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The Long Version - If you are not a prospective adopting parent, this version may bore you to death... - If you ARE a prospective adopting parent, this version may scare you to death...
March 17 - We are scheduled to leave Denver Saturday, fly through Newark, NJ, then Frankfurt, Germany, and finally arrive in Kiev on Sunday. The only complication right now is that there is a major snowstorm crawling up the east coast and scheduled to meet us in New Jersey. Several airlines have started cancelling flights. Our's our still active as of right now. Stay tuned....
March 18, Travel to Kiev
We left Denver Saturday morning, March 18, bound for Ukraine and all kinds of unknowns. This was our third trip to Ukraine, not just to visit the orphan's located on the Black Sea shore, but to bring some of them home with us.
We have known Tatiana Siemigolovskaya for almost three years now - since our first trip to Internat Number One in Kerch, Crimea. We knew from that time that we wanted to bring her home, but the string of dashed hopes, dead end rabbit trails, and closed doors seemed endless.
The adoption authorities in Kiev, known as the SDA, had approved us as potential adoptive parents for up to three children. We had made a promise to Tanya that we intended to keep, but it was turning into a long journey, and meanwhile paperwork piled up, the money spent was increasing, and it began to make a lot of sense that for all the effort so far, we should bring someone else home in the mean time.
Immediately we thought of Leza, the little dark-eyed girl we had also met on those same first two trips. I had remarked to Linda even then, "If we ever wanted to bring home more than one, she would be my choice". The little girl danced by us and flashed her smile. "But" I added, "she would probably be a handful".
So we intended this trip to Ukraine to be a face-to-face resolution of Tanya's seemingly endless "paperwork problems", and secondly to investigate bringing Leza home in the mean time. We put in some advance calls, and the report came back that Leza also had an older brother, Tema.
This we were not prepared for. We went through hundreds of pictures, trying to remember him, but nothing seemed familiar. Then some pictures were mailed to us and we realized we did know him, we just hadn't connected him with Leza.
So Saturday morning, March 18, as we boarded a plane for Newark, the only thing we knew for certain about this trip was that we were flying into a snowstorm on the east coast, and an almost certain disaster awaited us trying to make connecting flights. We arrived in Newark on time, but as we waited to board the Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt, we found out the plane at the adjoining gate was the same flight as ours, only it was leaving 24 hours late.
After we got on our plane, it was explained to us that some of our luggage had been intermingled with the other plane, and that it was necessary for the ground crew to sort that out because it would cause problems with connecting flights. Should be only 15 minutes or so, the pilot said.
Two and one half hours later, we started taxiing to the runway. They tried to make up for lost time crossing the Atlantic, but we still were over an hour late landing in Frankfurt. We de-planed at the same time our connecting flight to Kiev was due to leave.
Fortunately for us, that plane was also late, and we were able to get on.
Unfortunately for us, our luggage decided to detour through Munich first and follow us to Kiev two days later. One bag was damaged and my new hiking shoes were lost. The other losses were minor, but we were glad to get our bags.
Valentin, our facilitator, and his son Andrew met us after we made our lost luggage report and got through customs. We went to our apartment in Kiev and tried to sleep, but the confusion of jet lag, the angst of lost luggage, and the anticipation of the next steps in the adoption process were too much. We hardly slept at all.
The first important appointment was at the SDA on March 20. Valentin informed us that since we already knew what children we were interested in, our appointment was considered "easy" and was scheduled toward the end of the day, at 3:30 PM.
We did not expect easy. We were set to appeal Tanya's case and plead that she should be eligible to leave now.
After multiple emails, letters, and phone calls to Kiev, most of which seemed to contain bad news or require further paperwork from our end, we were anxious to set foot inside this mysterious entity that stood between us and Tanya.
Valentin's explanations of the workings of the SDA had bordered on bizarre at times. When we called the SDA, we usually talked to "Julia", who's thick accent only seemed capable of saying, "Thees ees not possible", or "Please call back next month".
Now we would get to deal with them face to face.
March 20
At the SDAPRC St. Andrews Church, now a stunningly restored museum, sits perched on a steep hill alongside a cobblestone street. Vendors line the sidewalk for several blocks, selling trinkets to tourists. Through a stone and iron gate, visitors must climb a long cascade of steps to the door of St. Andrews. First, a ticket must be purchased from a window in the next building uphill from the church.
