Миша Чинков - Кауч

– [Jim]: Pack your shit and get the hell out!

– [Me]: Please, let me explain…

– [Jim]: Nothing to explain here, pack your shit and get out!

A cultural shock overtook me. There was a huge contrast between the society I grew in and the one I find myself in here and now. My parents never knocked the door before entering my room. In New Jersey I lived with a crowd of students and private boundaries had nothing to do with it. Someone could wake me up at 1 a.m. asking for weed which I never had. I can’t say I liked it, I just … got used to it. And here we are: all I did was just opening the door without knocking. And now I’ve got a harassment accusation for that.

That was my one-way trip from “welcomed guest” to “filthy scumbag”.

9 p.m., the last train to Philadelphia. Three heavy suitcases and there’s my whole life. I drag these suitcases across downtown pavement. Late in the evening, American downtown sucks. People don’t live in business centers, so deserted skyscrapers welcome all sorts of outcasts and lowlifes when working shifts are over. Looks like a poor “Mafia” storyline: town goes to sleep, rabble wakes up. Scared and pissed off, I run into the first hostel that comes to my eyes. No free beds there, but the girl at the reception calls another hostel and gets me a bed there for a couple of nights. I’m safe – I have a place to stay over.

Hey Jim, I think you must have taken me wrong, bro!

Next on the line is Baltimore.

I enter the home of my host, Diego, and immediately feel an alluring smell – he is cooking dinner.

– [Diego]: what about mayonnaise?

– [Me]: I hate mayonnaise.

– [Diego]: why so rude?

– [Me]: You see, for me, “Baltimore” is a ketchup 2 2 Baltimore (yes, like the city in Maryland) is a brand initially famous for its ketchup. As many other Russians, I first learned about this brand because it sponsored a popular comedy show “Gorodо́k” (“Small Town”), which ran from the 90s through the 2010s. .

Diego is from Columbia. He moved to Baltimore half a year ago. He never had any steady profession or job: he kept doing some side job or volunteering, focusing on traveling. In Baltimore, he got a job of sysadmin in a local school. Diego himself is a simple, easygoing guy. Hanging out with him is nothing but pleasure.

Baltimore looks just like Tyler Durden – it has two faces. One of them is ugly, with bums in downtown, crime activities and atmosphere of some kind of total fear. Every local I met on my way asked me to be careful. The other face is nice with hipster features, tons of places to visit, stories and feeling that the town is somehow special. That’s the Baltimore Diego shows me in the evening.

We speak about travelling, adventures and hobbies. It turned out Diego also participated in Work&Travel (not in the States though, but in Australia). Our conversation passes too quickly: we go back home and sleep. The next morning, Diego is at work.

I think Diego is like me – but seven years older and some thirty centimeters taller.

Washington DC is not the best place for couch. I managed to find Airbnb somewhere far in the suburbia.

– [Chris]: How’re you doing?

– [Me]: Fine.

Chris is from Nashville, Tennessee. He is volunteering in Peace Corps 3 3 An aid agency that sends volunteers to help poor countries here in DC. The day before my arrival he got expelled from university where he supposed to get a second degree. He looks upset.

Sunday, Labor Day. Chris joins me in my trip around the town. He is one of those locals who don’t do sightseeing unless invited for a company. First thing in the morning we go to the museum of ancient history where you can see lots of artifacts. Next thing we go around the US Capitol surrounded by scaffolds, walk across the town, explore colorful houses, parks, fountains, discuss history and politics. Chris remembers the 9/11 attacks, asking this and that about Russia at the same time.

– [Me]: Chris, tell me, how do you imagine your old age?

– [Chris]: I want to live in Costa Rica, it’s shiny and cheap there.

– [Me]: Sounds great.

After eating burgers for lunch in a food court, we try to part our ways in subway. Chris is heading to the Cinema for a janitor job interview. He tells me about Arlington National Cemetery, and that’s where I’m heading. DC subway might be rightly considered one of the worst in the world: expensive, unclear price policy and scheduled trains doing “ass-backwards” routes. At some point, our train stops for ten minutes. Running late for the interview, Chris rushes out of the car at the nearest station hoping to find a more practical mean of transport.

In the evening, we meet at home.

– [Me]: How was it, did you get on time for the interview?

– [Chris]: Yeah, just on time. It went well, they should be hiring me.

– [Me]: You are a smart guy, why do you need this cleaner job?

– [Chris]: Well, that’s temporary.

In think there’s something wrong in your American dream.

Teresa has a two-story house in Pittsburgh’ suburbs and rents out a room there on Airbnb. There is a handmade wedding dresses store. Laura herself has no family or kids. She rents two rooms in the house for Nasrat, an exchange student from Afghanistan, and Ostin, a security guy from Florida.

– [Teresa]: How old are you?

– [Me]: Nineteen.

– [Teresa]: I would give you twelve max.

Laura has wide bulging eyes, serious face and officious cold tone of voice. Despite the first impression, I soon plunge into the atmosphere of the hostess’ warmth. Teresa tries to give me as much warmth as she physically can.

– [Teresa]: Make yourself at home.

– [Me, inwardly]: Just don’t forget to knock before entering .

Ostin feels a bit easier to speak to. Despite all possible clichés – his large size and guard job – Ostin is quite a melancholic type of person. He worries about our future, worries about the questions we have to answer to move forward in life. I was only nineteen and couldn't comprehend many of his thoughts, never mind a twelve-year-old look.

I think that was much of a heartwarming Airbnb, though I didn’t have a chance to speak to Nasrat – it would be interesting to learn how he got his name 4 4 In Russian language, nasrat’ translates as “shitting” .

Mary and Robert in Columbus – a typical young family in American suburbia. They both work at school: Mary is a teacher, Robert's a counselor. In childhood, Mary went to France for an exchange program and lived there with a local family. She liked the spirit of hospitality for strangers. That’s why she decided to become a host.

The first day I meet Robert while Mary works late hours. We spend an hour chatting and drinking coffee when Robert suggests going to a student house show. As for someone who’s not experienced in student life, I am all in.

Wednesday evening, student apartment, party with an indescribable atmosphere of youth. Music scene down the basement. You can hear a mix of beatbox and some electronics. Half an hour later, Robert and I leave the basement, say hello to some of his old pals and meet some new.

I see a girl in a Nirvana T-shirt. Nirvana is an idolized deity for a concrete jungle boy I am. Before my trip to the States, I learned English by listening to their songs and write the most beautiful idioms out in my personal dictionary. I fancied picking up local girls with quotes from their songs, like “ I wish I could eat your cancer ” 5 5 The bar from Nirvana song called “Heart-shaped Box” . In the end of the day, I didn’t really speak to her.