It was about 1990, the Cold War was winding down, and I was working at a research institute near the University of Oregon. A young woman from the Leningrad (now St. Petersburg) State University won a research grant and came for a months-long visit to our institute. It was her first trip outside of Europe. Unfortunately, she struggled with English and quickly became homesick.
One of my colleagues introduced us to each other because she correctly suspected that the two of us might become friends. We were about the same age, we both loved animals - and I had horses. Despite having a relatively privileged upbringing for a Soviet Russian, my new friend had never had the opportunity to touch a horse before. Riding my big Appaloosa gelding was a dream come true.
One day at my horse's stable, she was feeling particularly frustrated by her poor English. She confided to me that she longed to find another friend that she could speak Russian with. There were very few Russian-speaking people living in Oregon at that time, but I did happen to know one person - a professor at the University. When I told her his name, her mouth fell open in disbelief.
