The Privilege of Citizenship

Recently while talking to a friend a subject of emigration from Russia came up. My friend knew some people who moved to US in their late teens with their parents, but who returned to Russia once they became adults. I have previously known of a few cases where people were extremely unhappy in this country and have returned to their native land, but I have never heard of a group of virtually unrelated people going back to Russia permanently. I was shocked.

I questioned the possibility of moving back to one’s mother country without proper working documents. I had forgotten that people emigrating from Russia in the mid 1990’s and later did not have to give up their renounce their citizenship like I did. Today former Russian citizens are able to get their citizenship reinstated. In fact, Russian immigrants, now American citizens, who travel back to Russia a lot, find it convenient to get their Russian citizenship reinstated so that they do not have to get a visa to enter Russia every time.

The US government highly discourages dual citizenship due to the problems that may arise when the laws of the two countries conflict. A US citizen who automatically qualifies and is granted another country’s citizenship stands no risk of losing the US citizenship. However, a US citizen who deliberately applies for the citizenship of another country may lose his or her US citizenship.

When I moved to the United States, I could not wait to receive my US passport. Coming to America has given me a lot of freedom and choice-- freedom to choose what to study and what educational institution to enter, freedom to follow the traditions of my ancestors, freedoms I did not have in Russia. Receiving the US citizenship also provided me with the freedom to travel as well as the safety of being under the protection of the US government.

The US government does not guarantee protection to its citizen in the country of their birth, which is logical given that a person can have legitimate claims to that country’s citizenship. This policy is unfortunate for the US citizen who explicitly renounced the citizenship of their mother countries. Thus when traveling to Russia, I cannot rely on the help of US government in case Russian authorities decide to detain me regardless of which passport or passports I held.

If I wanted to move back to Russia, or if I wanted to make my travel to Moscow only a matter of purchasing a ticket, I could pay some money, fill out a few forms, and get my Russian passport. Obtaining the Russian citizenship would also give me the opportunity to move back to Russia.

Would I like to spend some time in Russia? Yes. Would I like to move to Moscow for a year or two and live alongside my friends like an ordinary Russian? Yes, there is no doubt about it. I have never lived in Russia as an adult, and I would very much like to experience it. If today someone offered me a Russian work visa and a job, I might very well accept. The time I have lived in Russia now represents less then half of my life. Yet the effects of growing up in the Soviet Union are not wearing off. I miss my friends, and I long to know better the city I grew up in. I have always felt at home when I went back.

If I had a Russian passport, all I would have to do is find a job, and I would be ready to move. Yet I am not rushing off to get my Russian citizenship reinstated. In fact I would never accept the Russian citizenship, even if paid to do so. It might mean that I would never live in Moscow again, but I already had to face that reality when we were leaving the Soviet Union. In accepting the Russian citizenship I would be acting against my principles.

When moving to the United States my parents left their well established lives, their friends and elderly parents behind so that I would never know the discrimination with which the Soviet Union treated its Jewish population. My parents made the sacrifice of their own comfort so that I would feel safe to live my life however I chose to.

Moving back to Russia would erase everything they have done and struggled for. By accepting the Russian citizenship I would accept all the injustice inflicted upon my parents and my grandparents as due course. I could never do so. Moreover, it would break the trust that the United States has extended to me when allowing me to become the US citizen. I spent six years being a citizen of no country at all. I was born in Russia, but I am proud to be a citizen of the United States of America.

A Few Days in New York City

A couple weeks ago I spent the weekend in New York City. I went down there to spend time with an old friend from Moscow, who was in the city for just a few days. It has been 5 years since we last saw each other. My friend has visited New York once before, but it was over a decade ago--I was still living in Russia then. This time around she had a little bit more time to devote to this city. We did a lot of walking around Brooklyn and lower Manhattan. We even took a ride on the Staten Island Ferry. I feel both happy and sad about the time we spent together. It was great to see my friend, but the meeting also made me acutely aware of how little we see each other and how short our time together was.

Office Notes

Lunch time. A crowd has gathered in the kitchen waiting for the microwaves. A voice from the crowd, "Come on, you little chicken!"

My Winnie the Pooh Quilt

While in the midst of sewing bags, I got the idea of making a baby quilt for a friend of mine who was expecting a baby girl at the time. That was back in April. I have set out to make a quilt twice before, but have never finished either one. Now, three and a half months later, and after my friend had her baby girl (on July 7th) I have finally finished this quilt, my third attempt.


I am posting photos of it before it goes through the laundry, because I am not too confident that it will remain quite the same afterwards. We'll just have to wait and see.

P.S. I have washed the quilt and it has survived.

