Foreign Exchange

For the past few days, the streets of Vlad have been seemingly overrun by hundreds of Americans.

The U.S.S. Something or Other has been sitting pretty in the harbor, while its 300+ crew members have been strolling the streets of the city center, attracting stares and ("officially") spreading good ol' American cheer wherever they go.

It's been pretty fun watching the Russian reactions to these gangs of very American sailors. On my way to dinner last night, I saw two Russian men attempting to freestyle for a handful of sailors and discuss the finer points of hip-hop through non-existent English language skills. Later that night a some of us walked down to the beach and saw another group of sailors surrounded by bright-eyed Russian teens. We (a Frenchman, Englishman, and American) were somehow enlisted as translators for the comical exchange.

The Americans gave out white sailor hats to a few of the squeaky-voiced teens: "Подарок? Классно! Мне ОЧЕНЬ нравится." Sailor Tom and co. smiled, nodded, and gave the occasional thumbs up as we translated the repeated "Cool!"s, "Thanks!"s, "You're welcome!"s, "Do you like beer?"s.

Soon, a smiling babushka selling flowers strolled up to join the fun. Her last two roses went to me (my own подарок from my new French friend-- классно, indeed!) and Tom, as we negotiated the deal-- one hat for one flower-- on her behalf. She proudly donned her bartered good, flipped the brim down, exclaimed how she had been looking for a new beach hat, and strolled away smiling just as she had come.

I'm not sure how the distribution of hats and audiences for bad rap fits into the grand scheme of international diplomacy, but it seems like everyone's been enjoying themselves here regardless. (I know I've appreciated the opportunity to debate the relative merits of UCLA and USC with some local SoCal sailor boys on my way to struggle with the ladies at the почта for some stamps.)

On a more serious note, there's also a delegation in town from the U.S. Embassy in Moscow, the State Department in D.C., and USAID here this week, meeting with different Russian NGOs and municipal organizations and giving lectures and talks on the subject of human trafficking. I sat in on one such talk at the American Corner here in Vlad last night before dinner, and it was really fascinating and thought-provoking to hear local Russian college students discuss this issue with the delegates. While I had heard about the sex trafficking and trade of women and young girls from Russia, everyone there also drew my attention to the even more numerous instances of forced labor-- and some of it done through the State itself via the sale of conscripted military labor to private firms and corporations.

I never gave my decisions to study/work abroad much extra thought beyond the question of, well, "Gee, do I really want to go?" These students all vie for the same opportunities but have to temper their excitement with tremendous suspicion: they're the primary targets here for such awful scams, and they know it. They see the ads in the newspapers, on the bulletin boards of their colleges, and they have to realize that these programs could potentially provide some of the best experiences of their lives or years of torturous physical and psychological abuse. Hefty consequences to weigh for a 20-year old kid who wants to see a little more of the world-- not to mention a much, much darker portrayal of international exchange than the silly one I got to partake in later that evening on the boardwalk.

The strange and sudden presence of so many fellow Americans this week has been greatly entertaining and comforting on the one hand and rather eye-opening and disturbing on the other. How do such exchanges-- and my own year here in Vlad-- fit into an understanding of international relations, indeed?