The story of my second trip to Russia to bring back Sasha
His scream filled the airplane, continually, for the 9 long hours of the flight. It was loud and annoying, ear peircing, and uncomfortable. And it came from my son. All the people around me stared and disapproved. They were important people, my boss, an editor I was sending writings too, my friends.
That was not the worst. The worst came from Sasha. He was tired and uncomfortable, his ears were in pain, the seat belt cut across him, keeping him from running wild as he wishes. There are big tears in his eyes when, in pain, he glares up at me. “Nyet da Pappa!” he cries. “Nyet Pappa!”.
Not the father.
That’s when I woke up.
It was Friday, June 4th. The alarm was set to go off in half an hour. Then our adventure would begin. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down. There were important things to be ready for on our trip. We had to go in front of a judge and prove we would be good parents. We had to go to the US Embassy and prove we were good Americans. We had to fly half way around the world, and adjust our bodies to the different time zones and different foods and different everything.
Yet it was the long flight back, filled with tears and screams that I feared the most.
That and the idea that I would not be accepted as the pappa.
We got up at 6am. We dressed and cleaned up, had breakfast and finished packing. Breakfast was a bit of fruit for me. I was just too nervous to eat that early in the morning.
Packing consisted of our four main bags. There was the big bag, the borrowed black bag, the new silver bag, all with wheels to roll into position. There was also a blue and white striped carry on bag crammed with all of our important papers, cameras, and necessities.
There was a fifth bag, Sasha’s. His Auntie Barbara and cousins made it for him. It is adorable, and fit inside the big bag. That way we would not have too many bags for Aerflot’s in-country limits.
Over-weight was another question. Since they didn’t weigh our carry on bags last time, Cindy stuck much of the heaviest stuff in the blue and white bag. The result was severe should strain on whoever got to lug it around.
I carried them out to our car, where the car seat was attached and ready for its occupant. I pictured the sight of him screaming to get out of it, or not be put in it.
I returned to the house. Cindy and I spent the remaining hour or so recleaning up the house so it would be ready and safe for Sasha. There were so many things left undone.
We drove to my work, going over all the details we would need. Last time we called our friend to pick us up from my office and take us to the airport a small distance away. This time we didn’t. I had talked to him just two days ago. He would be there.
We arrived at my work by 8:30. Our flight left at 11:00am. I wanted to be at the airport by 9 incase there were problems checking in.
Greg wasn’t there waiting for us.
We waited in the car. We waited in my office, where coworkers were surprised to see me, and were encouraging. I think they were happy to get me out of the office.
Meanwhile, Cindy called Greg. Ooops. He forgot. Luckilly, he lived realtively close by.
By 9:15 we were throwing our bags into his trunk.
By 9:30 we were at the airport pulling them out.
There was a small “Snap” sound as I pulled out our shiny silver bag, but we were in the midst of our goodbyes.
Then Cindy grabbed the big bag—which was very light—and the heavy blue and white bag while I grabbed the two smaller bags. Since three of the four were wheeled, off we went.
That’s when I discovered what the snap meant. That nice new silver bag had broken its left wheel. It was loose, useable, but wobbilly. Imagine traveling half way around the world pushing a shopping cart with a stuck wheel that always heads for the icecream aisle.
Luckilly we had our e-tickets, and a short line to check in our damaged luggage. Then we were free to waltz through security and wait for our plane.
Security personell do not take kindly to waltzes. In particular, they do not take kindly to strange electronic components packed in bags. Cindy did all the packing, since she can fit huge amounts of materials into a small space—(Never look in her purse. Its just scarey). She packed the small black bag we borrowed for the trip, and I was pulling it. It went through the X-Ray machine and all kinds of alarms went off.
Both it and I were drug off to a corner where we were electronically sniffed for explosives. Then they had me open the bag. What was this stange dangerous thing inside?
An electric fan.
Someone on a board had reported that during their trip to Russia, the AC had failed in their room. Heck, ours didn’t work on our first trip. Cindy’s solution was to lug a tabletop electric fan across the Atlantic ocean.
Once we were done with security we waited for our plane. It arrived on time and they announced, “Now boarding, First class passengers, and people with small children.”
Cindy and I looked at each other and grinned. We would be “people with small children” soon.
We flew American Ailines this time. They are not a good name to mention here in deserted St. Louis. They took away their hub and the jobs of all the ex-TWA employee’s they promised employment too. However, I must admit that they have extra leg room in each plane that makes flying with them a treat.
Besides, they flew straight to New York. No hours long lay overs in Detroit.
Of course, that meant no lunch either. Just the complimentary cup of Coke and a bag of pretzels. It’s a shame that peanut allergies have caused the demise of the honey-roasted Peanuts on plane flights. But that is another story.
The flight to New York was uneventful. The landing however, was frustrating. I wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. Our first time out we landed at JFK airport, and did not get a good look. This time we were landing at Laguardia. The pilot annouced, “Attention please. We are on direct approach and will be landing in 10 minutes. For those of you on the left hand side of the airplane, you will get a great view of Manhattan.” I had a left hand side window seat that for once, was not obstructed by a wing.
Then came the further news, “I apologize. Laguardia has changed runways due to the weather. People on the right hand side will have a view of Manhattan. People on the left hand side will be able to see Jersey.”
Great. Jeresey.
Whoever had the wonderful idea of putting a major international airport in the water should be shot, now. We circled half the city then descended faster over the ocean, or bay, or some big freakin body of water. The plane went lower, the water came up, no land that I could see to stop on. The plane went lower still, the water, higher. I listened to the wonderful kachunk of the landing wheels. Still only water. I saw seagulls gliding on waves that were eye level to me, no land. Finally, as I prepared to roll up my pantlegs to wade ashore, this small stip of land appears under us and we touch down.
Now to eat. One bag of peanuts and an apple had been my meal for the day. Cindy suffers from hypoglycemia. Here blood sugar was probably already getting low. Our plan was to get our luggage, take the shuttle over to JFK, and dine with our traveling companions while waiting for the plane.
Some times things don’t work out.
First, the flight attendant directed us to Baggage Carousel C. The passengers of the plane gathered up their belongings and followed the signs to baggage carousel C. There we waited.
And waited.
Eventually a nice airline worked came by and informed us that our luggage was down the terminal at carousel 2. What kind of airpot can’t decide whether to letter their baggage carousels or number them?
We got our bags, and found a cart to put them on as the wheel on the new cart behaved even more erratically.
We found the shuttle to take us to JFK. I had tried to convince Cindy that this shuttle was a passenger helicopter that would fly us over the city. If that was the case, Cindy was determined to walk. Unfortunately, it was a bus. After waiting twenty minutes the bus arrived.
Lunch would be a few minute bus ride away.
Then we received the call.
It was from Mary Beth, our traveling companion. Seems they have done some new construction at Laguardia, all to make things safer for our travels. Thank you @#$@# Al Queda.
They set up a security wall between the ticket counters and the food court. Only people with boarding tickets could get to the food.
The problem was Aeroflot did not open their ticket counter for service until 5:00pm. Cindy sank in her seat. She needed food.
This time Mary was not traveling with the irrepresible Isabel. Her companion was Larry, a young man who wanted an adventure with shopping. He took to being inconvienced as well as I did. Their complaints had produced results. Two security gaurds would escort Larry to the food court, and back.
He would call from their and take our order.
By now it was 3pm, and we were both hungry. The shuttle wound its way through New York, avoiding anything of interest.
Larry did not call back.
We arrived at JFK, grabbed our bags and found Mary Beth and Larry. Neither looked pleased. Larry’s trip to the foodcourt had been full of big men with weapons watching every move he made and threatening to send him out of the building. He didn’t get any food.
Luckilly, Mary Beth found the overpriced vending machines. We went to the Aeroflot counter, and with nothing better to do, started a line.
Aeroflot’s counter was set back in an alcove with South African Air. South Africa was open. Russia was not. We spent two hours watching travelers to Africa get their tickets. A long line started to grow behind us. There was a third line next to us where First Class passengers came to get their tickets on Aerflot. When a gentleman walked to the front of that line, half of our line almost rebelled. Communism seemed to be making a comeback in the Aeroflot Ticket line.
South Africa was to our right, to our left was the baggage sercurity check area. This caused more confusion as people seemed to be checking in at the closed Aerflot counter, but were actually leaving suit cases to be checked.
A young African American woman got in our line, which by now zig-zagged back and forth. A young African gentleman stopped her. “Excuse me ma’am. You are in the wrong line.” His accent sung like the African savanah. “South Africa is over here.”
“No.” she said. “I am going to Russia.”
“You are going WHERE!” His jaw hit the floor. There were no other dark skinned people boarding our plane. He asked her twice if she was sure. He then very smoothly, went into suave, pickup mode, and proceeded to try make a life long (or maybe hour long) connection with the young Russian bound lady.
A little after five the counter finally opened up. We all rushed forward to our respective agents and checked in. We then went to the Russian Representatives to have our tickets stamped. Why? I don’t know. He’s on third. It was the Russian Representatives who were late, and from what we overheard, were always late.
Mary Beth and Larry checked in quickly, even a cute light little stroller she bought for $8.00. Our child was to old for a stroller, so we didn’t get one. (Forshadowing on) He would never ride in one of those baby things. (forshadowing off).
We took a few more moments. Our broken bag kept wanting to head to the icecream aisle until it was checked. Then we ran to the food court.
Dinner was fast food. Nothing much to comment on, accept I went back for a Bagel from the Bagel Company. I got it toasted with a whomping big hunk of cream cheese—just like I love it. It was the best meal I had for a long time.
We then strolled over to the boarding area and wait. We learned all about Larry. He and Mary Beth are old friends, and both teachers. Cindy joined them in Teacher Talk. I grunted along at appropriate moments.
Their biggest fear, CHI is a very moral institution. The would not allow these two adults to share a room. These two adults were not interested in sharing a bed, but at over $150 a night for rooms, splitting a double would save big bucks.
We discussed this until it was time to board. There was no orderly calling of rows or section numbers here. It was a cattle call. At one point some folks decided to move some of the chairs to allow them easier access to the plane. They were stopped by security. A regular New York Yellfest ensued. We were getting enteretainment even before we got on the plane.
By now it was dark. The plane left New York and I missed my chance to see the Statue of Liberty once again.
Was this flight any better than our last? Our last flight was 9 hours with not movie. This one had a movie—“Scooby Doo II”. I’ll let you decide which is worse.
The highlight of the flight came a few hours later. They had a second round of shows including a Mr. Bean I had not seen before. It involved a “pet” show which his pet teddy bear won.
We all struggled to fall asleep, awaiting the next day. We arrive in Moscow on Saturday. Two more days till we see Sasha. Two more days after that and we take him home, if everything goes according to plan. As I drifted off to sleep, I could hear a child crying in the plane. A shiver ran up my spine.
[ July 21, 2006, 05:10 PM: Message edited by: Dan_raven ]
Posted by Anna (Member # 2582) on :
Haven't read the all post, just wanted to be the first to congratulate. ((((Dan, Dan's family))) Posted by Space Opera (Member # 6504) on :
This is so exciting to read. Are you planning on saving a copy of this to give to Sasha one day?
space opera
Posted by Tammy (Member # 4119) on :
quote:Cindy and I looked at each other and grinned. We would be “people with small children” soon
I love the way you two think.
Posted by jexx (Member # 3450) on :
Oh Dan, I love you I love you I love you. You bring me so much joy when you share your travelling stories.
I know that in the end, everything turns out alright (I've seen the pictures!), but I still am apprehensive.
Please, suh, may I have some more?
Posted by PSI Teleport (Member # 5545) on :
quote: This one had a movie—“Scooby Doo II”.
Goodness. They made a second one?
Posted by Teshi (Member # 5024) on :
First, Congratulations!
Second; you know what this fragmented story-telling is like? This is like Charles Dickins' books coming out in sections, and finishing a tiny part of the story only to mope around for the next few months (days, I guess, in this case) for the next installment, tearing your hair out waiting. What is it with you and such skill for suspense?!
*waits*
(take your time... I know you have a lot on your hands right now...!)
Posted by pooka (Member # 5003) on :
Whoo hoooo! more tales of modern travel to Russia. I can't believe they made SDII. But I couldn't believe they made SD I.
Posted by Shan (Member # 4550) on :
More, more, more, more . . . waits expectantly . . .
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
Space Opera, yes and no.
I do want him to read all of this. I am just unsure about the first part. There Sasha is the third child we saw. I don't want him to think we settled for him or anything bad like that. I will wait until he's in his teens, then decide.
Posted by PSI Teleport (Member # 5545) on :
You can just tell him that you skipped the other two because you were looking for the BEST child, and you found him, so you stopped looking.
Posted by Telperion the Silver (Member # 6074) on :
Dan, great post.... looking forward to the rest!
Posted by rivka (Member # 4859) on :
This is reminiscent of giving feedback on my other forum. Only this is not fiction!
Great writing, Dan! Next part tomorrow? Please? Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
June 6th.
I forgot to mention one little thing about the flight.
It was late.
The plane was scheduled to leave at 7:00. We didn't start boarding until after 7:15. We didn't leave the ground until almost 9. As we flew screens showed our progress and our normal flight route. We were to go north, over Vermon and into Canada, then across to Iceland, Greenland, North of England and down through Scandanavia (not sure if it was Sweden or Norway or both we were crossing).
Instead, our pilot was taking a short cut, basically skirting most of Canada, not to mention Vermont. Please place your Vermont-bashing or Canada bashing joke here.
It didn't help much. We were still two hours late arriving in Moscow.
I looked down and was again amazed by the brightly colored roofs in the countryside, and the new homes popping up like mushrooms.
I made another sociological observation. When flying over a city, you can determine something about its culture by the big buildings visible. In St. Louis, the biggest buildings are Hospitals. They stretch out and reach higher than almost any other building, and there are more of them than the office buildings one would expect to dominate. In New York it was those office buildings that fill ones view. In Rome, I expect it to be churches and ruins. In Moscow, it was apartment buildings. Huge, tall, dominating office buildings were everywhere. When one has a legacy of overly centralized government control of everything, it makes sense that everyone wants to be as close to the center as possible. Urban Sprawl does not exist.
The landing was fine, and a round of applause erupted from the passengers.
Without Isabel to slow us down, we quickly found our way to Passport and Immigration. We had a bit of trouble keeping up with Mary Beth and Larry. Then I discovered why. Larry needed a cigarette.
Larry smokes. Larry doesn't like to fly. Larry teaches older kids, so doesn't appreciate toddlers much. Larry was making some big sacrifices to help Mary Beth.
Larry found a place that was marked "Smoking" on our last visit. It wasn't on this visit. He tried to ask a female guard who was walking by if he could smoke here. She spoke no English. Larry tried to pantimime. The guard smiled, took one of Larry's cigarattes, and walked off.
We got through passport control with ease, though the people in front of us had some minor problem that delayed us. Then we went to the luggage, and it took an extra long time to arrive. Finally, since we were first in line at the Aeroflot check in, our bags were about the last off the plane.
We were running very late.
Worse, as one of the last to leave, we had to fight a long line of luggage being examined before entering the country. As we got in line a friendly guard came up to us, smiled, and opened an exit gate to let us out.
This is exactly what happened last time. We must look very innocent and sweet.
Or the kind that would tip well.
Anna, our Moscow interpreter and contact, was waiting for us. Larry barely had a chance to say hello before she was leading us out. I don't think she liked waiting those extra hours for us.
We trudged across the airport parking lot to our waiting van. It was an older style, with two rows of seats. Half of us faced forward. The others faced backwards. Mary Beth feared getting sick if she sat backwards, and Larry was new to Moscow, so I sat backwards with Cindy.
It is for this reason I don't have any new and exciting tips on Moscow to post here. It took us a half an hour just to get out of the parking lot. Then it was the same road we had followed all the times before. Nothing new.
Except the construction.
Everwhere construction and addtions were going on. There was a large Ikea store last time we were there. Now a mall was being finished all around it. It was huge, and growing.
Giant apartment buildings were sprouting up everywhere.
Moscow is on the move. Growth is evident everywhere-including in the traffic jams.
We arrived at our hotel and made a quick dash to a nearby money vender. We had to exchange dollars for Rubles. We got a 29 to 1 ratio. It was up since our last trip. Larry had exchanged in the US, which I found odd. We were told we couldn't. He only got a 25 to 1 ratio.
Anyway, we checked in. We offered our credit card. It was declined, again. Despite calling them before we left, and buying our tickets with the credit card, the credit card company assumed that its use in Russia must be because we had stolen it. We paid cash.
Larry and Mary Beth got to share a room with double beds. They were thrilled with their savings.
We went to our room and rested a bit. We left at 9pm. IT was a 9 hour flight-6am, but you have to add the 8 hour time difference-2pm, plus the time it took us to get here. It was 4pm already.
Cindy hit the computer and emailed her mother to fix the credit card problem. I tried to find something interesting on TV that was in English. There was not much.
We decided to go shopping.
The Hotel was on Treyveskia street. It is a main street that runs down to Red Square eventually. We left the hotel, and found a crossing tunnel under the street. It was filled with small shops. We crossed under, and went window shopping down Tresvyeska street.
I found Troy, the 3 week old movie, on sale in DVD format. I didn't buy it, but considered it.
We hit several mens clothing shops. Larry wanted some good clothes. Unfortunately, this was an upscale part of town. I pulled out the electronic translator my mother got me for Christmas. It had a conversion chart. I started pointing out the $150 shirts he was admiring, and the $300 jackets.
Larry decided to window shop later.
We walked a few blocks, gawked at window washers hanging by threads on weird buildings, crossed the street and tipped the street busker. All in all, it was a boring trip.
We did learn, from the signs on the street, that Pink, Paul McCartney, Cher, and others were all performing in Moscow over the next few months. "Back in the USSR" was running through my head.
We had a quick dinner at the hotel. I got the burger, but it was a bit raw for my taste. It didn't matter, I was ready for bed. It may have only been 8pm, Moscow time, but it was time to end our short day.
After all, we needed to save up our strength. We would be seeing Sasha in less than 48 hours.
Posted by Space Opera (Member # 6504) on :
Posted by rivka (Member # 4859) on :
*happily enjoys her daily hit*
Posted by Zeugma (Member # 6636) on :
Yaaaaay!! I can't wait to read more! Posted by Anthro (Member # 6087) on :
quote: The landing was fine, and a round of applause erupted from the passengers.
They applauded? Does that sound like a bad sign to you?
C'mon, finish it quicker. One every hour, say.
Posted by imogen (Member # 5485) on :
I love reading about your trip, Dan. Keep it coming!
Of course, it helps I know that I'm gaurenteed a happy ending Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
I have some bad news and some good news and some wierd news. Which do you want first.
Ok, the bad news. I feel cruddy. I think an infection that was in my ears drained into my throat. I have chills, sore throat, aches, and no energy. This translate into it being very doubtul I get you the next days story today. Tomorrow doesn't look good either.
The good news. I believe that Sasha has realized that we speak a different language. Yesterday he cut back on the Russian he tries to get us to understand, and started repeating English words. Milk, Work, Bye-bye, etc. This translates into me having to watch my language for the next few years.
The weird news. I have yet to be on an Aeroflot flight where the passengers don't applaude a safe landing. Yes. It is worrying.
Posted by rivka (Member # 4859) on :
quote:Ok, the bad news. I feel cruddy.
Feel better!
quote: I believe that Sasha has realized that we speak a different language.
That's so cool.
quote: I have yet to be on an Aeroflot flight where the passengers don't applaud a safe landing. Yes. It is worrying.
It happens on El Al flights too, and I think SwissAir. I think some people were just brought up right. Posted by Shan (Member # 4550) on :
quote:This translates into me having to watch my language for the next few years.
Are you sure that's not the bad news?
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
June 6th
We awoke early Sunday morning, more due to jet lag than any excitement over the days upcoming events. We were scheduled to fly to Astrakhan. That was it.
From our past experiences with Astrakhan, well, excitement wasn’t flowing through our system.
We went up to the morning buffet where we met with Mary Beth and Larry and planned our day. The buffet was as good as ever. Larry had trouble sleeping the previous night, so had gotten up and gone down to the all night bar. There he had cold soda’s and even a “Black Russian.”
What an idea, I thought. I am in Russia. I should try one before I go. However, since it was still not yet 10:00am, that would have to wait.
Our flight was leaving in the afternoon so we had a few hours to kill.
Last evening, in the underpass under the street, there was a shop that held some very pretty angel figurines among a bunch of other nice religious icons. Larry had promised some friends that he would get them some angels. He wanted to stop in there before we left.
Only when we reached this spot did we realize that most Christian religious shops would actually be closed on Sundays.
Doh.
Anna called and let us know she was coming a bit early to pick us up. We would be picking up Galina on the way to the airport, and she was a bit of a detour. It seems her husband needed their car for business.
We were packed and ready to go. No problem for the extra travel around Moscow.
We did ask when our promised “Tour of Moscow” would be given. Anna assured us it would be given when we were back with the kids. Larry asked about souvenier shopping. We were assured it would be arranged as part of the tour.
“And,” Anna said, “the tour people know where there is some really good places to get the souveniers.”
I pride myself on my sense of direction. It is a gift inherited from my father, who once drove from California to St. Louis upon getting out of the Marines, then 12 years later, drove his family back to California, and remembered how to get to all the good restaurants (as compared to my Mother who once drew out a floorplan of the house she had been living in for five years, and did it backwards.). However, I admit I was lost by the time we reached Galina’s house.
The sights we hoped to see were not that aweinspiring. The whole trip was full of big block buildings, dingy apartments, and rusting drab everything. Moscow was not a completely pretty city, and the back roads were not the best way to see its highlights.
Galina was happy to see us, and a bit happier not to see Isabel. She wished us all a lot of good things, that Anna had trouble translating quickly enough. For those of you new to these adventures, Galina would be our advocate in the adoption in the region of Astrakhan. She spoke no English, but had a demanding A-type personality that saw to it that things got done.
She was also a bit infuriating.
Eventually we made it to the airport. We took our luggage and wheeled them through security and to the counter. The broken wheel survived being drug across Moscows pothole filled parking lot. Anna was nice enough to help us with our luggage, but she was our Moscow person. She said good-bye at the security check point.
We checked in, with an hour to spare for our flight. They weighed our bags, and our carry on luggage. Surprisingly we were not overweight.
Or if we were, Galina put up such a complaint they just decided to ignore it. Galina commanded us with a smile and we followed as best as we could understand. The waiting area for our flight was slightly off the main terminal. We grabbed a couple seats and waited.
I watched as a small pekinese was checked in and given a seat for a different flight.
Larry decided he needed a cigarette before flying. He journeyed off to the mens room in search of a smoking lounge. Everywhere you looked in the airport were bright new “NO SMOKING” signs. Larry found the mens room by following the smoke. Inside a half dozen locals were smoking. Larry joined them. Suddenly one started complaining, and pointing. Larry looked up. He was standing directly under a no-smoking sign. He was stumped. Was he doing something wrong. He looked at his fellow smokers, and they all burst out laughing.
He then finished his cigarette and joined us.
They called our flight. We walked out to a bus, which drove us to our plane. We climbed up the steps and got our seats. Soon, and surprisingly close to being on time, we were in the air.
The meal was the same, smoked salmon, that we’ve had on the last few trips. Luckilly the flight attendants spoke enough English that the flight was enjoyable.
We landed in Astrakhan and once again applause filled the cabin. We taxi’d to the end of the taxi-way, and almost everyone in the plane stood up to leave.
Unfortunately, we were not finished taxi-ing. A tractor pulled up and pulled us to our parking spot. This allowed people to either rush back to their seats, or fall all over each other.
As one of the people who do not stand up before the pilot tells us we could, I found the whole thing quite amusing. And as one of the people not on the aisle, I wasn’t even disturbed by falling passengers.
