11/20/04-Day 5 - The 32-Hour Saturday

Readers -- The Journey Home is a 5-part entry. You should read Day 1 first.

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After we got to the airport, I tried to fend of the “airport service” people until I relented, having negotiated a much reduced rate of 300 Tenge (@ $2.25) They took our bags in and helped me fill out the customs forms. Apparently, in Kazakhstan, you have to fill out customs forms to leave the country. After completing these, I paid the gentleman who helped me, who tried to argue that the price was 3000 Tenge, but I shook my head and pointed to his partner and said we agreed on 300. (I actually gave him all my change since he was helpful, which was about 450.)

We now pushed our way into the mass of humanity that is the Almaty airport. As there were three flights leaving at this early, early hour, there were quite a few people there. As I may have mentioned in the past, standing in an ordered line is not something the Kazakhstani people do well. We waited at the ticket counter in what can only be described as a mass of people. Finally, I reached the check-out counter. Mary Jo had called ahead and reserved us seats and “seats” for the kids. I just needed to pay for the infant tickets. I probably should have done that on the previous day. The lady checking us in asked, “You have no ticket?” Eventually, we had to get a supervisor to issue us a ticket. Gma waited on the side with the two kids and our two carts of luggage as I went down to another window to get the tickets. I waited as the poor gentleman issued us two infant tickets, filling out the complete tickets by hand. This took about 15 minutes, but luckily we were there very early. So, now, with tickets in hand, I worked myself back to my ticket window, talking to the agent over the heads of two gentlemen who politely pushed themselves in front of me. I was able to get all our tickets and boarding passes for all three flights. We then worked our way over to passport control.

At passport control, Gma and I split up, I with Grace and she with Jack. It took a little time, but they eventually let me through. I never asked Gma how hers experience went, but she eventually go through. I wonder about this because the officer asked me to show the kids paperwork and, since I had both files, I don’t know what Gma would have shown if asked. As she got passed the window, I guess she was not asked. After this, I handed her the boarding passed for she and Jack and shoved the others in the bag. Apparently, something happened in this “shoving” that would come back to add great trauma to our already traumatic experience.

We sat in the waiting area sipping a cold drink I purchased with the last few Tenge I possessed. Then, the little tone range and an announcement came over telling us all, as far as I can tell, that it was time to board the flight. Now, I have flown many times in my life, and have had to on many occasions sit and listen to the famous phrase, “We will start boarding with our First Class cabin, our Super mileage people, and those traveling with infants or needing additional assistance.” Now was my first opportunity to hear that line and actually act on it. Unfortunately, I would not hear it in Almaty. And let me kill the suspense – after three flights on this trip, I still have not heard or been able to act on that phrase. However, as we pushed our way through the mass of people to the gate, Jack in the nice umbrella stroller we drug across the world for this exact purpose and Grace in a snuggly strapped to Dad, a very nice lady from the airport walked over, opened the divider and let us walk in ahead of people. We got to the front of the line and I gave the tickets. In all the confusion, they pointed out that I gave the wrong boarding pass for one of the kids and I had to rustle through my bag for the correct pass. It is only in reflection at this very moment that I realize this was the event that would result in the future trauma I alluded to earlier. Anyway, we boarded the plane and settled into our seats. Just as we were entering the plane, they told us to leave the stroller by the stairs. They said it would be outside the plane when we got off. Or so they said…

As I said earlier, Mary Jo had made all the arrangement for our flights home. On the first flight, we were both to be in bulkhead seats with wall hanging bassinets for the kids. On the second flight, they did not have wall hanging bassinets, but we were to have floor bassinets. Since the last trip was only an hour (but did have a 5 hour lay-over), we didn’t need special accommodations. While we waited for take-off, I met the couple behind us, who were traveling with their recently adopted 18-month old boy and their daughter, who they adopted from China 3 years ago. I talked a little about our experience. I handed Grace the emergency evacuation card, which I found on the flight to Almaty was something she really liked. She sat and used it to play peak-a-boo with the people’s daughter before we took off. Here are pictures of the kids in their bassinets.





Anyway, all went as planned on the first flight. After take-off, the very nice flight attendants brought out the bassinets and hung them on the walls. We laid both kids in them and each fell asleep. Grace slept for a little over half of the flight. Unfortunately, for Gma, Jack did not cooperated as much. She spent a big part of the trip trying to keep him in the bassinet. As she was in a window seat and unable to get up, I took on the task of all diaper changings for both kids. So, for parts of the flight I had Jack, but most of it was with Grace. With just under 3 hours left in the 6 ½ hour flight, Grace woke up and decided she did not want to lie down any more. She figured out how to stand up, so there was no winning this fight, so she spent the remainder of the time being held by Dad – a position we would see for much of this trip. During all the time, we were able to feed the kids one meal, a bottle of formula and some juice and enjoy a very nice breakfast of eggs, yogurt and enormous croissants. Eventually, we landed in Frankfurt and left the plane.

