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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.
posted
Haven't read the all post, just wanted to be the first to congratulate. ((((Dan, Dan's family))) Posts: 3526 | Registered: Oct 2001
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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...!)
Posts: 8473 | Registered: Apr 2003
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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.
Posts: 11017 | Registered: Apr 2003
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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.
Posts: 11895 | Registered: Apr 2002
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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.
Posts: 6367 | Registered: Aug 2003
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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.
Posts: 11895 | Registered: Apr 2002
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posted
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.
Posts: 11895 | Registered: Apr 2002
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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. Posts: 32919 | Registered: Mar 2003
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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.
Posts: 11895 | Registered: Apr 2002
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Vicarious travel . . . a wondrous thing. And full of good travel info - you're a peach, Dan, for sharing all of this with us. Posts: 5609 | Registered: Jan 2003
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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.
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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.
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.
Posts: 11895 | Registered: Apr 2002
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I adore love stories. And this tale of the blossoming love between a child and his new parents is my favorite love story ever. Posts: 32919 | Registered: Mar 2003
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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.
Posts: 11017 | Registered: Apr 2003
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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.
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.
Posts: 6367 | Registered: Aug 2003
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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...
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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.
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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....
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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.
Posts: 32919 | Registered: Mar 2003
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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.
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.
Posts: 11895 | Registered: Apr 2002
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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. Posts: 26077 | Registered: Mar 2000
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