I’m reading about the turmoil in Rostov, and it’s happening in many regions

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I’m reading about the turmoil in Rostov, and it’s happening in many regions.
Before, there was no way to get through, because everything was packed with people from the former USSR who wanted to move. Nobody was expecting Europeans, and even now they can’t believe their eyes. 
Europe is now pushing its way through like a breakwater into the already established “atmosphere” of communication between the Ministry of Internal Affairs and candidates who can’t even say a word in Russian.
Three years ago, we began our adventures through the bureaucratic structures. Yes, it was very difficult, because officials treated us the way they were used to and the way things had been done for 20 years. Now there have already been many cases, and little by little, here and there, people are beginning to understand that a different style of communication is needed with Europeans.

What it was like three years ago in Krasnodar: in the purest Russian, loudly and politely, in literary language, but ever so politely, I would ask for the information I needed, then there would be a “boom,” and then I would translate that “boom” into German, quite loudly. Then there would be silence on the other side of the counter; a little later, I would again speak loudly and politely, with my second question, and see interest in their eyes, because they heard a European language and saw that these were native Germans. Then the chatter would begin: “Why did we come to Russia from Germany?” The answer would bewilder everyone: “We’re going to live on this side of the front, together with the Russians.” Interest would awaken in the officials’ eyes. People couldn’t believe that people like us existed, that we had moved to Russia forever, were so proud of it, and endured all the difficulties so stoically.  

By my third question, we were all getting along cheerfully and together, and getting the answers we needed.
It wasn’t easy at all, but this situation toughened not only me, as the “chief oar and breakwater” of our family ship, but also my ship’s captain and junior sailor.

We are changing the atmosphere in the country and beginning a new chapter in the history of resettlement to Russia. That is exactly how I have felt all these three years.

I now understand how much this tough experience with the Ministry of Internal Affairs is helping me in life. 
Using your elbows, being polite, knowing how to navigate, not getting heated in a volatile situation, opening different doors, being determined to achieve your goal, not giving up when “everything goes dark,” and remembering to approach difficult trials positively, no matter what.

Today is December 24, Christmas in Germany, while here in Krasnodar we’re celebrating by ourselves. We’re remembering our life before the move and the last three years. We remember it in a warm light: we didn’t give up, we held on, we became even stronger as a family, and each of us “grew as a person” by overcoming our own trials.

My son “lost 4 years,” but  I don’t consider it a loss; he still has a long way to go before retirement. Now he is studying at INSPO with children who are 4 years younger than him. He looks after them there and is learning to interact with young people who are new to him. He has grown up so much over these three years. I look at him and feel happy to see the joy shining in his eyes, and I no longer care about the gray hairs I’ve gotten over the past three years.

I’ll add that we moved on our own, relying on no one; “The Way Home” didn’t exist yet, and there was no one to help. There was zero information, no work, and no plans for the future in terms of work or education.
We simply arrived in an empty void, like many others back then.
But God didn’t let us fall; He helped and sent people our way at the right time...

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