4

This month, I embraced the freedom to organize my days, especially weekends, the way I wanted. Saturday, I explored the art museum, discovered the Piazza Square, savored traditional Georgian cuisine, and even visited a Russian coffee shop. Sunday, I rented a bike and rode along the entire Batumi Promenade under the sun (25 km), reaching the port and looking at the city from a new perspective. We can’t control everything around us, but we can choose our attitude and decide whether to stay in bed dwelling on life’s injustices or go out, meet people, learn new things and have fun. That choice is always mine.

Meeting Mateo, another TFS fellow, in person was so refreshing and so different from connecting online. We kicked things off with a ride on Buenos Aires' historic 1897 tramway, rolling through the streets in an old wooden wagon. To our surprise, we discovered we’re both huge fans of Twenty One Pilots. As Scaled and Icy played in our headphones, and the city noise faded behind us, everything just clicked. Both Mateo and I are deeply invested in youth empowerment, so it was inspiring to hear about his work with UNICEF and the UN. That first day alone we took at least five buses — classic Buenos Aires chaos, and we loved it. Something Mateo said stuck with me: he admired my resilience. I had never called myself that. Never paused to reflect on it. But hearing it from someone I respect meant the world. It helped me see myself in a new light. What I admire about Mateo is how clearly he shows that your background or birthplace doesn’t define your future. With ideas, effort, and passion — you can get anywhere. Later, we grabbed ice cream from my favorite spot, and I introduced him to mate for the first time (can you believe there’s no mate in Ecuador?). A couple of days later, we moved into my new place together. Last time I moved, I did it alone. This time, I had support, it made a difference — reduced stress and made me laugh. We even hosted a Connect & Reflect on humanity, diversity, and activism. I’m grateful — for the conversations, the music, the movement, and the moments that remind me I’m not doing this journey alone.

On May 16th, Friday, after one of the most emotionally exhausting weeks I had in my entire life, I was able to not just unwind but had the pleasure of attending the opening of a new Russian restaurant in Buenos Aires — Malas Hermanas. Their restaurant is highly popular at the Aurora festival, and they finally opened next to my apartment in Microcentro! The owner of the restaurant is openly anti-war so, as president of Libre Rusia ARG, I was invited to join this warm and lively gathering that brought together fellow Russians, Argentinians, and friends of our community.

The atmosphere was vibrant, full of laughter, dances, live performances, lotteries, familiar flavors (like borscht and pelmeni), even a freak show, and meaningful conversations. It was more than just a restaurant launch — it felt like a moment of cultural affirmation, a reminder that even far from home, our traditions and connections can thrive.

After 8 months of searching, I finally found peers of my age (18-21): Carolina, Erika, Arseniy, Ilya, Danil. Ever since I came to Argentina, I’ve surrounded myself with people way older than me. And I’m grateful for the experience of professional and personal growth, but secretly I still wanted to sometimes hang out with my peers and there aren’t many. It’s more of an exception. Events like these are so important — they remind us why we do what we do. Libre Rusia ARG exists to build bridges, foster solidarity, and create inclusive spaces for political and cultural expression in emigration. I even talked to the owner of Bukharest, which is the most popular Russian bar in Buenos Aires. Malas Hermanas is now a new spot on the map where this spirit can live. Tonight it’s been filled with love and joy. I loved every minute of that evening and night. For the first time during that week I could breathe out and just have fun, which is equally important.

I think I have another “If someone told me 6 months ago” story with a truly baffling continuation. How about hiking 8 days in a row, making 30k+ steps every day, living without service for 4 full days, or completing a circuit intended ONLY for highly fit and experienced hikers (which I’m certainly not)? Crazy for Anna, right? That was me for the past month.

Our epic Argentine trip together came to an end and I wanted to articulate at least half of the experience that revealed so much to me.

I can now testify that Argentina is the country I’ve seen the most and have had a chance to witness life outside of the capital. South of Argentina is beautiful in the way it is distinct from the European narrative of Buenos Aires. Although I loved showing my favorite spots in the city I now call home to my friends. I will never forget the balcony nights with squash and Russian sweet bar we shared at my new apartment in Buenos Aires. I had a hard time moving out all on my own, but my new apartment is now imbued with ever-lasting joy of shared memories.

