First Trip, Day Five

I spent our free time Friday morning preparing gifts for Slava, Galena, the director at the baby home, Luda, and Elena. Fortunately this didn't take as much time as the gifts for the children had, because Slava picked us up early to go across town to the medical clinic. Our time at the medical clinic definitely ranked in the top ten strangest cross-cultural experiences I've ever had. During my travel overseas, I've seen a lot of things. And, with my degrees in Sociology and Communications, if I haven't experienced it, I've probably read about it. This one was a new one to me. In order to prove our fitness to adopt, we had to obtain a battery of tests and evaluations. We could have gotten these in the United States, but the list of specialists we had to see and the information we had to obtain did not exactly translate to the American medical system. They study roughly the same thing, but the specialties don't have the same names. Also, any records from the American doctors would have to have been notarized and apostilled. I tried to get these tests the first time we were trying to adopt, before John was born, and American doctors have some degree of resistance to the forms used and questions asked by the Russians. I don't recall any details, but I remember my doctor expressing bewilderment because the form asked her to confirm that she used a particular test to screen for… I think tuberculosis. It was a test that hadn't been used in the United States for forty years.

So, anyway, all of that to say that going to the medical clinic in St. Petersburg was a lot faster and easier. First we met with the clinic director in her office, which was actually an examination room, since her office was being remodeled. She reassured us that the hospital was first rate, very American (it had been designed by an architect from California) and very modern (the x-ray equipment was from Holland). Then we went to have our blood drawn. The phlebotomist used cotton and gauze bandages instead of a band-aide. We returned to the medical director's office for coffee and sweets. I found it deeply ironic that I was having the equivalent of donuts for breakfast – the unhealthiest breakfast I've had for a while – in a hospital. The infectious disease doctor followed by the pulmonologist interviewed us while we ate. Then we went down to get our chest x-rayed. We had to strip down to the waist and stand on a platform which moved us around to where they wanted to x-ray. We sat in the hallway while the film developed and then the pulmonologist read them to us. She found the mild pneumonia I forgot I'd had in high school, but no tuberculosis.

Let's see… We also talked with a psychologist, who worked off a copy of our home study. It was very strange to have such a personal conversation through an interpreter. He quizzed Scott at length about his shyness, the values and moral guidelines his parents raised him to follow. Most of his questions for me concerned my sister's adoption and her current metal state and adjustment, which felt like a psychological examination by proxy. He also wanted to know why we wanted to adopt. He said we had already "fulfilled our parental obligations." I appreciated his response when we told him that some children in the world are in need of parents: "So it is a mission, then." It was pretty clear from Scott's responses about his "moral upbringing" that we are a Christian family. From the psychologist's reaction to our reasons for adopting we thought he was friendly to our faith, but then he began his line of questioning about our church attendance and involvement with "So you follow this mythological religion…" Galena reassured us later that our interview was pretty tame. She said she'd once had to translate an argument or discussion about the role of Judaism in early Christianity, and whether Jews can be held responsible for the death of Christ. I do not envy Galena her job.

The rest of the examinations were pretty straightforward. We also had a cardiology exam, which involved electrodes attached with suction cups. Scott's reaction was that there is no "sticky stuff" in Russian medicine: no Band-Aids, no tape for the leads. We also saw a neurologist, who mainly tested our reflexes. Another fun one was the physical examination. There were three doctors all taking notes so I think they must have represented three specialties. Perhaps general, dermatology, and mammography? The fun part of that one was, to save time, they asked if they could examine Scott and I together. Of course we were comfortable with that, but I can't say I've ever undergone a medical examination with another patient before.

After paying the medical director for the examinations and the receptionist for the bloodwork and x-ray, we were on our way. I decided to use the bathroom before we left and, in another ironic twist not nearly as fun as the sweets for breakfast, I encountered the dirtiest bathroom I'd yet found in Russia. In a hospital. Both stalls were out of toilet paper and one toilet seat was completely covered in… something. There was no soap at the sink. I would have used the toilet paper I kept in my bag, but Galena had discovered at some point how heavy my bag was and was no longer allowing me to carry it anywhere. Fortunately, Kim had some with her.

Next, the notary. We drove downtown, to the Nevsky Prospect, the main street through St. Petersburg. Galena explained the content of the documents we would be signing. There were three documents, and I have already forgotten the details. I think one was for the baby home, declaring that we wanted to adopt Yuri; another was for the Adoption Center making the same commitment; and the third was for the police department, committing to follow through on U.S. naturalization and the post-placement visits. We hadn't realized Yuri will continue to hold Russian citizenship (as well as U.S. citizenship) until he is 18, which is why we have to fulfill the requirements of the Russian state. The whole experience was a little too much like closing on a house to me: lots of officials sitting around a big conference table, lots of documents to sign.

