Five years ago, Dilshot moved from Uzbekistan to St. Petersburg to pursue higher education. Like many international students, he faced challenges adapting, cultural differences, and other unexpected difficulties. The Times of Central Asia spoke with Dilshot to learn how his life in Russia has unfolded, what obstacles he encountered, and why his future in the city has taken an unexpected turn.

TCA: Why did you choose to study in St. Petersburg? What factors influenced your decision?

Dilshot: After finishing school in Uzbekistan, I decided to continue my education in Russia, specifically in St. Petersburg. First of all, I believed that Russia provided high-quality education, especially in IT, where it is ahead of other CIS countries. Additionally, at that time there was no war, and I never expected the situation to take such a turn.

The pandemic also played a role. Since entrance exams were conducted online, it became easier to apply. Moreover, Russian universities offered many state-funded places, and I was fortunate enough to receive a scholarship. While Uzbekistan has good universities, particularly in Tashkent, tuition fees were high, and I couldn’t find a suitable program in my field. Moving to a new city and country was exciting and I was full of hope, but the reality turned out to be more complicated.

TCA: How would you describe the atmosphere at the university and among students?

Dilshot: The university had a relatively open and multicultural environment, which helped with adaptation. Many students were supportive, regardless of nationality. However, stereotypes still existed. Occasionally, I heard remarks like, “What are you doing here? Go work at a construction site.” Kazakh students were often mistaken for Chinese without people even bothering to ask about their nationality.

For students from CIS countries who spoke Russian, adaptation was easier. Professors and students generally considered us as “their own”, though with some reservations. However, foreign students, particularly from China, faced a different attitude. Some professors showed impatience if a student struggled to express themselves in Russian. In dormitories, tensions arose; Chinese students were sometimes mocked over minor disputes, whereas CIS students were treated with more understanding.

TCA: Did you experience prejudice from your professors?

Dilshot: Some professors viewed me through the lens of stereotypes, making me feel isolated. While I didn’t face direct discrimination, there were moments when my knowledge was questioned, or my achievements were met with unnecessary surprise.

One instance stands out: a lecturer made a point of noting where students were from. I happened to excel in his subject, but I still don’t understand why he felt the need to keep track of our nationalities. On a few occasions, I received high grades with remarks like, “Wow, you speak Russian so well!” Of course, I wasn’t going to complain about good grades, but it made me feel uncomfortable as if my achievements were being measured against lower expectations.

TCA: Did participating in student activities help you integrate?

Dilshot: Yes, I got involved in student projects and activities early on. This helped break down preconceived notions and allowed me to interact with other students in a more natural way. It made adaptation easier and helped build friendships.

TCA: Is there an Uzbek community in St. Petersburg?

Dilshot: Yes, and it played a significant role in my life. Through the Uzbek diaspora, I never missed celebrating Nowruz and other national holidays. These events reminded me of home and provided a support system. I made many friends who helped me through difficult moments.

TCA: What challenges did you face when you first arrived in Russia?

Dilshot: One of the biggest hurdles was obtaining a propiska (residence registration), even though I was in the country legally. The process required extensive paperwork, and the medical examination, which must be taken annually, was particularly exhausting.

To complete the medical check, I had to stand in line for hours, sometimes from morning until late at night. Every year the bureaucratic requirements changed forcing me to redo documents constantly.

Visiting the MFC (Multifunctional Center for State Services) was always stressful. The long queues and rude staff made it clear that we weren’t seen as people, just as paperwork to process.

Additionally, I often faced suspicion from older Russians. In the metro, security frequently singled me out for searches. People over the age of 40 often gave me strange looks. It puzzled me; after all, we were once part of the same country. I don’t understand where this chauvinism comes from.

TCA: How difficult was it to find housing in St. Petersburg?

Dilshot: Finding accommodation was one of the biggest challenges. Many landlords refused to rent to foreigners due to stereotypes or fear of potential issues. I frequently came across ads specifying, “Only for people of Slavic appearance.”

In the end, I had to rely on personal connections or seek help from the Uzbek community. This often meant living in overcrowded apartments with other compatriots or paying inflated rent. Initially, I lived in a hostel, but after two years, I managed to move into a private apartment. Fortunately, I haven’t had problems with housing since.

TCA: You arrived in St. Petersburg before the war. How did the war in Ukraine affect your experience in Russia?

Dilshot: When the war started, I was terrified. Even the pandemic didn’t feel as shocking as this. I remember sitting in my dorm, reading the news, unable to believe that such a thing could happen in the 21st century. My first instinct was to leave. However, since I’d already completed a year of study, I decided to stay and finish my degree.

Inside Russia, daily life continued as usual despite the sanctions. But what deeply affected me were the stories from my Russian friends: one had a brother sent to the front, and another’s father was drafted. These were no longer abstract news stories; they were real people I knew.

As time passed, I began to feel uncomfortable, even ashamed when speaking with people outside Russia. No one blamed me directly, but the internal discomfort grew. Over the past few years, there have been events that changed my perception: terrorist attacks, protests, arrests of activists, and the recent death of Alexei Navalny. My family in Uzbekistan also worried about my safety here.

I hope the war ends soon. It’s horrifying to watch the news and see so many lives destroyed. I have always loved St. Petersburg for its beauty, culture, and history. But in recent years, the atmosphere has changed, there is more fear, more tension.

Given my liberal views, I avoid discussing politics openly as the risks are too high. These experiences have led me to a decision: I plan to leave. I want to live in a place where I feel free and don’t have to fear for my future.

TCA: How do you stay connected with family and friends in Uzbekistan?

Dilshot: Staying in touch with my family and friends has been crucial. Social media and messaging apps allow me to keep up with their lives, share my experiences, and stay connected. I also attend Uzbek cultural events, which help me maintain ties to home.

TCA: What has helped you overcome challenges and move forward?

Dilshot: Despite everything, I’ve grown to love St. Petersburg. Its cultural life and educational opportunities are incredible. University gave me valuable knowledge and friendships that I cherish. These connections have been my greatest support.

TCA: What advice would you give to other international students facing similar difficulties?

Dilshot: My journey in St. Petersburg has been filled with both hardships and achievements. Overcoming bureaucratic barriers, social stereotypes, and personal struggles, I found my place in this city, at least for a time.

I hope my story encourages other international students, showing them that despite the obstacles, success is possible.