Argentina’s nature is overpowering, arbitrarily reminiscent of home yet unique. It brings up and cherishes its native roots and customs. I could truly feel the meaning behind the phrase “somos todos familia en Argentina” when total strangers greeted each other as a sign of emotional support and helped me stitch up my wounded knee when I fell. Someone I met on the hike to Cerro Catedral in Bariloche described Argentina as “vamos mal pero vamos bien” and sitting under its flag, eating an empanada, listening to street musicians in pure blue serenity of a small town in Southern Patagonia I came to see feel this through. Even though the cities live off of tourism, you can tell that people here don’t chase tourist dollars. They work for the preservation of natural beauties and break the rules of traditional corporate business images. Terrain changes pretty quickly: 20km you’re amidst a desert, 40 km it’s a pine forest, go for more and you’ll reach mountains. Between the city of Esquel to El Chaltén (as well as between El Chaltén and El Calafate) there was absolutely nothing but the vastness of fields and rocky wilderness. I saw people passionately working/ volunteering at refugios far away from the city, I met a lady who gave us a bunch of figs and showed us the way to Río Azul when we got lost really bad and stepped on her property, I talked to representatives of indigenous communities who seriously contemplated going to war on the Russian side against Ukraine to get paid. Everyone I met along the way gave me a better perspective on how people really live here, good or bad it might be. My favorite Belarusian singer Max Korzh has a song called “Mountains are knee-high”. And they have been indeed “as long as you keep up the pace”.

There’s some comfort I will miss: the comfort of seeing Zane’s confident posture and black backpack with a Finnish flag, water ball and Cotopaxi fleece hanging loosely in front of me as I summon up the strength in my knees hurt by grueling fencing practices to take more steps; drinking tap, then hose, then river water, which, as Lizzy said, was hard and liberating at the same time; taking delight in occasional wild berries bushes we found in the forest; feeling my blood flow through my whole body after crossing the river by foot; exchanging our stories with fellow hikers and people who picked us up on the road; always being sure I will not die or starve because Owen knows the mountains like the back of his hand and cooks brilliantly. And I can’t say I didn’t get attached to the same hostel people I saw in the morning and feel a bit sad but needful to leave and go further south. I used to hate Februaries so much because during this month the worst things happened to my country: the war and Navalny’s assassination. Way before the trip was beginning to shape into something real, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to escape the February depression even in emigration, 13,500 km from Russia. But this February was different and it started as an adventure I craved for. Living abroad for quite a long time showed me how much I matured: booking tickets and hostels, optimizing my budget and calculating in advance, planning the itinerary, taking care of food, safety, and transportation, learning from more experienced travelers, navigating cultural differences and more.

It was April with its chill but promising wind bringing summer — the part of my body still remaining in the northern hemisphere felt it so strongly. But it was also the southern hemisphere August, the last summer month before the beginning of the fall here, the farewell sun kiss. I was still in touch with the anti-war community I’m leading in Buenos Aires almost every day, organizing events, sending messages, making announcements but if I had stayed in my new home for February, I would’ve let these thoughts take over. I needed to make 27-37k steps per day to be able to let my tired brain breathe and recover. And what I found even more beautiful is how our international friendship proved again that human connections are not defined by politics or relationships between countries. As we got to know locals or fellow travelers and told them we are from the US, Russia, Canada and how we met, people were stunned by the way we ended up together in the first place. The owner of the restaurant where we left our bags in Esquel for a day even made a joke about meeting in Alaska. And being able to say that we are friends and at peace with each other despite disagreeing on so many things means we are indeed smarter than many politicians. The core of a strong friendship to me is challenging each other while still finding a lot in common. And I want to keep this unprecedented connection as a precedent for my further development as a politician and a human being. I got to show what Russia is really about (Russian card game “Durak” in the tent was a very meaningful part of this journey LOL) and, to be completely honest, I turned a bit North American too on this trip — fell in love with peanut butter toasts and Columbia fleece jackets. Zane, the beautiful sight at the top of the trail, thank you for passing on your wise gift of stoic reaction to mustard explosion, hat loss, coffee glass break, or shoes full of mud (“at this point, I don’t even care anymore”), thank you for being the person I always felt I could lean on (literally too, those slippery descents were crazy). Owen, the miracle, thank you for finding the right words/ acts when I needed them and pushing the limits of what I thought was possible — every time I thought I wouldn’t make it I did (your cheerings in Russian during the Huemul Circuit went through my heart — by the way, your favorite one is spelled “Ochen’ silnaya” ), thank you for making me see there’s always more to go for and that when things crush, you become a Dalmatian. My heart is full of love for both of you, the time and places we shared. Thank you for never leaving me alone at the lowest of my breakdowns and for making me laugh genuinely so hard at sunrises and sunsets. Huemul Circuit took the hell out of me but I can see crystal clear now in which ways it made me stronger. TFS Launch Year for me is all about stretching myself in ways I would normally not choose for myself. I don’t want to only do things I’m good at or comfortable with. All in for the new and heart-pounding even if takes my breath and ground beneath my feet away like the descent on Day 3. I shall not forget I can make it.

