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So, to recap for those of you who are new:
My husband and I adopted our son from a small village in Russia called Kungur. The closest big city was Perm. Perm is famous for being the last stop of civilization for people who were sent to the gulags in siberia. It's known as "The Gateway to Siberia". Perhaps their PR people need to get working on something else.
We went for our first visit in December of last year- almost a year ago. It was gorgeous- snow every day, the warmest it got was 20 (but we dressed for it and had a fabulous time). the first day we received our referral for Nikolai- and we were handed a grainy digital picture of a naked baby wearing nothing but a pink floral vest, who looked like Leonid Brezhnev- he of the thick black eyebrows. We looked at each other and thought, "hmmm, so this is the best you all have to offer?"
Off we went to Kungur- which was 90 km away- down a two lane road. So, what is Kungur's claim to fame? Well, nothing. It used to be a bigish town but industry and capitalism took it's toll and now it's a nothing but a gas station on the way between Ekatrinberg (on the other side of the Urals) and Perm. How do 'things' get between the two major towns? Soviet made trucks. How does one who wants to go fast get around the Soviet made trucks? Pass on the left, on ice, on snow, around curves.
Rick and I very quickly learned NOT to watch out the front window if we were passing. (Artur our dirver was very safe. but Artur is a law student and had finals while we were there. We had two other...not so safe drivers- Dima and some ther guy whose driving was so scary I've apparently blacked out his name)
But, it was snow covered and pretty and we had met our baby and we were blissful.
Fast forward to April, after rule changes and law reviews and all kinds of crap. We get there and the snow is melting. Suddenly, I notice gravestones along the roads. Much like the memorials to people who have died along the roads here- except the grave stones are actual gravestones and they have the person's picture engraved on them. Nothing like looking AT Uncle Joe, where he died in a firey crash?
So, I say to Dina (our facilitator, translator, Rick's dream girl), "so, are those gravestones for people who have died along the road.?" She says yes. Hmm, I think, as there are a LOT.
We go to Kungur every day while Rick was there (there's a 10 day waiting period between the date of court that the final approval of the court decision in Russia-so court was 4/15, he leaft 4/16 and I got custody 4/26). He picks up the language like it's on the back fo a Cheerios box. He and Dina are working on his pronounciation. I'm hoping to survive on the free breakfast after Rick leaves (thanks Uncle Sam! 30 days leave a year, and the New Daddy can take one week!)
Rick leaves. I'm psyched for the first week. I'm an Independent Woman of the New Millenium. I go out, I order food and drink, I get online, email the gang back here the updates. We go to Kungur several times. Nikolai acts like I'm semi-acceptable in lieu of the people who actually know what they are doing. Some strange teenager accosts me for the gym key by knocking on my room door while I'm in the shower. I answer in a towel. I think my life is over... Weekend of Week 2. Cell phone dies. I now have no way to reach my peeps. Screw it I say- I'm an Independent Woman- of All Time!!!
Week Two: I hit the wall. It is actually warm (given that all interiors are steam vent heated and are 80+ degrees, when it gets to 45 outside, you are dying inside.) I decide it's summer and the new MOM who still doesn't have custody needs a gin and tonic. I go to the bar. There's no tonic, according to the gorgeous Russian girl. They're all gorgeous. If you ever want to feel like the fat and ugly American? Go to Russia. There is no need to scout models from anywhere else. (and as an aside- Lena- the translator we had for two days while Dina had to teach? About 6 feet tall, long red hair, gorgeous skin, and nice. Bitch. Rick was ready to dump me in the snow)
No tonic? There's tonic in the freakin' grocery store. Wanna know what the Russian for tonic is? TONIC. Yikes. I knew they were just screwing with me. I had had it. Bland food spiced with dill and black pepper. The midnight sun appearing- light until 10pm- in April!!! a small Russian Boy that was about to be mine. Momma needed a cocktail.
So, being the ever efficient person that I am, I dragged my arse to the grocery store, bought myself a fifth of gin (just to spite them as there was an entire WALL of vodka...) and two 2 liter bottles of tonic. Sat back and yes, drank them out of the sippy cups I brought for the dude. Bad Mommy Moment #1 and he wasn't even with me to experience it.
Meanwhile, in Moscow, my friend Susan was stuck due to a monumental f-up whose responsibility we pinned directly on the adoption agency. Dina and Artur and I share details. Susan is calling me from Moscow with unsavory factoids about the moscow staff- that include Russian Mafia, alcoholism, and no driver for her to get to the embassy. Yikes. I'm stressed.