As we departed the plane, we looked for our stroller and were told it would be “up by the door just around the corner.” After we got around the corner, there was no stroller to be found. We went back to the plane and asked two different people if they had any ideas. They asked us if it had a yellow sticker on it and I told them I had no idea as their people were the one’s who took it. Well, apparently, if you have no yellow sticker, you have no stroller. So, the nice little umbrella stroller, purchased at Wal-Mart for the specific purpose of helping us drag these kids through the Frankfort and Chicago airports, is now sitting somewhere in airport baggage Never-Neverland.

During our wait, I decided to get our tickets out. As I shuffled through the pile of papers in my bag, I realized that Grace’s boarding pass for the next flight was missing. After we got the gate and after another very nice lady tried to help us find our stroller, I let her know that I would have to go to the ticket window to get another one. We went to the window, which did not open for 15 minutes and asked a person from Lufthansa if there was another open one. She said there was, but, since the plane was operated by United, we would need to go to the gate to get it. So, we picked up our bags and our children (though not in that order) and headed to the next gate. We had to take a nice train to the last concourse. (No matter where you are going, doesn’t it always seem you have to go to the last concourse? Who flies on the planes in the other concourses?) On our way to the gate, we had to go through another security check-point, which had apparently been thrown together for some special purpose as there were no metal detector stands and each person had to be individually “patted down.” Well, this meant I had to take Jack out of the snuggly, where he was frisked and I was wanded. We passed this test and headed to our gate. Luckily, our gate was one of the first in that concourse, one of the few things that went our way.

At the gate, I informed the people we had lost a boarding pass and asked what we needed to do. As with the case of all questions in the airline industry, this required talking to a supervisor. I re-explained my situation and he informed me that, since the ticket was issued by Lufthansa, I would need to go to a Lufthansa ticket window. This involved heading back to the B concourse. (We were now in the C concourse.) He said they would hold the plane, but I must hurry, so I sprinted in the direction he gave me. After one false start, I realized I had to go out, past Checkpoint Charlie to the next concourse. At least I did not have to get back on the train. After about a mile run, I came to the Lufthansa Transfer Center where I could resolve my issue.

Now, not do any racial stereotyping, let me say that I have listened for years to my good friends John and Chris tell me about the great efficiency of the German people. Now, we know no characteristic is 100% true, so there have to be some inefficient German people. The question is, what do they do with them? Apparently, they work at the ticket counter for Lufthansa. After waiting for my turn for what seemed like a lifetime, I explained my situation to the agent behind the counter. She then proceeded to try to re-issue my ticket. Let us just say that it took her 3 times as long as it took the guy who hand wrote all the tickets in the first place. I think the issue was, since they were hand written, she had to re-type everything. Well, she kept typing the wrong information, so it would take. After 20-30 minutes and hearing, “Now boarding United Flight 945 to Chicago,” numerous times, she seemed to get to the end. Then, she called to her supervisor, because we had to fill out a lost document form. I did this as quickly as possible and eventually, I received my new ticket – at 8:15 am for an 8:15 flight. I sprinted back, cajoled my way to the front of the line at Checkpoint Charlie and proceeded to the gate. At the gate, they grabbed our tickets and passports and just told us to get on board; they would bring them on when they were done. Already exhausted and avoiding the intense stares of the other passengers, which were softened when held up Grace to them and let them stare into her enormous brown eyes, we collapsed in our seats.

Did you know that you cannot have two infants sitting in the same row? Well, apparently, the people at reservations didn’t know this either. So, as they are trying to desperately get this plane in the air, they had to hold us up again as they tried to figure out what to do with us. In each row, there is only one extra oxygen mask, so two infants would leave them one mask short. They were able to eventually talk one nice gentleman in our row to change seats (luckily, there was an empty seat on a very packed plane) and we were able to sit together. (On the previous flight, Gma and I sat in separate rows so we could get the bassinets.) I asked the attendant if they had the floor bassinets, when I was informed there was no such thing on these planes. (Strike two for the reservation people) She said she would see what she could do. So, our plane took off and we began our 9 hour flight to Chicago.