I love being proven wrong. I love being pleasantly surprised. When we made it to Ushuaia, the end of the world, I was afraid I’d freeze to death here. I heard so many warnings about low temperatures and nasty weather. I also learned that fear is not a reason not to do something. I trusted that the sun would come out eventually. And it did. How much I loved the day at the National Park, how much it was filled with sun. I’ve come to recognize beauty in all types of weather and find comfort in scenic landscapes, and people I share them with. On our last day in Ushuaia, we went on the muddiest hike in Tierra del Fuego while it was still heavily raining. Even if there’s a very slim chance, I’ll always go all the way for it regardless. I contemplated luck and I can say now I have been lucky all along: doesn’t matter whether it was with hitchhiking 80km, not getting my backpack wet (it was not clipped to the cord as I ziplined across a mountain river), or direction of the wind at Paso del Viento, I started appreciating moments like this.

I still have a solo week in Santiago to go before I come back home and things get back on track. Couldn’t imagine myself saying that living in a far-away city could ever be called “back on track”. I’ve been battling the fear of missing out on news or my usual work, and I certainly gained more than I lost.

Patagonia is not for the faint of heart but for those who are ready to be challenged by it. And I truly hope I rose to the occasion.

Easter is celebrated on Sunday but we’ve been celebrating since Friday. The Friday “Intercambio Cultural” went amazing! It was so heartwarming to see so many people exchanging their cultures with words and gestures. We had such a wonderful heated discussion about Pascuas and religion in Russia, Argentina, and Ukraine. And it was so healing to meet a Ukrainian person who distinguishes between putinists and peaceful Russians. He also shared that he hopes Ukrainians would one day be able to overcome hatred because it’s irrational to hate all people of one nation. We tried two Roscas de Pascuas — a traditional dish Argentinians eat during the Pascuas. Among the topics of discussion were: the influence of religion on the lives of people in Argentina and Russia, the celebration of Pascuas, funny stories that happened during the week, family traditions, change of attitude toward religion over time.

I miss my mom and my sister a bit. We used to host those funny egg tournaments. The egg that doesn’t break in a clash of two eggs wins. We would also always paint each egg and bake kulichi — which is an Easter cake in Orthodox culture. I’ve never been religious. I think religion is more like tradition in Russia. In Soviet Union, religion was banned. Now, it is being used as a political weapon. Most people do all those Easter activities, but haven’t read any of the saint books. That’s why I’m referring to it as a tradition, like a New Year celebration.

On Saturday, I participated in a religious procession for the first time in my life. Two Russian Orthodox churches in Buenos Aires expressed their anti-war position. Even though I’m not religious at all, I wanted to support Russian clergymen that had the courage to name things for what they are. And just in general, I realized that I love learning about things I don’t normally learn about. That’s why I think that “I’m not religious so I’m not going to go” is a very limiting way of living. We also released a post with the stories of 5 priests who didn’t sell their faith to the regime but acted against the war and violence, stayed true to Christ despite repressions and loss of their status.

Overall, it was a very nice experience. My friend Vanya, who is from a religious family, shared a lot of interesting facts about the holiday, and he even brought his friend from Brazil to the church. What I also found interesting is that the whole service was mostly in Russian but many Argentinians still attended. Orthodox churches have no benches, so I can’t imagine how people were able to stand until 4-5 am. We left at around 3 am and sat at the gas station talking about childhood experiences with religion. I was also very glad that the church was welcoming everyone, regardless of how they looked. I personally don’t have any dresses or skirts because I don’t wear them in general. But as a woman, you’d most likely be expected to wear one if you go to a church. But in this one, I saw many women wearing pants. When I was a kid, my mom brought us to a church and a priest berated us for not wearing a dress. That’s what probably threw me off churches.