Around the corner from the ticket window, between that building and St. Andrews, is another iron gate. On the other side is a crowd of people huddled around a plain, unmarked door on a wall with no windows. Every so often, the door opens and someone comes out, exchanges paperwork with one of the waiting folk, and then disappears back inside.
Valentin explained that most of these were other facilitators waiting to submit adoption dossiers or other important papers related to adoptions. We asked if this is what it was like when he submitted ours, almost a year ago. He said no, it was much worse. It was never certain when the doors would open or not so he and his son Andrew had camped in a van at the curb and spent one winter night sleeping without heat, waiting for a chance to hand over our documents.
Now at least, facilitators know they can submit dossiers between 2 and 4 PM on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But they still must stand outside and wait for someone to come talk to them. And sometimes, no one comes.
Why? "Who knows? It is just like that in Ukraine"
But for us, it was different. We had an appointment and promptly at 3:30 the door peeked open again. The crowd surged forward but this time a large man with a long white mustache stepped out and motioned for Valentin and us to come in. Just inside the door, Valentin introduced us to Julia Theeseesnotpossible, and then he shook our hands. "Good luck. I will wait for you outside. I am not allowed upstairs." And out he went.
We followed Julia upstairs. She turned out to be much nicer than her stern voice portrayed on the phone, and she translated for us during our interview. I forgot the title of the person who interviewed us. However, nearly everyone we have met on this trip who sits behind a desk has a title of either Director ("deerektor"), Assistant Director, Premier, or Inspector. I think she was the Assistant Director, but I'm not sure. I know she wasn't the Director of the SDA because that person had just been fired. Yes, the same day we arrived. Only time would tell if it was good news or bad for us.
It was a pleasant enough interview, but when we began to talk about Tanya, we hit a wall. The good news was they were able to confirm that Tanya's paperwork had indeed finally been properly submitted by the orphanage - something that should have been done six years ago - but still she could not be adopted.
The paperwork had been held up by a one month waiting period in region of Crimea. Now it must undergo a one year waiting period in Kiev.
Why? "It is the law here in Ukraine. This cannot be changed."
When we began inquiring about options, or appealing the waiting period, we met with blank stares. Apparently no one, at least not anyone within our reach, was capable of appealing the delay.
Now we had been told several things about Ukrainian culture, including the fact that sometimes it is necessary to be persistent and a little aggressive. So we tried that. Initially it was tolerated, but there was a distinct point in the conversation where it became clear there was no point in continuing. So we switched gears to Leza and Tema. They asked for full names and birth dates, and the Assistant Director went to another room. Less than a minute later, she returned, positively beaming with a smile, saying, "Yes these children are registered and available for adoption."
Then we got the mandatory, but completely meaningless speech from the Assistant Director.
"Of course we must tell you that according to Ukrainian law, preselected adoptions are not allowed. However, because you already know these children and because of their advanced age, we are going to allow it."
I could not help my reply. "So perhaps while it's still Christmas, we could wave a magic wand and take Tanya home with us as well?"
Julia's translation of that remark took much longer than what I said, but the reply was that it is not possible, but even if it were, we would not be allowed to take children from two separate sibling-groups on the same trip anyway. So the choice was clear. Leza and Tema now, and Tanya next year - or nothing.
So we continued with Leza and Tema. The result of the meeting was a "letter of referral", permitting us to visit Leza and Tema's orphanage to meet them and decide if we wanted to adopt them.
We spent only three days and two nights in Kiev. The second night, we walked around Kiev and looked at the brightly lit Russian Orthodox churches, government buildings and theaters. It seems the later it got, the more people came out.
We had really enjoyed being with Valentin, but he informed us after our train trip to Crimea, we would be met and taken care of by Edward, who lives in Yalta and who knew the city of Kerch and the orphanage there.
This was not our first time on the night train to Simferopol. The difference was this time, from the Vogzal (train station) in Kiev until Edward met us in Simferopol, we would be without a translator.
It went fine. A few minutes into the trip a very plump woman with gold teeth came to our coupe' (room with four beds) to check our tickets and bring our bedding. I explained to her, "Ya gevaru paruskie nee ochen harasho" (I don't speak Russian very well) and she just smiled, enjoying the game of guess-the-words. Fortunately, I had asked Valentin about a thousand times how to say the word for adoption ("oosinovleynya"), so I could explain to people why two Americans with inadequate language skills were wandering around Ukraine. When I said that to her, she got very excited. And of course I understood nothing else she said, but I am under the impression it was good wishes and blessings.