At the start of the flight, the attendant did bring some type of bassinet, but it required some place to hook them, which did not exist on this plane. Do ask me why they had it on this plane, but it was of no use to us. Now, let me tell you one good thing. Remember that nice man who changed seats? That left us an empty seat in our row and it was right there between Gma and I. So, we had a place to put the kids if needed. We also had the floor, on which we could put blankets.

So, how was this flight? If needed, please scroll back to Day 1 and my rant about the cribs. Let us just say, these kids, especially Grace, do not sleep well without the defined space for sleeping. At certain points, Gma was able to cajole each of them into a short nap, Jack longer than Grace, but in the last four hours I spent the entire time holding a very tired, very fussy, very squirmy Grace Elizabeth McGrath. I hate to admit, but I find that, in times of utter exhaustion, I find that my temper is very short. I found myself getting very angry at this little girl as she whined and squirmed across the Atlantic Ocean. I felt really guilty as I kept remembering what we were putting these poor kids through, but in my exhaustion I found myself wanted to scream. But, I held my temper and we continued on “the flight that wouldn’t end.” There were a few lulls when I was able to watch a video, but for most of it, I tried to entertain Miss Gracie. (I have now seen the first hour of I, Robot two times. I will have to rent it just to know what happens.)

One little thing I learned about myself on this flight – I am unable to change the diaper of a sideways child. I have always changed the kids standing or sitting at their feet. On the planes, I would sit a pad on the seat and kneel in front of them to change them. While I was doing this with Grace on this flight, a flight attendant let me know they had changing tables in one of the lavatories. So, when I needed to change one of Jack’s very-poopy diapers, I decided to take him to the changing table. What a disaster! He squirmed all over the place and, well, let us say, we got “stuff” everywhere. After finally getting him dressed, I washed down the changing table, washed my hands and returned to my seat. I made no other attempts to use the changing table.

Well, obviously it wasn’t really “the flight that wouldn’t end” because it did finally end. At 10:30 am CST, we touched down at O’Hare Airport in Chicago. At this point, Jack and Grace officially became U.S. Citizens. We packed up all our stuff and the kids (not in that order), and left the plane. The Embassy folks told us to carry the sealed envelopes in the open when we got to passport control. That would be a signal to them that they had an adoption case. I did this and all went smoothly. The nice lady at the window stamped our passport and customs form and had us wait to the side. Then she walked us into the immigration office and a very nice man opened our envelopes and processed our paperwork. I have no events to share on this experience.

After all this, we went to baggage claim and found our bags. We took them through customs and went to the counter to re-check them. As I mentioned before, we had a 5 hour lay-over in Chicago, but didn’t know how long the immigration process would take. (10 minutes) So, I planned to try to get us on an earlier flight. As I went to the counter, I asked if there were any earlier flights to Pittsburgh than the 4:10 flight. He answered, “That is the most asked question today. Sorry, the only other flight is 11:20 and it is too late for you to get on.” I did not get this gentleman’s name, but let us say I will try to be polite and just not describe him as “nice.” We re-checked our bags and processed to the Skyway to head to our terminal. As there was no gate on our tickets and no monitors to check, we assumed our flight was in Terminal One. As it would end up, that was true.

When we arrived at Terminal One, we checked the board and the 4:10 flight to Pittsburgh was not on the board yet. All they had were the sadly missed 11:20 flight and the 1:30 flight. For those of you reading this, let me say that nothing registered at this time. So, we asked someone what to do and they said to proceed through security and wait. Our flight would be posted when the gate was decided.

We proceeded through security – again, not an easy task with two infants – and plopped ourselves down in the lounge area for Gate B9. After a trip to the rest room and the purchase of cold drinks for Gma and me, I settled in the seat next to Gma. The kids were laid out on the floor sound a sleep. Suddenly, something registered in my mind – 1:30 flight to Pittsburgh. I ran back to the board and there it was – an earlier flight. I told Gma I was going to check on this flight, which, of course was in Concourse C and we were in Concourse B. I headed to Concourse B and found the scheduled gate for this flight.