After sleeping until 11 am after the midnight escapade, I went to Vicente López for Easter Family Fest. I can’t express how much love I hold for Russian festivals here. Buenos Aires managed to embody everything I love about my culture and my people. This festival was like an island of its own. Dacha: smoke of barbecue, newly cut grass, kids trampoline, friends at a big dining table, kulichi (Russian for an Easter pie, I bought one from my Belarusian friend btw!!), blini, and some drinks. I was hanging out with Andrey, Katya, and their son Kevin pretty much all day — they were so much fun!

It was also so crazy that 6-7 people approached me at the festival saying they saw me on social media and would like to partner up if possible. You can’t imagine how much it motivates me to keep going despite all the difficulties. And this is exactly why I started all of this: to support people who emigrated because of the war and opened their businesses in emigration. Danya and I are also working on a Telegram bot — a hub of services and food delivery by Russian-speaking people for everyone in BA. We invited a bunch of people to write a few words about what they sell so that we could add them to this database and promote their businesses.

This weekend was so special and it made me feel so at home. Easter is celebrated on Sunday but we’ve been celebrating since Friday. The Friday “Intercambio Cultural” went amazing! It was so heartwarming to see so many people exchanging their cultures with words and gestures. We had such a wonderful heated discussion about Pascuas and religion in Russia, Argentina, and Ukraine. And it was so healing to meet a Ukrainian person who distinguishes between putinists and peaceful Russians. He also shared that he hopes Ukrainians would one day be able to overcome hatred because it’s irrational to hate all people of one nation. We tried two Roscas de Pascuas — a traditional dish Argentinians eat during the Pascuas. Among the topics of discussion were: the influence of religion on the lives of people in Argentina and Russia, the celebration of Pascuas, funny stories that happened during the week, family traditions, change of attitude toward religion over time.

I miss my mom and my sister a bit. We used to host those funny egg tournaments. The egg that doesn’t break in a clash of two eggs wins. We would also always paint each egg and bake kulichi — which is an Easter cake in Orthodox culture. I’ve never been religious. I think religion is more like tradition in Russia. In Soviet Union, religion was banned. Now, it is being used as a political weapon. Most people do all those Easter activities, but haven’t read any of the saint books. That’s why I’m referring to it as a tradition, like a New Year celebration.

On Saturday, I participated in a religious procession for the first time in my life. Two Russian Orthodox churches in Buenos Aires expressed their anti-war position. Even though I’m not religious at all, I wanted to support Russian clergymen that had the courage to name things for what they are. And just in general, I realized that I love learning about things I don’t normally learn about. That’s why I think that “I’m not religious so I’m not going to go” is a very limiting way of living. We also released a post with the stories of 5 priests who didn’t sell their faith to the regime but acted against the war and violence, stayed true to Christ despite repressions and loss of their status.

Overall, it was a very nice experience. My friend Vanya, who is from a religious family, shared a lot of interesting facts about the holiday, and he even brought his friend from Brazil to the church. What I also found interesting is that the whole service was mostly in Russian but many Argentinians still attended. Orthodox churches have no benches, so I can’t imagine how people were able to stand until 4-5 am. We left at around 3 am and sat at the gas station talking about childhood experiences with religion. I was also very glad that the church was welcoming everyone, regardless of how they looked. I personally don’t have any dresses or skirts because I don’t wear them in general. But as a woman, you’d most likely be expected to wear one if you go to a church. But in this one, I saw many women wearing pants. When I was a kid, my mom brought us to a church and a priest berated us for not wearing a dress. That’s what probably threw me off churches.

After sleeping until 11 am after the midnight escapade, I went to Vicente López for Easter Family Fest. I can’t express how much love I hold for Russian festivals here. Buenos Aires managed to embody everything I love about my culture and my people. This festival was like an island of its own. Dacha: smoke of barbecue, newly cut grass, kids trampoline, friends at a big dining table, kulichi (Russian for an Easter pie, I bought one from my Belarusian friend btw!!), blini, and some drinks. I was hanging out with Andrey, Katya, and their son Kevin pretty much all day — they were so much fun!