Veeka, one of our tranlators, met us at the terminal. Mary Beth brought her a book that she needed for her studies, but that she couldn’t get locally without paying extremely high shipping costs. She thanked Mary Beth greatly. She thanked me, and my friends at Hatrack for helping her do a survey she needed for her masters thesis. (Thanks guys!). We then sat around waiting for our luggage and talking about the kids.
Larry ran off to the smoking lounge. In Russia, everywhere is a smoking lounge.
We grabbed our luggage, dug out our matching claim tickets, and off we went. (I forgot to mention that on Friday, in New York, I threw away our matching claim tickets. I didn’t think they were important, and was scared for a bit that we wouldn’t be allowed to take our luggage. They allowed it with no hassle, mainly to get rid of that fan I believe.)
Once again we drug our luggage out to a van across some very rough cement. The broken wheel remained functional.
We were driven through Astrakhan to our hotel. It was a real hotel this time, not the B&B from last time. It had a check-in desk and different keys for each room and everything.
Things were looking up.
As we were driving down Sakerov street when I thought of the books I had brought. During our interim I had bought Alexander Sakerov’s best known book. However, it weighed too much for me to bring. Instead I brought 5 light Agatha Christie Mysteries. I was in the midst of Halloween Party. Although we were involved with no mysteriers or murders, my reading curse continued. One of the characters of The Halloween Party was in the van with us, and it took me three more days to realize it.
The hotel we stayed at was one of the two best hotels in Astrakhan. It was the Corvette. It was half the price of the Imperial Palace, and three times as old. It had a great big front court paved but without a single bench to sit on. It had a large dining hall, reserved for special events. It had a small dining area on the third floor that used to be just the bar. It had people who spoke English. Not a lot of people. One or two.
It was in dire need of a painting and some good quality polish. An elevator would have been useful too. The people, however, were great and friendly.
Our room was on the first floor (well, the second floor. The unused banquet room and the sauna were on the first floor. The front desk and our room among others were on the second.) Mary Beth and Larry came down and we went out. It was still light out, even at 7:00pm.
Across the main street from the hotel was a large shopping pavilion. This was not a mall, but a farmers market with all the fresh produce of the nearby fields on sale. Our room had an icebox, so we decided to look around.
It was very, “old world” atmosphere. There were people offering cherries and strawberries, fish and skinned rabbits, apples and toiletries, all out of small 10x10 booths. There was a building behind it all that had other goods, including Jeans and used junk.
There were also the flowers. This was THE Astrakhan floral market. Great beautiful bouquets filled the whole walk. One woman spoke enough English to catch our attention. She then tried hard to get Larry to buy “his girl” some flowers. We were not interested.
We did by some water and some soda. We wanted something safe to drink. Besides, the more we drank, the less Jet Lag would effect us. So we were told.
It was 8:30 and we were all ready for bed. Dinner, however, came first.
We walked up the stairs to the bar/restaurant and ordered. The choices were not many. There were three choices of fish, one of pork, and one called, “The Jewish Cutlet”. It was fried chicken breast. I am unsure if this was some of the famed Russian Anti-semitism or not.
It was all very greasy.
We waded through he grease and watched the bar TV. They also had a very green and algae filled small fish tank.
We went down to our room and gave it a good look over, then went to bed.
The room was fairly large with a low bed, full bath (yes,we could stand up) Ice Box, and a futon where we could watch TV or use as a second bed as necessary. The space between the Futon and the bed was partially blocked by some large vertical blinds. It all looked semi-seventy-ish.
Cindy and I tried finding something to watch on the promised Satelite TV, but discovered they only carried 3 English speaking channels that were not news, and one of them ran news ½ the time. We hit the bed hard. That was only fair. All night long the hard bed hit us back.
Posted by Space Opera (Member # 6504) on :
I love reading this.
space opera
Posted by Telperion the Silver (Member # 6074) on :
Hech yah! This is great.
Posted by Shan (Member # 4550) on :
Vicarious travel . . . a wondrous thing. And full of good travel info - you're a peach, Dan, for sharing all of this with us. Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
Monday June 7th
This was the day.
Well, not THE day. This was the first time we were going to see Sasha.
Perhaps that, and not the bed, is what made sleep difficult.
No. It was both.
We got up, cleaned up, and got dressed. Then we ran upstairs to Mary Beth and Larry’s door. We knocked.
“Come In.” Like us they were excited. Mary Beth had hardly slept. She was worried that her young Asalon would have forgotten about her. Larry, on the other hand, had unfolded his chair into a bed and slept quite well. There room was completely different than ours, but neat and clean and just as comfortable.
We left there room and went around the corner to the breakfast nook. Our last trip had left us worried about breakfast. Nervously we waited to see what would be offered.
There were no menus.
Instead, yogurt containers were put in front of us, along with sliced meats (small salami’s) bread and cheese. There was a fruit juice box for each of us as well. I passed on the Yogurt. A few minutes later the water brought out the main breakfast, which consisted of cheese blintzes. Finally there was tea and a small cake. Overall it was different but nurishing. I could almost call it good.
We then finished eating, and talking about our nerves and our plans. Cindy and I went to our room where we packed the blue and white bag. There we put our cameras the books, some toys we had brought, his new car, and even a cute little cap that my Sister-In-Law gave us. It was one my nephew Steve wore as a baby.
By 9:30 we were ready to go. Galina met us with Vera, our second interpreter, and we jumped into to van. Vera sat facing backwards, and I chose to sit next to her, so that the others wouldn’t get car sick. I didn’t explain that to her, and she gave me a worried look, like “What is this chubby, bald old man doing trying to sit next to me.” Or it could have just been me. All I know is I spent the rest of my time there trying not to be your typical 40 year old man with a nice looking woman in the car next to you.
I behaved.
I know we all want to hear about Sasha and our first few minutes with him, but first, I have to make a comment on fashion. In Astrakhan, and in Moscow, a strange fashion had taken over. Skinny young ladies wore tight white pants.
I mean tight!
I mean see-through white.
Sure, some of them had bright prints, flowers, butterflies, etc, splashed across them. But these were decidedly not in strategic places.
Add to that the concept of Thong underwear, and you can get the picture.
This was how Vera was dressed. And I was deciding to do the difficult thing, and be the good man. I looked her in the eyes, or I looked Cindy in the eyes when Vera was bending over getting in or out of the van, in such a position that her eyes were not available to my view.
We arrived quickly at the orphanage. The Corvette (our new hotel) was much closer than the one previously. We quickly got out and tried not to run up the steps and into the building.
We checked in. The busy staff barely noticed us. Didn’t they know how important this visit was? Apparently not. Hopeful parents come second to hungry children. We were eventually directed to the music room where we would wait.
I picked a far corner, away from the door. I scared Sasha last time. This time I’d go slow. Cindy and Mary Beth sat near each other staring at the door. Galina found a comfy chair and watched us all. Larry and Vera disapeared for a few minutes. They came back much more relaxed. They had gone for a quick cigarette break. They became good Cigarette buddies over the following week.
We waited, jumping at every noise in the hallway, hoping it was them.
Then we knew. We could hear them laughing. The door opened, and one young teacher was standing there holding by the hands two scared little boys. The mothers both jumped up and moved towards them. I jumped up and moved forward. “Cameras” I cursed, but I had decided not to take photos. I didn’t want to take photos. I wanted to be part of the scene. The children were placed by their mothers and happiness lit their eyes.
There was no instant recognition, but a slow rememberance, fueled by new chances to play. Sasha was not sick this time. He had energy and moved. I came closer and he did not shy away, much.
We played.
Vera had promised that I would bring Sasha a big car for our next visit. I reached into our bag and pulled out the big car I had brought. It was a Mickey Mouse truck with tools in the back. I picked it up at a used toy shop so I didn’t know all of what it did.
Sasha received help opening it up. He then started playing with the tools. When the did the right thing, electronic noises were made.
Great, I thought. It makes noises and uses batteries. What could be worse.
Sasha found the little handle and wound it.
It played music.
Sasha stood staring at it for a minute. I started muttering. Then Sasha began to dance.
My video camera had run out of juice, but my digital camera had a movie function. I have proof. Sasha danced and sang and the whole room lit up.
Then he played it again, and again, and again.
I don’t know all the details of the rest of that meeting. We had a list of things we wanted to do, but we forgot it. We just had fun.
There was a plastic tricycle in the room. It was too big for Sasha and Asalon, but they could sit on it. Two lenghts of rope were attached to the front. I pulled it and he rode it. Later, mommy pulled it and he rode it. Then as he passed me, I tickled him. He laughed.
Then Mary Beth pulled out a pair of shoes and gave them to Asalon. He was in love. We had left our shoes for later. I took the old baseball cap off of my head and set it on his. After adjusting the size a bit, he smiled. He wore it with pride. He even went over to Asalon and showed it off.
Asalon showed off his shoes.
Before we knew it, two hours had gone and we had to leave. Asalon screamed, but Sasha was ready for lunch. We left happy but upset. We had three hours to kill before we could return and that was just too long without Sasha.
We went to the local pizza place for dinner. It was great last time we were there, having English menus. Sure, it had been slow, but it was busy. For lunch it wasn’t busy. Just slow.
The food was good and the soda was cold so there were no real complaints though.
We had a couple of hours to kill, so we went back to the hotel and napped.
Then we were back up at 3 and waiting for the bus. Again we drove to the orphanage. We waited for the kids. We pulled out the musical car, or Machina as he called it. He had fun.
And ever so slightly more, he had fun with me as well as with Cindy.
But he also had a lot of fun with Asalon and Mary Beth. A couple of times he called her Mommy. I saw Cindy get tense every time that slip occurred. However, we knew that once we took him, once he slept with us, in our hotel, and we were on our way home, all that would change. However, we still had to wait a couple days for the legalities.
Soon it was 6:00pm. We waived goodbye and let him go have dinner. Asalon refused to go, so Mary Beth had to take him upstairs to the dining hall. She got to see behind the walls. She didn’t see much before they shoed her out.
We ended up back at the hotel. Tuesday, we were told, would be the same, so we had 14 hours to kill with nothing to do but sleep.
We decided to follow Larry’s advice instead.
We went shopping.
In Astrakhan there is a mall. Yep. It even has an escalator and everything. It has a name, which, translated into English sound is “A Store”. Now, if I were going to copywrite a name for a store, “A Store” would definitely be my first choice.
We walked the five blocks to “A Store”. Once inside it looked like every other mall found in the world. There was a Disney Store and Electronics. There were a lot of clothing stores offering tight white see through pants and thongs.
We checked the entire mall out, then stopped at a glass shop. Larry bought himself a beautiful crystal vase. Mary Beth was renaming Asalon to Joshua. So she had Josh, we had Sash, and Larry had his Vas.
We then hit the important store—Baskin Robins.
We are so glad that they displayed their icecream. We pointed and they seemed to understand. It did take quite a display of gymnastical pantomime to get them to understand Hot Fudge.
Stuffed on ice cream we went to the grocery store. He had bought 4 liters of water the previous day. Cindy picked up a five liter bottle. Armed with that and some cakes to nibble on, we went home.
We passed a karaoke bar, but decided nobody wanted to try to sing the Russian version of Love Shack. Instead we got home and ready for bed. Just as we were falling asleep, Mary Beth called. Dressed in our jammies, we went up to their room and had a late night snack binge.
All we did was talk about the kids while acting like a group of kids ourselves.
Posted by Space Opera (Member # 6504) on :
I'm hoping the white pant trend doesn't start around here - I've only just recovered from the "Look - my jeans are so low that every time I bend over you can see the top of my panties" trend.
space opera
Posted by rivka (Member # 4859) on :
*passes around popcorn*
*waits for next part*
Keep 'em coming! This is great!
(Feeling better, Dan?)
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
June 8th
Tuesday was very much like Monday. We visited the kids twice, and had fun. Before I get into the details of that day however, I wanted to discuss the saga of the Cheezits.
Cheezits are yummy snacks, little nibbles of salt and starch with a bit of flavor that, once you start eatting, are difficult to put aside. There is an involuntary motor function that requires people to eat all the Cheezits in an open box before that person realizes what they are doing.
Its not that they are so good tasting or so wonderful. They are just cheese flavoring, salt, and crunch. They are just addictive. There are times when a box of Cheezits will call to you from across state lines, demanding you find them, open them, and eat them.
So it was with delight, back in October of 2003, when my wife found a cheap box of Cheezits and brought it home. It was a large, king sized box of extra cheesey cheezits. I started to open it with out realizing what I was doing, when she stopped me.
“Those are for our children,” she said. “They are the perfect size for small hands, and will be a great snack for them.” The box was placed high on top of the refrigerator. There it sat, begging to be opened, demanding to be eaten.
Yet I sacrificed for our children to come. I ignored it. When my body craved salt, or demanded some crispy crackery treat, I turned away from the Cheezits. They were for the children.
So I was surprised when, during our first visit to Russia, the box of Cheezits sat, unopened, a top our refrigerator. I could have used them to bribe Sasha into loving me. (Ok, you can’t bribe people into loving you. Not legally, except in Las Vegas, and some provinces in Malaysia. Love comes from trust and affection shared, but before trust and affection could be shared, I had to stop Sasha from running in fear everytime I got near. The cheezits could have helped. How do you think I got Cindy to stop running in fear anytime I was near?)
I approved when I saw she packed them for this trip. They staid packed, despite our starvation on Friday, and our jet lag on Sunday. Tuesday morning, when I woke up, I saw them, staring at me, once again on top of the refrigerator. Why hadn’t they joined us on a trip to the orphanage? I was getting a munchie attack.
I got cleaned and dressed and ignored them. We went up to meet Mary Beth and Larry for breakfast. Breakfast Tuesday was a bit of a surprise. Not eggs and bacon, but chicken.
Now I’ve eaten cold chicken for breakfast before, but usually it was leftovers. I was unsure if these were leftovers, or a standard breakfast fare. We also had fruit juice in boxes, and our yogurt. Cindy and Mary Beth collected these and brought them down to our rooms. They would be kiddie meals later.
The conversation at breakfast was wide ranging and fun. We talked about our fears of the next day’s court preceedings. We talked about the Orphanage. We even debated Vera’s underwear, or lack there of.
Remember the tight white slacks? Vera’s were so tight that the question of the existance of her undergarment, thong or commando, was debated.
Finally it was time. We went to our rooms, put up our yogurt and brought out our bag of stuff. We then went out to where Galina was waiting. Vera was joining us again, and wearing a very similar outfit to the previous days. We handed over our keys to the front desk so they could clean our rooms, then off we went.
Once again the long road to the orphanage. OK, it wasn’t that long, but hey, we wanted to be there.
We disembarked. Vera was the last in so was the first to leave, bending over low to get out of the van.
Our question was answered—definitely thong.
We soon found ourselves in the music room again. This time we were not alone. Another family was there. There son, about 4, was going wild. He was running like crazy, bouncing off the walls, and claiming all the toys as his.
Sasha entered. He came more quickly to me. I smiled. He was awed by the other family and the other wild boy. The wildness seemed to frighten Sasha.
It scared us.
“Adie” yelled the new boy. How we have come to despise that word. “Adie, adie, adie.” Adie is Russian for mine. He claimed our entire bag of stuff as his own. He claimed the pullable trike as his own. He claimed Sasha’s musical truck. He claimed the entire room. It was only when he claimed his fathers digital camera, and dropped it roughly on the floor, that his father started to worry.
We came to refer to this kid as ADD-Boy. I apologize to everyone suffering from Attention Defficit Disorder for the slur.
After spending about half an hour protecting Sasha from ADD-Boy, the orphanage came to our rescue. Arriving with yet another layer of clothing, they allowed us to take Sasha and Asalon outside. ADD-Boy stayed inside and bounced off of the walls.
Outside we had fun on the sea-saw and the slide. Some older neighborhood kids showed up and started playing in the open field next to the playground equipment. Apparently this was against the rules.
Little Asalon ran over to them and gave them a general lecture. It started with the phrase, “Oy, oy oy!” with a stern shaking of his finger in their general direction. Mary Beth quickly ran to his rescue, barely beating the rest of us. The older kids were hardly impressed.
Asalon was not done, but continued his admonishments.
Here we first realized how independent Sasha was. He started walking away. We followed, and he appreciated us following. However, he refused for any of us to catch him or even hold his hand. Finally, he reached the end of the building. I was close to him and reached down.
He knew what he had to do.
He grabbed my hand.
We turned around and walked back to the play area, and all the others. When Cindy and the rest got close enough, he dropped my hand and refused to let anyone carry him. He marched off on his own.
I didn’t care. He had grabbed my hand.
By this time lunch was being called, and we had to leave them. Sasha hugged us and went up the stairs. Asalon did not. He cried so much they finally let Mary Beth carry him up into the no-man zone of the orphanage. He shouted one last “oy, oy, oy” to the bad kids and went to his lunch.
They didn’t let Mary Beth see anything interesting.
We went back to the hotel. Jet Lag or nerves were getting to me so I crashed. Cindy and Mary Beth, along with Larry, ran across the street to go shopping. I finally went upstairs and had lunch on my own. I ordered the Steak which was really just a breaded greasy slab of round steak over potatos.
They returned and we went back to the orphanage for the afternoon visit. ADD-Boy was absent, but another group of parents and children were there. Astrakhan only has Adoption Court once a month, so all the parents were present. They have several adoption homes, so they all weren’t here. Still, it was more crowded than before.
Everyone loved Sasha and his hat. He looked so cute. Then he would dance to the truck music and everyone would smile. He played a little piano too. He continued to be his independent self, marching off on his own when the other kids were with their parents. He was social with them when they weren’t. When someone else was playing with his truck, he didn’t cry. He looked sad and it broke my heart, but he didn’t cry. He just turned around and found something else to play with.
He allowed me to tickle him, and pick him up a little. It was progress.
Before too long it was time to go. There was more crying and screaming. Still, we convinced Cindy and Mary Beth to let the children go. We returned to the van.
Galina explained. Tomorrow, she will pick us up at 10:30. Cindy and I will be in court at 11:00. Then we will fill out papers. If all goes well, we might be able to pick up Sasha, for good, by that afternoon. If there were problems, then Thursday. Vera would be around to pick up Mary Beth around 9 like usual. She can spend the morning with Asalon.
She then drove us back to the hotel. It was still early, and being June, the sun didn’t set until late. We debated what to do and where to go. None of us were really hungry so another dinner at the restaurant seemed uncalled for. Shopping might work.
Larry had an unfortunate reaction to his deoderant. We decided to scour the farmers market and local stores to find him something else..
We headed across the street to the shopping area. Then it hit us. What did we want? Ice Cream. We searched the market stalls, and finally found a regular store that offered a freezer full of icecream. Pulling out our magic translation books, we began to decipher. What was it we were buying?
Mary Beth got the last drumstick.
I got a nice chocolate covered nut filled something.
Larry enjoyed his strawberry icecream on a stick.
Cindy, taking the longest, settled for a brick of icecream. We headed across the street to see what was there, and eat our icecream. What we found was that Cindy had one cube of cheap vanilla ice cream weighing in at about 2 pounds.
After fighting with it for five minutes, it ended up in the trash. That was just too much unflavored icecream.
We ventured into a couple small stores, but there was little to catch our eye. Larry didn’t want to risk any more deodorants. We picked up a few more snacks then headed back to our rooms.
We were nervous about tomorrow and hoped for an early nights sleep.
They were worried about their court date the following day.
Cindy and I went to bed before 9am. The mattress had bothered Cindy the previous two nights, so she asked if she could sleep on the futon. It really wasn’t large enough for two adults, so I let her sleep alone. Little did I realize that with the advent of Sasha, our sleeping together, without company, would not happen for a long, long, time.
I’ll let you know when it does.
At 9:30 the phone rang.
“Come on up for a slumber party.”
In our jammies we ran upstairs with our snacks. There the four of us talked and laughed and relaxed. The literal trials to come could wait until the dawn.
Of course the best snacks, the cheezit’s, still sat untouched on top of the refrigerator.
Posted by Space Opera (Member # 6504) on :
I love reading these; they make me feel like I was there.
space opera
Posted by rivka (Member # 4859) on :
I adore love stories. And this tale of the blossoming love between a child and his new parents is my favorite love story ever. Posted by Lalo (Member # 3772) on :
Heh. Aw...
You'll be great, dude. Sasha's a lucky kid.
Posted by pooka (Member # 5003) on :
Keep 'em coming, Dan. In a way I'm annoyed at myself for not finding this sooner. But I'm kind of glad to get 4 installments all at once.
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
Now for the painful news.
We learned yesterday that Sasha has to go in for some minor surgery.
One of the questions that has come up with adopting a small boy from a foreign country is whether or not to circumsize him.
There are four normal reasons to do so.
1) Religious reasons, but they do not apply to us.
2) Medical reasons. There is a great debate whether it is safer to fight the chance of disease by performing the surgery, or by teaching good hygene. Teaching the child how to clean himself should be sufficient, though not a pleasant task in of itself.
We discussed this and decided the pain of the surgery was not worth saving ourselves that unpleasant task.
3) Awkward moments. A boy child in the US will notice that most of his male friends dressing themselves in the gym class or where ever, are circumsized, as is Daddy. Would this difference cause mental anxiety later in life? We researched this. Again, the mental anxiety in the future could be prepared for. No real reason for the pain now.
4) Doctors like the extra money. This was not a reason for us.
Unfortunately we have discovered a fifth reason.
Sasha has a minor deformity. His, careful with my phrasing, hole is inappropriately placed.
His aim is untrue.
As he is, he'll never be able to write his name in the snow without soaking the person next to him.
So on Sept 1st the surgeon will snip some mostly unneccesary skin in order to re-route his canal and allow him to aim straight and true.
So much for our research, discussion, and planning.
And all I can say is...
OUCH!!!
One of my main goals in life has been to keep sharp objects away from that general vicinity. That is one of my life rules I was going to pass on to my son. Instead I get to hold his hand while doctors play cut and paste with Mr. Winky.
OUCH!!!
Posted by PSI Teleport (Member # 5545) on :
quote: His, careful with my phrasing, hole is inappropriately placed.
I'm wondering what other word you could have used.
It wasn't until I had my kids that I learned that this is actually fairly common (1 in 1000....but that's pretty common) for little boys, and things should turn out fine. But I can imagine that it's pretty painful for a daddy to have to think about this happening. Mommies too.
Posted by Farmgirl (Member # 5567) on :
I thought at first you were referring to meatal stenosis (my son had to have surgery for that at a very early age) but I see that condition is usually a complication of circumcision. Since Sasha has not yet been circumcized, then I guess his condition must have a different name...
Farmgirl
Posted by PSI Teleport (Member # 5545) on :
FG- Yeah, it's hypospadia.
Posted by Farmgirl (Member # 5567) on :
Dan - you are saying this is a fifth reason TO have him circumcized? So the doctor is going to fix the problem and take away the extra skin?
But Medical Sites say that since it may require more than one surgery over a period of time, extra skin should not be removed because it will be needed for that repair. Or do they think they can fix it all with this one surgery?
quote:Treatment:
Infants with hypospadias should not be circumcised. The foreskin should be preserved for use in later surgical repair.
Surgery is usually completed before the child starts school. Today, most urologists recommend repair before 18 months of age. During the surgery, the penis is straightened and the hypospadias is corrected, often using tissue grafts obtained from the intact foreskin. The repair may need to be performed in stages, requiring multiple surgeries.
Posted by PSI Teleport (Member # 5545) on :
Maybe they have to circumcise him now because they are going to use the skin in this surgery.
Definitely worth checking out.
Posted by Farmgirl (Member # 5567) on :
And he probably IS quite a bit older than kids normally going through this operation in the U.S. So maybe it can be taken care of all at once....