At the gate, I spoke to the person at the counter about getting on the flight. She asked if we had bags checked on another flight and I said yes. She said we could probably get on the flight if they could pull our bags. She took my information along with a description of the bags and sent a message to the baggage people. She said we had plenty of time before the flight, so don’t rush back with the rest of the gang. I returned to Concourse B, where, of course, the kids were sleeping soundly. Gma and I decided to wait a little before waking them and I went to call Mary Jo with the potentially good news. She was at the store, but I left a message with her brother Kevin. Eventually, we gathered all our stuff and headed to the gate. It was a long distance, but luckily, most of it was on moving walkways. We got to the gate, where it seemed like we would be able to get on the flight, so I call Mary Jo to give her our arrival time. I returned to the counter and found that our bags had been “scanned on the next flight”, so they were not retrievable. Now, help me with this. Our next flight didn’t even have a gate yet, let alone a plane. How come they could not pull them to this flight? Well, I was informed that our plane did have a gate – Gate B9. (refer to the previous paragraph) Dejected, I explained that we had two children and my mother was 72 years old with a bum knee, so could they provide assistance for us back to the gate. They said they could get us a wheel chair, but then she couldn’t carry the baby. Does anyone know how people get on those cars packed with little old ladies that almost run over a hundred people each day in airports across the nation? So, I trudged back to Gma where I had to tell this wonderful, exhausted 72 year old lady that we had to walk back to the originally gate where she had efficiently setup shop an hour earlier. The look on her face broke my heart. I also called Mary Jo, but will not repeat her comments as this is a family show.

We drug ourselves back to Gate B9 and settled in with 2 hours to wait. Of course, any possibility of getting the kids back to sleep went out the window. I have to say, I had no idea what was keeping Grace standing. She honestly had about 5 hours sleep in the past 40 hours, but she was still going. We waited until the plane was finally called board. Not yet beaten down, I still held that small glimmer of hope that I would hear, “and those people traveling with infants or in need of assistance…” Alas, that was not to happen here either. So, we boarded in the third group, dragging three bags and two children down a think aisle. I think I hit every single person on the way to the back. We settled into our seats – 16A and 16B – when we were told, of course, that we could not sit together with two infants. (Strike 3 for the reservation person) They were able to convince this very nice gentleman to give up his aisle seat to sit in a middle seat next Gma and I settle into my new seat. At last, Grace fell asleep in my arms in utter exhaustion. I sat in the seat dozing off; when the nice gentleman woke me for fear that Grace would fall out of my arms. I struggled to stay awake until we took off, when I could put the seat back and lay Grace on my chest. Gma was able to lean against the window with Jack on her shoulder and they both slept. The rest of the flight went quickly with no events.

After the plane landed in Pittsburgh, we waited until everyone else deplaned and then gathered our things and headed to baggage claim. Gma, God lover her, was barely standing, so I took both kids and we shuffled toward the trams. We boarded the tram where everyone cooed over the babies and offered their seats. I declined, not being sure whether I would be able to get back up. When we reached the end, I handed Jack to Gma and we headed down the escalator to baggage claim. I once said, my only goal in life was to get off a plane and have a person standing there with a sign with my name on it. (OK, I don’t a lot of ambition.) Anyway, at the bottom, we walked to the baggage claim and there waiting for us were practically the entire Post and McGrath Pittsburgh clans, all holding signs that said “McGrath.” It was a picture to make a tired traveler cry. They all gathered around us, while many hugs and kisses were exchanged. We were escorted to baggage claim where we could sit while others attempted to find our bags. I was sure our bags would not have made it as that would have been a fitting end to our trip, but lo and behold, our bags arrived and we headed to the cars for the trip home.

The kids had their first trip in a car seat on the way home. I had predicted that Jack would take to the seat and fall fast asleep, but Grace would be fussy. Well, on this particular trip, the opposite was true. Jack was so tired, that he screamed for half the trip until he finally settled down and slept. Grace slept the whole trip.

At home, we tried to feed the kiddies, but there was minimal success. The children were just exhausted. So we changed them and put them off to bed. We settled down for a small celebration and some good food to eat. Gma and I were both able to sit down and relax, a long, eventful adventure brought to completion. I eventually went to bet around 10:30 that night, 32 hours after we got up on that same Saturday. As the singer once sang, “What a long, strange trip it’s been…”

11/19/04-Day 4 of the Journey Home

Today was a free day. The adoption process was basically complete and we were free to leave the country. I had called Lufthansa earlier to see if we could get on an early flight, but, true to form, Lufthansa has stopped flying out of Almaty on Wednesdays and Fridays. So we would have to wait for our original flight.

The exciting thing about staying the extra day was that Bolat was going to arrange for us to get together with Steve, Lisa and Jerry. I believe I have talked about them in the past but to remind everyone, Steve and Lisa are from upstate New York and are adoption two infants, Marguerite and Francis. Lisa is a pediatrician who was a wonderful help to Mary Jo and I. Jerry and his wife Jane are from Connecticut and were adopting Allie. Jerry was traveling back with Jane’s older son, I believe. During the first stage, it was great to be at the hotel with all of them. If you remember, they were the couples that visited us in our apartment in Karaganda at a point when Mary Jo and I were at a low point. I really looked forward to spending a little time with them before we shook the dust of Kazakhstan from our shoes.

