As she waited for the plane to begin taxiing, she bounced slightly on the edge of her seat. She stared out of the window at the uniform palm trees shimmying gently in the afternoon breeze trying to contain her growing feelings of excitement and anxiety. Travelling always filled her with this bittersweet sensation, but the trip she was about to take now was unlike any other.

Staci was headed to Russia for the summer. It was the perfect culmination of the past three years she’d devoted to studying the Russian language in college. What began as a whimsical interest in the language of such a mysterious and proud people, morphed into a genuine determination to master the grammar and truly understand the culture. So when her Russian professor encouraged her to apply for the Critical Language Scholarship (CLS), which funds travel to study a “critical need” language in the home country, she jumped at the opportunity. Watching videos and talking with classmates was one thing, but to fully immerse herself in Russia would be an invaluable experience.

After weeks of waiting for a decision, and then months of anticipation and planning… well all her documents were signed and all her bags packed. And now here she was scrunched up against the oval window of the plane watching as the world as she knew it disappear soon to be replaced with something she’d only glimpsed before in books and movies.

But as exciting as this experience was for her, it didn’t alleviate her underlying worry. As a black woman venturing into a place closely linked to the extreme nationalistic ideas that had perpetuated its communism for so long and led to the largest concentrations of nationalistic groups in the world, she was acutely aware of the fact that her presence was unwanted by a good many and that her life was in danger. As terrifying as she had found the BBC reports she’d read, the blog testimonies she’d perused, and the news reports that she’d watched, she found solace in the fact that these xenophobic groups tended to operate mostly in the cities of St. Petersburg and Moscow. The place she was going to, Ufa, was a bit removed from the larger Russian cities so she hoped the worst she’d encounter would be highly inquisitive stares and maybe some hair grabs. And besides, the program would help guarantee the safety of the participants as Americans abroad. So yeah. No worries. Pssh not even scared a little bit. Maybe a little. Don’t think about it! I want my mom. Don’t punk out. She shook her body to clear her mind of her fearful thoughts.

Sighing under the weight of her thoughts she moved away from the window and leaned back in her seat. Turning to observe the other passengers on the plane she smiled politely at the curious Russian man sitting next to her while shifting slightly away. Boy did she hate sitting next to men on planes, unless of course they were old in which case their grandfather-liness made up for it. She had a very strict personal bubble zone that members of the opposite sex couldn’t inhabit without invitation and the very fact that plane-seating arrangements violated that upset her. She continued her perusal of the plane and noticed there weren’t very many people of her complexion on it. She swallowed her discomfort and fear in one large gulp before returning her attention to the heavens residing outside her window. Oh if only she could touch the sky… commune with God and be reassured that it would all be okay.

To quell her mind, she started to make plans of how she would occupy her time while there. Definitely the language school (and subsequent homework) would eat up a good deal of her time, but she also planned on spending a lot of time getting to know her host family, going to cultural events, and hanging out with other young Russians. Plus she was eager to eat authentic Russian food and get her fill of Tvorozhnie Syrki these delectable frozen cottage cheese bars that her Russian teacher had treated them with one class. I’m going to have such a great time. Why wouldn’t I? I’m a friendly person. These upcoming 10 weeks will be filled with such precious memories. I’m not going to worry. What will happen will happen anyway.