Real stories of emigrants who returned to Russia

2024 Author: Seth Attwood | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-16 15:55

In 2014, 308,475 people officially left Russia. These data are based on voluntary removal from migration registration, which is not done by all emigrants. The real number of those who left Russia is much higher, and there is no open information on this issue.

However, not all Russians stay abroad forever. Some cannot settle in a foreign country, others miss home and language, and in the third, patriotism suddenly awakens. Every year, many emigrants return to Russia and stay here forever. The Village spoke to the three returnees about living abroad, reasons for the return, and patriotism.

Alexey Kudashev, 34 years old

I lived in Moscow until I was 15, after which I left for America with my mother. It seemed to my mother that in 1998 Russia came to an end, so she emigrated. At the same time, dad, as a patriot, remained to live in Russia.

We moved to Kensington, near San Francisco, and I started going to an American school. There, everyone communicated in small groups on a national basis. Hindus separately, Chinese separately, but, unfortunately, I did not find the Russian group. In American school, I became unsociable and withdrawn. I was like a dog thrown overboard trying not to drown. Around, of course, the sun is shining and coconuts are growing, but the dog has no time for that - it needs to survive.

After high school, I went to the University of California at Berkeley to study as a computer programmer. Then I was fond of Japanese culture, so I additionally studied Japanese at the university. There is no free education in America, and to pay for my tuition, I took out a student loan that had to be paid back after graduation. In my second year, I became disillusioned with programming and transferred to the Faculty of Psychology. Still, it is much more pleasant to communicate with people, and not with computers.

In America, I was ashamed to say that I am from Russia. I came to a foreign good country from the country in felt boots and looked at the Americans a little from the bottom up. Therefore, when they asked me where I came from, I answered: "From California." But the Americans heard the accent and clarified: "No, where are you really from?"

In America, there is intense competition in all areas. America is a jungle where no one is friend to anyone. To survive there, you must be a tank and boldly go head over heels towards your goal. By the end of my studies, I had become like this and got used to well in American society. I knew that I had received a good education and I was confident in myself.

I studied a lot and did some part-time jobs, so I had little free time, which I mostly spent at parties with friends or in a Japanese club. Although in fact in America I was alone all the time. All my acquaintances, despite their smiles, always remained just acquaintances, I did not find real friends there.

At that time, I practically did not remember my homeland. Of course, I talked with dad, but mom said that everything is bad in Russia and there is no need to go back to the past. In addition, the Internet was then underdeveloped and I practically did not receive any news from Russia. And if he did, it was negative. I didn’t want to think about the Chechen wars, squalid entrances and so on. Naturally, I began to forget the Russian language and acquired an American accent. During the five years spent in another country, the native language and culture are very easily forgotten.

In my third year of university, I studied for a year in Japan on an exchange. Although I studied - it is, of course, loudly said, mostly I was messing around and traveling. I liked the country, so after graduating from university I decided to move to Japan. At a job fair in Boston, I found a job at a Japanese bank that pledged to help me with housing and teach me a new profession from scratch within a year. I had nothing to lose and the decision to move was pretty easy.

After the move, I worked as an assistant at a bank for six months, then began to study remotely to become an accountant under the American CPA program. Within a year, I became a chartered accountant, went to work for a reputable consulting company, and then got a job with a large American hedge fund.

I communicated well with the locals, often went on mountain hikes with them, but in fact I always remained a foreigner for them. Japan has a highly developed corporate culture, which consists of many small rituals. For example, in order not to let the company and the team down, you have to work several hours every day. If you want to leave work on time, ask your superiors for time off. Or another ritual is to go to the toilet with colleagues. As in Russia they go to smoke, so there men gather in groups of five to ten people and stand in a row at the urinals.

It is also customary there to go to the bar after work with colleagues. In Russia, of course, colleagues also drink together, but usually those who are interested in each other do it. And there the boss leads his entire department to the bar, and this is a continuation of your common life. At the bar, you are obliged to look after your boss and pour alcohol on him. Japan is a Confucian country, which means that your boss is your dad, and the whole company is a big family.

I tried to get this family corporate feeling, but after living in America, where they made me a wolf-individualist, it was quite difficult to rebuild. I didn’t give freebies at work and was actively involved in social life, but I still lived as if in a big vacuum. Nevertheless, I worked in a good position, received good money, and this reconciled me with reality. I lived in Japan for five years and basically sacrificed my life for money.