We continue the every other day treks to Kungur; every trip is $70 bucks American, and I was rapidly running out of cash- $6600 cash to a woman in a bathrobe in front of an apartment building in Moscow while being driven in a red velvet lined step-van by a man named Valentin, who met us at the Moscow airport holding a sign that said, "Linda". Oh, yeah, I'm SURE everything is on the up and up. Plus $1200 bucks for the orphanage, plus Dina and Artur's daily fees, all of which I'm attempting to calculate with the exchange rate. and let's not forget hotel charges and food! Luckily, I could yank rubles from the ATMs at a not so horrible rate.
Anyway- back and forth, back and forth and the road is crumbing as we speak- the snow is melting, the plows are plowing- the road crews are filling holes as they can. I'm thinking that it's only a matter of time before we end up in a horrible crash and Nikolai is adopted by Rick who immediately will marry Lena. or Dina, he thought she was pretty hot, too!
Finally, the last Sunday. I had had my G and T's in the plastic sippy w/ no ice. I had exercised along the Kama river with Russians watching me while drinking and smoking at 9am. I had ordered pepperoni pizza, only to have it, too, covered in dill. I was done. More than done. I hated Russia, Russians, the food, the drink, the transportation, the lack of English newspapers, TV, etc. I was, in short, insane.
We went to the orphanage- and on the way back, there's ginormous traffic jam. Artur starts cursing in Russian (it's universal by the way) and finally, slowly, we make our way past 'the incident'. and unlike the Good Old USofA, where we hide our dead bodies, sanitize the moment, and cover everyone with white sheets...
there- splayed out for God and everyone, was a babushka. a grandmother. like the Wicked Witch of the West- all arms and legs. covered only by her jacket. Dead. No, really, dead. blood and guts and arms and legs. She had been hit by a bus. Seriously.
I was stunned. I was shocked. I cracked up. I laughed inappropriately. and then we almost ran over a dog. and then we had to go buy our tickets for the Aeroflot flight to Moscow. While a guard with a Large Weapon watched.
I was DONE.
and then I got Nikolai and the oddness only continued.
Jenn
PS- and I'm sooo ready to go back for #2!
My husband and I adopted our son from a small village in Russia called Kungur. The closest big city was Perm. Perm is famous for being the last stop of civilization for people who were sent to the gulags in siberia. It's known as "The Gateway to Siberia". Perhaps their PR people need to get working on something else.
We went for our first visit in December of last year- almost a year ago. It was gorgeous- snow every day, the warmest it got was 20 (but we dressed for it and had a fabulous time). the first day we received our referral for Nikolai- and we were handed a grainy digital picture of a naked baby wearing nothing but a pink floral vest, who looked like Leonid Brezhnev- he of the thick black eyebrows. We looked at each other and thought, "hmmm, so this is the best you all have to offer?"
Off we went to Kungur- which was 90 km away- down a two lane road. So, what is Kungur's claim to fame? Well, nothing. It used to be a bigish town but industry and capitalism took it's toll and now it's a nothing but a gas station on the way between Ekatrinberg (on the other side of the Urals) and Perm. How do 'things' get between the two major towns? Soviet made trucks. How does one who wants to go fast get around the Soviet made trucks? Pass on the left, on ice, on snow, around curves.
Rick and I very quickly learned NOT to watch out the front window if we were passing. (Artur our dirver was very safe. but Artur is a law student and had finals while we were there. We had two other...not so safe drivers- Dima and some ther guy whose driving was so scary I've apparently blacked out his name)
But, it was snow covered and pretty and we had met our baby and we were blissful.
Fast forward to April, after rule changes and law reviews and all kinds of crap. We get there and the snow is melting. Suddenly, I notice gravestones along the roads. Much like the memorials to people who have died along the roads here- except the grave stones are actual gravestones and they have the person's picture engraved on them. Nothing like looking AT Uncle Joe, where he died in a firey crash?
So, I say to Dina (our facilitator, translator, Rick's dream girl), "so, are those gravestones for people who have died along the road.?" She says yes. Hmm, I think, as there are a LOT.
We go to Kungur every day while Rick was there (there's a 10 day waiting period between the date of court that the final approval of the court decision in Russia-so court was 4/15, he leaft 4/16 and I got custody 4/26). He picks up the language like it's on the back fo a Cheerios box. He and Dina are working on his pronounciation. I'm hoping to survive on the free breakfast after Rick leaves (thanks Uncle Sam! 30 days leave a year, and the New Daddy can take one week!)