FG
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
They say it will be taken care of all at once, and use all the available skin.
Posted by rivka (Member # 4859) on :
Only severe hypospadias (which is quite rare) requires multiple surgeries, IIRC. The son of a friend had a fairly minor case (as it sounds like Sasha does), had the surgery at 6 months, and that was that. Recovery was pretty quick, she said.
Hope Sasha's recovery is quick and as painless as possible.
Posted by Mrs.M (Member # 2943) on :
Poor Sasha! I wish him a fast and easy recovery.
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
Sorry for the delay with these. Who'd have that fatherhood would keep me busy doing things besides writing.
June 9th Court day (Wed)
I slept terribly.
Fears of what would happen kept my heart racing all night.
It wasn’t fear of the court, at least not much. There was nothing to fear there. Sure, this was our last real chance to screw up and loose Sasha, but the odds of that happening were tiny. They wanted to give him to us. We wanted him. It was a win/win situation for the adoption to proceed.
I also knew that it would be in Sasha’s best interest for us to adopt him.
But I still feared he would not want us.
I feared the days when I would have to punish him, bathe him, and feed him without being able to talk to him. How would we manage the bathroom?
How would we do on the planes?
What if he said “Nyet Papa.”
That is what crashed my sleep that night.
That, and I did not have Cindy next to me. She slept more comfortably on the couch. I should have slept on it with her, but it was small. Besides she didn’t sleep that well either. She was worried about court.
We got up at our regular time and dressed in our regular clothes. We would put on our good clothes after breakfast. The last thing we wanted was to show up at court with stained clothes.
OK, that really wasn’t the last thing we wanted to happen, but for a few minutes, it seemed so.
We met Mary Beth and Larry at breakfast. Today they served eggs and sausage, along with the yogurt and tea.
The eggs were soft fried, greasy and runny. Nobody enjoyed them.
The sausages looked like cheap hot dogs. They tasted like cheap spicy hot dogs.
We talked about the upcoming court time. Mary Beth was scheduled to go to court on Thursday. They would spend the morning at the orphanage. They wanted us to remember everything for a major debriefing that afternoon.
We finished and they left for the orphanage. We had an hour to get ready for our trip. We changed into our good clothes, a suit and tie for me, a nice skirt suit for Cindy.
We looked better than Galina and Vika expected I think, because they were all smiles and positive comments. We got in the van and drove to court.
We drove past the mall. Just over the hill from it there was an interesting building, a bowling alley and arcade. “Somehow, I don’t picture us taking Larry bowling” I said.
Cindy laughed.
We passed a park with swans and a pond.
Then we came upon the town square, with the Astrakhan Kremlin in all its beauty. I wanted to visit it, to see what was inside those bright white walls. But that would come later.
We ended up going to the down-town part of town. The Court House was a large block of a building, with little ornamentation. No Greek Columns or marble steps. No garden or green around it. Just a building with lots of windows and dirt. A bureaucrats building.
We walked in and were greatly unimpressed with the dinginess of the place. It was busy, with court proceedings of all kinds happening behind closed doors, while the people involved ran from one door to another on urgent missions that change the fates of lives and the courses of nations.
We joined the chaos. We picked out a comfortable spot along the wall and waited.
Our court time was scheduled at 11:00am. We were 15 minutes early. Those were 15 long minutes.
Galina ran off to see where we needed to be. We stood around and waited.
Five minutes later she returned and ordered us to follow.
We walked though classic Soviet nondescript hallways. We walked around the construction going on to repair or revitalize the building. We walked a long ways.
We got to a couple of benches and sat down.
We waited.
A lady finally came out and spoke with Galina. Vika got up and left for a few minutes. It seems they needed a notarized copy of her translators diploma.
We waited.
Galina checked her watch for the 15th time, got up and disappeared into a room.
Our driver came by and went looking for her. I swear it was a scene out of Scooby Do. One went in one door, and another poked her head out of a second door, then chased her through the first door, and a moment later the first one popped out of a third door and went into a fourth.
We still waited.
Finally, the truth came out. The court consisted of a Judge, the Children’s Minister, the Minister of Orphanages, and a Prosecutor (as well as on court reporter, the adopting parents, their facilitator and translator). While the Judge was ready to begin on time, the Children’s Minister was double booked. She was in court doing a different adoption.
It was in the court room across from where we sat. It too was double booked.
It was the adoption of ADD Boy. Luckily the child wasn’t present.
We waited.
After a while it became apparent that this would take a while, that and they hadn’t gotten air-conditioning working in the hallway. Galina suggested that we and Vika go for a walk outside. It was cooler outside.
We did, but we took Vika’s cell phone just in case we got to go in.
We walked the long way back down the hallways to the exit, then we walked the same distance outside to the corner of the building. Across from the courthouse was another government building, so we headed down the street to see what was there. We were about 4 blocks from the Kremlin so off we started.
Across from the second block there were stores. Here was the cheap clothing Larry was looking for.
At the end of the second block the walls of building opened up for a technical schools modern appearance, and fountain. We stopped there when a little girl and her younger sister walked up to us.
They were gypsies.
They offered to read our futures or some such.
We refused, but apparently these children who could understand the secrets of the universe could not understand the word NO, even in Russian.
We turned around and headed back, and they followed us most of the way.
The entire time I kept one hand on my wallet and Cindy gripped her purse tightly. That did not seem to amuse them.
Is it racial profiling if you are overtly protecting your assets when two gypsy children start buzzing around you?
Half way back to the court house, the phone rang. It would be soon
We ran.
Then we got there and waited some more.
Finally they let us into the court room. Cindy and I went into the special seats that I’ve seen reserved for the accused in all the courtroom shows on TV.
The five officials came into the room. They were all women. While the judge looked stern, as we were warned of, the prosecutor looked young and eager, while the others looked relaxed and willing to enjoy their time with us.
We stood up and all gave our names, addresses and credentials. Then we were asked to swear.
We swore, not to repeat anything that went on in that room, to anyone publicly.
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, what happened in that courtroom stays in that courtroom—and they have the law to back them up, not just Guido and a gat.
I can say that it went quickly, mainly, I believe, because the Judge had a busy day following this and didn’t like being behind. There were no nervous moments. I did get to make a last minute appeal, when they asked if I had anything else to add. I told them, “It would be an honor to take Alexander home with us” and a lot of other schmaltzie stuff.
I laid it on think, with extra cream, three cherries and a promissory note.
The judge stepped out of the room for a few moments to make up her mind. She then came back in and gave us approval.
We wanted to take their pictures, but that was against the secrecy promise we made. Instead we learned that the papers would be ready at 3pm. They were behind schedule. There was little hope of us getting Sasha today, but that was OK.
It was 1pm. We went back to the hotel to wait.
We thought of running upstairs and getting together with Mary Beth, but Galina said they wouldn’t be back yet.
We watched some Russian TV and I read my book.
I was still on “The Halloween Party” by Agatha Christie. In it, one woman is called Rowena Drake. She, with her very masculine name, is described as the essential woman in town, who runs everything from the Church social to the school Halloween Party. The fact that she would allow a murder to be committed at one of her events seems to bother her greatly.
Everyone appreciates what Rowena Drake does for the community.
Nobody likes her. She is just too much, too much in charge, too much demanding, too much wealthy, smarter, better.
Galina is Rowena Drake.
When that thought struck me, I started to laugh out loud. Cindy couldn’t understand my explanation.
At 2 we went upstairs to see about some lunch. We discovered that Mary Beth and Larry had been back, and had been waiting for us. Ahhhg.
We told them everything, then left. We promised more details when we returned.
We drove back to the court building. There we discovered that the papers were not ready. We spent a good 30 minutes getting them ready. That was cutting things close. We jumped into the car and ran to the license bearer. It was across town. It was up 5 flights of steps. Galina took them like a pro. I took them like an old geezer with acute asthma.
Once up there we got to sit in one of the un-air-conditioned “wedding rooms” while they got us new birth certificates for Sasha. The Wedding Room was a small bit of dead-end hallway decorated in what best could be called Generic Cathedral. There were fake stained glass on the windows, and comfy chairs and everything. In a country that did not have religious weddings for 50 years, this became the traditional way to add pomp and ceremony, and even a bit of ritual to ones wedding.
It looked like a cheap version of a Las Vegas wedding chapel, and those are about as cheap looking as things come.
We were given a new birth certificate for Sasha, listing his new name, his old birth date and birth place, and us as his parents.
Sasha was legally ours.
A wave of relief and joy washed over me, and over Cindy too. However, before we could embrace that joy, Galina was off. There were more stops to be made. We flew down the steps and around the strange railing the put at the curb and into the cab.
It was then we noticed the wheel chair ramp. Note to Russian architects: Wheel Chair ramps should never be at a 30 degree angle. Anyone in a wheel chair going down that ramp would either shoot out into traffic and ridiculous speed, or be stopped by the steel and concrete railing. Neither were good options.
We flew to the Adoption Center, where Galina ran up the four flights there. She came back with news that things needed notarization. We were right across from the Kremlin. She suggested we walk around the base of the Kremlin, around the “People’s Square” and relax while she took care of the details.
Vika, Cindy and I did just that, for about an hour. We walked by all the fountains that were not flowing, and the flowers that were barely blooming, and the vendors who were not selling and we did not relax.
Cindy had learned of a souvenir shop near by. Whether it existed or not had been up for debate. We found it and went in. We bought post cards and thought of finding something to remind us of Astrakhan.
What we ended up with was a book full of details, in both Russian and English. It told the history of Astrakhan and the story of its people, the sites to be seen and the power of its economy.
We then returned, bought a Pepsi, and waited for Galina to show up.
Eventually she did. We waited by the van while she ran up stairs, grabbed an official, and ran back down with her to sign the last of the paperwork just as the office was closing for the day.
We signed.
We were done.
Well almost. Galina explained that we still needed to get the passports taken care of. The problem was that she would be busy with Mary Beth in court tomorrow morning, and all of us going to the orphanage tomorrow afternoon. That left Friday to get the passports, but since Saturday would be a national holiday, they may not be open on Friday.
We could be stuck in Astrakhan for the entire weekend, costing us more money to change our flight back to Moscow, and possibly missing our scheduled date with the embassy, which could push us back farther, costing us more money to reschedule our flights home, our hotel in New York, and making me miss a show I was scheduled to do the Saturday after our return.
Great, more fun things to worry about.
Since all our walking was done outside in the sun, and I am prone to heat exhaustion, I was beat. We returned to the hotel and I prepared to collapse. Galina went upstairs to talk about court with Mary Beth. I mentioned to Cindy that it was a shame Galina didn’t let us buy some food while we were downtown, and bring it back for us to eat. Cindy thought that was a good idea and ran upstairs.
She returned a couple hours later. Galina liked the idea, and drove Mary Beth and Cindy to the mall. They bought some sandwiches and Galina had them driven back to the hotel.
I got a hot dog thingy baked in a bread roll. They were OK, but not great.
Cindy went back upstairs and her and Mary Beth talked throughout the night.
I happily finished my book.
**SPOILER ALERT**
<If you plan on reading the Agatha Christie book “The Halloween Party” skip this part.>
I enjoyed the book immensely and was not surprised at all when the murderer turned out to be—Rowena Drake.
Yeah, I could see Galina doing that, if someone didn’t kill her first. Then again, she did so much for us that day, how could I be mad at her. Without her help, her pushing, her demands, we would have been stuck there for who knows how long. She was a great help. I just don’t like her.
[ July 16, 2004, 03:29 PM: Message edited by: Dan_raven ]
Posted by pooka (Member # 5003) on :
Edit: Thanks! What an odd coincidence Dan
[ July 23, 2004, 06:10 PM: Message edited by: pooka ]
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
It was "of" not "Or". I corrected it. Thanks.
And it was a wierd coincidence.
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
Thursday June 10th
We get Sasha
I awoke a husband.
I would go to sleep a father.
Well, I would try anyway.
I certainly didn’t sleep well that night. Cindy did sleep a bit better on the futon, now that the difficult court day was over. I just kept having that “Nyet Pappa” dream.
We got up and got dressed and went upstairs to meat Mary Beth and Larry for breakfast. It was undercooked eggs again. Yummy. No really.
Mary Beth had to go to court without Larry. Larry, however, was riding with them to downtown, then he would go shopping at the stores we mentioned. Cindy and I, well, we had nothing to do until 2:00pm. At 2:00pm they would be back and we would head out to bring the kids home.
At least the first part of the trip home.
We gave Mary Beth the best advice we could from our past experience.
She was more nervous than I expected. Larry tried to keep her calm, but instead, was showing signs of nerves himself.
After breakfast Cindy and I packed a bag to bring to the Orphanage. We were bringing “Sasha’s bag” that her sister had painted for him. It had his change of clothes and toys and books and a little food.
By 11:00am we could not stand the room anymore. We went for a walk.
Down Town Astrakan and the mall was to the west. The Orphanage was to the North. Boring apartments were to the East. We headed south.
Of course my entire sense of direction was totally screwed up at this time. Those directions are incorrect, but they kind of explain where we went.
We had come down here shortly a couple days before to a bank to transfer some money. I knew there were some stores this way. So we took off walking.
We stopped in every small corner grocery we came across, looking for something interesting, or some good deodorant for Larry. While the cakes and the other baked items looked great, we were not hungry.
Every corner had a grocery store. Some had more bakery goods, others had more packaged goods, but every corner was set. We continued.
There were a lot of semi-permanent roadside stands. These sold Ice Cream or Alcohol or magazines. Now we knew where to go to get our next ice cream fix.
We passed a bar. It was not open yet. They were rolling in the local bear for consumption. It was packed in 2 liter plastic bottles, like so muck soda.
Beer in a plastic bottle?
I am no beer fan, but---Yuck.
We walked about 4 blocks when the stores ended and large apartment houses began. We crossed the street and hit the other side.
The only major street for us to cross was a corner where two large banks were. One of these was the bank we had visited earlier. Realizing we were almost back where we began, we turned west. The mercantile streets here soon drifted into small homes and apartments. However, we continued on. We knew it would eventually reach the road by the mall. We could hit Baskin Robins again, or go on to the bowling alley, or maybe on to the Kremlin.
What we weren’t expecting was the road to lead us to a beautiful round onion-topped church.
Its great green domes and pure white sides were beautiful. Its benches, set amid open lawn were perfect. We sat down and stared at it.
And cursed ourselves for not bringing the camera.
The restoration was not complete, there were weeds in the pavement, and some rust showing through the newly painted fence, but it screamed, “THIS IS RUSSIA” to me.
We got up after a few minutes and headed to the Mall. Then we took a turn and headed to the bowling alley.
It was under reconstruction too. There were work trucks and problems with the building. Cindy and I figured we had walked enough and headed back home.
We passed the Karaoke Bar and the dance studio.
We got back to our room exhausted.
And found out we had been gone only 45 minutes.
We still had two hours to wait.
By one we went up stairs to lunch. We stopped and knocked on Mary Beth’s door on the off chance that they were in.
They were.
They had assumed that we were out visiting Sasha. We did not visit Sasha today because we were taking him home this afternoon. They had already had lunch. We settled for junk food and talked about the court.
Her court day started out better, and on time. However, since it was on time, the questions were more insistent and rougher. Perhaps it was her being a single mother. Either way it wore her out.
Larry discovered the stores we had found were mostly useless. He ended up spending most of the morning waiting for her at the court house.
We went across the street and bought some fruits for the kids. Cherries and Strawberries, while we were waiting for Galina to show up and take us to get the kids. Here an elderly gypsy woman heard us speaking English and came over to offer her services and beg for money.
I ignored her.
Larry and Mary Beth became a bit frightened.
By two we were both in My and Cindy’s room, waiting to go.
Galina and Vika showed up just past 2:00pm. Galina was glad we were all together. She made a pretty speech about parenthood and getting the children. Then she said we needed gifts for the orphanage leader and the teachers.
Now some adoptions, expensive gifts are required to grease the wheels of the bureaucrats. Going through CHI such bribery is not necessary. What Galina was referring too was some flowers for all their hard work.
We agreed, and agreed to let Galina buy the appropriate stuff. We gave her some money and she disappeared.
Cindy suggested that I use my gift for words to come up with something to say to the orphanage director. I tried to think of something.
We nervously waited another half an hour. What time did they close the Orphanage doors? What time would be too late for us to get them?
Galina returned with two beautiful bouquets of flowers, and two cakes, and two bottles of wine, and a little change. I thought, “Great, Party time.”
We jumped into the van and drove to the orphanage for the last time.
Cindy asked if I had thought of anything to say. I changed the subject
For the last time we passed the big inflated tire outside the tire store, and the big smoking stack outside the nuclear power plant.
We entered the gates and walked up the steps into the Children’s Home.
With in a few minutes they sent us scurrying to the music room.
More time ticked by. Each of us said a silent farewell to this room, where we first met our children; where we first played with them; where we said good-bye too often.
Cindy asked if I had thought of anything to say. I said yes. I lie badly.
Galina came into the room and told us to follow. We went to the director’s office. There were the last papers to sign.
We gave the flowers and cake to the wonderful director.
We gave her the wine.
She accepted it all.
Now it was our turn to say something. I started to speak. Mary Beth, seeing my hesitancy, jumped in. I don’t recall what she said. I was just glad I didn’t have to say anything.
I took pictures.
Then one of the assistance we were asked for clothes. The kids would leave the orphanage with nothing accept a remembrance book. We gave them the clothes we had brought. They asked about shoes. We explained that he already had his shows, as did Salon. They apologized and ran off.
We asked about the remembrance book. We got the book of photos we had first given them. The rest would be coming soon.
A few minutes later, the kids came in. With them were their main teachers. Mama this and Mama that. I am sorry I did not get their names. That is something Cindy usually writes down, but she was busy holding Sasha.
Sasha was not really interested in me. There were a lot of women in that room, and I was beginning to realize that Sasha was a ladies man.
Again we asked about his memory book. It turns out it was partially destroyed in a move a few years ago. They were rebuilding it and would send it on to us.
We thanked them all, and got their pictures. We videotaped everything we could think of. Sasha found the toy he had played with when we first met, a box with holes in it to put things in. He started playing with it.
Nobody was crying.
It was close though.
Galina came to the rescue. She ordered us that it was time to leave. Cindy and I each took one of his hands, and out we marched.
I was ready for the screams.
He had only very rarely ever traveled outside the front door, or past the front gate. Here he was walking out of them with strange people he had only seen a few times. I would be screaming.
He did not.
They opened up the van.
Asalon took one look inside the van, realized that is where they wanted him to go, and began screaming. He had never been inside a Machina—Russian for car.
Sasha was brave. Cautiously he entered. Cautiously he climbed up into a seat next to Mamma. Galina began ordering Asalon to get in. That didn’t help much. Mary Beth picked him up, and he quieted. She climbed in and he yelled, but only for a short while.
By the time we hit the main road, he was asleep in Mamma Mary Beth’s arms.
Sasha was wide awake, watching the world zoom by. He was excited. He was happy.
I began to relax.
We got to the hotel and they exited out of the van nicely. Sasha took our hands as we walked them around the courtyard and up the steps to the entrance. We got our key and then headed to our room. We would relax for a bit, get settled in, then meat Mary Beth, Larry and Asalon for dinner.
Sasha began to panic.
Asalon went the other way.
We tried to explain we would see him later. We went into our room and distracted him with toys and phones and puzzles and Strawberries.
Still, he asked, “Where’s Asalon?”
Suddenly he turned to Mamma and said, “Toilette”
That is Russian for “Bathroom please.”
Mamma took him to the bathroom and handled the dirty business.
I started to relax.
Perhaps I could get her to do this all the time.
Yeah, right.
We all went up to dinner.
Lesson number 56 when it comes to kids of that age. Never have knives at the table. They began to play with them. We took them away.
”Adie” He yelled. It was his knife and he wanted it back.
By the end of the meal there was nothing in front of the two kids that they could reach.
And they were not happy about that.
I picked up Sasha and carried him to the small fish tank. For ten minutes we watched the fish swim round and round. He was thrilled.
Then I had to do the same for Asalon. He is a bit heavier. No, honest, he is. It wasn’t the fact that Sasha was my son, so doesn’t weigh a thing in my arms.
Well he didn’t that day.
I was almost ready to relax.
We stopped by Mary Beth and Larry’s room, now Asalon’s as well. It was as full of toys and fun as our was, perhaps more.
It had the stroller Sasha loved. He sat in it and we wheeled him around the room a bit.
Then it struck 7pm. This was their bed time in the orphanage. We were hoping that they would quickly fall asleep with each other. They were used to sleeping with other kids. We could wean them off of that by letting them sleep together at first.
Instead, they turned drastically—Nyet Spat!.
Nyet is no. Spat is Sleep. Well, it sounds more like Spot.
Nyet Spot.
The more we tried to get them to lay down, the more they refused.
We were all new parents. We each had an idea of what was needed. Unfortunately those ideas didn’t correspond to each other.
Nyet Spot.
Finally we decided to separate and conquer. We picked up Sasha and walked down to our room.
He screamed.
He cried.
He sounded like we were slowly disemboweling him and frying his innards on a charcoal stove with not enough Chinese marinade.
What should we do?
We endured.
“godu” he screamed as he tried to get the door open. “Godu”
We have no idea what this word means. It could be, “bad” or “I don’t want to” or “go away.”
All we know is that he told us “godu” and called for Mamma, mamma Mary Beth, and cried.
For an eternally long half an hour he cried. He kicked. He spat. He was upset.
Then he asked Mamma to hold him and she did.
He laid down with her.
By 10:00pm he was asleep.
We joined him shortly. It was a light, worrisome sleep. Every breath he took I heard, every change in pattern, every movement awakened me.
I woke up that morning Dan Davis.
I was going to sleep Pappa.
Posted by Kama (Member # 3022) on :
Posted by katharina (Member # 827) on :
WoW!!!!!!! Oh, that gives me chills!!!! That's great! That's so cool. I'm so glad you can share this with us. That's fabulous. Posted by pooka (Member # 5003) on :
This is great, Dan. Or should I say Pappa.
Posted by policyvote (Member # 3044) on :
Congrats!!
BTW, I myself had hypospadius repair when I was four. They knew they would need the skin to repair it, so i was not circumsized until the surgery was performed. I have had a long, safe, happy life of accurate urination.
Peace policy
Posted by rivka (Member # 4859) on :
*cries happy tears*
Posted by ak (Member # 90) on :
Aw, man! That is so great! I can't wait to hear what happened next!
Posted by Shan (Member # 4550) on :
*joins rivka in wiping away happy tears*
*naughtily reflects that bedtime blues haven't ended for her 10-year old*
Posted by Kwea (Member # 2199) on :
Dan, I can't say how happy this thread has made me for you. One of my old friends from MI adopted his daughter from Russia last year, and I got to meet her for the first time this summer. I saw the look in his eyes when he talked about her, and even more so when he introduced her to me for the first time....adn I am picturing you with the same look in your eyes right now.
You are all very lucky to have each other.
God Bless, Rob Brill
[ July 25, 2004, 01:05 AM: Message edited by: Kwea ]
Posted by fallow (Member # 6268) on :
toute suite!
fallow
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
but theres more, unless you are tired of it:
.
Friday June 11th
My first day of daddyhood started slowly.
I lay in bed alone, fearing to move lest I wake Sasha.
Cindy laid in bed with him, though I could tell that she wasn’t sleeping soundly.
We held our breaths and waited for him to awaken.
I lay in the bed so that I could watch the two of them through the partial parted blinds that separated the bedroom from the rest of the hotel room. Sasha was staring back at me.
He smiled.
Slowly he began stirring and we all got up.
His bed and his pants were dry. I sighed in relief.