Again we didn't sleep too good. I didn't sleep at all. I was still trying to digest the situation with Tanya, Leza and Tema. It isn't like we hadn't considered all permutations of how many kids we would be bringing home, but now that it was becoming a reality, I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Instead of sleep, I got in a good long practice session on my guitar - on a very bouncy train ride in the dark.
The night train from Kiev to Simferopol in a sleeper car is a story all in itself. The sights, the smells, the sounds, the people... For $65 we had an overnight place to sleep, (or not), a room to ourselves, and all the hot water for tea or coffee we wanted.
On one end of the car is a small hot water heater and you just take the cup you brought along and help yourself. Linda & I had learned from previous trips that the way a coffee junkie survives in this country is to bring a suitcase full of coffee in teabags. It ain't Starbucks, but it's caffeine. And it's way better than the instant, or hobo coffee most people are used to here.
On the opposite end of each train car is the bathroom.
Kinda.
It has a sink and a toilet. A metal toilet. A metal toilet with a pedal on the side you step on to flush.
Flushing consists of a flap opening, through which you can see the concrete railroad ties streaming by underneath the car.
I am not kidding.
I have invented a new game. If you ever go and want to play, here is how it goes.
Go to the gap between your car and the next. This is where people smoke (kureet). Here, when it is your turn at the open window, you can hang your head out and look at the track ahead. When you see the train coming to a curve, (this may take awhile), the game is on.
Run back to the bathroom, open the window, and stomp on the flush pedal. Now, take the roll of toilet paper and start streaming it down the hole and out onto the tracks. If you are lucky (and the tracks are turning sharply enough), you can look out the window and see your toilet paper streaming between the wheels. The way you score this game is by the number of windows back you can see your toilet paper. If you get to a second car - that is Level Two and is Very Good.
My high score is Level Two, six windows back. If you beat this score, write me back and I'll post it here.
If you think this sounds easy, you haven't had the pleasure of seeing (or trying to use) toilet paper in this part of the world. In short, it is not much better than a long stream of newspaper. It is very weak (and rates a zero on the absorbency scale). And it is plain brown which makes it hard to spot between the rusty train car wheels.
Anyway, back to the adoption... After 14 hours of train time, we arrived in Simferopol. Edward was at the door to our train car before we could even get off and had a van waiting. We immediately made the trip to Kerch, about 3 1/2 hours drive, but getting acquainted with Edward made it go by very fast. We went straight to the orphanage, known as Internat Number 1. Not many kids were about because they were either still in class or getting a snack before their scheduled homework time, which they all do together in one place.
A couple of kids we knew came up to the van when we got out. One was Katya, and she knew who we wanted to see. She ran off and after a few minutes, returned with Tanya.
It was so good to see her, and yet with the news we had for her, we had almost been dreading it. We brought her in the van for a private talk and Edward helped us explain to her the situation. Obviously it wasn't good news to have to wait another year, but she did understand how difficult the paperwork situation had been and that it finally seemed to be "fixed". I cannot even begin to imagine what she must have been feeling, but she put on a very brave face and tried to focus on being glad to see us.
We asked her how things had been going and she said all was well except that she still continued to struggle with math - something she had seemed worried about for as long as we've known her. In fact, now she said if she did not do well on her exams for this semester, she would likely be sent away to a "technical school". When we tried to clarify that, it became apparent she might not be here at the Internat when we returned next year, and she seemed very concerned. We reassured her we would not be deterred by anything like that and told her not to worry.
I have to say for me personally the best thing about seeing Tanya was that, although she was a little taller, she had not changed nearly as much as we had expected after almost two years. It is frustrating that we have wanted to provide a family for her for so long, and that for no good reason it has been one delay after another - all the while she is growing up and we are missing out on time with her. It seemed encouraging that she was so much like we remembered her.
We had to let her go after only a few minutes because she had another exam to prepare for, so we said goodbye and off she went.
When we stepped out of the van, a few more familiar faces drifted by and waived. It was time to go upstairs and meet Alexander, the director.
Tanya had known we were coming. Linda had made reference in a letter a few weeks prior about us coming "for a visit" (since we knew things were still unpredictable). It was not a secret to any of the kids that we had been trying to adopt Tanya for more than two years. However, our intentions regarding Leza and Tema were not known by anyone at the orphanage.
