Karaganda for the Holidays

Christmas Eve
As Christmas Eve approached, we wondered how we'd celebrate, as Christmas in this country is celebrated according to the orthodox calendar (approximately 2 weeks after December 25). Our Belgium friends, Petra and Erik, and U.S. friends, Christy and John, invited us "the largest Christmas Eve dinner in Karaganda." In truth, it was probably the only Christmas Eve dinner in Karaganda. We all met at an Armenian restaurant that was fashioned after a castle, but was very chilly. Nevertheless, we enjoyed a nice meal with seven other adoptive friends. Soon however, the music began (a trio of singers with recorded background music-a la karaoke). They were good and LOUD! Young, attractive, and flashy dressed girls and older women descended on the dance floor, joined by a token man or two. Eventually, we all joined them to dance and grooved to a ditty with a chorus of "Hands up, baby hands up, give me your heart..." In addition to it being a Christmas celebration, the evening was a passing of the torch that probably occurs between month to month here as couples complete the adoption process and others just begin.

Christmas Day
On Christmas Day, we opted for a more quiet dinner in our hotel restaurant. We descended the big wooden steps (cut just a bit too high to be comfortably stepped up and down) only to come upon a gathering of people in the small lobby. As we walked into the restaurant, a woman politely shook her head and spoke in Russian what must have been "sorry, we're having a private party in the restaurant.." A bit annoyed, we climbed back up stairs discussing other options. Only 30 seconds later a woman knocked on our door and both apologized and gestured that we come downstairs to join the party. Somewhat reluctantly, we said "yes" and upon returning downstairs, were ushered to a table of prominence in the front of the restuarant, which they had just set up for us, adjacent to the dance floor. We knew right then, this was not going to be a traditional Christmas dinner. Behind us the tables were filled with what we surmized were 40 or more co-workers enjoying a holiday party, with two, unexpected, honorary guests! After our order was taken, a young man ascended the stage, fiddled with some audio equipment, addressed the guests in Russian, and then gesturing to us, in English said, "This first song is in honor of our special guests from England!" He then sang us a very nice tradition of Frank Sinatra's, I Did It My Way. While we felt a bit embarassed, it was a nice gesture that made us feel welcome, as well. Soon a fancily dressed woman took over the master of ceremonies duties and throughout the rest of our meal, acknowledged individuals and teams, ran contests of dance styles, etc. All this took place two feet in front of our table, as if we were judges reviewing a parade. Eventually, we found a pause in the action, thanked our hosts, and returned to our room. The night, it turned out, was still very young, and we unsuccessfully tried to sleep throughout the festivities which continued well past midnight. Late night parties were not confined to holidays, as we gradually learned as the week unfolded.

Rockin' Santa
After dining at a restaurant at the City Mall one night, a key area of refuge from the cold, in the center of town, we came upon an army of Santas (referred to as Father Frost) strolling the floors. They were accompanied by pretty, young maidens (supposedly Father Frost's granddaughter), dressed in full-length blue gowns with white fur bonnets. Sherri (after having a beer), approached the jolly old souls with a hearty "ho, ho, ho! to which they responded "ho, ho, ho!" (So we could speak the language, afterall!) In broken English, they told us of their vocation as Santas and invited us to "toss the die for a prize." John picked up the HUGE pillow-like die and rolled it across the floor: a three? The lead Santa said to John, "you must now dance!" to which John responded, a bit taken aback, "Who, ME?!" We were expecting to simply get the prize, not perform. Several Santas, broke into a chorus of "We Will We Will Rock You." John sensing that something needed to be done, launched into his special dance moves, much to the amusement of all. When the singing stopped, the lead Santa turned to one of his maidens and she pulled a bottle of champagne from her bag of presents. (Note: with the City Mall label on the bottle, not surprisingly, it turned out to be awful.)

A Typical Visit

On the adoption front, (which is what this whole thing is really about) we meet with our child every day in the baby house, from 10 am - 12 pm and again from 2 - 4 pm. Usually, after 4 pm we go shopping for food and for items we need for the baby (diapers, changing pad, teething ring, etc.) John and I are learning a lot about parenting every day! Our morning visit begins with feeding her porridge and juice, changing her diaper, dressing her and, for the walk to the playroom downstairs, top her off with a hat to keep her warm (the Kazak's are very particular about keeping kids very warm). We then spend about 1.5 hours with other parents/children in the play room. At 11:45, we change her again and put her into sleeping clothes for her nap. When we return from lunch at 2 pm, we feed her an afternoon meal of pureed mashed potatoes and meat (yummy!), with some juice. Again, we change her diaper and clothes and hit the play room. Shortly before 4 pm, we change her, yet again, into a clean diaper and sleeping clothes for the night. For the love of God, I had no idea babies needed changing that often!

During our visits, we have noticed how well the children are cared for. The caretakers have an endless job: running from changing to feeding, to playing with a lot of babies. They also spend time giving the children hugs and kisses. You can tell they truly care about these little ones. We feel very fortunate to be adopting from an orphanage where the children are treated so well!

Baby House

As we were driving from our dumpy apartment for our first visit at the baby house, John commented that the houses/apartments were becoming really nice. Just at that moment, the driver turned into the baby house! We laughed and said that Alina had a nicer place to stay than we did!