We had brought 40 Pullup pants so that we wouldn’t have to worry about potty training while traveling. He was so much trouble putting to sleep that first night that we hadn’t tried to force them on him. I was relieved I didn’t have to explain an accident on the sheets to the Russian staff.
I was even more relieved when he said, “Toilette?” and stared longingly at the bathroom. By George he was toilet trained.
I was most please when Momma grabbed his hand and took him. Perhaps I could convince her that this bathroom thing was a mothers job.
Then it was my turn to use the bathroom. I went in, and found that I had company. Three times I pushed him out, and three times he returned. There was a stack of toys and a tv full of shows for him to watch, but Tinkling Daddy was the best entertainment in town.
I jumped into the shower and realized how the women in a peep show feel. Every few seconds the curtains parted and Sasha checked up to see what Poppa was doing. Mother got the same treatment next. We realized that any semblance of privacy in our lives was gone.
Sasha was starved. He quickly devoured one of the yogurts we had been saving for just this time. I made a move to the Cheezits, but Cindy said no. Those were for later.
We made a quick call to see if Mary Beth and Larry, and Asalon would join us for breakfast. Mary Beth sounded terrible on the phone. She was exhausted. It seems that Asalon had cried and screamed until 4:00am in the morning.
Larry was about to loose his sanity.
Cindy and I fought hard to hide our pride-filled smiles. Sasha was such a good boy. He’d never behave like that.
Yeah, right.
They decided to join us for Breakfast anyway. We were celebrating. Not only were we celebrating our children, we were celebrating the fact that today was our last full day in Astrakhan.
We learned several lessons at that first breakfast.
1) Before eating, someone needs to remove all the knives from the table, not just from where the two children were eating.
2) Asalon is a beautiful name, but if we dared called him by it, Mary Beth would hurt us. His name was now Joshua, Josh for short, and Joshua Asalon if we had to.
3) The ugly fish tank on the bar in the restaurant would attract children.
4) Carrying children, and lifting them up to said fish tank, and holding them in front of said fish tank is hard work.
After breakfast we prepared for a day of site-seeing and touring in the wonderful town of Astrakhan. We headed toward the beautiful Kremlin building we had seen previously, and passed several times. We would tour that in the morning because that is what I wanted to do.
Mary Beth and Cindy wanted to go souvenier shopping, so we would do that afterword.
Larry wanted to see the Volga river, so we would go there.
Then we would return to the hotel for nappies.
Everyone over four foot looked forward to nappies.
This compared to our plans for the entire afternoon—a local amusement park. We would spend half the day there because that is what the kids wanted.
We noticed it was a bit cool, so we headed outside with long sleeve shirts on.
We quickly turned around and added a layer of clothes for the kids. It was chilly.
We headed outside to wait for Vika and Galina. They met us at the door, ordered us inside, and insisted that we put yet another layer of clothes on the kids, and one on us. It was very cool.
We drove past the bowling alley to the center fo town. The Kremlin is on a big hill. At the bottom of the hill, outside the wall, is a wide open square full of Soviet era statues and fountains. We had walked that previously.
Up the hill was the beautiful Kremlin itself. I white tower gate in a white wall, green roofed, and containing a large four faced clock to show the busy business center of Astrakhan what time it was.
We pulled all our stuff out of the van and made our way to the entrance. I juggled bags and Sasha’s hands, and two different cameras to get good photo’s of this place.
It was here I decided that all fathers should be granted at least three extra hands.
Half way to the Kremlin Josh decided that he didn’t want to ride in his stroller any more. That was fine by Sasha who proceded to get in. We made a note to buy Sasha a stroller.
We entered the Kremlin and discovered---well—not much.
There was a cathedral to the left, but it was not open to the public. There was a church to the right but it was closed at this time of day. There were plenty of other buildings, but they were all in use. The large open courtyard was great for the children to run across. As we explored deeper there were trees to play on and we even got to walk up on the wall of the city itself for about 10 feet.
Yet it was not very impressive. A large part of the place had been set aside as an Art School, where young men and women hung around in dirty clothes and smoked cigarettes. The grass was uncut, the buildings inside the Kremlin needed paint, if not major structural repair, the gardens needed tending. It was on the whole, unimpressive, especially compared to the gleaming white Kremlin tower that cast its shadow over everything.
Josh had to use the toilet.
There are no public toilets in the Kremlin.
We rushed to the Art School, where Vika took courses. She knew where a toilet was.
Sasha decided that he had to go too.
Since Vika was leading, Mommy got to take Sasha again. Yea.
I wouldn’t say the bathrooms were in sad shape, but Sasha refused to use them. Momma refused to wash her hands in them because they would have come out dirtier.
Sasha showed his gift for imagination that day. While we were strolling around the dirty gardens, he decided to be a rabbit. Two of us, Me and Cindy or Mommy and Vika, or Marybeth and Larry, would hold on to Sasha’s hands and he would lift his feet off the ground and “Jump” for 10 feet at a time. Sure, this separated a few adult shoulders, but he had fun. He sang a Russian song that Vika told us, was about a rabbit boy who ran away from home and had adventures.
Sasha showed us his disturbing side too. He wanted to be with Larry and Mary Beth as often as possible. He called her momma. Then again, he called Vika momma. He also called me momma.
I was beginning to wonder about his attachment to Mary Beth.
We walked the couple blocks from the Kremlin to the souvenier shop Cindy and I had frequented Wednesday. Mary Beth wanted a copy of the book Cindy and I had bought. It told all about the city of Astrakhan.
Vika was proud.
Her favorite professor had written it. I was appropriately respectful, and didn’t point out the books many grammatical errors.
All the other souveniers in the shop didn’t call to us. They seemed a bit tacky to me. We grabbed some post cards and left.
Now all that we had on our to-do list this morning was a visit to the Volga. We drove to the riverside, got out of the van, and did a quick bit of site-seeing. We also froze our noses off. For the middle of June, it was nippy out.
The kids were neither thrilled by the water nor happy with the weather. Sasha started picking up rocks. I had images of us paying Aeroflot a fortune for being overweigth—all due to my sons rock collection.
As we headed back into the van Vika pointed out a nearby restaurant. It was an interesting look, half log cabin, half Western ghost town. “It’s a Texas restaurant, a favorite of visitors.”
We agreed it would be a great place for lunch.
Before entering I told Sasha that rocks weren’t allowed in the restaurant. We set them on the ground outside, where we could pick them up later.
We entered and the waiters all were wearing old-west garb, from the cowboy boots to the cowboy hats. The back wall held a framed Texas state flag preserved under glass. So what would be the one thing one would expect to find on the menu?
Steak!
Nyet Steak.
Nyet hamburger, nyet beef of any kind other than what looked to be a swedish meatball on a stick. Yes, more meat on a stick is what is needed, according to “Something about Mary.”
They had Fish and they had more fish and they may have even offered some chicken, but a Texas Restaurant without steak is grounds for war, according to several of my Texas friends.
They did serve a mighty fine Borscht. That in of itself would anger many Texans.
We learned that Sasha loved soup. He ate a lot. He also ate jealously, prefering to eat the food off of others plates, especially off of Momma’s plate.
Again, Momma took Sasha to the bathroom. I was breathing easier.
We finished our meal and headed back to the van.
We were in the van before Sasha remembered his rocks. I promised him more later.
As we were returning to the hotel we spoke to Vika about Sasha’s desire not to sleep. Spot is the word for Sleep in Russian. Vika had a long talk with Sasha, in Russian. This afternoon would be spent at the local amusement park. However, first Sasha must Spot. No spot, not park.
Sasha said he understood. He would take a nap.
We got back to the hotel and divided up. Mary Beth and Josh went upstairs to sleep. Cindy, Sasha and I headed to our room. Larry went out to relax and smoke. He knew what was coming.
As soon as the door closed, with us on one side and Josh and Mary Beth on the other, Sasha began to scream. He cried. He kicked. He ran around causing trouble. He was a ball of anger and frustration looking to crash into something, and that something was us.
We closes the curtains, turned off the lights, and prepared to sleep. He refused. He would not stay still. Even when his crying ended he continued to demand attention. We reminded him of his promise to Vika, no spot—no park. He would put his head down for three to four seconds, then be up again.
Cindy really needed sleep. She was laying there, eyes heavy, anger boiling just behind the exhaustion, when Sasha said “Toilette.”
I knew that it was my turn, or it would be my life. I grabbed his hand and led him to the bathroom. Sasha was a sitter. All his toilet duties he did sitting. The problem is that he is so thin that he could easilly fall in. My mission, as potty parent, was to hold him on the seat so he didn’t fall in, then make sure he does everything from the paperwork to washing of the hands, to remembering to pull up his pants.
Nudity is not a fear of his.
I did the fearful deed and it was much better than I dreaded. Even if this was a more stink filled bathroom experience. Such as small boy certainly can make a big stink.
Sasha discovered he had free access to the refrigerator. We had strawberries and cherries bought at the open market across the street. We put away the cherries unless pappa pitted them for him, but he had all the strawberries he could want. He would jump out of bed, open the icebox, and grab a strawberry.
By 3:00pm Galina had joined Vika to take us to the park. Galina was shocked that we let Sasha eat so much. “His stomach is not used to it” she explained. “Only give him small portions at regular times.”
We explained Sasha’s naughty behavior to Vika. She talked to him about his betrayal of their promise. He started screaming when we threatened not to take him to the park. We relented, with the promise that he would go to bed when asked to this evening.
Yeah, right.
I was a bit abashed by Mary Beth’s self congratulatory smile. Josh had taken his nap with a minimum of fuss, and Mary Beth was darn proud of it. Did we look that smug this morning?
We loaded into the van and headed to the park. Sasha loved the ride. Joshua Asalon was getting used to it.
The park was Astrakhan’s version of Disney World, but without the immaculate upkeep, costumed characters, or most of the fun. It stood on about 3 acres of land with a few rides and games for kids. There was a row of trampolines, surrounded by netting and protected by cushions. There was a couple of inflatable moonbounces, rooms for the kids to jump up and down on airbag floors. There was a pool filled with small intertube-boats with water guns. There was a somewhat rusted swing ride, where swings on the ends of poles swung you around and around. There was a small train on a track that curved its way around scenes of Russian folklore.
There was also a playground with slides and swings and bridges to climb on.
There was also a large dining area with a full bar and a small souvenier shop. Near the bar there was ongoing construcion of an ampitheater. Sasha enjoyed watching them work nearly as much as anything else.
The centerpiece seemed to be a 20 foot tall birdcage filled with exotic birds all singing at once.
We tried to enter the playground, but we needed tickets. Galina ordered Vika to run to the ticket booth and get some. We gave her the money and she ran off. She returned and we entered. For a good half an hour Sasha and Joshua had fun playing on the slides and other small rides. We had a great time.
Near the kids playground was a smaller bird cage, perhaps only 10x10 where the large was 30 foot round. In this smaller bird cage sat the largest Eagle I had ever seen. It was trapped, caged, barely enough room to stretch out its wings if it so desired, and no room or no place to fly. Yet this eagle looked out at the world, with dignity, if not with contempt. It was a proud bird despite its present confinement. I had an urge to rush its cage and set it free.
Getting tired of the play area, and playing with more of the sand/dirt on the ground than on the slides, we decided to move on to another ride. We asked the kids what they wanted to ride? The train? NO. The moonbounce? OK. Again Galina sent Vika to buy the tickets. Sasha and Asalon got as far as the entrance to the moonbounce, when they both chickened out and ran to the bird cage. Hey, at least that was free.
What else? We now had tickets we needed to get rid of. The answer? Toilette. This toilette was at the far end of the park, around a miniature golf course under construction. There was a sweet elderly lady who blocked our path. Ten Rubles to enter. This was more expensive than the Train ride. She looked at the kids and directed them on through free of charge. Only the adults who needed to go had to pay the toll. Aparently the cost of cleaning up kids messes was more expensive than proft to be gained in charging them. Either that, or they recognized the urgency in a child’s cry for Bathroom.
We returned to the main part of the park and really psyched the kids to ride the train. Sasha agreed and we set him in with the conductor. Nervously he watched us as the train headed out. He was on the verge of crying for us, but was soon overtaken by the fun of being on the train.
Joshua (Asalon) refused to ride the train, until he saw how much fun Sasha was having. He joined him half way through.
We returned to the other rides. Joshua said he’d go on the water ride so again, Vika was sent off to buy the tickets. Joshua took his ticket and got to the very edge of the ride, saw the water, and took off running. That was a big NO!
It was starting to get a bit late, and we were all tired, so we decided to head to dinner and home. First we would return the ticket.
NO REFUNDS.
Galina would not accept this. When Vika told her, No Refunds, she went to the booth. We spent ten minutes in the sun listening to her yell at the attendant.
Still, no refund.
Finally, in a huff, she walked off. Cindy and I bought the ticket off of Mary Beth and sent Sasha on anther train trip. Josh joined him anyway.
Now we needed to decide where to eat. There was the Pizza place right next door that had served us good food in the past. The only problem was that Larry had stayed home. He was desparate for sleep. We asked if we could run back to the hotel and pick up Larry before going home.
A frustrated Galina said no. She was tired and didn’t appreciate the outcome of her spat with the ticket agent. We thought hard about this. What was better? The questionable hotel food or good food with a desert of Larry’s wrath. Good food won.
We rode to the Pizza place quickly.
We had been here several times, but never quite this early. It seems they do a big business in birthday parties—or the owners family was celebrating a birthday. While it was open to the public, a large series of tables in the center of the room were all for the birthday of one young boy. He and his young friends were thouroughly enjoying themselves, running around, shooting toy guns and swinging toy swords.
This was not the example we needed to show our kids on their first restaurant experience.
We settled them down and made our order. Then we settled them down again. And again. Finally, realizing that running and screaming was not a good thing, Sasha turned to the naughty kids and gave them a stern “Oy, oy oy.”
The food was slow in arriving. By now Sasha was starved and irritable. We were just hungry and irritable. Ganlina had ordered pizza appetizers, and passed it around to everyone. She was generous with it.
Finally Sasha’s food came, extremely hot from the oven. He couldn’t eat it. Momma cut it for him, blew on it, and finally gave him a piece on her own fork. Again Galina was shocked. “He’s a big boy. He can eat what he wants. Let him eat more. Here is some more. Tell him to eat more.” What happened to her limiting advice from earlier? Or did she just want to clear her own plate? Cindy did not take the unsolicited advice well. Neither did I nor Mary Beth, but Galina had worked hard for us so we played nice.
After dinner, with a suitable doggy-bag to appease Larry’s stomach, we headed back to the hotel. It was 7pm now, the kids normal sleep time. We hoped to make a quiet dash separating the kids allowing them to sleep.
No good. Galina wanted to talk to us all.
We went to our room where Galina made a formal presentation. She gave us all the children’s passports. Despite the holiday on Saturday, the paperwork had all come through on time. I relaxed.
She also presented us with a momento of Astrakhan. A box was given to each mother. I was thrilled. What could this be? A russian scarf? Some beautiful momento? Caviar?
It was a wooden sturgeon on a plaque with the word Astrakhan splashed across it.
It was tacky and not pretty and the only good thing I can say about it was, well at least it didn’t sing.
Saturday was our last day in Astrakhan, and our last day with Galina. However, our plane would not take off until 7:30pm. She suggested we pay for one room to have late checkout, and move both families into it by the noon checkout time. Then, around 3pm, she would show up and we would do some shopping. We wanted to get Sasha a stroller, since he had decided to kidnap Mary Beths. We also wanted to buy some Russian Kids music on CD for him to listen too as we flew. Our plan was this would keep him busy during the long boring flights.
Yeah, right.
We would shop tomorrow afternoon and go anywhere else we needed to. Then we would be directed to our plane, but alas, Galina would be staying over in Astrkhan.
I arranged our late check out while I let Cindy arrange the leave taking of everyone else. That way we wouldn’t have the cry fest like we had had earlier.
Well that didn’t work.
As soon as Mary Beth had left the room Shasha began crying and screaming. It was 10pm before Sasha finally went to sleep.
I finished the book I was reading. It seems Ms. Rowena Drake was the murderer. I looked at Cindy and admitted my surprise. If she was truly like Galina, I was surprised she wasn’t the victim.
Posted by katharina (Member # 827) on :
Oh, I love this.
I was shocked that Rowena Drake was the murderer as well - who would have thought?
quote:We entered and the waiters all were wearing old-west garb, from the cowboy boots to the cowboy hats. The back wall held a framed Texas state flag preserved under glass. So what would be the one thing one would expect to find on the menu?
I don't know why this is so weird to me.
Posted by PSI Teleport (Member # 5545) on :
quote: Then we would return to the hotel for nappies.
Everyone over four foot looked forward to nappies.
Thought ya meant diapers.
Posted by Shan (Member # 4550) on :
Oh, what a great story! I am laughing and yet so proud of you both! All those hard parenting lessons ALL AT ONCE!
You really do need to write all this up and publish it -
Thanks again (for the zillionth time) for sharing this.
It really is precious - and not in the Gollum way - Posted by pooka (Member # 5003) on :
((((Dan)))) Posted by beverly (Member # 6246) on :
Beautiful! Way to dive into parenthood!
(Actually it sounds *very* challanging and I am amazed at your courage!)
[ August 12, 2004, 12:09 PM: Message edited by: beverly ]
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
Is this a hint that you are ready for the next days events?
Ok, Ok. I can work on it today.
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
Saturday June 12th
Time to leave Astrakhan.
I awoke battling two overlapping emotions, joy at the prospect of beginning our journey home, and dread at the two plus hours on an airplane with a screaming child. I settled on being happy to be getting out of that town.
Again, Sasha and Mamma had slept on the futon. They were stirring as I awoke so together we started what would become our dailly routine.
First “toiletta”. Sasha first, with Pappa helping, then Pappa with Sasha helping. Then Momma with Sasha wanting to sit on her lap. Then we did teeth. Sasha loved brushing teeth, washing hands, anything that involved playing with water.
Then we got a call from a jubilant Mary Beth. Josh had fallen asleep by 8:30pm. Sasha hadn’t stopped crying until after 9, and didn’t get to sleep to well after 10. #$@#$@#$@#.
Anyway, we joined them for breakfast.
Breakfast was a happy affair. Larry in particular was happy to be getting out of this town. We celebrated our last greasey meal. We had also learned how to take all the knives off the table, and most of the other elegant trappings, so that Sasha and Josh didn’t have too many toys to play with. Hopefully this would encourage them to eat.
Hopefully is such a depressing word.
They ate, but showed a desire to A) have momma or poppa feed them, and B) have momma and poppa feed them with food from momma’s and poppa’s plate. They seemed determined to get the good food the the grown ups ate, and not the junk on their own plates.
Even if it was the same junk.
Sasha also had a tendancy to turn to Mary Beth for food as often as he turned to Cindy. This was beginning to annoy me a bit.
I took Sasha to look and the fish bowl again. When he got bored with it I held Joshua up to it. At this point I started to really appreciate Sasha’s light 30lbs. Josh, though a year younger, was about 5 pounds heavier, and that was a hefty five pounds.
I took them both to the windows. They were double windows for the rough Russian winters. The 1st pane of glass was open, the second closed, and about a foot and a half of sill was between them. I held on to one at a time and stood them on the sill. They loved the view.
While I was doing this the others were watching the TV. It was “Freedom Day” in Russia, a nation wide celebration of freedom and independence. Great parades and shows were happening at the Red Square, and were being televised around the country. If we had gotten an earlier flight out, we could have been there.
Larry was excitedly planning our visit to Red Square.
We returned to our rooms to finish packing. Sasha wasn’t happy to be leaving Josh and Mary Beth (or Larry who was extatic to be leaving Astrkhan), but he kept his tears down to a minimum.
Cindy packed, and repacked, and then packed again, trying desparately to make things as small as possible. I watched Sasha—he was in terror mood. He ran around the room hitting every light switch he could find. I chased him yelling “Nyet, No, Nyet.”
I had done it.
I was the Nyet Pappa.
Strawberried and Cherries in the refrigerator would not travel to Moscow, so I was able to slow him down with a treat. He loved the Strawberries, and after I pitted the cherries, he ate those too.
Soon enough, after watching some English gardening shows and playing with the puzzles, it was nap time.
Unfortunately only Momma was in the mood to nap.
Sasha refused to lay still and Pappa was drafted to chase him. We played a game called, “Stay on the @#$@#$@# bed” in which he was told to stay on the bed, and I ran around it stopping him from running off.
This was interrupted by toiletta breaks, and demands for water or strawberries.
Momma did not get any sleep. Momma was not happy.
And I kept thinking about the confined airplane. How would I keep him safely seated on a plane when he wouldn’t even stay in his bed for nap time.
About 2 pm Mary Beth called. She was ready to come down, having given up on putting Josh to bed too. They came down.
Sasha and Josh saw the pile of items we were bringing with us, and decided to get organized. They took their toys and started laying them out, piece by piece, all along the far wall, around the corner, and across the bathroom door.
This made Cindy’s last attempt at packing a bit difficult.
Cindy and Mary Beth decided to take a lunch break and buy flowers for Galina, Vika, and Vera. We owed them a lot. They also picked up some munchies since we had decided to skip the in store lunch in favor of snack food for us, and fruits for the kids.
They returned with three beautiful bouquets of flowers. The flower market in Astrkhan was superb.
At 3:00 we wheeled everything out of the room, including the kids, and down the steps and into the van. Vika and Galina were waiting for us. We hid the flowers until later, but they could see them.
We still had four hours before our flight, but there was shopping to be done. We waived good bye to the hotel, the market, the streets we couldn’t name. He headed down town to the big markets.
An Astrkhan department store is a departement store in the old sense. Each department acted as a separate store, and may have been. Perhaps they were more mall than store. We were shopping for five things, a stroller for Sasha since he loved Josh’s, Russian kids music for Sasha, a Astrakhan Hip Flask for Sasha’s 21st birthday, a Russian Pocket Watch for Sasha’s wedding, and souveniers for Larry.
The first department store had a large CD counter with hundreds of CD’s. Vika translated and we ended up with a collection of popular kids songs and russian fairy tales. Later we discovered the “Kids Music” was some of the most depressing songs I’ve ever heard. I didn’t understand what they were singing, but the deep base voice and the slow cemetary pace of the music had me convinced it was something along the lines of “My dog died today, ran over by the hearse carrying grandma away.”
Next we went upstairs to find a stroller. Well, Galina and I went looking for strollers. The rest did a great Toiletta run. They made it in the nick of time.
The store had no little strollers left, but there was a nice padded larger stroller. It thought it was perfect. We needed Sasha’s approval, and Cindy who had the cash. We went to the other end of the store, near the toiletta’s and collected both. Sasha seemed excited until he sat in the stroller. The leg holes were too small. He refused to use it. We went in search elsewhere.
On the way to the car I noticed a table sitting outside full of videos. Yes, I could buy Troy, which had only been out in the US theaters for 2 months. I could also buy Shrek 2. That was still playing. Harry Potter 3 was available too, and that hadn’t come out until the Friday we left for Russia. I paused. Should I? It would be illegal, and possibly in Russian.
I chickened out.
The second store had more of the grand Marble and Brass look to it that the old-style depmartent stores used to have. It was more “Miracle on 34th Street” than “Valley Girl”. Unfortunately none of the departments carried child strollers. We did find a nice pocket watch though.
While Cindy evaluated it, and Larry evaluated other purchases, I watch Sasha. Sasha was dertermined to strike out on his own, trying to run ahead of us, or away from us, or be by himself. He has an iron hard core of independence and he was determined to show it.
Unfortunately an store full of expensive breakables is not a good place for a two year old to show his independence. My only hope was that he was getting exhausted for the plane trip.
Back in the van, we stopped off at the square. We had 3 hours to kill. We took a long walk across the open square. The flowers were blooming and the fountains were on all in celebration of the holiday.