At that time, I began to learn more about Russia and even went several times to visit my dad in Moscow. Russia was experiencing a strong economic leap, and I had the feeling that a giant party was in full swing there, in which for some reason I did not participate. I thought for several years and decided that we should give Russia a chance. As a result, I quit my job in Japan and came to Moscow.

Of course, life abroad influenced me, and at first I felt like a foreigner in Russia. I was confused by the confusion and disorganization. And this applied to everything: and the improvement of the city, and catering establishments, and people. I did not understand why people cannot do everything normally and efficiently. A few days after my arrival, for example, I got poisoned with shawarma. Why sell low-quality shawarma and poison your own citizens? But then I realized how everything works here. It turned out that every Russian wants to discover for himself some piece of the common pie.

Back in Japan, I learned to be a marketer remotely and hoped to find a job in Russia in this area. However, there was not much demand for marketers at that time, except that advertising for dumplings and vodka was required. I was offered non-core jobs, but I turned them down because I thought I was too cool to work in small firms.

I lived in my father's apartment, traveled around the country a little, but I never found a job, and after six months I left for America. In Chicago, I started working as a marketer, in a couple of years I got promoted and got a job in a large company. My life got better again: I bought an apartment, a car, a motorcycle and even hired a cleaning lady. In a word, I have reached the American dream, and it would seem that my story should end here, but no. I had a lot of money, but there was no big goal in life, and it did not appear. But a personal crisis appeared, and I wanted some kind of change.

Over time, I began to spend time in a local Russian-speaking get-together and learn news from Russia. Once on Shrovetide, I went to a Russian Orthodox church, they were selling food, and I collected pancakes for nine dollars, and I only had seven with me. I wanted to put aside an extra pancake, but the man standing behind me in line added two dollars for free. Of course, at first I thought that he was gay or he wanted something from me. In an evil American society, there is no such thing as a guy just paying for you. However, he did it sincerely, and then there was a glitch in my coordinate system.

Since then, I began to go to church, but not to services, but to taste Russian food. I didn't really believe in God, but the church and its parishioners provided support, which I greatly lacked.

In 2014, in connection with the situation in Ukraine, I became extremely negative about America's foreign policy. I realized that Russia is showing itself adequately and correctly, while America is wreaking havoc. Because of these thoughts, I became uncomfortable living in the United States, because with my work and the taxes that I pay, I indirectly support American aggression and ruin my country - Russia. I suddenly realized that all these years I had been a traitor in relation to Russia, and I wanted to repay my debt to my homeland.

I lived with these thoughts for a year and as a result I quit my job, sold my apartment and left for Russia. For the third time, I started my life from scratch. In my experience, it takes five years to get back on your feet in a new place. Now I am living in Russia for the second year and am looking for a job as a marketer.

Of course, I understood that I would live poorer, but I had already lived in abundance and realized that money is not the main thing. The main thing is to live and work with love for your country. The coolest patriotism is when you do your job day after day. The job can be messy and unpleasant, but rewarding and necessary. If you want to live in a good country, you don't have to wait for someone else to do something for you: you have to do it yourself.

Sergey Trekov, 45 years old

I was born and raised in Moscow. After school, he graduated from an architectural college with a degree in construction machinery mechanic, but did not work by profession, but got a job as a driver.

In the mid-90s, I got the feeling that everything is not very good in our country. I realized that the life of most people in Russia is a constant struggle. The struggle for high-quality medicine, the struggle to buy food of normal quality, the struggle to ensure that a person with connections does not take your place at the university, and so on. Our state puts its own interests first, and not the interests of ordinary people - this is wrong, because the state exists precisely for people.

In 2001, my thoughts developed unexpectedly. I met a man named Arkady, who at one time emigrated to Germany, and he told me a lot of interesting things. According to him, the German state really cares about its citizens and all institutions work honestly, as they should work. He also described in some detail how you can technically move to live in Germany.

At that time, there was a program that enabled Jews as victims of the Holocaust to obtain a residence permit in Germany. After that trip with Arkady, I thought for several months and decided that I had to leave. I realized that if I didn't leave now, I would never leave, and then I would regret it. I signed up for a German language course and started collecting the documents necessary for the move. Collecting documents is not a problem, but it only requires perseverance and time. I sold the car and spent most of the money I got on preparing to leave. I also decided during my life in Germany to rent my own apartment in Moscow. In general, the preparation process took about a year.