It was also so crazy that 6-7 people approached me at the festival saying they saw me on social media and would like to partner up if possible. You can’t imagine how much it motivates me to keep going despite all the difficulties. And this is exactly why I started all of this: to support people who emigrated because of the war and opened their businesses in emigration. Danya and I are also working on a Telegram bot — a hub of services and food delivery by Russian-speaking people for everyone in BA. We invited a bunch of people to write a few words about what they sell so that we could add them to this database and promote their businesses.

This weekend was so special and it made me feel so at home.

The time from November 2nd to November 11th was incredible. The little informal moments of exploring Strasbourg with other delegates or asking questions during plenary sessions, labs and forum talks brought the experiences I longed for. I got to meet people from 60+ countries, spoke in front of hundreds of politicians way older than me, brought up the repressive legislation, political prisoners' cases, and propaganda mechanisms executed in Russia. I attended the following events:

Lab 2: Fighting fake news and disinformation to strengthen our freedoms

Forum Talk 6: Fighting Disinformation: Media at the Frontline

Lab 8: No room for hate – Let’s discuss together.

Forum Talk 13 – Press cartoons, an antidote to populism and a medicine for democracy? (was a discussant at the panel with other speakers)

It was so amazing to finally connect with people who are involved in politics in their local communities and internationally as well and learn from their experiences and perspectives on the Russia-Ukraine war. It’s so hard to say goodbye and transition back to the old normal life after something you’ve been working intensely for (I made the impossible possible by getting the documents people usually receive in months only in several weeks) finally happened and there’s this feeling of fulfilment mixed with an empty space held for something new I have to invent — it’s another quest for a new fueling purpose.

In 2024 first time in my entire life I celebrated Christmas! It was certainly the first and best one because I spent it with a big family of my Argentine friend Kevin whom i met randomly at one of the festivals I went to (he danced Bulgarian dances there with an ensemble there) He saw my story on Instagram where I said I had noo Christmas mood and was subject to pre-newyear depression and decided to invited me to spend two days at his country house in La Plata, which is a city in the Buenos Aires Province. The second question I get most frequently when people get to know me closer is “Was it hard to leave your family behind and start a life abroad alone?” I’m still figuring it out, and I don’t have a clear answer. As an 18-year-old abroad, I found the ground beneath my feet through the people I met along the way. People who showed me love and opened their doors to me. 

 Two days of learning Lunfardo resulted in proficiency in Argentine Spanish because now I use “copado,” “joya”  y “che” in random conversations I have with locals. 

The table brimming with delicious food, about 20 family members are sitting all around, chatting very loudly which to a stranger might seem like fighting but it’s joking. Me having my 4th glass of Sangría, trying the delicacies I didn’t have the audacity to try before, comparing life in Argentina with Russia. I almost cried when the family members asked me to enter the house the first and open the presents from Papa Noel. I got a regalito too, a beautiful necklace that I won’t part with from now on. I didn’t expect to receive a gift but they did prepare it for me. 

Seeing such strong ties between so many people, sticking together no matter what, sharing mate while sitting outside under the sun — I fell in love with the family culture in Argentina and I will never forget these two days I spent in La Plata.

Home is people.

If someone told me half a year ago that I’d spend my New Year vacation on a road trip across the north of Argentina with people from Saint Petersburg, Murmansk, Tambov, and Saransk whom I met in Buenos Aires, I’d say go find another fool. But I’ve been that dreamy fool for almost four months now, and I don’t want the highway to end. Just like Moscow doesn’t represent entire Russia, Buenos Aires doesn’t represent entire Argentina. And I want to see all of her hidden beauties. We’ve planned the itinerary in advance, rented the car, stocked up on food, but left space for the unexpected. 