We talked of interesting things, like the wedding ribbon ceremony. Its a tradition for the groom to tie a ribbon in the trees when you get married. The higher the groom climbs, the higher the ribbon is tied, the luckier the marriage. The trees were awash in a rainbow of highly placed ribbons.
(It was very bad luck for the groom to fall, break his back, and be in traction for the length of the honeymoon, but that is true anywhere.)
Larry also got into a discussion with Vika on what they thought of Communism. It was interesting hearing from a regular Russian what they truly thought of Yeltsin, Lenin, and Stalin. While the condemnation of Stalin was pretty thick, and the praise for Lenin was pretty light, I sensed an underlying nervousness when it came to discussing any of the living leaders. Aparently it was something Vika was uncomfortable with, and quite possibly, something most Russians were uncomfortable talking with strangers about.
At the far end of the walk the city was offering pony rides and rides on little battery operated cars. Josh and Sasha seemed thrilled at the idea, until it came time to get on either. Then they chickened out.
They had another adventure in store. The van drove down to meet us and we were debating what to do. Suddenly Sasha and Josh both cried “Toiletta”.
The problem was that there was no toiletta’s in this city park.
There was a thin row of trees and bushes separating the walk area from the street. Galina insisted this was OK. I just pictured me trying to talk my way out of a ticket from an ex-KGB enforcer now working as Astrakhan cop. I took him anyway.
We hid as best we could, they squated, and we watered the bushes. One family walked by with their dogs. The dogs looked at me as if saying, “How uncouth. Even I don’t water these bushes.”
I was really happy to be getting out of that town.
We drove to the airport. It was still 3 hours before our flight, but we had run out of things to do. Besides, we really wanted to get out of that town.
We arrived at the airport. Security made it so we had to drag our bags across a large empty parking lot. Thankfully Vika and Galina pitched in. Sasha refused to help. He was starting to get a bit wound up. I was starting to get a bit panicy.
Before we moved out, we realized that bringing the flowers any further would be counterproductive. We had hoped that Vira would show up for us to say goodbye. Instead we gave her flowers to Vika to pass on. It was a warm and touching moment only partially spoiled by Galina’s prodding to get into the airport.
Once inside the cavernous main room of the airport we discovered that the check in counter would not open for another half an hour. We grabbed a couple of tables by the snack stand and sat down drumming our fingers.
There was a second story to the airport, where waiting passengers or people waiting on passengers could climb up and view the planes landing and taking off. We were at the base of these steps chasing the children.
The seemed determined to flirt with Vika and the lady behind the snack counter, and stay as far away from us as possible. Even the music we played for them did not keep their attention long.
Finally a group started climbing the steps. This struck Sasha as wrong, especially since Momma had told him several times, not to climb the steps. In a clear echoing voice he yelled out for all the airport to hear—“Oy, Oy, Oy!”
Apparently that means “No, no, no, you are in trouble now buddy.”
The counter opened and Galina took off running to get us checked in. Could it be she was getting as tired of us as we were of her? Nah. I was trying to grab all of our luggage and lug it over to her. Cindy was chasing Sasha. Vira did join us to say good-bye, so she was roped in to watch the kids too.
Tickets were handed over. I goofed and only gave her two. I forgot, there are three of us now. I corrected it. Then I ran off to get the kids as Mary Beth started checking in.
Suddenly Galina was calling me. I was half way across the airport following a speeding Sasha. I looked back and Galina’s frantic signaling meant I had to return. I ran, grabbed Sasha, and drug his kicking and screaming body back to the counter. Vira took over and he behaved.
He behaves well for cute young ladies.
He’s bright.
Vika tried to explain. There was something wrong with our baggage. I had to go in back and fix it.
I assumed it was the broken wheel finally falling off.
Nope.
Behind the check in counter was the baggage x-ray system. I walked the length of the building to find the right door, then walked back to see what the problem was.
Security had found something strange in my bags. Could I identify it please.
I had no clue from the x-ray image, but offered to open up my suitcase and show whatever it was to the officials with the guns.
The sweet little lady with the x-ray machine and holstered pistol smiled.
I opened it up.
The Fan.
@#$@#$@#$@#.
I was ready to kill Cindy, but I didn’t know how Sasha would take it.
Security checked out the fan than had me repack the bag. Then in a huff I stormed out of the area ready to complain to my loving wife. Instead she looked like she was going to kill me? Why? What did I do.
I left her alone with the kids running wild. How could I goof off with the security people when our son was being a terror?
Well, she didn’t say those words. I just read them in her eyes from half an airport away. A briefly considered going back to the nice little old lady with the x-ray machine. All she could do would be to shoot me.
I was really, really glad to be getting out of this town.
We took our boarding passes and went to the far end of the airport by our gate. It was a large, relatively safe area. We let the kids run.
The plane was on time and before we knew it, we were saying good-bye. We thanked them for all their hard work. They thanked us for all of our help. Hugs were shared. Kids were grabbed before they ran off.
Then we divided up into family groups.
That is when Sasha paniced. He did not want to leave the lovely Vira or Vika. We passed him through security as he was screaming for them. He wanted to play with them, now!
It surprising how little security actually bothers checking parents with screaming children.
Once around the corner in the waiting room, Sasha quieted down. He still had Mary Beth and Josh. This was good because nobody around us now spoke English. The only problem was keeping him from bothering all the other passengers.
Thankfully he fell for Josh’s playdo. He tried to play catch with all the other passengers around us, but they were not thrilled to be playing catch with playdo. Luckilly he is so irrisitably cute, nobody really got upset.
The bus pulled up and we went out and climbed on board. Now was when I dreaded the crying to begin, the screams, the fear.
Nothing.
He stared at the busses, the planes, the trucks.
He was amazed.
We got on the plane and buckled him in.
Larry, Josh and Mary Beth walked past us to sit behind us. Sasha started to panic. He didn’t want to sit alone. He didn’t want to be away from Josh or Mary Beth. He settled on sitting on Momma’s lap.
I feared the stewardess would force him to sit alone.
Instead they just smiled at them and he smiled back. Two more young ladies under his spell.
He was still restless and nervous. Momma reached into her bag at her feet. She handed Sasha some treats. Sasha smiled.
It was time for the Cheezit’s.
As the plane rolled down the runway Sasha’s eyes became heavy.
By the time we reached cruising altitude he was asleep.
The same could not be said for Josh.
He fidgeted and cried throughout the flight.
I do want to give praise to the flight crew. When the man in front of Josh laid his seat back so that Mary Beth could no longer hold Josh in her lap, they forced the man to be polite and not lean back as far.
When another man asked that they do something about the noisy child, the stewardess politely told the man what he could do to himself.
By 10pm we were over Moscow and preparing to land. I looked out our window and was met with a strange site. It was a holiday, and it was being celebrated. Fireworks flashed thousands of feet below us. Yes, I watched the tops of fireworks as we began our landing. I most remember how small they looked. When you are on the ground, one big blast seems to fill the sky and reach the stars. In truth, the biggest blasts are under 200 feet off the ground. From the air they looked tiny.
We landed without incident. We went to get our luggage. We began to worry. Anna was not there yet.
I volunteered to watch Sasha while Cindy went to get the luggage.
Sasha volunteered to go with Cindy to get the luggage.
I got to stand next to our carry on bags waiting for them.
Anna still didn’t show up.
We got our bags, it was going on 11. We drug them out of the baggage area. With a great sigh of relief we found Anna waiting for us.
I also figured out how to stack our bags so that I could carry most of them while Cindy grabbed Sasha.
We headed off to the hotel.
Here we discovered a mistake. The hotel gave us two great rooms, but had forgot to get us our rollaway beds. We had one bed for the three of us. That was manageable. It was not ok for Larry, Mary Beth and Josh.
We talked to the manager. We yelled at the manager. The manager promised us beds within half an hour.
We went upstairs and fell asleep waiting for the beds.
My last thoughts while I was luxurating in the comfortable bed was, “I am so very very thankful to be out of that city. I will be even more thankful when we get out of this one.”
Posted by Shan (Member # 4550) on :
Ahhhh . . . . the chapter of "The NeverEnding Hour in Parenting"
Posted by Zeugma (Member # 6636) on :
*drums fingers impatiently*
I'm pretty sure Sasha isn't still in a hotel in Russia. Posted by Space Opera (Member # 6504) on :
It's so nice to watch a parent falling in love with his child.
space opera
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
Ok, Ok. Here's an update.
Sunday June 13th
Back in Moscow
I awoke at 1:30 am due to the phone ringing. Sasha lay snoring his kiddie snores next to me. Momma, on the other side of him, grumbled as she reached for the phone. It was next to me so I got it instead.
It was the hotel.
The extra bed we had been promised, and that had been promised to be delivered within a half an hour of our 11pm check in, was ready for us.
“No thanks.” I hung up.
“If they woke up Sasha….” Cindy threatened. They hadn’t. We went back to sleep and the hotel staff was safe from Cindy’s wrath.
We awoke again around 7 and debated what to do. I got a first real good look at our suite and was impressed. It was a “Business Suite” which meant it was designed for the business exec. It had a large bed room with a king sized bed, large enough for us three. There was a TV Console with stereo sound and a DVD player built in. It faced the bed and sat above a locked “Honor Bar” with overpriced goodies. With Sasha we apreciated the lock. To the direction I will call West were two large windows overlooking the City of Moscow from our fourth floor vantage point. We got to look right into the department store across the way. Not a great view. Still, it was a comfortable view from our bed.
The suite meandered off to the east. There was a small hallway which connected the Bedroom to the living room I’ll discuss later. Along the halls southern wall was a large closet with a safe and plenty of room to hang clothes and put shoes. Where it ended was a large sink and food service area. Along the halls northern wall was a fair sized bathroom. The shower was sparkling and ready with unlimited hot water. The sink was surrounded be samples of soaps and white fluffy towels. The toilet itself was sanitary and glistening.
The living room, at the eastern end of the hall, held a couch, a small coffee table, a few end tables and the TV Cabinet. In the cabinet was a nice TV with DVD and all the other necessities. Below the TV was a small refrigerator. I vaguely remembered coming in the night before and throwing all of our foodstuffs into the fridge. The remainder of our stash of Astrakhan Yogurt filled most of it.
We were still in our bed, not wanting to wake Sasha, but needing to get up. Just as we both silently agreed to try and stand up, Sasha woke up. We had a good five minutes of morning hugs and tickles before doing bathroom runs. Showers followed. It was my first time washing Sasha. I had been nervous, what should I do with a naked little boy, but it all went so naturally. We showered and washed and laughed. While I did this Cindy began Sasha proofing the room. Ash trays, sharp, pointy, or breakable things were being hidden.
We then got dressed and ready for real food. The Marriot’s breakfast buffet was what we had all been dreaming of since our first meal in Astrakhan. Fresh fruit, waffles, potatoes, -- all missing the standard poundage of grease we had started to get used to. We had arranged to meet at the restaurant at 9:30am. We were running late.
And I was starved.
When we told Sasha we were going out to meet the others, he rushed to get done. I pointed out that he didn’t have any shoes on. He ran to get them. I pointed out that Mamma didn’t have any shoes on. He searched the room for Momma’s shoes. He was ready to go.
Our room was down a long corridor from the main area. We were almost at the end. Mary Beth, Larry, and Sasha were in a room about two doors closer to the main area than we were. We passed it on our way out. We also passed a small area where two potted trees stood guard. Then we came to the main meeting area of the floor. Here was our first meeting with the other kids in the hotel. Sasha stared, have scared, half in desire at the kids playing in this common room.
The Marriott Trey is built as follows. The ground floor is where you check in and visit all the ammenities such as the gift shop or the travel guide. Its center area is open at top so you can see the second floor. On the second floor are the meeting rooms and the restaurant. It has a ceiling. The third floor is all enclosed. The fourth floor, designated the Family Floor, has a large common area with one computer offering free internet access. All the floors above the fourth do not have this common area, but have balconies around an open area. In other words, from the fourth floor you can look up at eight more floors of balconies, and on up to the glass roof atop the building.
They put the kids all on the fourth floor if they can as a safety precaution, and to give them a big central area to play in.
Going up and down from floor to floor is done in two glass elevators. This is considered as much fun as anything Disney has by most 3 year olds.
We went down to the second floor, and proceded to the restaurant. For once Mary Beth and company had not beat us to an appointment. We grabbed a table. Quickly we hid all the knives. Then we waited.
And waited.
Starved, I made an excuse to get me some food.
Cindy made sure I got some for Sasha. Finally she got up to get some.
We were half way done with our meal when Mary Beth and company showed up. Josh looked happy and well rested. The other two did not. They couldn’t sleep. Without the second bed, Larry tried sleeping on the couch, but it was uncomfortable. Josh was not in the mood to sleep. He kept them awake. Finally, Mary Beth had gone out to complain about the missing bed. She found the manager of the hotel and let her have a few choice words. The manager explained that the beds were in route from one of the other Marriotts and that they would be arriving shortly. She was promised a free surprise and no charge for the extra bed.
The bed arrived by a little after 1. They finally got settled and asleep by 2am.
Some good food seemed to make a bit of a difference. By 11 we were making plans for the day. Larry wanted to go site seeing, but we were promised a site seeing trip to be held on Monday. Mary Beth wanted to get some pull-ups. While Sasha had done very well in the potty department, Josh, a year younger, had not. We had brought a case of 30 pull ups, and offered to give her some, but Mary Beth didn’t want to be a bother. Perhaps a little walk outside would do us good. After the nap would be best.
We returned upstairs, (after grabbing an extra yogurt of two). When we went to divide the two kids, a screaming match errupted. We did the wrong thing. We gave in. Cindy returned the food to the room. I took the kids to the play area and they played.
They played very well. First they took all the books out of the book shelf—only about a dozen—and stacked them dangerously around the three steps leading into the semi-sunken common area. Then they started mingling with the other children.
There were several other families there, all with newly adopted kids. There was the shy bashful little boy who was scared of everything except his stuffed bear, which, if he liked you, he let you hold. There was the little 2 year old girl from one of the outer regions. They had not flush toilets in her orphanage. She was used to squating over a whole in the ground. This made her families attempts at potty training an interesting challenge as she tried to climb up onto the toilet seat. There was the brave family that had adopted five children from the same orphanage. I called these kids the Common Room Gang. Taking courage from each other they ruled the common room. They became the popular clique. The became the wild clique.
By noon we were hungry again. The kids loved the idea of going out to eat. Before I knew it we were down stairs with Mary Beth and family, headed for a walk. There was a drug store just down the block where we hoped to find the pull ups for Josh. There was a real good Italian Restaurant just down the other block where we could get dinner. There was a small shop that had religious souveniers that we Larry liked.
Josh, comfy in his stroller and Sasha comfy holding Mary Beth’s hand, out we went.
The drug store just sold drugs. They had no childrens neccesities.
The souvenier shop, being a specialty Christian store, was closed on Sunday.
The Italian restaurant seemed to disappear. We ended up going to a fast food chicken franchise.
Josh got tired of his stroller. Sasha never did. He spent most of the trip being pushed in Josh’s stroller. We made up for it by carrying the bulkier Josh.
Nap time crept up on us as we walked. We went back to our rooms, and planned on a quick bite. Cindy and I started to lead Sasha off, but he screamed and ran to Mary Beth. Mary Beth and Larry were trying to lead Josh off. Sasha grabbed a hold of Mary Beth and refused to let go. Josh grabbed Larry. We worked our way down to our rooms. They stopped at the small alcove with the potted plants. Inside the planters were small rocks. These became perfect little play toys piled on the nice clean carpet. The maids cleaning the rooms nearby didn’t seem to appreciate them, and we certainly didn’t. Just as soon as we got one to stop doing this at one tree, the other one began emptying the other tree. Rocks found their way into pockets and purses.
Finally, since it became apparent the kids were not going to clean up their mess, Larry and I did while the mothers grabbed the kids and hauled them into the rooms for a nap. Larry headed to the bar. I went to join my hopefully sleeping family.
Hope was dashed.
There was about half an hour of screaming and yelling and crying before the nap finally began. Sasha was doing most of that, but momma and pappa were helping with the crying. Sasha demanded his freedom, demanded to go outside. Pappa just wanted to relax in front of the TV. Neither got our way.
However, nap finally happened. After he fell asleep I got up and worked my way to the living room and watched TV. Momma slept a bit, but then got up and started cleaning. Pappa is just lazy.
By 4:30 Sasha was up, rested, and ready to go. He grabbed everyone’s shoes and headed for the door. We were not so ready. Mamma was in the middle of washing clothes by hand in the sink. After a fifteen minute heart wrenching cry fit by Sasha, he started helping Mamma with the wash.
I am not sure if Help is the right term. He was splashing and playing with the soap and bubbles and faucet. Mamma didn’t get much wash done, but she had fun.
I was spending my time forcing the uneaten chicken into the crowded refrigerator. Momma finally had enough, and she sent her two children, Sasha and me, out to play. There were no other children in the common area, so the two of us got to have some fun alone. It was great.
Many families brought toys and left them out for everyone to play with. The greatest of these were beach balls. The kids loved the balls, and they are inexpensive and easy to pack. We played for a while, but I kept looking longingly at the computer. I wanted to get on and send a few quick lines to everyone saying hello.
Finally another family showed up. Sasha had kids to play with. It was the young shy boy with the bear. They got along well, though Sasha was a bit possesive of his stack of books.
Josh and Mary Beth showed up to join the group and everyone had a good time. They watched Sasha while I got on line. I watched their kids as they got on line. It was a true community effort. The adoption war stories were rampant.
Then I noticed a new toy appear on the floor. The were white rocks. Around the elevator the hotel had provided a nice rock garden with a few green plants and an arrangement of white rocks. Sasha and Josh and a couple of friends were mining those rocks and moving them to the middle of the glass tables.
As I was putting a fatherly halt to this landscaping endevour my nose caught a wiff of something. At one point Sasha had said “Toiletta” but when I questioned him, he just squatted down for a second, then went on with his playing. I began to suspect that little squat.
Under intesive questioning it became apparent that Sasha had had an accident. Without shame or retribution I took him back to our room, to the bathroom, and scooped out his shorts. Then I changed his clothes and out we went again.
Dinner was a question we were soon considering. By now Cindy had come out and joined us. She had a great idea. Some of the parents had lunch in the common room, sharing a community pizza. She took Sasha out and headed for S’barro’s pizza. I, feeling exhausted, got in some prime TV watching.
Too bad there was nothing on TV worth watching.
After waiting what seemed like a long while for them to get back I decided to check out the computer. I left the room and headed out to the common area. There was Cindy, talking with a gentleman, while Sasha was playing and the pizza was getting cold. I introduced myself. This gentleman was in town for business, for about 6 weeks. He had discovered all sorts of local wonders. Cindy was pumping him for all the informations she could get. He suggested things like taking the train down to Red Square instead of paying over $20 for a taxi that the hotel would arrange.
I saw the pizza getting cold and Sasha drooling just a bit. I volunteered to take Sasha off of Cindy’s hands and feed the poor kid. She smiled and hardly noticed. Sasha followed the pizza more than me and we headed back to the room.
The pizza was fine. Sasha rattled on about watching the man throw it and make it. At least that is what I thought he was saying. His English vocabulary wasn’t much beyond Toilette and Shoes.
After about the second slice Sasha began to notice that Momma was not back yet. He began to question. This quickly led to demands. This quickly led to panic. This resulted in screaming.
A first started to go into dicsipline mode. I wanted to make him stop crying. Then it struck me. Why? Why not let him have what he wanted. I asked him if he wanted to go outside and find Mamma. He said a teary yes. I helped him put his shoes back on, grabbed the room key, and left the pizza sitting on the table.
We walked out to where Mamma was sitting at the table still chatting with the gentleman, taking all kinds of notes on a S’Barro’s napkin. As soon as Sasha saw Mamma his eyes lit up and he went running to her. I was a hero for finding her.
Cindy realized that it was getting late so finally returned to the room, with Sasha and with an envelope covered in all kinds of interesting information. Maps to the Kremlin and a flea market and a play ground were all sketched in illegible ink on the krinkled envelope. Cindy was excited. She considered finding this Moscow Insider a real coup and we were going to exploit it to no end.
First, we had to get Sasha to sleep. We went into our new routine. First a bath. Then into bed clothes. Then brush teeth. Then into bed with 1 stuffed animal and 1 book. He didn’t understand any stories, so we focused on learning new words. We had a wonderful book called “Your First 1000 Words” which showed pretty pictures and had all of them labeled in Russian. We went through it twice, then turned out all the lights and went to sleep.
An hour later he was snoring well. I crawled out of bed and headed to the TV in the other room. Cindy pulled out a book and joined me, but could not sit still. She was cleaning quietly the rest of the night.
We had started him to bed at 7. He was in bed and supposed to be sleeping by 8. By 9 I was watching TV. By 10 I realized I was too tired to stay awake and watch the Hallmark Channel. Really, when is anyone awake enough to watch the Hallmark Channel? The only other English speaking channels were doing news. Ronald Reagan had passed away and they took great enthusiasm in telling us every detail about the ceremony.
When I graduated High School, Ronald Reagan had talked about “The Evil Empire.” He joked, got on a TV Camera, that “The US Congress had outlawed Russia. The missiles are in flight.” Here I was, in Moscow, with a Russian son, planning hard to make sure he keeps that Russian heritage. President Reagan had lived long enough to see Communist Russia buried. Moscow and I had lived long enough to see President Reagan buried. I wonder what wonders Sasha will live to see, and what powers he will see buried?
Posted by Space Opera (Member # 6504) on :
Thank you so much for sharing all of this with us!
space opera
Posted by advice for robots (Member # 2544) on :
Wow, Dan.
Hope you've gotten more used to having Sasha by now. I'm sure bedtime is a bit more deftly handled. Hopefully Sasha is getting acclimatized to his new surroundings. Reading through your stories reminds me so much of our own children (and the time and effort it takes to be a parent).
Posted by Zeugma (Member # 6636) on :
Chills. Posted by Zeugma (Member # 6636) on :
Gosh, has it only been two weeks since the last update? It feels like two years!
Maybe you could start a daily blog about Sasha. Yeah, a 2-page story every day. That would be about right. Posted by PSI Teleport (Member # 5545) on :
Forgive me if this has been answered already in a thread. I was telling my husband about Sasha's hypospadias and he wanted to know if there's really a good reason to fix it? What I mean is, he wants to know if there's anything wrong with leaving it the way it is.
Posted by Zeugma (Member # 6636) on :
*bump* Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
First, a quick apology. Between new jobs, and new son, I've been negligent in my writing. I'll try to do better.
Tour Time:
If you remember where we left off, it was Monday in Moscow. One thing that we were looking forward to from the first days of our adoption plans was the promised guided tour of Moscow. Today was the day it was finally to be given.
We also had one other important scheduled event on Monday. The US Government would not allow us to adopt a child into the US without a thorough medical exam. The embassy doctor would come around early and give Sasha a checkup.
It was going to be a busy day. In this regard I was not disappointed. The size of this chapter won't disappoint anyone because of it.
We got up at 7 and got ready for the day. Sasha and us quickly cleaned up and headed to breakfast. Sasha was excitedly waiting to meet with Aslon and Momma MaryBeth. There were a few difficulties getting up and ready. There were the usual arguments about showers and clothes, but we were quickly on our way.
We arrived first at the restaurant, and quickly grabbed a table for six. I had learned and, much to Sasha's disappointment, quickly cleared the area around Sasha of all knives, glassware, ceramics, and anything else he could grab and play with.
We waited a couple minutes, but Sasha and Pappa were hungry. Besides, the doctor would be coming at 10. We couldn't spend all day lounging around the breakfast table. Sasha and I went up to the buffet and filled our plates with good food. Before we were back, Larry, Mary Beth and Aslon had joined us. We first went over a few excited worries about what the days doctor visit would bring. The doctor would be visiting Aslon just before us. That didn't last long. The real area of excitement for today was the tour.