So I imagine when Leza and Tema were summoned to the director's office that day, they probably thought they were in some kind of big trouble.
They were already in Alexander's office when we were shown in.
From the expressions on their faces could only switch back and forth from stunned amazement to huge smiles.
After she got over the shock, Leza was her usual self. The caretakers told us Leza is always looking out for other kids and shares whatever she has. She seems to be doing pretty well in school and loves soccer.
Tema is very kind and courteous boy. From what we remembered, we expected him to be very quiet and shy, but he's not afraid to ask questions until he understands what's going on. He seems to enjoy trying to figure out English and Russian words with us. His favorite sport is boxing and apparently he has had some training here. I hope we can find that for him at home but I don't think it will be easy. Karate and kickboxing are everywhere, but he made a specific point that he meant boxing and not kickboxing.
Cool!
Nelya Petrovna, whom we had also met on the previous trips, is one of Leza & Tema's teachers for several classes and she was very proud to tell us they were both good students - especially Tema. It was good to see her again. She remembered us from our previous visits, and the teapot Linda had given her as a gift. Nelya asked the translator to tell us we were not just visitors, we were her friends.
On the second day of meetings at the orphanage our facilitator and translator, Edward, was busy getting information about Leza and Tema like who their parents were, where they were born, and medical records.
When we first started considering adopting Leza, it was a bit of a surprise to find out Tema was her brother. Although we had met Tema and spent time wiith him, somehow we never made the connection between them.
So you can imagine our shock when Edward walked out of the directors office with a fistfull of medical documents and said, "Did you know Leza and Tema have two other brothers?"
AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!
One brother is already an adult, but the other one would be only eight years old now and according to the records at the Kerch Internat, he was being kept at another orphanage in Simferopol, a half day's travel away. We about died right there. How could we possibly separate brothers and sisters? For that matter, how could we possibly take home more kids? We asked Edward what that would mean to our process because we had a limited amount of time and money. He said we would have to take the train all the way back to Kiev, have another meeting with the SDA, get another letter of referral to the Simferopol orphanage, then take the train back there, meet that orphanage and it's local government, and on and on... Basically everything we are doing for Leza and Tema would have to be redone.
Or,
If we did not adopt the little brother, at a minimum we would still have to visit Simferopol and get approval from their local "inspector" to have permission to seperate the siblings. At least 2 or 3 more days travel, waiting in lines, meetings, paperwork, and delay.
We got to worry about that for about 24 hours, until Edward's phone calls paid off and we received the news that the younger brother in Simferopol had already been adopted, several years ago, and it was no longer an option for us, nor would it change what we were working on. Also, the caretakers in Kerch told us they were certain Leza and Tema had no idea they even had another brother.
Then a day later, we found out that yes, it was a problem after all - even though the younger brother was adopted - the SDA back in Kiev wanted to dot the i's and cross the t's, so Valentin had to fax a document from there to Edward, who had to spend a day traveling to Simferopol and back just to take care of that.
Why? I don't know. Ya neznayu. I am in Ukraine, and I think maybe I understand nothing here. Ya neponymayu. Even my English has gotten worse because I am start to think like Russian. And I am not make sense like Ukrainian. Maybe Julia is right - thees ees not possible after all.
At least the food is good. And we are walking enough every day to work it off. People in this part of the world definitely walk a lot.
Sunday morning we got to see Leza and Tema in a Spring program. I translated the title of it to be, "Yes, Hello Spring!", and it had all kinds of flowery twirling dresses, dances, and singing. The Spring feeling was lost on us though. Something about sitting in cold wooden chairs in a concrete-walled auditorium looking at 150 kids still wearing winter coats - did not remind us of Spring.
Yes, they have heaters here. There is just the small matter of whether they work or not.
That afternoon we got to go with Tanya to her singing lesson and she is doing very well. It sounded to us like she sang a mixture of current popular Russian music and some composed by her teacher. It was during this hour of sitting in a cold wooden chair in yet another cold room that we learned Leza would much rather be outside running around chasing a soccer ball than anything to do with music. And Tema just smiled and waited. I don't know if anything would upset him. He is so even tempered and content it amazing.
It seems like every day is spent traveling from one place to the next, waiting in line, meeting some official, signing papers, getting them notarized, and taking them somewhere else. I think Edward has seven folders full of our documents. It is painfully slow and frustrating trying to get stuff done, but Edward knows what he is doing and we made it intact to our court appointment Thursday afternoon in Kerch.