The other big event of the day was a trip to a souvenir store. I had gone to one in Karaganda, but Gma was not able to, so we wanted to go to one so she could find some souvenirs. So, at 10 a.m., Bolat’s father picked us up for the trip. We drop to a busy part of the city and we got out of the car. I walked toward the building by which we parked hoping the stores were there. Unfortunately, the stores were across the street. On its busy intersections, Almaty has these “undergrounds”, underground tunnels that enable you to walk under the streets. I cannot describe the full horror on Gma’s face as she looked at the stairway down, which was the equivalent length of a two story building. So, we walked down and through a tunnel when we got to other side and had to walk back up. After 25+ days in Kazakhstan and three days of carrying the kids around Almaty, Gma is reaching the end of her strength. She was able to take Grace up the underground stairs and we entered into the Mall. Our escort asked someone where the souvenir stores were and we discovered they were on the third floor. Have I told you that many buildings in Kazakhstan do not have elevators? Well this was one of them and to add to the pain, each floor had very high ceilings. After the first flight, I took Grace from Gma and carried both kids up the stairs and let Gma take her time going up.

On the third floor, we found multiple souvenir stores, but mostly we stayed at one. A very nice lady helped us looked at multiple items. I bought some wall hangings and hats for the kids and Gma bought an array of gifts for the folks back home. We left the stores and worked our way back to the car. Luckily, the trip out of the Mall was downhill, but also had to work through the underground. I took both kids again and we got to the car. Back at the apartment, we slowly worked our way back up the two flights of stairs and fed the kids before we collapse in exhaustion. I am sure Gma had similar feelings, but at this point, I was beginning to think I had never been so tired in my life. Oh, how wrong I was.

After feeding the kids, I took a walk back to the market where I got the chicken; because we wanted to try the famous “kebobs” that Bolat had told me about. Now, in my mind, a kebob is some type of meat on a stick. Apparently, in Kazakhstan, at least in Almaty, this is not was a kebob is. As far as I can tell, a kebob is the big slab of meat on standing on a spit like you see in any gyro shop. They slice shavings off the meat and basically serve it on a tortilla. Yes, fans, I traveled 9000 miles to have a burrito. Let me add in my sarcasm, though, that they were delicious. I am glad we got them.

After lunch, I waited in excited anticipation for Bolat to call with the arrangements. I had spoken to him in the morning and suggest the other folks come over to our apartment and we order pizza. I figured that would be easier than taking 5 children out to eat in Kazakhstan. With the lack of elevators and many other tools of convenience, I did not hold out much hope for high chairs at their restaurants.

So, we waited. And waited. And waited. Four o’clock came, which is the typical time for the Embassy appointments and still no word from Bolat. Time still passed – 5, then 6. I was beginning to worry if we were going to hear anything and since I had made no plans for dinner, I was getting really concerned. Then, at 7, the phone rang. It was Bolat, who let me know that his father’s car broke down and he was using Bolat’s car. So, there was no way for him to transport any of us to a common destination. I can’t tell you how much this bummed me out, but I am sure you can imagine. Again the phrase entered my mind – “Is anything on this trip going to work out as planned?” So, I was I let Bolat know that we had not plans (or food) for dinner and we at least needed help on that. I asked him to order us anther pizza, which he said he would do. That was the last time I spoke to Bolat.

Of course, at this point, I realized that I probably did not have enough Tenge to pay for the pizza and get us home, so I ran out (in the rain, by the way) and was eventually able to find an exchange window at a local market, where I also bought some water and a couple bottles of Efes beer, my last bottles before I left.

Upon my return, we hung out, waiting for our pizza. And waiting. And waiting. About 9 pm, I was beginning to worry that maybe our pizza would not come. Unfortunately the only number we have for Bolat was a cell phone and the phone we had could not call it. I also tried the pizza place in the desperate hope that someone there could speak English, but the line was busy. Oh, by the way, at this point, the kids were still awake. Apparently, they somehow had figured out they were leaving for America the next day and were too excited to sleep. I have to say, they were in great moods and were cracking Gma and I up as we sat in complete hunger. Meanwhile, back at the pizza front…

I again tried the pizza place and was able to finally get through. As to the question of whether or not someone there spoke English, I am sure you can guess the answer. So, I through out varies phrases, like pizza, our address, Bolat and whatever I could think of and somehow they were able to figure out we had ordered a pizza and had not received it. At least, I think they figured that out. The woman on the phone asked for my number and said she would call back, which she did. In fact, they called back 4 times. I am not sure the purpose of the calls, but they seemed to have some value, because at 9:45, we received our pizzas. By the way, did I tell you that we were being picked up at 1:30 am for a 4 am flight?

