Inside HSE’s International Community on the Moscow River
Last May, during a rainy afternoon, I took part in a river cruise on the Moscow River organized by the International Support Center of HSE University. The event was part of a broader initiative aimed at bringing together international staff members, their families, friends, and students involved in university projects. For me, as a student participating in a media project for the Center, this experience offered a unique opportunity to observe the international community of HSE in an informal and deeply human setting.
Unlike official meetings or academic events, this gathering unfolded slowly and naturally. The light rain, the soft movement of the river, and the relaxed atmosphere on board created a sense of calm that contrasted with the usual rhythm of university life. From the very beginning, it was clear that this was not simply a celebration, but a space designed for connection.
The International Support Center plays a crucial role in supporting international specialists working at HSE University. Beyond administrative assistance, the Center actively creates spaces where people can feel welcomed, supported, and included. The river cruise was one such initiative — an event where professional roles faded into the background, allowing personal interactions to come to the forefront.
Participants came from different countries and cultural backgrounds. Many arrived with their families, bringing children, partners, and close friends. This immediately set a warm and inclusive tone. The presence of families transformed the event into something more intimate and sincere, emphasizing that the international community of HSE extends beyond offices and classrooms.
As the ship slowly moved along the Moscow River, the city revealed itself in a quieter and softer way. The rain blurred the outlines of familiar buildings, creating a muted and almost contemplative atmosphere. Moscow, often associated with speed and scale, appeared gentler from the water, allowing the people on board to remain at the center of attention.
Despite the weather, no one seemed uncomfortable or distant. On the contrary, the rain brought people closer together, encouraging conversations under covered decks and shared laughter over warm drinks. Groups formed and dissolved naturally, with participants moving freely, introducing themselves, and exchanging stories.
Standing on the deck, Moscow revealed itself in a way I had never experienced before. From the river, the city felt slower and more distant, as if it had stepped back to give space to those on board. Familiar buildings lost their usual sense of urgency and scale. The city no longer pressed in from all sides, but unfolded quietly along the water.
The light rain softened the outlines of bridges and embankments, turning the city into a continuous flow rather than a collection of landmarks. From the deck, Moscow felt less like a place of constant movement and more like a backdrop for shared presence. The sound of the river, the steady motion of the ship, and the muted cityscape created a rare sense of calm.
Watching Moscow pass by from this perspective, I realized how strongly context shapes our relationship with a city. Seen from the deck, Moscow was not overwhelming or demanding. It was gentle, reflective, and unexpectedly intimate — a city experienced together rather than alone. This altered perspective mirrored the spirit of the event itself: a familiar environment transformed through community and shared experience.
There was a quiet comfort in realizing that this community included not only professionals and families, but students like me — learning, growing, and finding our way within it. Surrounded by conversation, laughter, and shared presence, I felt a sense of belonging that is often difficult to articulate. It was not loud or celebratory, but steady and reassuring.
One of the most striking aspects of the event was the diversity of the participants. Professors, researchers, administrative staff, and international specialists interacted without hierarchy. Conversations were not driven by titles or positions, but by shared experiences of living and working in a foreign country.
As a student, I found this particularly meaningful. In everyday academic life, internationalization often appears as a concept or policy. On the ship, it became a lived reality. People spoke about adapting to Moscow, raising children in a new cultural environment, and finding balance between work and personal life. These conversations revealed the emotional dimension of international academic mobility that is rarely visible in formal settings.
Food played an important role in shaping the atmosphere on board. Simple meals and drinks encouraged people to sit together, share, and continue conversations without interruption. Russian food became another quiet language of connection during the cruise. The dishes were simple and familiar, representing everyday Russian cuisine rather than anything ceremonial. Warm food felt especially comforting on a rainy afternoon, when the air was cool and the river breeze carried the scent of water. Sharing traditional Russian dishes created a sense of closeness, even for those who had lived in Russia for only a short time.
For many international participants, this was not their first encounter with Russian food, yet experiencing it in this setting felt different. Eating together on the moving ship, surrounded by conversation and laughter, transformed the meal into a shared ritual. The food did not draw attention to itself, but quietly supported the atmosphere of care and hospitality that defined the event.
One of the most touching aspects of the afternoon was watching the children on board. Most of them were the sons and daughters of international staff members who had come to Russia for work. Despite their different backgrounds, languages, and ages, the children needed no introduction. Within minutes, they began to play together freely, running across the deck, laughing, and inventing games of their own.
Unlike adults, they did not hesitate or overthink. Language barriers seemed irrelevant; gestures, smiles, and shared curiosity were enough. What started as shy glances quickly turned into joyful movement and spontaneous play. Their energy filled the space, adding warmth and liveliness to the rainy afternoon.
For me, this scene became a quiet symbol of what international community can look like at its best. While adults often navigate cultural differences carefully, children connect instinctively. Watching them play together so naturally made the idea of inclusion feel less abstract and more real. It reminded me that international environments are not only about professional exchange, but also about families, everyday life, and the next generation growing up between cultures.
The ship itself became a shared space where movement felt natural and unforced. Unlike static venues, the cruise allowed participants to change perspectives constantly — moving from indoor spaces to open decks, from conversation to quiet observation of the river. This fluidity mirrored the nature of the international community itself: dynamic, flexible, and interconnected.
During the cruise, I also had the chance to speak with several staff members of the International Support Center. Our conversations felt unhurried and sincere, unfolding naturally as the ship moved along the river. They spoke openly about their work with international specialists at HSE — not only about procedures and responsibilities, but about people.
Listening to them, I began to understand how much emotional labor their work involves. They talked about the challenges international staff often face: adaptation, cultural misunderstandings, loneliness, and the pressure of building a life in a new country. Some shared stories of specialists who struggled quietly, unsure where to ask for help, while others spoke about moments of gratitude when support truly made a difference.
What touched me most was that many of the Center’s staff had once been in similar positions themselves. They spoke about their own experiences of studying or working abroad, about feeling lost in unfamiliar systems, learning to navigate new cultures, and slowly finding confidence. These personal memories seemed to shape the way they approached their work — with patience, empathy, and genuine care.
As a student listening to these stories, I felt a deeper respect for the invisible work that sustains international academic life. Behind every successful adaptation story, there are people who listen, support, and carry emotional responsibility. This conversation helped me see the International Support Center not just as an administrative unit, but as a group of individuals deeply invested in the well-being of others.
For many international staff members, Moscow is a place of adaptation and negotiation between cultures. Experiencing the city together, from the river, transformed it into a shared background rather than an individual challenge. The city no longer felt overwhelming or distant, but familiar and collective.
As I documented the event through photography and video, I realized that the most meaningful moments were not the landmarks or views, but the interactions between people. A shared laugh, a thoughtful conversation, or a quiet moment watching the rain fall over the river and the city.
*All photos were taken in Moscow by the author.
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Hoang Van Nguyen