Sasha soon cried "Toiletta." Breakfast was over as I took him to the bathroom. We all soon parted to get ready for the doctor visit, and then the Tour.
That is, until we got to our room. As we were getting ready to spend some time in the common room with the other kids we saw we had a message on the phone. It was CHI. It seems the tour had been pushed back to 2pm, and the doctor was back to noon. Further, there were papers requiring signature downstairs.
I was sent down to get the paperwork, while Cindy took Sasha to the common room. He was thrilled to play with mamma Mary Beth. This began to worry me. Was he bonding with the wrong momma?
Anna was down stairs working in the comfortable leather chairs. Between the holiday and the limited court days for adoption, the hotel was full of people waiting for their doctor checkups and embassy paperwork. She was taking care of everybody in the comfort of the hotel lobby, and between the frantic parents she was working on her master's thesis.
We talked for a couple of minutes. She had some last minute paperwork to finish, plus wanted to make sure I knew the schedule for the next few days. I needed to get some details from Cindy, and a signature.
Back up the escalator. Cindy filled out the missing info (I can never remember her social security number). This is where we also brought out our tax papers and other important data.
Meanwhile Sasha and Joshua Aslon had emptied the cabinet under the common room TV. It was becoming their own personal hideout.
Back down the elevator. I turned in the paperwork and discovered that the Doctor was running late. About 1pm she would be up to see us. At 3 we would do our tour, the tour we'd been promised since the first visit.
Lunch came and went (I believe by now you are all tired of my daily dietary review. Lets just say don't eat the salad. The salad was great, but they washed the leaves in tap water, and my stomach did not appreciate the tap water.)
Lunch gave us the excuse to drag Sasha out of his cabinet of hiding, and back into the room. That way he wouldn't be crying and screaming when the doctor came. By 1:30 we began to panic. Where was the doctor?
We called Mary Beth. Had she seen the doctor? Yes. The doctor was visiting all of the children today, starting at 1pm. We just had to wait our turn.
Around 2pm we had a knock on the door. The doctor arrived, a kindly older woman who spoke very good English. We called Sasha in. How would he behave for the doctor?
Perfectly.
Almost robotically, he stripped and stood while the doctor poked, prodded, and put cold instruments to him. Then came the hurdle. Was he well enough to go to the US? Was he in good shape?
Perfect.
Except for a minor penal problem later corrected (another long story surprisingly involving good lunches too) Sasha was perfect. We laughed, thanked the good doctor, then quickly dressed for the tour.
A van pulled up in front of the hotel and we all climbed aboard. Mary Beth, Larry, and Asalon were there. So was another couple who had yet to get their child. This meant they doted as much on our kids as we did.
Larry's big question, and a smaller question for all of us was, "Would we be stopping for souvenirs?"
Our tour leader was a elderly Russian woman with died red hair and an over enthusiastic tone. "Yes." She said. "We will definitely stop for souvenirs."
"There is this book we wanted at the hotel gift shop." Cindy started.
"Oh no. Where we are going it is much cheaper. All souvenirs are much cheaper." Larry smiled. This is why he had come.
As the van pulled away from the hotel our guide began by telling us about the favorite Russian fairy tale.
"Does anyone know Kolobok?" she asked. Sasha jumped up (seatbelts? In Russia? Yeah, right.)
"Kolobok!" he yelled. Then in a quick energetic Russian he told everyone in the bus the story of Kolobok. Unfortunately nobody but the driver and the guide knew Russian, and they wanted him to be quiet so they could get on with the tour. Somehow she Grandmotherly talked him into being quiet.
Kolobok is a old folk tale very similar to "The Gingerbread Man." Accept the hero was not made of Gingerbread, and did not resemble a man. He was more of a hyperactive dumpling, or more realistically, a round cake that rolled away.
We rolled away. We saw the Bolshoi Ballet, and the old headquarters of the KGB and several other interesting buildings. I'm not trying to short shrift the tour. I couldn't tell you more about those places because when I said we saw them, I mean we saw them. The guide pointed them out to us as we passed them by. We didn't get out of the van.
We stopped at a hotel in front of the Kremlin. This was the second hotel that CHI used for their adopting parents. It was not as nice as the one we stayed at, but it had a view to kill for. It was across the street from the Kremlin, Red Square, and St. Basil's cathedral. We were picking up a couple more couples to continue the tour. While we waited for them we got out of the van and took some pictures. They were great pictures, from a distance.
While we adults were photographing one of the great wonders of the world, where were our children? They had found dandelions. They were playing with pretty weeds. I got pictures of that too.
We all loaded up to begin the tour. Larry asked, "Will we get to tour Red Square on the way back?"
"Oh no. We had a big holiday Saturday. Red Square is closed."
Larry just sat down dumbfounded. All he had talked about for the past week was visiting Red Square. How could we visit Moscow—twice— and not visit it? That is like going to Egypt but not looking at the Pyramids. It was like going to Hershey Pennsylvania without eating some chocolate. This could not stand.
The tour went on. We drove by some of the greatest buildings in Moscow, and took pictures of them through the van windows. We did stop at one of interest before our much hyped souvenir stop.
Everyone is familiar St. Basil's Cathedral. It's the crazy colored onion domed cathedral in the Kremlin. Its on 92.7% of all pictures of Moscow. We didn't get to see that one.
We did get to see "Christ The Savior Cathedral". This is a beautiful building in a more western tradition. It set on this site for several hundred years. However, during the communist era Stalin believed that it was an inappropriate view from the Peoples Hotel. He had it torn down. The basement was turned into a public swimming pool.
In 1986, with the help of some US Christian groups, the Eastern Orthodox Church decided to rebuild this place of worship. Using saved and restored drawings, it took them 6 years to rebuild it. That is a tribute to their faith. As we toured it I would never have guessed this impressive cathedral was anything other than the classical place of worship it appeared to be.
The tour of the cathedral was over quickly. I have toured other active churches and always felt a bit nervous. They are more than just historic buildings or tourist site. They are functioning places of worship. This one was full of people worshipping, and praying and seeking highly personal guidance. Gawking at the surrounding artwork didn't feel right.
Chasing my three year old around the naïve as he tried to experience everything through his hands definitely didn't feel right.
Then again, walking through the metal detector to get into the church didn't seem quite right either.
We got back in the van and headed a few blocks away to the souvenir store.
This was the moment we've all been waiting for. Well, the moment Larry had been waiting for, but that we were also interested in. Souvenirs!! The best souvenir store in the city.
It was a very unpromising little store that we walked into. As a group we walked down the steps and met the staff. They greeted us with smiles, and with free Vodka.
"It is an old Russian tradition to welcome guests with a drink!" our guide explained.
When I was in India we were told it was an old Indian custom to welcome guests with a hard drink. They told us this at every shoddy or overpriced souvenir shop we ran across.
I began to think that there is an ancient Las Vegas tradition to offer a free glass of whisky to every guest as a sign of friendship. In fact, drunkenness is an ancient tradition every place they try to grab your money.
I took a glass anyway. Sasha was given some juice. Cindy took the juice too.
Is vodka supposed to burn as it goes down your throat?
Is it supposed to taste like gasoline?
Is it supposed to make the lights shine all pretty, where there are no lights?
It was gooooood vodka.
Needless to say I began to believe that this was a great store, with nice caring loving people who only had my best intentions at heart.
That was why they picked up Sasha and gently sat him on the $900 hand made rocking horse and told him to enjoy.
The vodka was good, but a $900 toy being proffered on your son will sober you up faster.
Cindy went investigating the rest of the souvenirs. They were ridiculously over priced. The book of fairy tales we saw at the hotel souvenir shop was more expensive here than at the hotel. Considering hotel souvenir shops are notoriously expensive, that is saying a lot.
We left there grumbling and went back to the drive-by tour.
We made another stop that actually allowed us to get out of the car.
We stopped outside a famous nunnery. Peter the Great worked hard to transform Russia from a large country of illiterate farmers into a world power. His success is still questioned by scholars today.
Back then it was the cause of rebellion.
And if you are rebelling against an all powerful ruler, who better to lead your rebellion that the rulers sister. Unfortunately for the sister, she lost. However you don't kill your own sister for one petty mistake. If your royalty you send her to the nearest nunnery where she can have her maids and ladies in waiting do your penance for you.
So we got to take pictures of the outside of the nunnery where Peter the Great's sister was kept out of the way. (To follow up on the history, you do kill your Sister after she uses the nunnery you are imprisoning her in to launch a second rebellion).
Our next stop was atop of Moscow. There is a hill overlooking Moscow, on which Stalin built the Russian University. It was a 20 some odd story wedding cake styled building, the only building of its style in the entire city, and it was visible from almost anywhere in the city. At its foot was a look out point where one could see all of Moscow, if you could wade through the souvenir tables. Cindy noted that they were also cheaper than the super special souvenir shop which was the supposed highlight of our tour.
Sasha took all this in with a smile, and a snore. Half way up the hill he fell asleep. Mary Beth watched him while I took pictures and Cindy went shopping. After word we headed for the next stop. Our tour guide showed so many wonderful sites, the Tears of the Orphans Fountains, and Gorky Park, and more, all while explaining that rental prices were outrageous. We stopped once to stand outside the Moscow river, and look at a hotel called "The White House." We stopped one final time outside the monument to Peter the Great.
This monument is a great statue of Peter, standing atop of ships that represent his success in creating a Russian navy. Peter is three times larger than the ships. The ships are larger than life size, and they stand on top of each other. All of them stand on top of 20 foot tall fountains, all in the center of the river. It's a little bit much. Its great.
And while I am trying to photograph all of this, where are Sasha and Aslon? Picking more dandelions.
By now it was almost 5pm. We were all exhausted. The tour wound down and we dropped off the other couples at their hotel near the Kremlin.
"Can we get out here too?" Larry asked.
The tour guide looked a bit confused. "Sure. But don't expect to see much at the Red Square. They are still cleaning up from the holiday. It is closed."
We abandoned the tour here and visited Red Square on our own. The four adults and the two little children crossed the traffic and stared wide eyed at the wonders that were set before us.
First we had to cross two busy streets to find our way into Red Square. This was accomplished with the help of two strategically placed tunnels and a visiting American Church Group. The teen church girls who gave us directions were a godsend. Then again, any group that spoke English was a godsend.
We rushed in line to tour St. Basils. Here we were at the most internationally well known building in Russia, the highlight of our Russian tour. They closed 15 minutes before we arrived.
We used a few words that the church girls would not have approved of and moved on. We turned around and took our first good look at Red Square. It was fantastic.
Red Square is a large open area that sits between the walls of the Kremlin and Lenin's Tomb, St. Basil's Cathedral, several blocks of classical buildings, and on the far end, a beautiful multi-story red building.
During the cold war days nuclear missiles and tanks drove across this ground demonstrating Soviet might. Today it was filled tourists. The classical buildings that lined the one side of the square used to be governmental offices filled with soviet bureaucrats pushing the communist ideal. Now it was a series of department stores. The red building intrigued me. What piece of history did it represent? We headed across the square. I will admit, there were remnants of the celebration still in the square, but it was far from closed.
We passed Lenin's tomb, which was closed because it was after 5. I couldn't resist. "There's Lenin's tomb. Where is McCartney's"? I can now say that I was booed out of Red Square.
We made it to the big red building at the far end. I noticed a group of costumed folks standing around in the street near the red building. They were dressed as historical characters, kind of a Russian SCA. They were waiters at a themed restaurant around the corner. I tried to take their pictures but they shied away. They were supposed to draw customers in their fun costumes but they looked extremely bored.
I turned around and there were three interesting people standing at the side of the red building. It took me a moment to put names to their faces. It was Lenin, Stalin, and Marx lounging outside the mysterious red building.
I know what you are thinking. Here I get all mystical and symbolic. No. It was Lenin, Stalin, and Marx, posing for pictures. Yep, for $10 slipped to Karl Marx I could get a memento for a lifetime. I still giggle at that.
I ventured into the big red building at the opposite end of red square from St. Basil's cathedral. What could it be?
It was the best souvenir shop we found in Moscow.
Seriously, the stuff we had been searching for, books, pratushka dolls, crafts and Russian wonders, were priced the best we had seen them in the country.
About an hour later, after even Larry had his fill of shopping, we decided to head back home.
That's when Sasha decided to remind us of his existence. He threw a tantrum. He demanded Joshua Aslon's stroller. He screamed. He sat down and didn't want to move. Sasha was tired. He'd walked too much and wanted to sleep, however he hated sleeping so he insisted he didn't want to sleep. In other words, he was a typical 3-year old, and we were panicking a bit.
Now we needed to find our way back to our hotel. I couldn't even remember the name of it. I new it was a Marriott, but there are several in Moscow.
Luckily Cindy was prepared. All of her earlier reconnaissance paid off. She knew where the taxi's were waiting and even what we should be charged. Ok, she wouldn't be able to find her way out of Red Square even with a map, but she had the info we needed to get home. We joined the crowds leaving the square and heading for the taxi's. First we met one last capitalistic hero who has invaded the one-time home of communism. Standing outside Red Square, posing for pictures, was none other than Mickey Mouse.
Ok, he was a Mickey impersonator. He was also charging for pictures, and when I snapped a quick picture on the run he made some very un- Disney gestures.
We grabbed the cab and headed back to the hotel. The cab driver was very polite and didn't even try to overcharge us.
I was hungry. So were Larry and Mary Beth.
Cindy, however, was fed up with Sasha, and Sasha was being a big 3 year old pain. Cindy just wanted to get Sasha up to bed. She told me to go on and eat, just bring her back something. We had friends who were stationed in Germany. When we visited them Cindy fell in love with good German food. There was a nice German restaurant just across the street from our hotel. From the first trip Cindy had talked about going to it.
We went without her.
Why we are still married I don't know.
The food was very good, though Joshua Aslon was showing signs of being over tired. He was flirting with the girl in the booth next to us, over the booth in fact. Trying to apologize for that to a family that spoke only Russian was a bit difficult. Since it wasn't my son, I considered it a dinner show.
In the middle of dinner exhaustion set in, at least for me. I couldn't finish my delicious Schnitzel. Instead of ordering another one for Cindy, I packed up my leftovers and brought them back to our hotel.
I was halfway back, waiting for the light to change, when Larry mentioned I was holding the bag sideways. Oops.
I snuck back into the room and offered Cindy the leftovers. I fell asleep before she could complain. I think she was too exhausted to notice. She mentioned how good it was the following morning.
One more day down, and one less left before we got home. All we needed to worry about for the next day was the getting pass the US consulate.
Did I say all?
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
After almost a year of waiting to post the next chapter, nobody has anything to say?
Posted by Farmgirl (Member # 5567) on :
We're waiting on the full novel, and don't want to ruin it by reading the short story....
I'm reading! I'm reading! Wish work would quit interrupting!
FG
Posted by whiskysunrise (Member # 6819) on :
Wow. I want more.
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
Tuesday: The Embassy
Sasha woke us up early as usual. By 6:30 we were awake and getting ready for the big day. Sasha was a bit worried about the shower until he got into it. Then he was a bit difficult to get out of it.
As Cindy began her shower I was given the opportunity to entertain Sasha. He was not trusting me too completely yet. What could I do to overcome the language barrier and have fun?
Our room had two great windows overlooking a department store. The window sill was nice and wide. It was also hip height. I picked up Sasha and set him on the sill. It was wide enough for him to stand and look out the window, but not wide enough for him to be safe. I held him, both from falling backwards and from falling into the glass.
He laughed. We watched traffic (Machinas) and people and he laughed.
I figured the day was going to be a great one after all. For our last full day in Russia, it was going to be a simple matter of spending a few minutes at the US Embassy then we will come back here, have a good dinner, and be so close to the long dreaded plane ride home.
Such are the hopes of ignorant people.
In the back of my head was the voice reminding me that if we somehow fouled up the embassy thing, wed be stuck here in Moscow for who knows how long. Our airplane tickets would be so much expensive coloring paper. I worked real hard at ignoring that voice.
My turn in the shower and I discovered that with new children, modesty is a lost luxury. Sasha liked Papa now, and insisted in helping me take my shower, mostly by opening up the shower curtain and letting the cold air-conditioned air freeze my wet naked body. He also seemed to enjoy critiquing my other toilette skills, from the way I washed my hands to the way I made a Stinky.
We all got dressed. Sasha again doffed his favorite (only) hat, and off we headed. Breakfast was almost routine now. We arrived at the table and immediately began clearing everything near Sashas seat of knives, breakables, and anything else he could play with. I was humming to myself. Thirty-six hours and we would be heading home.
Then I began to panic. In thirty-six hours wed be trapped on an airplane with bunch of screaming, crying, seat-wetting kids. The loudest and wettest could very well be mine.
Mary Beth and Larry soon joined us. Breakfast was good and tasty. We then went up to the main play area and allowed the kids to run free. One eye was kept on Sasha. The other was on the time. At 10 we had to be downstairs, ready to go to the Embassy. The kids area was full of parents all leaving at different times for the embassy. I was a bit worried and a bit relieved. I was worried that all these people were going to the embassy, but I was relieved that there seemed to be enough spacing that the line wouldnt be too long.
Sasha discovered the elevator again. He asked to go to the top, so Sasha, Aslon, three other kids, and I took the glass elevator up to the
Four times I took them up to the top. I was less than thrilled with prospect of redundant trips in the elevator. Among the wild amusement park rides that Ive enjoyed, this promised to be as exciting as mud.
Then, I watched the kids as they stood there looking outside the glass walls of the elevator as it ran to the top. Through their eyes and amazement I realized how great a thrill this ride really was. I felt the tickle in my stomach as the elevator began to rise, and the smiles in my head as it stopped at the top. I shared the brief flicker of fear as the doors closed and the exultation of freedom as the doors spread wide open. It was a great ride indeed.
Soon enough, however, it was time to go. We dressed professionally, grabbed our son and our dossier. The dossier was our stack of forms, papers, and legal, certified, notarized, apostilized papers that we needed for the adoption. It weighed almost the same as Sasha, give or take a paperclip.
We met Mary Beth and Larry and our guide down at the hotels main desk. A third family joined us as we loaded into the van. I smiled. It wasnt much of a crowd. It should be over with quickly.
We headed for the American Embassy in Moscow. Now almost anyone born before 1982 will be impressed as I with a visit to this front line of the cold war. Here spies plotted, planned, and patrolled. Unreported deeds of valor and villainy centered on this modest building. The world was changed, repeatedly, by those who walked through its doors. History was made, and quite possibly, allowed to continue, due to decisions made within its walls.
We began at the drive thru-window.
Well, maybe walk-up window is a more accurate description. Our driver parked the van on the street, next door to the embassy. As we got out we were given our instructions. Only the parent-to-bes were allowed in, so Larry had to wait outside. We were to go up to the window on the side of the building and hand over all cameras, tape-recorders, or other spy equipment. Then we were to walk around the front and the real security check would begin.
Suddenly this average looking building didnt seem quite so average any more.
We walked to the window and a not very enthusiastic man mumbled something through the glass. Cindy handed over her cell phone. I did likewise, and added our electronic translator. We were on official American soil. I figured someone here would speak English. Sasha didnt say a word except try to pull us forward. He wanted to catch up to Ms. Mary Beth.
We then went around the front of the building and entered between some marines. I stood a bit taller and made no sudden moves.
The first room was large, with cue lines set up around a semi-circular desk that backed up to the walk-by window. Busy people were standing there taking care of the throng of people doing business at the embassy. I paused to ask for directions and was quickly told follow that line.
That line, painted on the floor of the embassy, ran right into the second room, where metal detectors and more marines waited. Great, I thought. I reached into my pocket to dig out the keys and change that would set off the alarm. Then I felt my camera. It was a small, pocket-sized, digital camera. It was the type of camera that we were supposed to leave at the desk, the type that any spy would love to bring into a US embassy, the type that could inspire these guards to drag me away to some unknown location for deep intensive, unpleasant interrogation.
Cindy I gasped. No cameras were allowed in this room. I couldnt show her. Ill be right back. I ran back to the round desk.
There I presented my camera with a shy, embarrassed, confused explanation when the busy man behind the desk stared back at me. He looked at me exactly the way the lady at the return desk at Wal-Mart looks at me when I return some non-fitting shirt. Theyve heard it all before. They are not impressed. My guilty conscience was totally unjustified.
He took my camera and appeared to not be bothered. I have my doubts about that.
My delay made us loose our place in line for the adoption forms. I quickly passed through the metal detectors and screening. Cindy was stuck at the screening with her giant bag of stuff. In it was packed all the necessities she deemed important. Our dossier, a change of diapers, enough toys to keep a child entertained for 15 years, two translation books. A book for each of us to read, and a magazine incase we were bored.
It is impossible to be bored with a three year old child who isnt sleeping.
She signaled me to go on, so as not to be further delayed. She would catch up. Sasha and I rushed through the bowels of the embassy, rarely getting lost. Cindy ran and by the time we reached our goal, was there with us.
There are grand elegant dining and ball rooms in the American Embassy, filled with all the impressive things necessary to demonstrate American culture, style, and sophistication. There are large technical rooms filled with state of the art electronics for surveillance, communications, and chrome. These rooms exist I am sure. We never saw them, but they exist.
No, we got the 2 penny tour. My view of the US Embassy in Moscow is that of an unfinished 70s basement. It was very utilitarian, very sparse, very ugly. Basically it was about 30 years out of date, and even then, not pretty. Even the soda machines off to the corner were out of the 60sand that was not a high water mark in Coke dispenser art.
The best description of it would be to picture the drivers license bureaus-a large maze of drivers license bureaus.
We worked our way through this maze, as we had worked our way through the bureaucratic maze of paperwork, with pure panic laced efficiency. We finally came to what should have been the last obstaclea set of steps going up into the offices we needed. Unfortunately, twelve feet away there was ramp going up the same direction. Which was the right way? If we took the wrong waywellthe well armed marines would wonder what we were doing in the wrong place. I paused in indecision.
Cindy did not. She marched right up the steps. Sasha drug me forward, following her.
At the top of the steps was a room, maybe twenty feet wide and ten feet deep. At the far end were a row of windows with lines of parents waiting patiently for their turns. The lines were short, and there were seats lining the right wall and most of the wall around where we came up. This was going to be comfortable and not take to much time at all.
The wall where we came up was broken by our entrance way, with the stairs leading down. It was close to the right wall. It was also broken by the entranceway to the ramp I had debated using. The wall between these two entranceway was lined with chairs. This left a nice 12 foot square block with no doors in the middle of the embassy. What mysterious purpose did this architectural oddity serve? I didnt have time to imagine.
The left wall wasnt. It was an open space leading to a larger room. This larger room was overflowing with families sitting in generic plastic and wire chairs that are so common amongst bureaucrats. There were divided cubicles at the far end where people sat on one side and officials sat on the other. I tried hard to ignore that room. It was my hope that we wouldnt have to go in there.
Cindy and Mary Beth got in line. Cindy had volunteered to be custodian of the paperwork, and she guarded it like a trooper. Its not that she didnt trust me with the paperwork. Her hand writing was much clearer, and her organizational skills are very good, and well, now that I mention it, she didnt trust me with the paperwork.
Aslon and Sasha quickly tired of waiting in line. They started to play and pull the others out of line. Ill watch them I said.
I let them wander a bit, building within them a sense of independence that would be great for the future development.
They took it and ranliterally ran, and at full speed. And they headed straight for the steps.
Three year olds dont run fast. With ease I got ahead of them and gently turned them around. With even more ease, Sasha looked up at me and smiled, then ran for the entranceway with the ramp. He and Aslon had a new game.