Tema had been sick and impounded in the nurses office for a couple of days when on Wednesday I tried to tell him we were going to court tomorow. But I couldn't find "court" in our Russian/English dictionary, so I hunted up "judge" instead and tried that out.
"Why??", he blurted out in shocked but perfectly good English. Apparently "Judge" was not a good word choice and he thought we must have gone and got ourselves in some kind of big trouble. After we made him understand, it was funny.
Court was not a big deal, but it seemed very important to the judge and her two attendants and three secretaries. She had a copy of our entire dossier in front of her, and she leafed through the entire thing. Every few pages she would ask one of us to stand up and through our translator she would ask questions.
Where did we work? Why did we want to adopt more children? Did we have biological children of our own? If we wanted more children, why couldn't we just have them ourselves? (Yes, she asked that. I hope she was ashamed of herself).
Each time she asked a question, she addressed it to me, Linda, Tema, or Leza. We would have to stand up to answer, and Edward stood with us to translate. It began to look a little silly about 100 pages into the dossier, but this was not a woman to mess with. She had authoritative hair. She had a robe. She had many attendants. And although she did not have a gavel, the medallion of Ukraine that hung around her neck was absolutely stunning and difinitively answered any question of her authority or qualifications.
So the court in Kerch has approved the adoption. Now we are in the 10 day waiting period. If you can tell me what we are waiting for, I'd love to know.
March 31 - Things to do in Kerch while you are waiting.
So now you have three new teenage children you can't talk to because they speak Russian. You have a ten day waiting period - waiting for who knows what. And it's Spring Break, so you have them all day, until their 8PM curfew requires them to be back at the orphanage. What to do?
Here's an idea.
To save money, tell your facilitator and translator you'll be fine for a few days and he should go home to his young family at home in Yalta.
After all, isn't the "immersion" method supposed to be the best way to learn a foreign language? Who cares if you don't understand what the bus driiver is saying when he yells at you? Who needs to read a menu when you can just point? Hey, I can count to a hundred, ask "Where's a toilet?", "What time is the next train to Moscow?", "Where is Red Square?", and, "How much does that salt-cured fish cost that the flies have been laying eggs on all day in the sun and smells so nasty my dog wouldn't eat it?"
In fact, I can ask several questions in Russian. I just don't understand the answers.
We'll be fine.
One thing we did do was visit a store that sold movies on DVD. We bought a couple animated movies, including Disney's "Cars" ("Tatchky" in Russian). It is almost as funny in Russian as it is in English. You don't even have to watch the movie. Just watch the kids and see what they laugh at. Leza finds the "tractor tipping" scene absolutely hilarious and I can't imagine why. Surely there's no way she knows about cow-tipping? Larry The Cable Guy isn't quite as funny in Russian - I guess the Redneck thing just won't travel.
The other DVD that the kids absolutely love is "Kadetsva" ("Cadets"). It has several episodes of a TV series about a military school, and teenagers here are just crazy about it. There are a few main characters who go through various dramas about military school life, including issues with teachers, drill seargents, parents, bullys, girlfriends, etc.
After a couple of episodes, it became apparent that one main characters was really upset about problems with his girlfriend. Some things are obvious in any language. I winked at Tema and said, "Devutchka problema?" (girl problems?)
He grinned broadly and said, "Yes, yes!"
Unfortunately, Tanya heard this and said, "Nyet, nyet! Malchek problema!" (Boy problems)
And the debate was on.
So Tanya, (who I thought was supposed to be bad at math) lights up and says, "Mama look! Look!" Making a big show of counting on her fingers, she says, "Mama, Stephanie, Tanya, Leza, - adeen, dva, tree, cheterie". Then, on the other hand, "Papa, Ben, Tema - adeen, dva, tree!"
Great. Just great. She was counting votes. I looked at Tema and said, "Bad news, son. There's a new House Majority Leader - we are headed for bolshoy devuchka problema!"
Tema didn't get my joke - he will, soon enough.
For a few more days, we travelled around Kerch with Tanya and Leza. Tema was still fighting a cough and fever, so his time away from the nurses office was rare.
There are some monuments on a hill overlooking the city. On the side of that hill are some archaeological digs that have uncovered parts of Panticapaeum, said to be from the 7th century BC.
On the other side of the hill is a beautiful view of the Black Sea. |