We were finally able to get the kids to bed around 10 and we sat and enjoyed our pizza. Gma had planned to stay up until we left, but I hoped to get a little sleep. Little is the best description. I think I fell asleep for about an hour when I was awaked at 1 am to get ready to leave. I got dressed and packed the last few items and we got the kids up and ready to go. At 1:15, I took the last of our garbage down and found Bolat’s father already there. So, I went upstairs, dragged our luggage downstairs, brought the kids down with Gma and headed for the airport. Such would end our time in the Almaty apartment and Day 3.

11/18/04-Day 3 fo the Journey Home

Our day began with the call of Jack. Gma brought him out while Grace still slept. I changed him and then drank our coffee waiting for Grace to wake up. After she got up, we got them dressed and fed them breakfast. We settled in for the day, waiting for our Embassy appointment, which is today at 4 p.m.

I decided to go for a walk in search for an Internet Café. I saw them in Karaganda and saw one in the neighborhood we were in the last time we were in Almaty. I still planned to hold this tome until I returned, but I thought it would be nice to send Mary Jo a note. So I headed up our street.

I think I may have mentioned that it appears we are in a more upscale neighborhood than we were in last time. The shops have a “higher class” feel to them. The “Baby Dior” shop may be the give away. I took a long circular walk around the neighborhood, constantly keeping my bearings so I could get back to the apartment. (I forgot to bring my breadcrumbs.) After about a ½ hour, I came across “Silk Way City Supermarket.” This is a place we’ve seen tons of advertising for on the T.V. I am not sure if I mentioned but Supermarket (spelled супермаркет) is not the large grocery store we are used to, but a large grouping of shops, closer to a Mall. In Karaganda, these were usually large rooms with stalls and sometimes had a grocery among the shops. Silk Way City Supermarket is just like our Malls, with enclosed shops and everything. I walked around and eventually came across a place with about 10-12 computers and a sign with pricing for Internet access. The process was 5 Tenge (about 4¢) per minute. I spend an hour looking at a few emails, sending an email to Mary Jo and checking a little news.

As I walked along, I came across their food court and what do my wandering eyes see, but the big red, white and gold sign for a “King Burger” or what we would call “Burger King.” Though it was only 11 a.m. I decided I had to try a Kazakhstan Burger King. So, I got a cheeseburger meal, which was their version of a Whopper, fries and Coke. After taking the lettuce and tomato off (which I also do at home), I tried my meal. It wasn’t bad. I also saw some luscious looking chocolate desserts, which I purchased to take back to Gma.

I got back in time to help feed the kids. This is good since we don’t even have the “improvised” high chairs we had in Karaganda. Here, we sit the kids on the kitchen table, hold them with one hand and feed them. Grace is fine. She will be sitting in her own chair soon. Jack is a little tougher since he doesn’t like to sit still. So far, no one has fallen. After they were fed, Gma and I sat down for some chicken salad. After lunch, Gma cut into her dessert and gave it a try. I also cut off a piece and tried it. I then looked and saw there was a little mold on it. Great!! We spend all this time here and get food poisoning on the next to last day. Well, at least we have some anti-biotic to fall back on. We settled into the living room and waiting to see if there would be any reaction to our dessert.

So, the time came for us to go to the Embassy and we were still alive, so our fear of a debilitating bout with food poisoning passed. Bolat’s father picked us up and took us to the Embassy. We arrived a few minutes early. I had brought my camera to take a few pictures, when I learned you were not allowed to take pictures for security reasons. I stored my camera away and we headed into the Embassy, which is a 17-story building in the middle of the city that is shared with a bank. After signing in, we were escorted to the top floor. Here we were let into a large waiting room that looked like any government agency waiting room across the U.S. At least we didn’t have to take a number.

I went ahead and paid for all the fees as we waited for our name to be called. There were three or four other families in the room waiting to complete their adoptions, including the Poindexter family that we met at the SOS Clinic. There were five glass-enclosed windows and everyone waited in their seats until they were called. We were the last family called, so Gma and I walked to the window. A man behind the window had our files ready. We started to work through the papers for Grace when he realized he forgot the most important process. I had to take an oath that everything I was saying and in the files was true. So, I said “I do” and we proceeded. The process was a non-event. I signed a couple of the documents, he asked me a few questions and then he presented the immigration files to me. These were both sealed and I was reminded that I was to present these to immigration in Chicago still sealed. If they were opened, we would have to fly back to Almaty to do this again. I stowed the files away and we headed back.