Most of my friends were positive about my decision, most of my relatives were neutral. However, my wife was strongly against the move. She, of course, agreed with the injustice of life in Russia, but this did not hurt her enough to leave for another country. I tried to convince her for a long time, and in the end we decided that our departure would not be a move to permanent residence, but a trip for a while. In other words, we initially considered the option of returning back.

Upon arrival in Germany, we lived for a week in a distribution center, where we were offered several cities to which we could move. We chose the city of Bad Segeberg, where there was a strong Jewish community that we hoped would help us early on. And so it happened. My knowledge of the language did not allow me to fully communicate with officials, and often volunteers from the community went with me or even instead of me to officials.

Germany provided us with free housing and paid part of the housing and utilities costs. We were accommodated in an apartment in a large house with Russian-speaking migrants. The neighbors received us well: they immediately began to help and bring things from their homes. My life was abruptly filled with events, I was constantly solving organizational issues, acquired a bunch of acquaintances, and by the end of each day my head did not understand anything. In general, all the organizational aspects were carried out at the highest level, and my expectations from the country were justified. Everything turned out as Arkady told.

We received four unemployment benefits (mine, my wife's, and two children’s), which totaled 850 euros, which was more than the salary I received as a driver in Russia. Also, at that time, markets were regularly held in Germany, to which the Germans brought their unnecessary things in good condition, and anyone could pick them up absolutely free.

In addition, there was a food distribution point in the city, to which expired or almost expired products from large stores were brought. This food was distributed free of charge to everyone. Everything was arranged like this: your turn comes up, you name what you need, and if the product is in stock, it is brought to you in a strictly defined quantity. The products were mostly with a normal shelf life that would expire after a few days. Most of the visitors to the store were Russian-speaking immigrants, they called it "Freebie". The German state does not allow a person to have nothing to eat and nowhere to live. As they say in Germany: "To become a homeless person or a beggar, you have to try hard."

My primary task was to get my eldest son to school and to get a language course myself. I didn't want to work as a driver again, so I decided to master the language and learn a new profession.

The state also paid for my language courses, which took place five times a week for six months, and the study took eight hours a day. This was the first level of the courses, and the knowledge they provide was not enough for college or university studies. And the state could not pay for the second level of courses, which gave serious knowledge, due to the decrease in funding for programs for migrants. Therefore, at the end of the basic courses, the majority of those who arrived remained unemployed and lived on welfare.

It was impossible to pay for the advanced courses on your own, because it contradicts your unemployment status. If you pay for the courses yourself, the state will immediately stop paying you benefits and paying for housing. From the point of view of the state, it is impossible to accumulate money from the allowance, because the allowance is calculated based on the minimum level of consumption and it should be completely spent on food, utility bills and minor expenses.

Six months after the move, I realized that I wanted to work as a paramedic driver for an ambulance. To master this profession, it was necessary to complete a two-year course of study, which cost 4,800 euros. The question arose where to find the money. I could not pay with my savings because I was considered indigent, and I decided to convince the labor exchange to pay for me. There I was refused, offering to work in any other place, and to return to this conversation in a year.

The labor exchange itself did not offer me any job, so I began to look for it myself. In the newspapers, there were mainly vacancies related to the service sector: cleaning territories or helping in nursing homes. I decided to try myself in a nursing home: I started going to homes, offering my services, and sent out a lot of resumes, but everywhere I was refused.

By the end of the basic language courses, I began to notice that the eldest son, studying in the second grade of a German school, forgets Russian. I did not think at all that this could happen, and it began to strain me. At the same time, from the very first day, my wife saw a continuous negative around us. She did not learn the language, did not work, and all the time she sat at home with her youngest son, who was then two years old. Due to her lack of knowledge of the language, she felt uncomfortable: for example, she could not even go to the store normally, because any clarification of the seller at the checkout baffled her. After completing the language courses, I spent a month unsuccessfully looking for a job, but the mood in the family continued to remain negative, and I stopped seeing the prospect.

I thought it would be easy to master a new profession, but it turned out that it is not. I could not even find an uninteresting job, and I did not want to sit on unemployment benefits. Although many acquaintances of emigrants were not at all embarrassed by unemployment. Most of them weren't even looking for work. They used free points of distribution of food and clothes, saved on everything and thus managed to buy cars and household appliances on credit.

Other emigrants said that the main thing was to grit your teeth and endure for two or three years until life would get better. I think if my wife supported me, I would have done so. But she didn't want to take such a long path.