During our getaway, I survived the heat of +38 degrees, passed through Rosario, one of the most criminal cities in Argentina, learned to put up tents and met fellow travelers from Córdoba, cooked food on actual fire (our pasta (viva Italia) was more delicious than that in restaurants), swam in a wild river at 6 am, saw Mars (Talampaya Parque Nacional) on Earth, tried the best white wine in the world which is certainly Argentine, spent a night at a classic shabby highway motel, watched the storm approaching our camping spot and ran through the rain, documented the mountains and roads on our way back through the Cuesta de Miranda that our precious tour guide personally recommended to us (his hometown is there), shared the time and space with wonderful human beings, playing the get-to-know game “Tell me about a time when you….” where we shared the most heartfelt stories from childhood 

None of that would’ve happened if I stayed home. You never know who you might meet. I exhort you. Do go out.

In sessions with PeeBee, we often talked about how I want to implement everything I learned about community management while being in Patagonia and Santiago and how I want to show up for my community here in Buenos Aires.

It’s been almost a month since I got back from the trip. During this month we’ve done so many wonderful things!

Last week I met the founders of an Argentinian newspaper for the Russian-speaking population of Argentina — they wanted to write about me and Libre Rusia ARG. They reached out to me on Instagram saying how much they admire our work. That message made my day. All of this was never in vain. We’re starting to be seen and recognized.

This interview came out on Friday. I shared my journey of immigration, education and studies in Russia vs USA, adaptation and difficulties, activities and plans at Libre Rusia ARG, my vision for the Future of Russia. They have a considerable audience so more people will discover us which is exciting!! One person even recognized me on the street yesterday which was crazy!!

What keeps me going as well is seeing people getting as excited about our work as I am. We have so many talented folks on our team: designers, photographers, psychologists who care and bring in their professionalism. Andrey helped me film two professionally-looking videos for “Meeting Strangers” media section where we share stories of the Russian emigrants who opened a business. Jotaru and I organized several meetings “Intercambio Cultural” that help Russians break language barriers and interact with native speakers from Mundo Lingo in Spanish more confidently.

We went through hell to find a place where we could screen the movie “Argentina 1985” — Zhenya stepped in and found a coffee shop with a projector (which was not working at first, but Kostya found a way to connect our laptops to it, yay!!!) After the movie, all participants exchanged their thoughts and discussed the trial of military generals, drawing parallels to our country. The next movie we’ll watch will likely be closer to the current reality. Vanya, Nuria, Sonya and I are exploring the possibility of inviting a political scientist from the UBA to do a Q&A about Argentina under Kirchner and Milei.

Every weekend we have something going on — an evening of letters to political prisoners, a session of the club of psychological assistance, or musical rehearsals (completely unexpected but turns out we also have incredible self-taught musicians here and I’m thrilled to launch a musical album together!!!!!) Every time I throw in an idea, our community members are so eager to add more to the vision I had. And thanks to them, a better vision is born.

I intend to keep working on connections and partnerships for more effective promotion of our activities. We collaborated with the Starbucks community and hosted an open-air parilla where people could just informally chat about life in Argentina, legalization, and network as well while enjoying some barbecue. More than 20 anti-war organizations across the world started following us on social media. Moreover, on Sunday I had a call with our new designer Lisa from Kiev who wants to contribute to our community’s promotion. We’re so lucky to have such a wonderful specialist.

We joined Argentinian activists at the protest dedicated to Memory and Justice (March 24th is a national holiday in Argentina). 30,000 people were killed or disappeared between 1976 and 1983. Many of us brought posters with the portraits of Russian political prisoners. I lost count of how many people approached us to ask more about their stories or to take a photo of us. I was so grateful for their curiosity because miscommunication and lack of information are the factors that make the regime possible. Every attempt to break this seal is a step toward freedom.

This week I also visited ESMA, a museum that used to be a clandestine detention center where political prisoners were kept and tortured, as well as the museum of Madres de Plaza de Mayo resistance movement. I’m organizing a guided excursion around these facilities for our community. I learned so much there which will contribute a ton to my comparative analysis of political systems in Russia, Argentina, and Chile.

With the opportunities I gained this year, I want to bring the same opportunities to Russian youth. So in the meantime, I’m writing an elaborate report to the OHCHR.

During the lunch, I listened to the interview with my favorite Russian politician and former political prisoner Vladimir Kara-Murza. Every time I listen to him, it’s like I gain a second breath. He advocates for the Russian people at PACE and conveys the necessity to distinguish between war criminals and regular citizens. He raises issues like sanctions, discrimination by passport, education and civic resistance in exile, prioritizing people over formalities. I hope so much I will meet him some day.

