As an ambivert, I’ve always loved deep conversation, but when I started learning Russian, even saying hello to a stranger felt like climbing a mountain.
Something that often gets overlooked in language learning is that, in order to practice speaking, you actually need to speak. I know... who would’ve thought it? But what about those who love having deep, soulful conversations with close friends, yet freeze up in new environments or around strangers? How can we get to this stage, especially when what feels like starting afresh in a new country and society altogether...
Well my friends, that’s me: a classic ambivert. I don’t have a diagnosed anxiety disorder, but I’ve always had that push-and-pull; the craving for connection mixed with hesitation in unfamiliar social situations. Doing this in English was already tricky, but when I started learning Russian, that inner voice that was always active suddenly felt strangled, like a free bird in a small cage.
When Enthusiasm Meets Fear
Nothing highlighted this more than my immersive year abroad in Kazakhstan. I was the only student from my university to go in 2022, and even though I researched everything I could, nothing quite prepared me for the reality of landing somewhere where I didn’t know a soul.
On my first day, after being dropped off at my rather shabby university accommodation, I stayed in my room for two days straight. Why? Because I had no idea how anything worked. I didn’t know how to order food, how to greet people, or whether speaking sub-par Russian without any Kazakh would seem rude. So many thoughts spun through my head that I felt numb — paralysed between excitement and fear. Admittedly, perfectionism also came into play here – that in and of itself deserves its own blog post (for the future, perhaps?)…
But back to the main point: it’s one thing to love a language, but it’s another to feel like it’s blocking you from the very human connections you’re craving.
Small Steps and Safe Spaces
Gradually, I started to find my rhythm. I got to know my teacher, the university staff, and other students. Knowing these familiar faces of my daily routine started to put my anxious mind at ease. I also began teaching English classes around the city, which helped me meet incredible students and locals.
Still, my Russian was hovering around A2 at the time, and I struggled to express myself fully. I wanted to form deeper connections with Russian-only speakers, but my limited language and perfectionism kept getting in the way. I often slipped back into English with people who wanted to practise their own English acquisition, which helped both them and us (as I got to practice teaching the language too!) — but it simultaneously left me feeling stuck.
Everything changed when I was invited to join an English–Kazakh theatre production team at KIMEP University. It wasn’t something I’d ever imagined doing, but the environment was full of kind, open, creative people who made me feel safe to experiment — in language and in life. They were impressed by my Russian, encouraged me to keep going, and reminded me that connection doesn’t require perfection. Ironically, despite me initially being scouted to help out at the theatre to help others find their voices in English, I found that the warmth and connections from the community there really helped me develop my own voice in Russian.
Once that fear loosened its grip, everything flowed. My new friends introduced me to their friends — and suddenly, my social circle grew wider and warmer. As they say, Рыбак рыбака видит издалека, [birds of a feather flock together].
It wasn’t just about practising Russian anymore; it was about living it. Every café chat, theatre rehearsal, or late-night conversation became another step towards feeling at home.
Looking back, I can honestly say that Almaty became my second home — not because of how long I stayed, but because of how deeply I connected to the people there.
Reflection: What I Wish I’d Known Sooner
If you’re an ambivert, introvert, or just someone who feels nervous about starting out abroad, please know this: you will find your crowd. Those first few days might feel uncomfortable or even lonely, but the warmth waiting for you on the other side is worth it.
It usually takes about three months to feel truly settled in a new place. At first, I often thought about booking a flight home (until seeing it would have cost around £1,000 to leave on a whim). Thankfully, that pause made me stay, and what I gained in confidence and connection was priceless.
When I look back, I realise how much faster I could’ve found that balance — the mix of linguistic growth and social belonging — if I’d had someone to guide me through both the language and cultural side from the start.
That’s exactly why I now help my students prepare not just to speak Russian, but to connect in it. Whether you’re heading to Almaty, Astana, or Bishkek, I can help you build the confidence, skills, and cultural insight to make your first few months feel less like survival and more like discovery. Even if you’re heading to other destinations for your Russian-speaking year abroad, I can put you in touch with people both there and those who have done it themselves.
If you’re reading this and thinking, “This could really help me” then please reach out! It’s why I’m here 😊 You don’t have to navigate those fears alone. Together, we can turn that nervous energy into excitement — and get you ready to build the kind of connections that make your Russian journey unforgettable.
I’ll always be here for you 😉
— Matt