I never intended to become a German and abandon Russia, and at that time in all German media Russia was presented exclusively in a negative light - as a backward country of savages. Even then, there was anti-Russian propaganda, and I realized that Russia is perceived as an enemy here. And someday a virtual war can turn into a real one, and what happens then? I live here, my children are integrated into German society, and my homeland is there. In a word, a rather strong patriotic feeling awoke in me.

When negative thoughts in my head gained critical mass, I began to call my acquaintances in Moscow and inquire if they had a job for me. One acquaintance then opened a car painting business and promised to take me to work on his arrival. Leaving back turned out to be much easier than arriving there. To do this, it was enough to come to a small booth at the railway station and buy a ticket to Moscow. I kept our departure a secret and did not tell about it either to people from the Jewish community, or to the labor exchange, or to other government agencies. I didn't want to convince anyone and prove anything to anyone.

Towards the end of my life in Germany, I began to yearn for Russia, so upon returning home I felt joy. Of course, nothing has changed here in eight months, but I have changed. I realized that I want to live in my homeland, because here I feel at home. The disadvantages of living in Russia must be taken for granted and not worried too much about them. Our old life got better pretty quickly: my son went to school, I got a job, and we lived as if we had never left.

Of course, I understood that if I left Germany, I would lose my standard of living. I knew that sooner or later we would get on our feet there, but I did not want to live in contradiction with myself. After the trip, I realized that all goals are achievable, the main thing is desire. Of course, sometimes I regretted that I came back, but over time I completely stopped thinking about it. I was lucky to get such an interesting life experience, and now I remember that trip only with warmth.

Mikhail Mosolov, 46 years old

I have been living in Moscow since childhood, where I graduated from MIIT with a degree in technical cybernetics of electronic computers. My job is to repair computers and provide technical support to users. After graduation, I did not immediately start working in my specialty, before that I worked part-time at McDonald's, as a seller in a video equipment store and as a courier.

The story of my move to Australia is connected with my mother, who never liked living in Russia: she was not satisfied with the Russian climate, nature and relations between people. Together with my stepfather and my younger brother, they emigrated to Australia in 1992. They didn’t invite me with them, and I myself didn’t want to: why go to another country if my life here is just beginning?

Two years after their departure, I decided to visit my relatives, but the embassy refused me a visitor visa without giving any reasons. I thought about a trip to Australia again only in 1998 during a serious economic crisis in Russia. I lost my job and for a long time could not find a new one, so I thought that there were no more prospects for life in Russia.

A sporty spirit caught fire in me: I decided to check whether they would let me in for permanent residence after a refusal of a visitor visa. I did not even consider the possibility of moving seriously and filled out all the documents for fun. To obtain an Australian visa for five years, it was necessary to gain the required number of points, which consisted of such indicators as health, education, age, work experience, and so on. It took me about a year to pass the medical examination, collect all the documents, as well as pass the English proficiency test.

I was sure that the embassy would refuse me, but a positive answer came. In the end, there was still no normal job in Moscow, and I decided to earn extra money in Australia, and then decide whether to stay or not. I also wanted to get Australian citizenship, which allowed me to travel around the world without a visa and was given after two years of residence in the country.

I lived in my mother’s house in Sydney and when I first saw the city, the first thing I thought was: "Where is the city itself?" In Sydney, all the houses, except for a small district of skyscrapers, are low-rise, and at six o'clock in the evening life in the city completely freezes: shops are closed and there is not much to do. This kind of life is like life in the country. If I had been given a visitor visa in 1994 and I had looked at the country in advance, I would definitely not have gone there to live.

In the first two years after arrival, the Australian government does not pay any social benefits to migrants. This is insanity, because it is at this time that a person needs help. For visitors, of course, they organized free courses on adaptation and English, but they were ineffective.

With my mother, I did not have quite a family relationship: yes, she fed me and gave me a roof over my head, but she did not help with money, and I was left on my own. I was looking for a job, but without work experience in local companies it is almost impossible to find a good job. I was not even hired by McDonald's, although I worked at McDonald's in Moscow. I was 30 years old and they thought I was too old for this job.

In addition, there is absolutely no relationship principle in Australia. There are strong Chinese and Indian diasporas, but the Russians have nothing of the kind, and there is nowhere to wait for help.