The orphanage, or "baby house" as it's called in Kaz, is very nice! It's not how we imagined it would be. The name of it translates to "little camel's eyes." Apparently, camels eyes are considered beautiful, so it's sweet that they've named the baby house after this animal (that I recall spitting at me as I mounted it for my ride around a parking lot near the Giza Pyramids-the anticipated highlight of my Egyptian vacation years ago!) But I digress, the B.H. is bright, colorful, and clean. You often hear children merrily singing when you enter the front door (or is that perhaps recorded? Just kidding-it's live!)

There are a number of different areas in the BH. The area we go to is for babies around 10-12 months old. There's a crib room, with about 16 cribs. Outside the crib room is a larger room where there are a couple large cribs for 6 or more babies to hang out together.Much to their dismay, this is where they have their "potty time"-tied to a crib railing, sitting across from each other, on a plastic toilet for quite some time. This situation must have been where the saying "shit or get off the pot" comes from. It's also in this room, where the children can semi-walk around in their walkers and where they get fed. You might say it's the "all purpose" room. Off that room is the changing room. Only one child can be changed at a time, so the other parents we're with take turns using it. We then proceed downstairs to the play room where lots of toys are available to entertain the kids. At Alina's age, it doesn't take much to be amused. A simple ring, ball, or musical toy will do! The time with her just flies by. Before we know it, it's time to go:-(

Karaganda - Multiple Moves

Welcome to Soviet-era Living
Our first night was spent in our apartment...what a dump. Words cannot describe how disheartened we felt when we walked into the tenement style building late at night. As we laid in bed (the bed that would fall to the floor as I got out of it the next morning!), John and I agreed that regardless of cost, we would move to a hotel for the remainder of our trip, or until a suitable apartment became available. Apparently, there are a number of families from our agency here at the same time, so we got the only apartment that was available (did I mention it was a DUMP?!).

The Old Windmill
Thankfully, we found a nice "boutique" hotel, The Old Windmill, in the center of town, near shopping and internet cafes. It was very quaint and rustic inside. Our room was comfortable and the hotel staff very accomodating. The only downsides were: 1.the bar/restaurant was below our room and the hotel hosted holiday parties almost every evening where karaoke was played late into the night and 2. our bed was simply a box spring-no mattress on top. In comparison to our first home, these minor inconveniences were just a "pain in our neck" - no pun intended!

Home Sweat Home
New Year's Eve day found us packing our month's worth of belongings once again. Alas, we would be missing the festivities from the biggest party of the year at our hotel, but thankfully, we'd be moving into a nicer apartment where we could spread out a bit and cook meals. Our "home away from home" is a small, one bedroom, with a living room, bathroom, and tiny kitchen. It is a little bit farther from the heart of town. By the looks of it, one would never guess this neighborhood is where the "professional" people live and supposedly very safe. Ironically, when our Coordinator dropped us off for the evening she said, "Don't open the door for anyone. If we need you, we'll call you first." (So much for that "Pleasantville" feeling I briefly had about our new abode.) The place is always hot (hence my subtitle, Home Sweat Home (and you thought it was a typo!)). Who knew we could have simply brought the same clothes from our Florida trip a few weeks' ago, on this trip? And not only is the apartment hot, but the water is scalding! As we've found out numerous times (from hearing the other yell absurdities from the kitchen sink), just a tiny move of the dial on the faucet and you go from arctic cold to boiling water. The water is well water and smells like sulfur (thank goodness for those scented candles that Keri gave us!).

Arrivals!

Almaty
We arrived in Almaty late Saturday, stayed overnight in the Kazakhstan Hotel (for 5 hrs.), and this morning, met with our adoption agency's local contact people. It was during this meeting where we signed our lives away on multiple legal documents that we could not interpret, unstrapped our money belts from our bellies, and handed over our life savings! Our adoption process continued!

We had expected to depart for Karaganda that afternoon, but because it was a Sunday, the only flight was at 9 pm. What was there to do in Almaty, we asked? Well, the mall down the street was open (just what we felt like doing after 5 hrs. of sleep and being jet-lagged - shop for 8 hours in a country where we don't speak the language).

The afternoon wasn't that bad, afterall. We did walk around a modern mall for awhile, had lunch (thank goodness for the English menu!) and visited an internet cafe from which we began writing this blog. With another couple who is also adopting from our agency, we walked over to a museum and spent a couple hours learning a bit about Kazakhstan.

We're off tonight to our final destination - Karaganda. It is here where we will meet our daughter. After such a lengthy adoption process and waiting period, it's hard to believe that we'll finally meet her tomorrow!! We're very excited and hopeful that all will turn out well. As we continue updating our blog, we hope you will feel free to post comments. While we're in Karaganda for a month, we'd be thrilled to hear from you and get all the updates from back home.

Karaganda
We arrived around 11 pm to Karaganda, were taken to our apartment (what John, who rarely curses, fondly referred to as the "sh_ _ hole"), and collapsed. Our first morning in Karaganda was spent walking aimlessly around our neighborhood, in sub-zero temperatures, searching for a place to eat breakfast. While there were a number of malls in the area, nothing was open at 8 am. "Well, obviously these people just don't eat breakfast!" said the Evanstonians who live within walking distance to Walker Brothers where they can put back a "Dutch Baby" pancake in no time, just a tad ticked off and frost bitten. Thank goodness for the trailmix and dried cherries we still had from our trip over to Kaz! We were tired, hungry, and cold! Welcome to Karaganda!