Notes From A Newcomer — Welcome to Moscow!

Welcome to Moscow

The morning air glided across the golden fields of wheat as if some giant, majestic eagle had flown just above the buds and sent it rushing into my pale, rosy skin. It kissed my cheeks with a crisp, stinging tenderness. My eyes squinted as I watched the sun cast a peachy haze over the ancient land of rolling hills, draped in a green-and-gold patchwork of grass and farmland. If only this heavenly sight hadn’t been interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing—my momma’s name glowing in big white block letters at the top of my screen.

“Good morning!” I said as the call timer appeared.

“Good morning, Bunny! What are you doing?” my mother’s enthusiastic, shrill voice rang through the phone.

“Give me one sec and I’ll send you a photo!” I quickly exited the call screen and scrolled to my camera app. When it opened, the lens was aimed at my scuffed white high-tops and frilled-edge socks rolled neatly over the cuffs of my leggings. I tilted the phone upward to capture the absolutely unreal view of the mountain rising above the wheat field. I grinned as I snapped the shot, eager for the moment she’d see it. Sure enough, just as “Delivered” popped up beneath the image in the family group chat, I heard her scream—

“OH MY GOSH, IT’S LIKE ROHAN!”

Right on cue. For those unfamiliar, Rohan is a fictional realm in Middle-earth, created by J.R.R. Tolkien, author of The Lord of the Rings—a story my mother had spent much of my childhood reading aloud to me. I laughed with joy, picturing the Riders of Rohan atop their noble horses, galloping triumphantly through the rolling hills and fields before me. A fantasy image, sure, but one that perfectly matched the majesty and beauty of the view.

“I woke up this morning and decided to check out the local scenery, Momma. This is right next to my building—this is my view every morning!” Even saying it out loud felt unreal. Tips of pine trees dotted untouched land, sprinkled between what felt like miles of farmland. The air seemed to whisper tales of ancient history as a hawk rose from the field, letting out a regal call, surfing the wind with what could only be described as pure joy for freedom.

Sharing my breathless excitement with my mother only made me more eager to explore what might be the greatest adventure of my 23 years on this planet.

I smiled to myself. Welcome to Moscow, I thought.

---

A Quick Preface

To preface all of this, I’m a native North Carolinian through and through. I was raised in the comfort of a gorgeous old Southern home that’s been in my family for six generations—complete with a wide wraparound porch and rocking chairs that catch every sunset breeze—in a town of no more than 300 people, a town where gators outnumber people 10 to 1. I come from where the sun blazes high in the sky, but the tempers of Southern women burn much hotter. The kind of place where you can’t walk down the street without someone knowing who your momma is, who your granddaddy is, and who probably is kin to you themselves.

Depending on the situation, I’ve got a little drawl in my voice, and my dinner plate usually includes green bean casserole, baked chicken or pork, sweet potatoes, and always—always—a pitcher of syrupy sweet tea sitting on the counter for easy refills. The roots of my Southern identity run deep—not just in tradition, but in my very soul. Sundays were for church, followed by fried chicken at the kitchen table and long front porch conversations while the cicadas sang. My music of choice? Almost always bluegrass or country, with a little gospel sprinkled in when I need grounding.I was raised by my momma and my grandparents—especially my Southern grandmother, who could quote scripture at you about judgment before you’d even finished a sentence, then turn around and suggest you eat a little less while still making you feel like the most adored grandchild in the world. That’s the kind of love I come from. The American South is my home, my heartbeat, my whole sense of place.

And now—well, now I’ve just moved all the way across the country to the Northwest.

Oh boy.

---

The Biggest Similarity Between Europe and Moscow: No Sweet Tea!

With my first introduction to Moscow being the breathtaking view around the Bloom Ave apartments, my first few weeks were spent getting to know local sights and hotspots for activity and exploration. My conclusion? The best words I can use to describe it are incredibly European.

Since the town is barely six square miles, everything is remarkably walkable. The weather stays so consistently cool and refreshing that walking has quickly become my preferred way to get around. Every morning, I wake up at 5:00 a.m. and stroll a mile down the road for my coffee at Gypsy Java—a ritual that’s already woven itself into my daily life. Just the other day, it hit me how much this routine reminds me of my summer abroad in London during undergrad. There, like here, I was never far from life’s little necessities, and with temperatures hovering in the mid-to-high 60s, walking anywhere felt like a pleasure, never a chore.

It’s the same story here in Moscow—everything I need is just a short walk away. This morning, I wandered into Lavender and Thyme, a charming French-inspired café with a flower shop tucked inside. I sat down to a breakfast of thick, frothy hot chocolate and fresh, savory crepes, feeling like I’d stepped right into a postcard.

Downtown has been another treasure trove to explore: farmers markets, art galleries, thrift shops, cozy cafes, and restaurants all within a quick jaunt from one another. I’ve eaten my way through town—juicy burgers from Humble Burger, a hearty breakfast at Jack Jack’s, and my personal favorite indulgence: Bourbon Honeycomb affogatos from Panhandle Cone and Coffee. The whole experience takes me back to wandering Camden Town in London, but truth be told, Moscow might have the edge. Two big reasons? Friendly, down-to-earth service and remarkable affordability. Balancing the joy of warm, welcoming interactions with the freedom to spend a little more often—without blowing my budget—has been a has been a welcome kind of “problem” to have.

The most obvious similarity between Europe and Moscow struck me the morning I wandered into Jack Jack’s. As a small-town Southern girl, the thought of homesickness has crossed my mind more than once. But Moscow’s small-town feel, paired with its local hospitality and unmatched charm, has kept that ache at bay. That is… until I discovered the most surprising—and most disappointing—thing about this town: the downright shocking drought of sweet tea.

I have never, in all my life, sat down to a meal that wasn’t accompanied by a tall glass of sweet tea with a lemon wedge. Never. In the South, it’s practically a birthright. So, the morning I visited Jack Jack’s diner for a delightful introductory breakfast to Moscow’s local cuisine was bittersweet in more ways than one. Taking in the wonderfully nostalgic charm of the mid-century diner was interrupted by my awkward exchange with the young waitress over my drink order.

“Y’all got sweet tea here?” I asked, after scanning the menu and not thinking twice about its absence. There’s always sweet tea, I thought. Asking for it felt as natural as asking for water—it’s so common back home, it doesn’t even need to be listed.

“Um… I can get you a cup of tea with a few sugar packets,” she said, offering a smile that carried a hint of apology.

You can take the girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl. Okay, so—no sweet tea. That’s fine. If anything, it’s just more motivation to try every food spot in Moscow until I find a new sweet, soul-feeding treat to fill the “sweet tea” portion of my heart.

---

More Adventures to Come

It has only been a few weeks, and though my search for sweet tea has come to an abrupt halt, my quest has only encouraged me to inhale every ounce of the beauty and wonder that fills this perfectly manicured, welcoming city I now look forward to calling home. As a newbie here, I can only hope to discover more hidden gems tucked within the unending charm Moscow has to offer—quiet corners, friendly faces, and maybe even a few surprises I never knew I needed. I shall return with more wonderful experiences after further adventuring!

With love,
Izzy Humphreys