With about five big Papa steps I was in front of them and spun them around. They giggled, then headed in a third direction, towards the crowds in the far room. As I went to stop them there, Sasha broke away from Aslon and headed for the steps. They were dividing up, which meant I had to be twice as fast.
I had speed on them, and a long reach, but they had numbers, and stamina. By now the women were done with the line. Each had a pad of papers to fill out and a number. We just had to wait for numbers to be called, but till then they needed to fill out the paperwork. Mary Beth tried to grab a hold of Aslon to keep him from giving me a heart attack. All that succeeded in doing was creating a safe base for both of the kids. When I cut off their retreat they would run back to her. Then when my back was turned, or if I dared sit down, they would be off and running again.
Slowly the fun of the game wore off on me, but not on them. One time Aslon got a bit ahead of me and was almost at the steps when a kindly mother stopped him for me. I thanked the nice woman quickly and was off after the other. Mary Beth eyed the woman with a lingering bit of suspicion.
Later a kindly young father stopped Sasha at the bottom of the ramp. I moved like lightening, grabbed Sasha from the man, and without growling too loud, got him clear of the child-hungry dangerous stranger. Hey, I had been a father less than a week. NOBODY TOUCHES MY SONHES MINE!
They called Mary Beths number and she went back up to the window. What was said or done there I did not know, but with regret I saw her head toward the larger room.
A child ran for the steps. I reached down and redirected him before I realized it was someone elses. Even before my hand was off his shoulder, a father stood in front of me glaring. His thanks were squeezed between clenched teeth. He spun and moved on quickly. What an overprotective, angry man he was.
A few minutes later they called our number. Cindy went to the window. Papers were exchanged. She then motioned for us to follow, into the large room, where we would be forced to wait.
We had been there for about a half an hour, and had just made it through the check-in. Now we had to wait for our interview.
This room was large, about 30x50. The walls on three sides were lined with the same plastic chares with the wire legs. In the center of the room were several rows of identical chairs. Families of all sizes filled every chair and extras stood waiting.
At the far end were four half-cubicles. A table sat in the center of each. On our side families gathered one at a time. On the other side, stressed Embassy Staff worked hard, repeating the same questions, over and over again.
Out of a door at that far side of the room, out stepped a man in a well rumpled suit. May I have your attention please. All of the adults hushed. Most of the children did the same. Most of the babies took their turns in the screaming choir. Thank you all for coming. Since Saturday was a holiday which we observed yesterday, we are a bit more crowded today than usual. Please bear with us. When we call your name, step up to a window and have all of your paperwork with you.
What followed were more detailed descriptions about the paperwork. I didnt notice much as Sasha was making a break out of my hands and I had to stop him.
Then he continued. As you know, the US Government does not acknowledge dual citizenship. Russia, however, does. Please remember that your children will remain Russian Citizens in the eyes of Russia for the length of their lives. This means that they must meet all of its citizens obligations. For young men, this means that you may be drafted. Any Russian male between the ages of 18 and 22 may be forced to serve a couple of years in the Russian military. We suggest that you do not visit Russia during those years.
The room was silent for a moment. Even the babies quit screaming.
Then, in a flash, it was over and the screams, jabbering, laughs and random noise continued.
The game was easier now that we moved into the big room. There was only one exit leading to the steps and ramp. I blocked that easily, and the boys seemed beaten.
Then Sasha decided that if you couldnt walk out, he could crawl. It started while sitting on Cindys lap in one of the chairs along the wall. He decided he wanted to sit on Mary Beths lap, put I was in the way. He got down on the floor, on his knees, and crawled under the chair, under me, and out between Mary Beths legs. She was busy holding a tired Aslon, and just laughed.
With Aslon out for the count, Sasha decided to see where else he could explore. Since keeping him trapped in my arms was a bruising and loosing battle, I let him. I followed by walking along the chairs, passing out apologies whenever someone noticed his movement.
With a flash he crawled out from under one of the chairs and crawled across the open space, and under the end chair in one of the middle rows. Now I had a problem. The chairs in the center are close together. While there is room to squeeze in and sit down, there is not room to walk between the knees of a sitter and the backs of the next row.
On the other hand I couldnt let Sasha disappear into the crowd. Nor could I follow him by crawling under the seats. I dove in. Apologies followed as I squeezed past knees, bumped heads, stuck parts of my anatomy into strangers faces that one would not normally put in the face of a stranger. Finally I reached the end of the row.
Sasha had beat me. He stood up and waived me on. At least now people believed me when I told them why I was barging in on their frustrated waiting. Just as I was about to grab Sasha he dove under the next row of chairs.
Now all those people whos heads I bumped a moment ago got to have me bump their knees this time.
Its good to meet new people.
This went on for about an hour, or 40. Finally, bit by bit, the room began to empty. More and more parents and children were becoming official US families. Fewer and fewer were entering.
At long last we were called. We grabbed our seats, and our son, and presented our papers. Mary Beth was in the cube next to us. It took some force to get Sasha to come to our table instead of hers. Sasha protested.
The man at the table was pleasant. He told us the obvious things, like how adorable Sasha is and how lucky we are. I think the man was brilliant. He then asked for our paperwork.
Here, the last of our dossier, the work of 9 months labor, of endless meetings, constant notarization, and repeated apostilization, was handed to the man, and I mean The Man for the last time.
He glanced at it, marked a sheet, then ignored it.
Three years of meticulously kept tax records were in that stack of papers.
All it earned was a mark and then move on?
I was stunned. I almost demanded that he at least acknowledge the tax report, that he check my math, do something. I almost screamed for a tax audit!
Then I realized that I had missed lunch, and that low blood sugar does strange and stupid things to me. I smiled as he handed us the papers.
Its official. He said with a warm smile. The moment you get off the plane in the US, Alexander Matthew Davis will be a US Citizen. He handed us all the passports back. We thanked him, got up and left.
The way out of the embassy was just as labyrinth like as the way in, but since we were one of the last to leave, it was more empty, more solemn, and just a bit more creepy. We moved quickly.
I picked up my camera and cell phone from the walk-up window and headed back to the van. The third family was still inside so we had to wait for them. I used this time to take a wonderful memorial photo of the famed US Embassy in Moscow.
I took out the camera I had inadvertently snuck through one layer of our prestigious security. I turned it on and took a digital picture.
For the first time since I owned the camera, the image did not come out clear. There were strange vertical lines running up and down the digital screen. Three more times I attempted to take that picture. Three more times the image was messed up. I began to wonder if there was some Sci-Fi based interference system that was blocking my photos.
For the next two years that perfect camera continued to malfunction, requiring a sharp smack on the side to work well. I am not saying that my mistake in taking the camera into the embassy resulted in some intelligence operative dissecting then reassembling my camera, with a resulting imperfection that caused this problem. I would never criticize my country, and its well armed, torture proficient, security forces. Nor would I ever dream of demanding monetary recompense for this camera.
Still, I wont be making that mistake again.
We climbed into the van as the last family emerged from the embassy. Now, I planned, we go back to the hotel, have dinner, go to bed, and when we wake up we plan to leave.
Wrong.
First we had a quick stop to look for some pull up pants for Asalon. Apparently they were unheard of in Russia. Then we stopped at CHIs offices. We got out of the van, walked through the building into the open alley behind it, followed the alley to another door, entered that building and got in the questionable elevator. Sasha loved the elevator. Cindy hated it.
Then we went down the hallway and to the CHI offices. Small snacks were provided for the kids, as were toys. For the adults, internet connected computer was our toy. Snacks, not so much.
We were then presented with our last bill.
There was more paperwork.
There were tearful farewells and thank yous to all the staff.
Finally we went back to the hotel.
In our room we emptied the refrigerator of all of our leftover food, holding a great farewell banquette to Russia. We only kept a few yogurts which might come in handy on the plane rides.
While Cindy was busy preparing the food, Sasha and I went out to play in the main room again. I hoped to get on line on the computer there, but it was busy. Asalon was out there and they played with great gusto, picking up other kids toys and trying to take them home.
At one point he came to me and said, Papapotty.
I made the big mistake. I said, Hold on as I finished my conversation with one of the parents. He went back to his friends and their toys. I walked up to him and said, Do you have to go?
He looked up at me and smiled. Not anymore.
His pants looked dry. He had been doing such a good job with his bathroom habits that we were not putting him in the pull up pants. Yet as I bent over to see if his pants were dry, the aroma that rose to my nose told me dry and clean were not the same.
I took him, protesting and walking funny, back to our room. Cindy was busy, so I got to do the honors, of cleaning out his underwear and changing his clothes.
Stinky he said.
I agreed.
Soon we were back out playing.
This may have been one of the most important things that I did that day. I had wondered how I would handle the issue of messed pants. Would it be to icky for me to deal with? No. I got over it, got used to it, and got on with my life.
After dinner we put Sasha to sleep, then cleaned up. We packed a bit, washed some clothes, did general housekeeping. It still hadnt sunk in that it was all but over.
Still, as I laid down to go to sleep that night, I didnt have sheep jumping over a fence to relax me. I had hours sliding over a fence, the hous until our flight left, and more importantly, landed, in St. Louis, and we were home.
Posted by jexx (Member # 3450) on :
Man, I love this story. Even if it *does* take years to tell.
Thank you Dan, thank you Cindy, thank you Sasha.
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
With any luck, I'll have us home and safe by the end of April. Well, in the story anyway. We get home and safe every night in real life.
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
WednesdayThe Last Longest Day.
Children can be useful at times.
I say this with the full knowledge that one of the great roadblocks that often stop international adoptions is the fear that we are only looking for a cheap source of child labor. I do not mean that our endeavor to adopt Sasha was a labor saving device.
Not at all.
It is only that, occasionally, children can be useful.
We woke up early, to Sashas demand for to play. I went to the restroom, only to be quickly joined by a smiling Sasha. And I mean he joined me in my current endeavor. Contrary to that movie, crossing the streams did not cause every particle in our bodies to fly in opposite directions at the speed of light.
Oh the joys of bonding that only a father and son can share.
We washed our hands and prepared for the day. A shower was necessary since it would be a real long daythanks to time zones. Sasha was ready this time and jumped in. Getting him out, however, was a bit of a task.
While we were doing this Momma was beginning to pack up. We joined her all refreshed and clean. She jumped in the shower while I spent the time keeping Sasha from unpacking everything that Cindy had packed. When Cindy came out of the shower I realized my work had been useless as she unpacked everything to repack it yet again. Now she was trying to keep Sasha out of the suitcases as his curiosity had him moving, touching, examining everything from the hairdryer to her underwear.
Cindy can get a bit overly motivated with things like this packing, so she was about to explode when I suggested breakfast. The car would be arriving at 10 to take us to the airport. We needed to eat a good meal before then. Packing could wait. Cindy agreed and up we ran to eat.
Sasha began looking for and crying for Asalon and Mary Beth. When he saw Larry behind us he took off running to them. The six of us had our last meal together at the breakfast bar.
They even had bottles of Pepsi for me to drink. It just whetted my appetite for later.
Cindy snuck a bottle in her bagfor later.
Still, nobody was really hungry. We were all excited to leave, so soon we were back at the elevators, going to our rooms. As we got out, into the big play room, Cindy turned to me and said You, take Sasha and play. Ill call you when the bags are ready.
See. Kids can be useful.
Though I think packing up a few bags wasnt as exhausting as watching Sasha.
We said good-bye to the place that was such a big part of our bonding. Sasha and Asalon hid in the cabinet as Larry attacked the computer. They even brought one of the other boys, the bashful little boy who seemed scared of everyone, and the three of them took turns being closed up in the little cabinet.
Before long the bellboy came up and soon had a cart full of our luggage, and a couple other families as well. Cindy came out of the room and took over Sasha patrol while I did a last minute check of the room. It was spotless. Cindy would never forget anything, and my check insured that nothing of value went missing, like the book I lost on the first trip. I still dont know how Micheners Caribbean ends.
Hands were gabbed and strollers unleashed and we went downstairs to await our vanour escape vehicle from Moscow as I called it.
It arrived and everyone loaded stuff inside, then loaded us inside. The seating was tight, as they packed in as many of us as could go in one trip. Since there were no child-seat laws or seatbelt laws in Moscow we were perfectly legal sitting on the floor and squeezed four to a seat. We headed down the road and to the airport.
We passed the 3D Simpsons Movie In Imax and the Ikea storetwo things that will always make me think of Moscow. We passed the Peoples Athletic Stadium, with its powerful statues of the common man/athlete of the Soviet Union in their unparalleled glory, though now separated by a Nike billboard.
We made it safely to the airport. Moscow was officially a memory.
We had arrived early for two reasons. First, some of the families had earlier flights. Secondly, I would rather wait around for an hour or two instead of missing my escapeflight by a few minutes.
The Moscow airport was not the most impressive airport Ive ever visited. However it did have hints of the American life I was so missing. There in the main concourse was TGIFridays. Alas, we couldnt stop.
Finally we reached the point where we had to leave our CHI Muscovites. From this point on only those with tickets were allowed. There were thanks and hugs and a tear or two, and we pushed our oversized carts full of luggage.
Sasha was not upset by the parting. He was in great spirits. If I could keep him this happy then all my fears of the flight home would be for nothing.
There were four open lines we were divided into. This was the preliminary id check and luggage check-in. After our luggage would disappear down a chute to the waiting machination of the airport crew, we were supposed to move into a long maze of a cue line to passport control. Then we would enter the international concourse and await our plane.
That was the plan.
MaryBeth, Larry and Asalon were in front of us, and they got in one of the long luggage lines. Cindy and I moved into another. This meant we had to separate.
Sasha did not want to separate from Mary Beth and Asalon.
Sasha began to protest.
It was not a soft, well spoken protest. There was no Dearest father and mother, I wish to spend more of my time with yon friends Ms. Mary Beth and Mr. Lawrence as well as my good comrade Mr. Joshua Asalon.
No. His protest was, how should I put this, more a soul wrenching scream of the damned. And that was just the beginning. He yelled. He cried. He hit. He bit. He threw a tantrum that the grand vizier of the tantrum kingdom would have bowed down to in awe.
Every fear that I had of the flight home was coming true. Being locked up in an airplane for 8 hours of this would be unbearable. Desparately I tried everything I had read, heard, half heard, and a few things I made up. They didnt work. He continued his tantrum. All around me others stared, each praying please dont let THEM be on our flight. Cindy pulled out the crackers, the cookies, the much loved cheese bits. Food was not the answer. Mary Beth looked on caught between wanting to come over and quiet him, and not wanting to interfere. I knew if she came over, then next parting, our final parting for a long time, would be even worse.
Suddenly the sea of people parted as a manager came forward. He spoke no English, but gestured for us to follow.
Great I thought. We are going to be kicked off of our airplane.
He took us to a just opening 5th line, and put us in the front. Cindy held him despite the bruises he was inflicting, and the screaming in her ear. I just had to push our heavy cart of luggage. They quickly relieved me of most of our luggage (just three heavy bags of carry-on).
I smiled, grabbing tight on the still tantrum-ing, screaming, hitting, biting Sasha. Cindy relinquished him to me in order to give our paperwork to the officials, and to staunch the flow of blood from one of his more nasty bites. (I am not exaggerating here.)
There was a bit of confusion, but soon our paperwork was approved. Heck, it was rushed as the manager continued to push his officials to finalize things. I looked back at the crowds still in line, expecting to see a wall of angry eyes glaring at me for my sons tantrum and our expedited treatment.
Instead I was met with a wall of sympathy. Most had been through this before, or feared it would happen soon enough.
There was also some impatience for us to move our child swiftly out of earshot. We did.
We wound our way through the maze of cue lines to the passport officials. Sasha was now screaming at the top of his lungs, but his voice was shot. We were just getting bright red face and large gasps of air.
It was almost humorous to look at, if we werent scared hed suffocate himself.
And there was still the kicking and hitting and occasionally, biting. I began to wonder what part of Transylvania Sashas ancestry derived from.
We got through Passport Control in a flash. I stared back at the long lines and the long wait that we had quickly been escorted around. I knew we were tired and sore and mad, but the thought returned to me once againchildren can be useful at times.
We walked into an open concourse full of duty-free shops and world travelers. We began to walk up and down the concourse, avoiding anywhere Mary Beth and Asalon might turn up. We didnt want to have to go through this again.
There was a bar there of course. It was an Irish pub. I was so tempted to go in there and get a Black Russian. I had often contemplated the fact that I had been twice to Russian, and had only one drink of cheap Vodka. Ordering a Black Russian in Russia seemed, somehow, appropriate. Yet I had never gotten around to it. Looking in at the pub I considered it. Then I looked at Cindy. Leaving her here with Sasha and his tantrum, while I was passed out from alcohol, was not a good idea.
Shed hurt me badly in my sleep.
Or Sasha would.
Sasha was still calling for MommaMary Beth. He was still crying. Cindy was on the edge of tears as well. She carried him while I lugged our carry on luggage, which seemed to gain weight as we walked.
Two little grandmothers rushed over to us as soon as they heard Sasha crying. These sweet babushkas spoke not a word of English. We did not speak enough Russian to understand what they said. All I know is that they talked to Sasha. He stopped crying and buried his shy face into Cindys shoulder. Then, with the utmost care and delicacy, he reached out to them. In their hands was a small piece of candy. He smiled as we opened it for him. We thanked the ladies, and Sasha thanked the ladies. They seemed to be thanking us as well, or telling us how sweet and cute Sasha is (though in truth they may have been also calling us filthy names for abusing this little angel, but I dont think so).
We never learned their names, or where they were from or where they were going. We just learned once again that the Russian people have hearts bigger than Siberia.
We did grab some real food, looked around for some shopping, and eventually ended up in a corner at a bit of a distance from our gate. I didnt want Sasha to see Mary Beth until after the flight landed. There may not be any babushkas on the plane. (We did take in a supply of candy though.just in case).
The international terminal at Moscow International Airport is a round building. You actually enter in the center, and a ring of gates intermixed with a variety of stores await you. Outside of that ring was the incoming flight debarkation path. In other words, people arriving in Moscow walked the outside of the circle, while we waiting to leave waited inside. There were walls of glass that separated the two circles, and that separated the outer circle from the outside. From where we sat we had a great view of the outside, and all the comings and goings of all the planes. We chose a gate that was not in use, that was 25 feet, and one set of walls and shops, from our gate, and from Mary Beth.
We sat, entertained Sasha, and read while we waited the two hours left until our flight. Occasionally I got up and walked to our line just to see if everything was OK. Mary Beth and Larry wanted to make sure Sasha was OK. They agreed to the distance policy, either realizing that it was best for Sasha, or wanting to save their own ears.
Sasha had his own bag, filled with toys and a spare set of clothes or two. He pulled out the biggest thing in it, the coloring carry case his Aunt had gotten him. It would not go back in the case easily, but we didnt care. He was quiet.
That didnt last. He soon got bored, so Momma took him shopping again, away from our gate. Then I took him. We must have walked a marathon or two during that waiting time.
During one of these walks I ran across a group of teens. They were thrilled to have the opportunity to practice their English with a real American. They talked about Sasha, and about their trip. This youth group of 40 or 50 were going hiking in Finland. I was just amazed, how European does that sound?
Mostly they just said, Hello sir and giggled. Apparently that was the limit of their English. I am not complaining. It sure beat my Russian.
When the plane started loading we got our stuff together and went to the back of the line. I was praying that Mary Beth was farther back in the plane than we were. Having Sasha walk by her would be very bad. Having him see her and start screaming again would be a disaster, especially since his vocal chords had stopped swelling by now.
We were in luck. Our seat was in the first row in the coach section, center seats. Mary Beth and company were about 10 rows behind us along the window. Our first row gave us plenty of leg room, even room enough to play a bit if we were out of our seats. Cindy had arranged this after reading about it on a web-site.
The only possible problem this seating could have was that the movie would be a bit difficult to view. Then again, I didnt care as long as it was in English, and wasnt Scooby Do 2.
My big worry was Sasha. Were we ready to be hit by yet another tantrum torrent? The plane moved away from the terminal and began to roll down the runway. Cindy began digging out all the possibly toys and tantrum cures she could find and placing them in the easy to reach magazine holder in front of us. I closed my eyes and prayed.
By the time the plane reached the end of the runway, Sasha was asleep.
We were safe. With a sigh that could have been mistaken for gratitude over a safe liftoff, I relaxed. Soon the movie started and I planned a nice 8 hour calm flight to New York.
The move came on.
It was Scooby Do 2.
Food came and went. I dont even remember what was served. I was hoping that Sasha would remain asleep all the way to New York. That didnt happen. After about 4 hours of sleep, Sasha got up and told me Toiletta.
I have previously crossed my legs and held my bladder across three states other than use the flying facilities. They were an odd and uncomfortable, and usually crowded inconvience that I always managed to avoid. This time I was up and half way down the aisle before I realized where we were going.
We passed Mary Beth and Asalon. Sasha stopped to say hello, but he was in too big a hurry to stick around. We did our business safely and efficiently, then returned down the aisle. Asalon was being cranky and noisy, crying because his ears hurt or because he was hungry. Sasha didnt like that and moved past them quickly. I gave Mary Beth a sympathetic glance, then moved on as well.
Now Sasha was beginning to get fidgety. He needed something to do, to keep himself busy. Momma passed him the playdo. He was thrilled.
There was no crisis to avert so I relaxed just in time to catch the next film. Peter The Greats Negro Takes a Wife.
Odd I thought.
What followed kept me riveted for the next two hours. Let me sum up. With African Shadow Puppet like cartoons we learn the back story. In a small African village, Ottoman raiders take a young boy. He eventually winds up as a gift to the new Russian Czar, Peter the Great. While usually the lot for such a child was to be one of servitude and manual labor, this child amused Peter. He was educated.
He proved to be intelligent, loyal, and brave, three things not readily seen in most of the nobles in court, or in Peters own sons as well. He became a favorite of Peters. Apparently many were the adventures of this African, but they show up in other movies.
Eventually the boy is sent to Paris, as many young nobles were sent to Europe, to learn how to build ships, engineering in general, and all the science of the west. He was also given many diplomatic duties in Paris, which was the center of the Western world at that time.
Apparently Paris of that time resembles High School. One bored young woman, looking for novelty and to make her husband jealous, takes this young AfricanAbraham Hannibal, as a lover.
Then she gets pregnant. When the new born babe has dark skin, the womans husband discovers her games and seeks revenge. He challenges Abraham to a duel. The poor Abraham makes the mistake of winning the duel, which gets his stay in Paris cut short.
The poor woman, now widow, has her dark skinned child sent off to the Caribean Islands to live a life of slavery.
This is where our story picks up. It is a fun and emotionally moving tale of how this outcast befriends a petty thief into being his servant, and eventually marries the daughter of a nobleman, despite the nobles familys fear of her marrying down. Only when Peter himself scares them into the realization that this marriage is good for their future, does everyone agree. She loves him, he loves her, and everything is fine until the next movie.
Of more interest is watching Peter maneuver and out maneuver the local nobles into making his dream of a modern Russia a reality. At one part there is a grand party on the new giant warship created for Peter. The ship rests in dry-dock, awaiting its grand christening the next day. During the party Peter discovers that poor workmanship and poor materials, all arranged by the greedy nobles dancing on the boat, make the ship useless. He single-handedly launches the ship while everyone else is dancing. As it sinks the nobles all must swim for their lives back to shore.
Another time a group of young nobles return from their training in Europe. Peter promises to appoint captains to every one who can walk a sparcross a large opening between the ship under construction and the supporting dock, by way of a small piece of lumber. Those who truly studied ship building hands on would have no trouble. Those who wasted their time drinking and socializing would not. Most of the young nobles fell into the water below.
The bad news about this movie was that it was done in black-face. Apparently there were not a lot of black actors in Russia during the 50s when this was made.
