From Airport Scams to Survival Skills: The Real Power of Speaking the Local Language

What I told you about Persian happened between 2012 and 2014. After that, university swallowed me whole: exams, lectures, and the creeping anxiety of feeling totally lost.

By 2014, I had stopped posting in my language learning Facebook group. YouTube? Forget it. It all felt like a “waste of time”—because studying law was supposed to be the priority, right?

Fast forward to 2017. Somehow, I found myself…

Back in Moscow, just like in 2004.

Let’s Rewind to 2016: The Pressure Cooker Year

Law in Italy takes five years, and I was in my fourth. A reluctant commuter between my hometown and Milan, I lost 3 hours a day on public transport. No time for networking, no time for extra courses. Just stress, fatigue, and the sense of being trapped.

That year, I could finally look for an internship. And my only criterion was: somewhere far enough that I couldn’t commute back home.

I applied everywhere—and I mean everywhere.

One of those applications?

The Italian Embassy in Moscow. Two openings: commercial affairs and political office. A shot in the dark, really.

“Ms. Maggi, You’ve Been Selected…”

Around January 4th, 2017, my phone rang. A number starting with +7. I picked up in English.

“Ms. Maggi, you’ve been selected for the internship at the commercial office of the Italian Embassy in Moscow.”

My heart exploded.

The man on the phone warned me about the cold and suggested I delay my arrival. I didn’t care. I was ready to leave immediately.

Pimsleur, Panic, and Pronunciation

Of course, I knew the language would be key. I used Pimsleur and it was surprisingly effective—as long as you don’t just rely on the audio but work alongside it. Was it enough? No. But it helped. A lot.

In fact, it already made a difference on day one.

Welcome to Sheremetyevo: Where It Begins

Arrival in Moscow. At passport control, I sent a quick SMS to my family—only to realize there was a signal block. No delivery, no response, no credit left.

Then, the battery drama. Foreign SIM = unreachable. And it was freezing. Perfect.

After passport control (and a long delay caused by someone with paperwork from Stavropol’), I found my suitcase abandoned on the carousel. Everyone else had long left. I laughed.

Next step? Taxis.

The Taxi Saga: How Russian Saved My Wallet

I asked the staff at the airport taxi counter for a ride to Smolenskaya Ploshchad’. It was dark, snowy, and—of course—everyone working there was male.

Price? 3500 rubles. They told me to pay cash upon arrival, in rubles. I agreed.

A car came. No sign, no markings. Not even a “TAXI” sign. I panicked. Was it safe? Was it legit? I asked for a proper taxi. Another car showed up.

At that point, alarm bells rang. I remembered a friend once got charged €200 for this ride. I asked what the price was in euros… and guess what?

“200 euros,” they said.

I knew the exchange rate: 1€ = 60 rubles, so it should’ve been about €58. I’d had enough.

In a sudden burst of courage, I switched to Russian and shouted:

“Это слишком дорого!” (Eto slishkom dorogo!) – That’s too expensive!

The Power of Language

The panic on their faces was priceless.

I stormed back into the airport, furious. And yes, in Russia, you have to go through security even just to re-enter the airport. With all my winter gear, it was a whole performance.

No credit. No Wi-Fi. My phone battery dying.

Eventually, I returned to the same counter, visibly angry. I complained—again, very loudly—and the manager apologized, blaming the miscommunication on their English.

And then… magic happened:

The price dropped to 1500 rubles. I paid by card, got an official taxi, and made it safely home.

So, What Did We Learn?

That first day in Moscow was chaos, but it taught me this:

Language saves you.

Even basic knowledge helps—but good pronunciation and confidence can change everything. That one Russian sentence saved me from being scammed and gave me control in a moment of total vulnerability.

And this was just day one.