On the elevator, as we were escorted back down, Miss Gracie flirted with a couple men who were going down with us. She usually has been very scared of strangers, but we are finding that is typically with women. She doesn’t seem to have the same problems with men. Obviously, she has not learned that all men are dogs and will only break your heart. Ah, the things she has to look forward to.

We returned to the apartment where we fed the kids. As we still had not been visited by any gastronomic issues from our lunchtime dessert, Gma and I finished our chicken from the previous night. We eventually went to bed with the exciting prospect that tomorrow would be our last day in Kazakhstan.

11/17/04-Day 2 of the Journey Home

The most significant part of this day was that I turned 42 years old. Yes, readers, 42 years ago, Gma Jan went into labor, but waited until the end of the Jackie Gleason show until she went to the hospital. Thus, I was born in the labor room. Even back then, we saw the legendary “calm in a storm” of Gma Jan.

So, you ask, how did the night go in the crib fort? I have to say, in spite of my ranting (and I’m still not happy) the night went all right. The kids did wake up at times. The biggest issue is that Jack is all over the place, while Grace sleeps basically in a little ball. Every once and a while, Jack would roll over on top of her and she would cry. Gma went in a few times to calm them down and they would go back to sleep. Jack slept until 6, which is earlier than usual, but not bad considering the environment. Grace actually slept until 7. She was so exhausted yesterday, so it wasn’t that surprising. After breakfast and bottle, the kids played for a little bit, but started to get fussy, so we put them to “fort” for a morning nap. They went down with little fuss until we actually had to wake them up at 10:30 so we could get them ready for the trip to the clinic.

Bolat had class today, so his father picked us up for the SOS clinic at 11 for our “11:30 appointment.” Unfortunately, we forgot that we were going to a clinic as all clinics in the world have different sense of time than we do. Our appointment was eventually complete at 1:30. We should have known it was going to take that long. The issue was that we didn’t bring any food for the kids. We had bottles, so that held them over.

Basically, at the clinic, the doctors looked at the records from the orphanage and did a quick cursory exam of the kids. We did get knew weights and lengths on the kids. Jack is up to 8.5 kgms (18.7 lbs), which is up from 18 lbs last month. He is now 72 cms (28.3 ins.), but I can’t remember what he was. Grace is up to 6.6 kgms (14.6 lbs), which is up from the 12 lbs of 2 months ago. She is now 66 cms (26 ins.). I went in for both doctor’s exams which were by different doctors and conducted in different ways. The doctor who saw Jack reviewed the file with me, telling me some of the things we already knew. We did learn that the little indent he has in his back is a scar from having a boil removed. They did not tell us that in the orphanage. She also asked some questions about him, like whether he could sit up on his own. She said his development was pretty normal for his age. The doctor who saw Grace poked around at her (to Grace’s extreme displeasure, which was heard out in the lobby) and then said we were done. No questions, no comments. Fifteen minutes later, we had our files – sealed envelopes we were not to open – and paid and left. Bolat’s father asked if we “passed,” but I wasn’t sure since everything was sealed. I can only assume we did.

We met a very interesting couple in the clinic, the Poindexter family from Virginia. They have been here since the end of September like me, but were in two different cities and orphanages. First, they were in Astana, where they got Sasha, a 9 year old boy. Then, they went to Okul where they will be adopting Zerrina, a 4 year old girl. In Okul, a very small town in the north, they lived at the orphanage, since there was not other place to stay. They also ate at the orphanage where all meals consist of some combination of potatoes, rice and cabbage. Meat is never served. (Please go back through my journal and find any place where I complained and stamp it “Shut up you big cry baby!”) They were in Almaty to take care of Sasha’s exit process. They will fly back to Astana for Zerrina’s court date, after which they will take Sasha back to Virginia. Then, after the next waiting period, the husband will return with her older daughter (27 years old) to pick up Zenia. I was very impressed with them and their commitment to what they were doing.

After we got home, we just hung out. After we fed the kids, I went on a search dinner for Gma and I. I went back to the area where I went to the market last night. I went into the restaurant and asked, in my best pantomime, if I could get something to take out. The waitress said no, which mean either they don’t have take out or she thought I was asking her out. In either case, I sheepishly walked out. Outside the restaurant and market, there is a stand known for its kebobs. Unfortunately, they had none, but they were roasting chickens in a large oven. I was able to ascertain that it would be another 10 minutes, so I went into the market to get some sides for our chicken dinner. I picked out two cold salads – one was beef noodle dish and the other was some kind of chicken salad. I then went back to the stand and got our chicken, which they put in a brown paper bag inside a plastic bag. I walked home and Gma and I sat down and enjoyed our dinner. Later, we put the kids back in the fort and all went to bed. Thus day two came to an end.