The Second Opinion, or More On Utah

Our friend Ryan, who together with his girlfriend Talia, spent the 2nd week of our trip to Utah with us, also documented our adventures in his blog. I thought it would only be fair, if you had a chance to learn his side of the story:

(The titles to the links are also by Ryan)

Day Zero - In which the journey is conceived
Day One - In which departure is made with haste and the Grand Canyon lives up to its moniker
Day Two - In which canyon tree frogs lure the protagonists down the Kaibab trail
Day Three - In which the Bryce Amphitheatre plays host to a concert of Hoodoos
Day Four - In which the ancient Bristlecone Pine of Rainbow Point does not die
Day Five - In which snow lands in Bryce Canyon and Angels land in Zion
Day Six - In which the Narrows aren't too narrow, but too dark
Day Seven - In which Wall Street is obtained with the help of a bow-staff
Day Eight - In which commencement commences, and the journey decommences

Leaving Las Vegas

We got a great night sleep, spent about 2 hours cleaning out the car, and repacking our belongings to make them airplane worthy again, and hung out with my relatives till early afternoon.

Around 2 or 3 pm we were driving down W. Sahara Avenue towards the strip. You might remember the left over firewood we "threw" in the car when we were about to leave our campsite in the Grand Canyon National Park. It just happened so that this very firewood was still happily riding in our car. With only a few hours remaining till we had to return our faithful rental car, we puzzled over the proper way to get rid of the firewood. My suggestion to toss it into a random dumpster we passed between various strip malls was firmly rejected under the pretext that unauthorized dumping is illegal. We reached Las Vegas Boulevard still in possession of the firewood.

Our plan was to visit a few more hotels along the strip, grab an early dinner, and head to the airport. We started at the Paris Hotel, and walked through the Treasure Island, the Venetian and a couple others. We stopped at the Bellagio once again to see some of Picasso's Ceramics on display at the Bellagio Gallery of Fine Art. The exhibit was small but intriguing, and the audio guide did not disappoint providing us with bits of curious information about Picasso and his plates, owls and jars.

Back at the Paris Hotel, we grabbed a dinner and some fancy dessert, and drove off to the airport. We arrived at the car return, still with the firewood in tow. At this point, Nick confidently walked over to a garbage can, lifted off the nice cover, and stuffed the firewood into it, carefully replacing the cover. He was not caught in the act.

We flew out of Las Vegas before midnight, thus ending our wonderful adventurous vacation.

From Zion Back To Las Vegas

First thing in the morning, we went out to the Mean Bean Coffee House, a small coffee shop in Springdale, and got a muffin and a cup of hot chocolate. The muffin was for me, and the hot chocolate was for Nick, but Nick and I practically fought over this drink--definitely the best hot chocolate I have ever had. Today we would be heading to Las Vegas, but we still had a few stops to make in the Zion National Park before leaving.

First we headed to the Weeping Rock. A short walk away from the main road took us to a beautiful magic place where water was coming out of the rock. Someone told us that it takes the water 2000 years to travel from the top surface of the cliffs through the sandstone to the impermeable shale where it is forced back out. The constantly dripping water and abundant moisture created a beautiful hanging garden. There was perfect stillness around us with nothing but the sound of dripping water.

Next we headed to the Emerald Pools. As the trail led uphill along the side of the canyon, we enjoyed beautiful views of the cliffs around us. A tall narrow waterfall came down into the first pool. Walking along the wall, we walked behind it, and even enjoyed a little rainbow. The third pool was the largest and probably the deepest. The most majestic of the three, it was hidden away between absolutely vertical red cliffs, while its truely emerald waters reflected the lush greenery around its steep banks.

After a brief stop at the Court of the Patriarchs to admire three large peaks named after Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, we took the shuttle back to the Visitor’s Center. Here we picked up the horrid news about 2 people who have died while hiking the Angels Landing trail since we hiked it on Wednesday. After a short postcard shopping spree at the gift shop we said goodbye to Ryan and Talia, and they headed to the more remote and much less visited part of the Zion National Park, the Kolob Canyons, for one more hike, before driving back to LA.

Nick and I drove back to the park’s East Entrance. Our car climbed out of the canyon and back through the tunnel. Now we were almost as high as the rim of the canyon. Here the rocks bore amazing patterns on their surfaces and were a lot paler in color—apparently the minerals slowly seep down and out of these rocks with age, causing the tops of the peaks to slowly lose their bright color. We did a short hike among these round “scratched” looking rock tops and admired the Checkerboard Mesa Rock.

Now it was time for us to leave Zion for good, and headed back to Las Vegas. Once again we stopped to inspect some dinosaur tracks at St. George Dinosaur Discovery Site at Johnson Farm in St. George, Utah. The tracks here were numerous and extremely well preserved, including such rarities as some skin impressions and dinosaur swimtracks.

It was after 7pm when we plunged back into maddening civilization and reached our hotel in Las Vegas. Tonight was our one chance to see the strip at night, so we took a shuttle from our hotel to Mandalay Bay and joined the curious crowds of tourists gawking away at the Las Vegas Boulevard.

We quickly learned that pretty much all the casinos in different hotels looked the same, with a distinct odor mixture of cigar smoke, perfume, and alcohol, perfect to inflict a headache. We walked into Bellagio and were swapped away by their amazing flower arrangements everywhere and even grander flower displays. After a nice dinner in one of the restaurants, Nick and I watched the fountains--perfect coordination of music, water and lights. Happy and tired, we decided to call it a night, and caught the shuttle from Mandalay Bay back to our hotel.