International Relations at 55 East Tenth Street, According to Girl

International relations at 55 East Tenth Street according to Girl: When growing up, he basically always had his own bedroom because his next closest sibling was seven years older than he, which left Mike growing up as the last of the kids, or virtually an only child. He ended up in undergrad school sharing a room, then moving to NYU, the accommodations provided also were meant to be shared with another student, who happened to be the "Voice of America" person in the flesh. His name was Vladimir. He would record his broadcast in Russian each evening in their shared dorm/hotel room on Fifth Avenue. His voice would travel by satellite and radio waves (FM and AM frequencies) around the world, giving listeners the opportunity to be touched by American culture.
 

Moving from the Fifth Avenue Hotel down the street to their new dorms, he met his new roommate, his name was Dmitri. He was a blue-eyed blond who spoke both Russian and English with eloquence and ease. The dorm room they shared had two single beds, a desk and bathroom. Even though the room was small, Mike was not discouraged. He knew that it would be for only a few months. How bad could that be?

I do not remember much about Dimitri, as I only met him once. I do recall that his "Hello" gave me the overwhelming urge to try the Russian Cossack dance. That’s the dance where you crouch down with your back straight, heels together, and arms folded across your chest. You then spring up, using both legs, and kick one leg out. You then drop back to the crouch position, only to bounce back up, kicking the opposite heel out. Because this is a dance, it has to be done to the beat of the music.

I admired Dmitri’s and Vladimir’s love of life, their dedication to their birth country, and their loyalty to the United States. I was glad that Mike had the opportunity to share time and space with acquaintances from the other side of the world.

Mike always spoke highly of Vladimir and Dmitri; he encouraged me to start reading the Russian works by Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and Chekhov (who Mike said represented "The Golden Era of Literature"). He gave me some of the books by these authors, and they kept me company during my commutes on the buses and subway. I loved the artistry and poetry in the Russian literature, but at the same time was frequently saddened by it.

The dolefulness of Russian literature was best described by Shklovsky

when he said, "Russian literature has a bad tradition. Russian literature is devoted to the description of unsuccessful love affairs."

I think that Konstantin Podrevskii also expressed the sentiment well in his poem:

"Once upon a time there was a tavern

Where we used to raise a glass or two

Remember how we laughed away the hours

And dreamed of all the great things we would do. . .

Those were the days my friend

We thought they’d never end."