What of the ex-slave Afro-Russian this story was about? What ever became of him? Well, for answers you would have to ask the legendary author Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin. Pushkin did not create this character. He was descended from him.
Abraham Hannibal actually existed. His brilliance descended into his great grandson, Pushkin, who did start to write about him.
Another interesting fact was that Pushkins children married into the limited web of European Nobility. Here is just one of several threads of African lineage that invigorates the old blue blood worshipped by so many.
Back to my own little Russian noble, Sasha eventually tired of the play-do and tumbled off to sleep. I packed the fun Play-do, mostly as an excuse to play with it myself. The red container was empty. Looking on the floor, the seats, the walls, I realized the play-do itself wasnt really missing. It was spreading like an alien blob. I quietly covered up what I couldnt pick up, and hoped I wouldnt be receiving a bill for the cleaning of a 747.
The announcement came to prepare ourselves for landing. Due to time zones, it was still light, so I stretched my head around hoping to see the Statue of Liberty. I did not. What I did see was just land, the US, home. That was enough to make me happy.
Sasha awakened again as the air pressure changed. I held his hand and held my breathe. Some in the plane said as soon as the wheels touched the ground, Sasha would be an American. Others claimed it would be only once we stepped on US soil. Others said it was once we were through immigrations.
I decided the best solution was to celebrate each of those steps.
The wheels lowered with a muffled thump. My heart began racing.
Lower and lower we came, though from the middle section I couldnt see out the windows well to see how far we had to go. That was fine. It helped build the tension.
The pressure changed and the ears stopped up a bit and we continued down.
Suddenly, bump.
The wheel touched the ground and I shouted Hurray. I was not the only one. Nor was this shout for the miracle of a safe landing, as such shouts had been in Russia. This was a You are now an American shout.
Two more bumps and we were taxing to the gate.
We did not rush from our seats. With Sasha we were learning the value of taking our time. We were busy, but there was less stress than if we were rushing.
Eventually we reached the gangway, and up that to the airport. I tried to shout and celebrate again, but Cindy was tired. She drug me on, insisting that there would be plenty of time to celebrate while we waited in line at customs.
The thought of that wait had me considering what I could do to get Sasha to throw another tantrum. The bruises on my arm made me realized that was not a good idea. I could always throw a tantrum, but grown ups that throw tantrums usually end up in jail.
Luckilly American efficiency, and the fact that few other planes were landing this early, meant there was practically no line at customs. We walked right up to the window and handed over our paperwork.
And were quietly told to get our bags and report to the office. There was a problem.
Panic ensued. Could I grab Sasha and pull Cindy through the terminal before being shot? I wanted to go home.
Cindy smiled and went where we were told, holding tightly on to Sasha. I went to find us a cart, and almost to get a lawyer.
I packed our bags onto the cart with a lot of help from Sasha. He wanted to run after being cooped up on that plane, and I wasnt going to stop himunless he got more than 4 feet away from me where some stranger from New York could grab him.
We then wheeled our way to the office. There a pleasant young man took our papers and stamped them as needed. I saw Mary Beth there with Asalon, and other parents there as well. Apparently this was just standard procedure for new American adoptees.
There may have been more, but Sasha looked up at the man. Sashas big brown eyes and bright smile melted his heart. He stamped with a smile.
Yes, sometime kids can be useful.
Within minutes we stepped out of the customs area, now completely legally in the United States. This time we all Yahood.
Now with a cart full of all of our bags we began the long ascent up to the bus stop where our shuttle would take us to the hotel. First, however, we had to say goodbye to Mary Beth, Larry, and Asalon. I expected tears and screams, from Cindy if from no one else. Instead we all seemed rushed, exhausted and happy to be home, we exchanged promises to call and visit and to work out details later and yes we had you e-mail address.
Just like that they were gone. Somehow I felt cut off from an anchor as I watched them leave. I felt deprived that there were no tears, no long good-byes. More, I realized I was going to miss them all, even if they inadvertently try to steal my Sasha.
We called the hotel, and they sent a shuttle bus for us. We rushed to meet it, and arrived just as it did. The driver loaded our bags and we crashed on the seats. Sasha stared out the windows at everything. So did I. I was looking for NEW YORK CITY! All I saw was standard urban sprawl. There were schools and churches, play grounds and factories, people and cars, but nothing outstanding.
Then when we got to the Hotel, I found something outstanding. Burger King! Ok, Burger King is not normally considered outstanding, but if youve gone weeks without fast food, or at least fast food that you are used to, you would find the fact that there was a Burger King within walking distance of your hotel to be greatly outstanding.
We arrived at the hotel, and got our room. Reaching the elevator, a hand darted out to hold it open for us. A maid, on her way to deliver something in another room, stopped to allow us and our luggage inside. It was a tight squeeze, but she didnt seem to mind. She was busy staring at Sasha, who was staring back with his big brown eyes and his easy bright smile.
Yes, children could be useful.
We got to our room as the sun was setting on this long day. I was ready to sleep, or at least go out for a cheese burger. First we had to unpack and get ready for the next day. Our flight was set for mid-morning and we didnt want to miss it. We just unpacked sleeping clothes and clothes for the trip home, and about two tons of things for Sasha to do. All he wanted to do was not go to sleep. I had the honor of unpacking the money belt. Almost $3,000 in unused emergency money was secure in the too tight belt Cindy wore all day. While she got changed I looked around for a secure place to store most of the money. The room contained a TV cabinet that did not reach the ceiling. After removing what I thought I might need for a hamburger run I placed the rest on the cabinet, behind the rim, where no one would find it.
We then watched a few minutes of TV, but that didnt last. Sure having 100 channels of mostly English speaking TV was a great relief, but Sashas demands to not go to sleep only proved how tired he was. He demanded exercise, a tour of the sights of this new place. We went for a walk, which I hoped would end at Burger King. Instead it lasted up one end of the hallway and down the other. We spent a large amount of time admiring the wonders and fascinations of the hotels Ice Machine. Never, never, never teach a four year old what lever to press to make ice pour out. Trust me. It is not a good idea.
Eventually we returned to our room where Momma was waiting to tuck us all in. We turned off the lights until his snoring commenced.
Then, when we were sure he was sound asleep, I started hinting to Cindy that we really should eat, and that the restaurant down stairs was probably closed, and that the nutritional value of a hamburger and greasy French fries were not to be ignored. She told me to go.
Down the elevator, across the not-so-dangerous streets of New York, and into my first English speaking restaurant in a week. Ten minutes later, and one dodged Cab, and I was back in our room sharing my bounty with my tired wife. As I sat back in the bed, clicking through the usual stations, wiping excess ketchup from my lips, I realized that now, not when we entered the plane, or the wheels touched down, not when we stepped on US soil, or when we got through customs, but now I was truly in America.
I lifted my overly sugared, overly iced carbonated beverage to the TV and saluted. Viva America! I said quietly as my wife rolled over in her sleep. Soon I turned of the lights and the TV and through my arm over both Sasha and Cindy. We were all almost home.
Posted by rivka (Member # 4859) on :
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
Thursday June 18thhome.
The phone rang precisely at 6, as we requested. He had a lot to do and only a few long hours to do it in. More importantly, we didnt want to be late for our last plane.
First thing, get up and take turns in the bathroom. Shower, shave, brush teeth, and answer the call of nature. All of it was done while half asleep, and with a complete audience. Sasha took his turn and Momma followed.
While Sasha and I waited for Mommas exit from the bathroom we began to get dressed. I turned on the TV to keep us company, and try to wake myself up. Turn that off! came the command from the bathroom. I did.
Momma emerged half dressed and proceeded to organize our packing endeavors. We had only unpacked what we needed for the night, yet there was still a mess. How could we do that?
By 7am we were ready to leave the hotel room. Sasha had already left, with me, to take three walks down the hall. Two of them ended at the ice machine where he pushed the button and made ice appear magically.
I contemplated the cost of an ice machine for his birthday.
Yet at 7 we were ready to drag all of our bags out of the room and down to the front desk. Sleepy as I was, I did the idiot check. I checked under the bed and behind the toilette and in the drawers we never used.
Clear I declared, and we left.
Two thousand dollars sat on top of the TV cabinet in a worn money belt that I assumed Cindy had hidden away somewhere.
We went downstairs and checked out. Cindy grasped my hand as the creakity elevator began to descend. Sasha giggled.
Checking out was simple and easy. Keeping track of Sasha was not difficult. I just followed him around and said Nyet every time he touched something. The shuttle to the airport wouldnt leave until 8, but we knew that. We walked into the diner that shared the hotel building.
The food in Moscow was probably better, definitely lower in grease, but did not have the one thing I longed for mostEnglish. It was simple pancakes and Mrs. Butterworth syrup and just about as comfortably American as I could hope for. Sasha seemed happy as he wolfed down his food.
Asalon? he asked one time. We said, later. After dinner we walked around the outside of the hotel a bit until the shuttle arrived. Sasha yearned to run off and play, but we couldnt allow that today.
The shuttle driver was fun and talkative. Unfortunately I was exhausted. I still craned my neck searching for some New York City landmark to tell all my friends about. Highways look like highways.
We were dropped off at the correct terminal. There would be no running from one end of the concourse to the other. With ease and calmness we checked our bags and gathered our tickets and prepared for the last flight.
The airport was mostly empty at 8:15 in the morning. There was practically a shopping mall in the center of the terminal but most of the stores didnt open until 9 or 10. Most of the flights didnt leave until then either. We walked through security without incident and found our exact terminal and waited.
Cindy unpacked Sashas drawing box. This present from his Aunt Barb contained colors and coloring books and markers guaranteed not to mark on anything except their special paper. Unfortunately Aunt Barb was overenthusiastic with her gift, filling the box past its closing point. Sasha sat down and started drawing, but every time he moved, the box popped open and all the goodies fell out.
We spent an hour watching Sasha draw scribbles that occasionally bordered on a shape. Cindys attempts to get him to draw within the lines met with brusque independent annoyed huffs as he turned his back to her and continued to play.
Before too long he got bored with that and tried running around. Our mid-west paranoia took hold. Sure, we have traveled half way across the world, been to parts of Russia that even Napoleon decided to ignore, and dared to drink the water, but this was New York City. It was filled with all sorts of illegal elements waiting to prey on innocent children like Sasha.
I hurried after him and protected him like a shield.
He came back down as Momma offered him some of the remaining Cheez Its. She held them in her bag with just about everything else in the known universe. I tried to pick that bag up oncejust once.
The crowd had gathered, our plane was at the terminal and the attendants were at the desk. Soon they would start boarding. We were not rushed. Our seats were near the back of the plane. There was no rush.
Then the boarding steward said those remarkable words, We will begin seating for those with First Class Tickets, those who need assistance, and those with small children. Thank you.
Cindy looked up at me as I looked up at her. Together we mouthed, those with small children?
In a flash we gathered our bags, our toys, and a confused Sasha. Cindy jammed everything she could into her oversized carry-on bad. I grabbed Sasha, who held onto his drawing table.
We walked onto the plane.
They glanced once at Cindys oversized bag, but then saw Sasha and with understanding, let us board. Sashas drawing table they considered his carry-on.
Great. After all that rush we were stuck sitting on the plane in cramped airplane seats, with recycled air blowing over us.
Cindy solved the problem. She pulled out the Play-Do. Green was the color of choice, and we kept a close eye on it. We wanted to have some left by the time we got home.
Before too long, and without further incident, the plane took off. Somehow I ended up in the aisle seat. That meant my last chance to catch a glimpse of the famous New York, New York, slipped away. I was too tired to worry about it.
The stewardess fell in love with Sasha almost immediately. Then again, everyone does. We explained what we were doing, where Sasha was from, and why he didnt say hello. The stewardess was delighted. He got extra pretzels.
Since the flight left at 10, and was two and a half hours long, I had hopes that we would get lunch. Instead we got pretzels. While they were good, they did not satisfy my growing hunger.
Once again the Cheez-Its saved me.
To this day Cindy has a way of amazing me with her forethought.
I introduced Sasha to the wonders of making worms with Play-do. Apparently before now all he knew was to smash it, squish it, pinch it, and rub it all over his skin. What I did by making a ball and a snake was magic. He was set to try this for the rest of the flight.
As the flight reached its cruising altitude only one last thought came to me before a nap. I really should have hit the bathroom before boarding.
Two hours later that thought was with me with a vengeance.
I stared out the window as it flew around St. Louis. I strove with all my energy to determine where we were, to pick out landmarks, to be home. As we were almost landing things became obvious. We flew directly over my work as the wheels came down. Then, as we touched down, I relaxed. We were almost truly home.
I waited impatiently, my feet tapping, my fingers twitching nervously. Part of it was the fact that I wanted to be home, be comfortable, be done with this trip. Part of it was the need for a potty break. Frankly, I couldnt tell you which was more demanding. The plane unloaded slowly, and with all of our stuff, Cindy wanted us to wait till it was almost empty to leave.
Sashas call for a toilette overrode her waiting. We grabbed our bags and flew to the concourse. Sashas stewardess said Goodbye sweetie. Sasha didnt even hear her, but I did. When Sasha hits 18, we are going to be in so much trouble.
For now, it was time to race up the gangway and off to the bathrooms. There they were! Just a small 50 foot jog down the concourse and off to the left. Sasha and I ran as best we could through the crowd.
Plop!
The art carrier burst open. Pens, crayons, works of art in progress fell across the floor and spread out. Unable to refrain from teaching Sasha English words he shouldnt learn, I bent down to pick them up. Hey, we were in St. Louis, the mid-west. We were surrounded by friendly people willing to lend a hand, or a foot. Nobody actually stomped on the artwork, and most passers by tried to kick the crayons back to our general direction. At least I think they were kicking them towards me. St. Louis is also a major center for amateur soccer, but you couldnt prove that by some of those kicks.
Cindy caught up to us as I finished. I stood and started to say something about needing to get Sasha to the Toiletta .
Plop! Again, on the floor, all the pens and markers and stuff from the art box.
Cindy put her hand out. Ill get this. You get him to the bathroom.
I thanked her as we sprinted the distance, unencumbered by any baggage. There I got to hold Sasha up so he was high enough to do what nature demanded. The seats were full. After he finished I took my turn, with a great sigh of relief. Sasha stayed right on my heels, way to intently watching my business.
With a sigh of relief we slowly went to the sink and washed our hands. Then laughing we calmly walked outside where Mama waited. She was tense and nervous. She was doing her own version of the potty dance. Here was all she said as she left our luggage and lunged for the bathroom. I barely had time to grab the art case from her hands before she was gone.
As the door closed to the ladys room Sasha looked up at me. I smiled down at him.
Plop.
I just stared tiredly at the mess for a bit while deciding what to do next.
Cindy emerged from the bathroom just as I finished picking up the last of the markers. My hands were wrapped around the case to insure it would not open ever again.
By now all of our flight had already passed. We brought up the rear as we entered the main terminal. We didnt realize how worried our family was. As we rounded the corner, however, a great shout went up. About a dozen friends and family were lined up waiting to congratulate us all, and to welcome Sasha into their fold.
Sasha did the only sensible thing. He tried to hide under my shirt.
I wont go through the whole cast of characters present. Many more wanted to be, but the timing on short notice made it impossible. There would be other welcoming parties later. One person, however, needs to be singled out. Susie, friend of the family, smiled so big, and had such a bunch of balloons and a great flag, that Sasha liked her instantly.
We spent about twenty minutes shaking hands, hugging, introducing the ever more shy Sasha. Slowy we wound our way to the luggage rack. St. Louis is a wonderful city, and its airport is an architectural wonder. However, their luggage system is about the slowest I have yet to encounter.
An hour after our plane landed, we had all our luggage, and were ready to go. We said farewell to everyone except my brother and his family. They were our ride to our car. We stuffed his car with our luggage, the new stroller, all the gifts, flags, balloons we had just received, and yes, with Sasha.
Where to? he asked.
My car is at work so if you could drop us off there, then we are going to get some lunch.
Karen, my sister-in-law, chimed in. That sounds like fun. Can we join you? Sure. Where do we want to eat?
What followed was you classic standard I dont careI dont care except that Cindy and I were too tired to do it for long. New Aunt Karen, or Zsa Zsa Karen are we Rusified her, said, kids eat free at the Italian restaurant today.
It was decided.
JaJa Jim, or Uncle Jim drove us to our car, then headed back to his work. We loaded our car with our luggage, before heading out.
Toiletta! said Sasha.
I looked around. It meant I had to run into my work and say hi to all the folks there and proudly show off my son while my brother and wife labored on transporting our heavy luggage from one car to the other.
Kids can be useful.
We went into the building, ran right to the bathrooms and did our business. When we got out a whole office full of the curious and the helpful were there to meet us. As a group they fell in love with Sasha.
He walked out with even more toys. One coworker had a Cat-In-The-Hat sitting in her room, as well as two bowls of candy. Sasha left with the stuffed animal and a handful of sweetness.
I walked out with more hugs.
And my boss didnt even drag me aside to depress me with business questions.
Now for the technical part of our evening, we began to figure out how to strap Sasha into his safety seat. Two torn ligaments and a dislocated shoulder later, and we had it all figured out. Sasha was secure. We limped off, but Sasha was secure.
We live about an hour from my work, so off we went driving down the highways at speeds Sasha had only encountered while airborne, and never with Papa as the driver. He took it like a man. He slept.
Lunch was not too much to speak of. Zsa Zsa Karen and her two kids had already eaten lunch, so they kept us company, and enjoyed a desert. Stevie and Julie buzzed around Sasha almost as much as Karen.
Sasha didnt like the cold deserts. Ice cream and soda he hated. However we didnt dare get in between him and the broccoli soup. I had images in my head of some future converstionClean your room young man or no Broccoli for dinner. Or Finish that Ice Cream all up or there is no salad for you.
Then the bill showed up. Karen whispered in our ear. Kids ate free, but only if you reminded them that their big signs said that kids ate free. Otherwise they left the charge on you bill assuming youd pay without noticing.
We said goodbye to Karen, Julie and Steven. They had places to be, and we needed to get home and sleep.
Get home. What a beautiful idea. We pulled into the driveway. Sasha was wide awake, his big brown eyes wide open in wonderment at everything. With care we unbuckled him from his seat and let him out of the car. He surveyed the lawn and the drive of his new home with detached appreciation. I dont believe it had registered yet that he was home.
Doma Momma said.
Doma I confirmed pointing to the house in front of him.
Doma? he asked as he started walking toward the house.
Doma I grunted as I grabbed a bag from the car. Essentials only. There would be time for clothes and cameras later. Now we just needed sleep stuff. Funny how quickly 7pm rolls around.
Doma means home.
He walked slowly to the house, and stood by the door, unsure. We opened it and motioned for him to enter. He ran in.
Each step he took, he looked back for approval. Yet once he entered a room and found he was allowed, he buzzed around it like an excited bee. Mama was busy taking the remainder of our food and putting it away. Our frig was mostly empty. We didnt want food to go bad on our trip. Sasha didnt notice. He stood in awe of the largest refrigerator he had ever been allowed to enter. We motioned for him to eat. His tummy was full, but he dutifully swallowed a Cheezit.
We showed him the Toiletta. He couldnt reach the light, and had trouble reaching the sink to wash his hands. The quick addition of a stool into the room and he was thrilled. The room held a trendle bed. One mattress on top where you would expect it. A second rolled underneath, to be rolled out when needed.
We showed him his room, overflowing with stuffed animals and toys.
He grabbed a few and then ran out to explore the rest of the house.
With in an hour we had grabbed him and drug him into bed. Mama slept next to him on the bottom, so he wouldnt fall. I slept alone on the top, but his hand went up and drug mine down.
We sat with him for about an hour as he wound down and fell asleep. Perhaps we both slept a bit ourselves. The truth was I was numb. We had done it. I had a son. I had a child. I was the papa, the father, the dad. He cuddled my arm and started to snore and I didnt want to get up.
I was home, like Id never been home before. Conclusions: Or All the days that followed.
One of the hardest things about this history is deciding where to stop it. Ive been told to end it when the story ends. It doesnt. Ive been told to end it when the adventure is over. Its parenthood, the adventure is never over.
Im ending it at home, but there are some details I am sure you want to know.
The hotel found and returned our money. I just had to say, WOW! That is now, officially, my favorite hotel in New York, if not in the US.
Two days later it was Fathers Day. While out picking up some groceries, and introducing Sasha to the wonders of Wal-Mart, they picked up a cap for papa. Its says #1 Dad on it. I wear it proudly.
Sasha was speaking English better than most 5 year olds by Halloween.
Much of that has to do with our lucking into a wonderful Montessori school. He shows great aptitude and intelligence in everything he does.
Sasha endured, and we survived, some minor corrective surgery in a very sensitive area of his person. The results were a bit of temporary lack of control with his bladder. We finally got to use the pull-up pants we had lugged half-way across the world, and back.
Sasha labeled them Ouchy Pants. Now, when ever we go on extra-long trips with long bathroom breaks, or when we sleep over in strange beds we dont want to risk him christening, he goes and puts on his Ouchy Pants.
He still loves getting new clothes, even more than new toys.
He still dislikes carbonated drinks, too sweet of sweets, and foods to hot or too cold.
He still loves Broccoli, Asparagus, Salads and fruits.
He is still too good for us, even when hes bad.
And where ever we go, the first reaction everyone has, when they learn how we adopted him from Russia, is to say, He is so lucky that you got him.
Without a break we turn to them and say, No. We are unbelievably lucky to have him.
After they get to know him a bit, they agree.
Which is why we are even now getting ready to get him a little sister.
Thank you for reading this, and joining us on this journey.
Posted by katharina (Member # 827) on :
Oh, I love this story. This is one of my favorite threads ever. Posted by rivka (Member # 4859) on :
*happy tears*
So beautiful, Dan. Thanks.
(And I know you mentioned wanting to publish this. I absolutely think you should. Maybe title it "Doma Means Home.")
Posted by quidscribis (Member # 5124) on :
Man, you make me cry. No fair.
Posted by foundling (Member # 6348) on :
Oh Dan. I'm so happy for you guys. Thats a beautiful ending/begining.
Posted by cmc (Member # 9549) on :
Thank you for sharing.
Posted by Anna (Member # 2582) on :
(((Raven family)))
Posted by Evie3217 (Member # 5426) on :
"Contrary to that movie, crossing the streams did not cause every particle in our bodies to fly in opposite directions at the speed of light."
That made me laugh out loud.
Dan, I am so happy for you. This is my favorite thread as well. I think you should landmark it, as this trip made such an incredible impact on your life.
Posted by imogen (Member # 5485) on :
I'm all teary. Thanks for finishing it Dan. What a wonderful story.
Posted by Tstorm (Member # 1871) on :
Yeah, if this isn't worthy of landmarking, I don't know what is. But that decision is up to the author.
I just finally made my way through the story, but I'm sure re-reading will reveal new details. I enjoy your writing style.
Posted by Tatiana (Member # 6776) on :
Dan, that's so wonderful! <happy tears smilie>
Posted by Dan_raven (Member # 3383) on :
I have no problem with this being a landmark, though I am putting together this and the 1st trip thread in one document, to edit into a book.
Posted by Belle (Member # 2314) on :
Such a wonderful story, and I can't wait for it to continue when you get his little sister.
You guys are cool. And I think sharing your story in a book form is a tremendous idea, as it will offer hope and encouragement to other couples considering foreign adoption.
Posted by Shigosei (Member # 3831) on :
Thanks for sharing your story, Dan! I think it would make a great book.
![[The Wave]](graemlins/thewave.gif)
![[Group Hug]](graemlins/grouphug.gif)
![[Smile]](smile.gif)
I love the way you two think.
![[Wink]](wink.gif)
![[Big Grin]](biggrin.gif)
![[Cry]](graemlins/cry.gif)