arrived at 2:30 in the empty hotel room. nothing doing here. the way over had a bit of excitement because I wasn't sure I was going to the right place--I mean, I knew I was, but the information I've received by email, the preparations and the phone calls, didn't quite convince me that everything was in the right place. Plans may be firm and detailed, but on paper they don't always seem quite real. Was I actually supposed to be taking a flight to Washington, DC this morning? Can I sit here? Was this already paid for? That's all you need to see? The number is right? Right. Reality checked in right before I did--three women in the lobby speaking in Russian. This is actually happening.

Did I just leave home for three months, with a near future as tangible and real and white as this piece of paper: "Flight" and "Orientation," "Moscow," "Ulan Ude"?