It feels so nice to be young, hopeful, and taken seriously by people who are way older and more experienced than I am.

Again, I truly believe a person shouldn’t be assessed based on their age but on their enthusiasm, skills, and professionalism. I’ve got so many ideas bursting through me, and I can’t wait to see what else we will make possible.

Four things that help me feel grounded and reduce anxiety while I navigate the period of grave uncertainty in my life are:

1. Working out at the gym. As some of you already know, I got a membership at the gym that’s 15 minutes away from my apartment in Microcentro. I can’t emphasize enough how much exercising alleviates the pain and helps me focus on the present moment. This week I wasn’t able to go much because I came down with a cold but all previous weeks in May I went 4-5 times per week. Not only did I improve my physical shape but I also got re-energized so much by the strength my body showed me when I thought I was at my lowest and didn’t have strength for anything at all.

2. Work in my community. I draw inspiration from people I work with. During the past 2 weeks:

- Andrey and I filmed and published two new episodes of the “Meeting Strangers” reels series with freelance teachers and the founder of Malas Hermanas Ksusha — those videos were so lighthearted yet profound. All our guests have one thing in common — they were brave enough to start something completely new abroad and actually succeeded;

- we hosted an “Intercambio Cultural” meeting with native speakers (José Luís gave me a mate cup with my name on it as a birthday gift — that was so sweet) at a new location in Recoleta. Unfortunately, a very unplesant and unethical situation happened regarding the previous space’s owner so we decided it’s better not to work together to avoid the escalation of our conflict. Despite that, so many people came anyway and we all chatted about celebrations and holidays in Argentina and Russia;

- went on a monthly manifestation next to the Taras Shevchenkos’s monument (he was a glorious Ukraininan poet of liberation);

- had a guided excursion in Spanish with a Russian translation at the Espacio de Memoria y Derechos Humanos that I’ve been organizing for a month with the ESMA representatives and our interpreter Olga. It’s a historical landmark where polticial prisoners were held captive during Argentina’s last dictatorship (1976-1983). I was shocked that around 25 people showed up for an excursion in the outskirts of the city on a weekday. I was even more shocked that most faces were new to me. Even though I felt sick that day, I couldn’t be happier that our work is finally engaging a new audience;

- discussed the new restricting immigration decree that Milei released on May 29th — tomorrow Victor and I gather an assembly of the political think tank to discuss in detail what our next steps would be and how to cooperate with the local media and authorities to push back the law that is going to negatively impact all of us, especially those in the status of refugees or those waiting for an Argentinian passport

3. Noticing and appreciating what and who’s around me. On May 25th, Argentina celebrated one of the two most important national holidays — the Day of the May Revolution that started the process of liberation from the Spanish crown in 1810. They completed this process on July 9th, 1816. I think I compulsively read and watched everything about this Revolution so I’ve become sort of an expert involuntarily. I went to Plaza de Mayo to see the celebrations, went to the Mataderos neighborhood for a local holiday fair, and spent my evening at Malas Hermanas trying a new traditional dish — locro, listening to musicians from Catamarca. Znenya and I even sang a song in karaoke, what an epic performance it was. After that evening, Carolina, Arseniy, Zhenya and I walked around the city all the way to the Obelisco at night and talked about Arseniy’s favorite book which I re-read recently in English — “A Clockwork Orange” (god, fast forward 5 years, how differently I have perceived it at 19), expired internal passports, dating culture, antidepressants, why Casa Rosada is rose, and the benefits of Russia’s potential integration in the EU after Putin — basically everything. It’s like I’ve known them for ages. We’re all so different but our lives collided here in this city. If those midnight walks could have a title, they would probably be called “Sonnet No.4 of Grief and Forwarded Anticipation”.

4. Learning French every day for at least an hour. I’ve started an intense conjugation course recently. My fluency in Spanish helps me a ton to adapt to the tricks of this language. I’m getting better at pronunciation but still struggling with listening.

I mentioned today during Alexx’s session on Life Transcripts that I had multiple paradigm shifts this year. One of them relates to my reaction to failures. I now choose to not get mad about what can’t be mended (which doesn’t mean I don’t get angry anymore) but work with the outcome, work towards the actual solution, look for the doors that are still open, seek help and support, and most importantly, continue living.