Russia
I’ve been trying to figure out what to write about this first trip to Russia ever since we got back on Thursday night last week. I mean, there’s really a lot to it. I’m well past my days of exhaustively chronicling every single detail of any particular event or series of events. So, what exactly should I concentrate on? What was the most significant part of the trip? Well, that would have to be meeting our new son, Tima.
It appears that the Soviets came up with one design for every building: rectangular, made of concrete with alternating square and rounded deep windows. This is what the orphanage looked like. It was also what the hotel we stayed at looked like. And the city hall, and the airport and the grocery store and…you get the idea. Our guide/lawyer/consultant/translator, a stern looking fellow named Dimitri said that the orphanage had been constructed 20 years ago, which would be 1987. Looking at the building I had a hard time believing that it was built in 1987, since it looked more like it was built in 1957. However, one must consider that winters are pretty hard around here and not much is done in terms of upkeep on the outside of the buildings. Inside the building looked institutional, although brightened up somewhat by multi colored paint on the stair railings and various bits of artwork and photographs of kids presumably in the orphanage. We met Tima in the director’s office which was up on the fourth floor of the building. The room was large with a big oriental-looking rug covering the floor made of painted MDF. We were there with another adoptive couple from America who were represented by same adoption agency as us. They were meeting their two children at the same as we were, so we had to share the space. The office also featured a gigantic display case that was filled with toys. All kinds of toys, blocks, toy cars, motorized toys and toys that made noise.
Our boy was the first one out, wearing a yellow outfit with multi-colored cartoon elephants all over it. He was suspicious and pensive at first. He looked like he’d just woken up not too long ago. He kept his head tucked in towards his chest and his eyes forward. It wasn’t until we presented him with a small stuffed bear we’d got from Ikea and a softie book we’d packed with pictures of us, our house, the dogs & cats and Tima himself that he started to warm up a little bit. We’d also brought along some dried banana snacks, which he seemed to like a whole lot. Later the director came by and asked us not to give the kids anything to eat. Whoops! Too late! The deed was done and the ice was broken. He first sat in Kim’s lap and looked at the book with us. We’d learned some rudimentary Russian which came in pretty handy in communicating with the boy, as he already knew quite a bit of Russian already. He responded when we’d saying “come here”, or “sit down”. Soon he started to smile when we’d make goofy faces and he seemed quite amazed by the video camera we were pointing at him. We flipped around the LCD viewfinder so he could see himself in the camera. From there is was all smiles and giggles as we played catch and I bounced him on my knee. I was particularly taken with how he would say ‘Fsyoh!’ when finished playing with any toy. (“Fsyoh” means “That’s all” or “Finished” in Russian.)
We got to meet with him around 6-7 hours a day for two days. It didn’t seem like it was nearly enough, but it was enough for him to be pretty upset when Olga, the orphanage director told him that we’d be leaving. He cried as she picked him up and held his arms out towards us. Kim wasn’t looking because she didn’t want to start crying in front of Tima. I was more concerned with making sure he’d get to keep the bear and the softie book. Olga nodded in approval when I handed her the items, so I hope he has boogey bear with him right now.
Of course there are plenty more details to add to even this part of the story, and the time we spent walking for miles and miles around St. Petersburg going in and out of grand palaces, cathedrals and amazing museums, flights on Soviet era aircraft via Aeroflot and more. It was strangest and most wonderful week of my life. All things being equal, I was glad to come home and be able to read again. What is so frustrating about Russian as opposed to say, Japanese is that the Cyrillic alphabet shares many common characters with the Roman alphabet, but only like five of the characters make the same sound and many of them make an entirely different sound. Russia, in Russian is spelled Россия. My idiot brain says, “Oh, that’s poke-n-r” No… It starts to give you headache after awhile. My wife and I are going to make a concerted effort to learn to read Russian between now and our next visit, which should be in November. That’s when we’ll have our court hearing and hopefully bring young Tima home.
It appears that the Soviets came up with one design for every building: rectangular, made of concrete with alternating square and rounded deep windows. This is what the orphanage looked like. It was also what the hotel we stayed at looked like. And the city hall, and the airport and the grocery store and…you get the idea. Our guide/lawyer/consultant/translator, a stern looking fellow named Dimitri said that the orphanage had been constructed 20 years ago, which would be 1987. Looking at the building I had a hard time believing that it was built in 1987, since it looked more like it was built in 1957. However, one must consider that winters are pretty hard around here and not much is done in terms of upkeep on the outside of the buildings. Inside the building looked institutional, although brightened up somewhat by multi colored paint on the stair railings and various bits of artwork and photographs of kids presumably in the orphanage. We met Tima in the director’s office which was up on the fourth floor of the building. The room was large with a big oriental-looking rug covering the floor made of painted MDF. We were there with another adoptive couple from America who were represented by same adoption agency as us. They were meeting their two children at the same as we were, so we had to share the space. The office also featured a gigantic display case that was filled with toys. All kinds of toys, blocks, toy cars, motorized toys and toys that made noise.
Our boy was the first one out, wearing a yellow outfit with multi-colored cartoon elephants all over it. He was suspicious and pensive at first. He looked like he’d just woken up not too long ago. He kept his head tucked in towards his chest and his eyes forward. It wasn’t until we presented him with a small stuffed bear we’d got from Ikea and a softie book we’d packed with pictures of us, our house, the dogs & cats and Tima himself that he started to warm up a little bit. We’d also brought along some dried banana snacks, which he seemed to like a whole lot. Later the director came by and asked us not to give the kids anything to eat. Whoops! Too late! The deed was done and the ice was broken. He first sat in Kim’s lap and looked at the book with us. We’d learned some rudimentary Russian which came in pretty handy in communicating with the boy, as he already knew quite a bit of Russian already. He responded when we’d saying “come here”, or “sit down”. Soon he started to smile when we’d make goofy faces and he seemed quite amazed by the video camera we were pointing at him. We flipped around the LCD viewfinder so he could see himself in the camera. From there is was all smiles and giggles as we played catch and I bounced him on my knee. I was particularly taken with how he would say ‘Fsyoh!’ when finished playing with any toy. (“Fsyoh” means “That’s all” or “Finished” in Russian.)
We got to meet with him around 6-7 hours a day for two days. It didn’t seem like it was nearly enough, but it was enough for him to be pretty upset when Olga, the orphanage director told him that we’d be leaving. He cried as she picked him up and held his arms out towards us. Kim wasn’t looking because she didn’t want to start crying in front of Tima. I was more concerned with making sure he’d get to keep the bear and the softie book. Olga nodded in approval when I handed her the items, so I hope he has boogey bear with him right now.
Of course there are plenty more details to add to even this part of the story, and the time we spent walking for miles and miles around St. Petersburg going in and out of grand palaces, cathedrals and amazing museums, flights on Soviet era aircraft via Aeroflot and more. It was strangest and most wonderful week of my life. All things being equal, I was glad to come home and be able to read again. What is so frustrating about Russian as opposed to say, Japanese is that the Cyrillic alphabet shares many common characters with the Roman alphabet, but only like five of the characters make the same sound and many of them make an entirely different sound. Russia, in Russian is spelled Россия. My idiot brain says, “Oh, that’s poke-n-r” No… It starts to give you headache after awhile. My wife and I are going to make a concerted effort to learn to read Russian between now and our next visit, which should be in November. That’s when we’ll have our court hearing and hopefully bring young Tima home.