After several months of looking for a job, I got a job as a computer assembler. For two months I interned for free, then I was offered to work on call for $ 4, 75 per hour. These are mere pennies, the cleaner gets the same amount, but I had no other options. I worked there for two months, after which they stopped giving me orders. I couldn't find any other work.

I thought that I was going to a state governed by the rule of law, which would protect and help, but in fact I arrived, don't understand where. No job, no prospects, no friends. In addition, in Australia, due to an allergy to the local fauna, I started having trouble breathing. Also, the local climate and especially the Australian winter did not suit me. There is no heating in local houses, and when the cold began, I had a hard time. I slept in a sweater and winter socks, which I didn’t do even in Moscow. As a result, I lived there for nine months and returned to Russia.

When I arrived in Moscow, I had a feeling of incompleteness because I did not stay in Australia for another year before obtaining citizenship. At the same time, returning home gave me new strength. I continued my old life, changed several jobs and did not think about Australia until 2004. Then my five-year visa expired, and I extended it to sometimes come to visit my mother.

Everything was fine, but the crisis of 2008 suddenly burst out, and I again lost my job. By that time I got married and my wife dreamed of living in Australia, so we went there again. This time I knew what I was going for and was ready for Australian life. I rented out an apartment in Moscow and with this money rented an apartment in Sydney. After 15 months, I started receiving unemployment benefits, which made my life much easier.

My only problem was finding a job. My wife got a job as a cleaner in the homes of rich people, and I collaborated with the labor exchange and honestly sent my resume to various IT companies. I was submitting more than twenty resumes a week, and at some point I even stopped worrying about the result. I perceived this process as a game: “Refused? Well, okay . Although I did find some work: for three months I was repairing laptops and for several weeks I counted ballots in local elections.

The circle of my contacts at that time was limited, I did not find like-minded Russian emigrants, and I almost did not communicate with the locals. By the way, there are not so many Australians in Australia, there are much more Chinese, with whom I easily found a common language and sometimes spent time.

Initially, I planned to live in Australia for a couple of years, obtain citizenship and go back. But a year later, I learned that local laws have changed and now I need to live not two, but three years. This did not suit me: I did not want to live on welfare for another year and invited my wife to return to Russia. She didn't want to, because it meant forever losing the right to live in Australia.

On this basis, we began to quarrel, and in Russia by that time everything was working out again: I was offered a job in Moscow, and after waiting for the extension of her visa, in 2011 I left for Moscow alone. We would have parted ways anyway, because she wanted to stay in Australia forever, and I didn't. By the way, my wife always dreamed of living by the ocean and subsequently fulfilled her dream, but six months later she wrote that every day is like groundhog day. Still: every day you see the same ocean.

In Moscow, I found a good job in a Danish company, and a year later I went back to Australia.

This is not unusual: I quit my job, sold my apartment in Moscow and bought a new one, which was to be built for a year. I had no work or home, so I decided to take myself a year off. I saved up a certain amount of money and knew that in Australia I was entitled to unemployment benefits, so I moved in with my mother and paid her money for renting a room. The first six months I worked somewhere, but then I didn't even twitch, because I knew that I would leave as soon as I received an Australian passport.

During the first trip, I felt a sharp rejection of Australia, during the second - I already understood how to live there, and on the third visit I felt absolutely calm. But on all three trips I had nothing to do and I was bored. In fact, already during my first visit, I realized that this country is not for me. Life there consists of routine work and quite a bit of entertainment for the locals. It's much easier to find a weekend activity or hobby in Moscow. I would not go to Australia as a tourist - everything is the same there, and I like Europe better.

I am a rather pragmatic person and live where it is profitable, but still my place is in Russia. I feel comfortable here, this feeling is made up of the climate, nature and relationships with people. Perhaps I would get used to living in Australia, but for this you need to live in the country for a long time, and I am not ready for this.

I always returned to Russia with joy, because I was going home to my friends - this gave rise to a feeling of lightness. But in 2013, when I returned from Australia for the last time, I was in a completely different mood. Yes, I was returning to my homeland, but I understood that something was wrong with her. Then Pussy Riot was tried and the first verdicts in the "swamp case" were announced. By the way, my old acquaintance, a decent family man and no extremist, was put on it. Therefore, I did not feel any patriotic feelings for Russia and flew to Moscow with an exclusively working attitude.

Recently, the number of moronic laws adopted in Russia has exceeded all reasonable limits, and sometimes I again have thoughts about moving. If I cannot find a job in Russia or the state threatens my personal safety, then I always have a backup option - Australia.