice where do I want to spend a summer: Spain or USA? My family is poor and I could never even imagine traveling that far and for so long! I was thrilled by this opportunity.

I’ve decided that New York will be that place. However I knew that I wasn’t supposed to just travel to New York, stay in a hotel and enjoy the summer. The only condition I could go there is if I apply for work and travel visa. According to the law, I had to choose an employer who is willing to provide me with job offer and a place to live.

Soon I went to a tour agency so they could get my documents ready, but while looking through job offers I didn’t find any that was located in New York. My disappointment convinced the agent to give me a fake job offer, and a few months later I was at the airport with 7 pound lagage, 500 pages dictionary, and illegal work documents, while waiting for an airplane to go 3,000 miles away from my house, knowing that I have nowhere to stay, nowhere to work, and absolutely no one to ask for help.

Was it brave, stupid, or just childish? I don’t even know myself, but I did what I did and have absolutely no regrets.

On the way to New York I had a layover in Paris, France. Finding a place to stay in New York was my first priority, so I started talking to people who had to get on the same plane. It was easy to meet other Russians because most of them were transferring from the same flight. I met two girls who had job offers in other states but, they was planning on staying in New York for 2 days before going elsewhere.

All I had was eight hundred dollars, which is why sharing a hotel with them during those two days was appealing to me. I planned on finding a room for rent during that time.

I wish I was able to say that I was amazed, happy, surprised, or excited once arrived to New York, but no, I wasn’t. I didn’t feel nothing at all. All I knew is that I have to do so much! I had to find where to live, find a job, buy a new SIM card because my phone wasn’t working, get something to eat, oh and buy new shoes because 19 year old me for some reason thought that high heels would fit me just fine during this whole adventure.

We decided to spend first night at the hotel near the airport. There was a sign right by the air train station with all the hotels around, so we just used an airport phone to make a call, and the hotel driver picked us up in sometime. Believe it or not, but the driver was a Russian guy! I could’t believe how lucky I was when he said that he has a room for rent!

He told me to call him the next day so we could discuss when I can come take a look at the place. The next day we had to leave the hotel and look for another one in a city because the girls wanted to explore around. I disagreed with that but couldn’t do anything since the two of them thought differently, and I needed to save as much money as I can.

We spent twelve hours looking for a hotel. My feet were bleeding from walking in heels, hands tired from pushing a suitcase around, and my shirt wet because it was 80 degrees. By the time we got to Manhattan, I lost all the hope finding a hotel we can afford and mentally was getting ready to spend the night on the street. During this walk, I was able to fix my phone and call the guy about the room, and he asked me to meet him the next day.

All I needed is this last night at the hotel. In Manhattan we agreed that only one of us will go search for the hotel, So I went. While searching I tried asking people with my broken English and met a guy who lead me to the cheapest hotel in that area, but once I got there I realized that I don’t remember how to get back to the girls, and all my attempts to explain the guy that I need him to bring me back to the spot we met was useless. It took me hours to find my way back and if being honest, I got super scaired that the girls will leave by the time I get there, but they didn’t.

The next day I left the girls to to meet the guy about the room and never saw them again. I gave him five hundred dollars to rent his attic, unpacked my stuff, walked downstairs, went outside the house, stopped for a minute, took a deep breath, and within a second felt like the feelings are filling me to the top for the first time in my life: I had fear, excitement, curiosity, loneliness, and finally the most important question what do I do next was tearing me apart. That second became significant in my life because since then I finally felt what it means to be alive.

I never came back to my country. I left everyone and everything I had there including my family for the exchange of that feeling of being alive. Nineteen years of stagnation taught me how to appreciate it.

You never realize if you actually live your life to the fullest until you make a step to the middle of nowhere, and make your way up.