11/16/04-Day 1 of the Journey Home

informed, “Bolat got you an apartment, like you asked.” Now, either there is a complete lack of communication between the folks in Karaganda and the folks in Almaty or the folks down here just do whatever they want. I will let my readers make their own judgment on which is true. I then asked if he at least got us cribs the answer to which was in the negative. At this point, the stress in my head was pushed aside by a slow simmering anger.

We arrived at our apartment building, which had a little less “scary” look to it than our previous experiences. After walking up the stairs to the third floor (see above discussion of my only two concerns), we entered into our apartment. The apartment is nice. It is not as large as the one we had in Karaganda, but it is a step up in quality. Anyway, I asked Bolat’s father more about the cribs and he said we would just have to construct something using chairs. He also said that the hotels don’t have cribs either, which is not what we were told. We dropped the discussion and he left, letting us know that Bolat would be by later.

Let me take a moment to rant about the cribs. These kids are 10 and 11 months old. They crawl everywhere, especially Jack who gets into everything. They have spent their very short lives learning that when they go into a crib, it is time to sleep. Yes, sometimes they get angry at us and let us know they are not ready to sleep, but they understand what the crib means. Now, we are being asked to deal with them for 3 days with no way of signaling to them it is time to sleep. I have always been prepared on this trip to deal with conditions below what I am used to. Gma and I have accepted and adapted to the lack of modern conveniences like a washing machine, bathing in water with the stench of sulfur, shopping for food in an unfamiliar market without English and dealing with the isolation of being far from home. However, I never thought we would have to force these kids to make the same adaptation. It has been baffling and shocking to me that this program does not have arrangements to provide cribs for this stage of the journey. Maybe other families have accepted this as “part of the experience”, but I don’t find it acceptable. I just don’t think it would be hard to be prepared to provide this. I mean, it is an adoption program – you know – usually of toddlers. I mean, it’s not like we called the night before and said, “Hey, we’re coming to Almaty tomorrow, can you get us somewhere to sleep.” This trip has been scheduled for two months. Well, enough of my rant – back to our story.

So, where were we? Yes, in the apartment waiting for Bolat to arrive. Well, Gma, ever the resourceful grandmother and even more the MVP of the trip, looked around and pondered alternative sleeping arrangements for the kids. The apartment has four rooms – a “master” bedroom, living room, kitchen, and spare bedroom. She looked in the spare bedroom and realized it was, for the most part, baby-proof. So, her first idea was that we could put comforters on the floor and shut the door. They may not go to sleep, but at least they couldn’t get into things. Later, Gma refined her idea and realized we could build a “crib fort” using chairs, the couch in the room and one wall. Then we could lay the kids inside the fort when it was time for bed. You will find pictures of the “crib fort” in the pictures page.

During the afternoon, Bolat called to check on us. We had a short discussion on the cribs where he said they did have cribs in the hotel, but four other couples are using them. Apparently, there is only one hotel in all of Almaty, but I rant again. He also asked me how many pictures of the kids were in our packets. I checked and there were two. He informed me that the Embassy now required three photos and we would have to go out later to get another picture taken. Apparently, they’ve know about this for a couple weeks, but it was decided that it was easier to do this the night before we had to hand in our file. He said he would be by after 5.

Bolat came over around 5:30. We made he wait a few minutes while we fed the kids, then we bundled them up and took them to the Kodak Express store. This took about 15 minutes and went with little issue. Lucky for them, Jack was exhausted so he sat quietly while they took the picture. While we waited for it to develop, he fell asleep in Gma’s arms. Grace was also very good during the short trip. We took Gma and the kids back to the apartment so he and I could run to the market. I asked him if he could show me a place where I could get “take-out” since we didn’t want to do much cooking in Almaty. Well, wonders of wonders, readers, Almaty has pizza delivery!! We got pizza from the same place – The Patio – that we had pizza at when Mary Jo and I first came to Almaty.

Bolat and I went through all the paper work. There were a few more forms to fill-out. He had to have them all turned into the Embassy by Noon the next day. We finished it all and then Gma and I ate our pizza. After that, we hung out with the kids in the hopes they would fall down in utter exhaustion so we could put them to bed. Such was not our luck, so by 9, we decided we needed to put them in “bed.” We put the kids to bed in the crib fort, Gma choose to sleep on the couch in the living room and I went to bed in the bedroom – my first night in a real bed in a month. It took some time, along with a couple trips into the room by Gma, for them to settle down, but they did eventually go to sleep. Thus ended our first day in the journey home.

Check out the pictures.