Rick leaves. I'm psyched for the first week. I'm an Independent Woman of the New Millenium. I go out, I order food and drink, I get online, email the gang back here the updates. We go to Kungur several times. Nikolai acts like I'm semi-acceptable in lieu of the people who actually know what they are doing. Some strange teenager accosts me for the gym key by knocking on my room door while I'm in the shower. I answer in a towel. I think my life is over... Weekend of Week 2. Cell phone dies. I now have no way to reach my peeps. Screw it I say- I'm an Independent Woman- of All Time!!!
Week Two: I hit the wall. It is actually warm (given that all interiors are steam vent heated and are 80+ degrees, when it gets to 45 outside, you are dying inside.) I decide it's summer and the new MOM who still doesn't have custody needs a gin and tonic. I go to the bar. There's no tonic, according to the gorgeous Russian girl. They're all gorgeous. If you ever want to feel like the fat and ugly American? Go to Russia. There is no need to scout models from anywhere else. (and as an aside- Lena- the translator we had for two days while Dina had to teach? About 6 feet tall, long red hair, gorgeous skin, and nice. Bitch. Rick was ready to dump me in the snow)
No tonic? There's tonic in the freakin' grocery store. Wanna know what the Russian for tonic is? TONIC. Yikes. I knew they were just screwing with me. I had had it. Bland food spiced with dill and black pepper. The midnight sun appearing- light until 10pm- in April!!! a small Russian Boy that was about to be mine. Momma needed a cocktail.
So, being the ever efficient person that I am, I dragged my arse to the grocery store, bought myself a fifth of gin (just to spite them as there was an entire WALL of vodka...) and two 2 liter bottles of tonic. Sat back and yes, drank them out of the sippy cups I brought for the dude. Bad Mommy Moment #1 and he wasn't even with me to experience it.
Meanwhile, in Moscow, my friend Susan was stuck due to a monumental f-up whose responsibility we pinned directly on the adoption agency. Dina and Artur and I share details. Susan is calling me from Moscow with unsavory factoids about the moscow staff- that include Russian Mafia, alcoholism, and no driver for her to get to the embassy. Yikes. I'm stressed.
We continue the every other day treks to Kungur; every trip is $70 bucks American, and I was rapidly running out of cash- $6600 cash to a woman in a bathrobe in front of an apartment building in Moscow while being driven in a red velvet lined step-van by a man named Valentin, who met us at the Moscow airport holding a sign that said, "Linda". Oh, yeah, I'm SURE everything is on the up and up. Plus $1200 bucks for the orphanage, plus Dina and Artur's daily fees, all of which I'm attempting to calculate with the exchange rate. and let's not forget hotel charges and food! Luckily, I could yank rubles from the ATMs at a not so horrible rate.
Anyway- back and forth, back and forth and the road is crumbing as we speak- the snow is melting, the plows are plowing- the road crews are filling holes as they can. I'm thinking that it's only a matter of time before we end up in a horrible crash and Nikolai is adopted by Rick who immediately will marry Lena. or Dina, he thought she was pretty hot, too!
Finally, the last Sunday. I had had my G and T's in the plastic sippy w/ no ice. I had exercised along the Kama river with Russians watching me while drinking and smoking at 9am. I had ordered pepperoni pizza, only to have it, too, covered in dill. I was done. More than done. I hated Russia, Russians, the food, the drink, the transportation, the lack of English newspapers, TV, etc. I was, in short, insane.
We went to the orphanage- and on the way back, there's ginormous traffic jam. Artur starts cursing in Russian (it's universal by the way) and finally, slowly, we make our way past 'the incident'. and unlike the Good Old USofA, where we hide our dead bodies, sanitize the moment, and cover everyone with white sheets...
there- splayed out for God and everyone, was a babushka. a grandmother. like the Wicked Witch of the West- all arms and legs. covered only by her jacket. Dead. No, really, dead. blood and guts and arms and legs. She had been hit by a bus. Seriously.
I was stunned. I was shocked. I cracked up. I laughed inappropriately. and then we almost ran over a dog. and then we had to go buy our tickets for the Aeroflot flight to Moscow. While a guard with a Large Weapon watched.
I was DONE.
and then I got Nikolai and the oddness only continued.
Jenn
PS- and I'm sooo ready to go back for #2!
:thud:
Maybe with the next one you could go somewhere more....tropical?
Jennifer
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