The whole process took less than a half hour. We had lots of time before our last visit at the baby home, at 4:30. Galena took us to Artists Square. I guess it's sort of like Times Square in New York or something – lots of theaters, opera houses, and the like. The center has a great big statue of Pushkin, so we got out, walked around, and took a few pictures. Then on to the Hermitage. This is what Scott wanted to see. We did not have time to go in, just to walk around. The scale of the Winter Palace – the Hermitage – is immense. The square in front of the Winter Palace was the scene of both the 1905 and 1917 revolutions. Scott asked detailed, perceptive questions (not for the first time), which required further clarification for me. Galena had commented earlier in the week how much more Scott knows about Russia than any of the other adoptive parents coming through. We are both looking forward to going back to St. Petersburg sometime when we can spend time seeing the sights and experiencing the city.

Now, lunch. We found another Stolle within a few blocks of the Hermitage. By this point, it was 3:00. We hadn't had anything to eat all day except the sweets at the doctor's office. All of us were tired, probably from the blood that they had drawn, and maybe also from the lack of food.

Our last visit with Yuri was probably my favorite. We were outside again. Galena took our picture, all three of us together, and Yuri posed for the camera. We played with the toys we'd brought for him, which mainly consisted of him throwing the toys out of the hut, us picking them up, dusting them off, and handing them back to him, only to repeat the process. He played peek-a-boo with his dog, and I saw him use the classic palms up, hands outstretched "where did it go?" expression. We beat the daisies into submission, we walked around the walking path, we tried to tell Yuri not to eat the gravel, we discovered the sand box. I tickled his neck and I got him to laugh, just a little bit, the first time I'd heard him laugh. Too soon, our time was up. We brought him back to the entrance of the home. I snuggled him, kissing him and telling him we'd be back for him. He hugged my neck and gave me a wet, sloppy baby kiss. The caretaker took him away and that was the closest I saw him come all week to crying. Scott leaned against the wall, looking pretty grim.

We had an early morning ahead of us, so we didn't have much time in the evening. We packed up most of our stuff and went down for dinner. We didn't feel like we had time to go out, but the dining room had been invaded by a German tour group, so the service was very slow. We probably could have gone out, and probably should have. It was hard to think we were leaving already. We were so disappointed to have had so little time exploring the city, but also so grateful for so much time with Yuri. Scott kept reminding me that the week had been about the adoption, and meeting him. Other journeys on other days will be for exploring the city. We already look forward to bringing him back, when he is old enough to enjoy it, when he is old enough to remember it. We want him to play in the trick fountains at Peterhof, to walk the streets, to play on some of the many playgrounds dotting the city, to eat the meat pies and breakfast porridge. Who knows, maybe we can even get him to eat the borscht.

First Trip Day Four

In some respects, Thursday was much like Tuesday, with two visits to the baby home and lunch in between. I spent all of our spare time in the morning packaging the gifts we had brought for the children. We had ten gift bags full of clothes, in sizes ranging from newborn to 4T, with some toys also. I had brought tissue paper in a variety of colors. My mother, fortunately, had organized and folded the clothes before we left, and had packed everything so it was easy to figure out which clothes went in which bag. All I had to do was wrap the clothes in tissue paper that coordinated with the design of the bag. It took a lot of work but the effect was impressive. Although I'd had a bad attitude about the gifting culture before we left home, I was very pleased we'd brought so much. We surprised Galena, who called us "Santa Claus." We left the gifts with the baby home director, who was also startled by the degree of our generosity. Later, after we had gone upstairs to spend time with Yuri in one of the playrooms, she came up to tell us again how grateful she was for all of the clothes, which she said were just the right size for the children. We felt it went a long way to smooth over relations after we had been so demanding a couple of days earlier, when we were asking for additional medical information she didn't think we needed.

For lunch, we did something a little different. Galena took us to "Russian fast food," a place called Stolle. It is a chain, with several locations around the city. The décor and atmosphere is vaguely like the St. Louis Bread Company (or Panera), although they are totally different. They sell meat or fruit pies, which are totally different from the English meat pies with which I was already familiar. They also sell specialty hot drinks, salads without any lettuce, and, mysteriously, steamed or mashed cauliflower in a cream sauce. Scott figured out that the salads had no lettuce before I did and shocked me by ordering one. "But it has no lettuce!' he explained.

After lunch, we had a little time so Galena took us to a flea market. We browsed the booths where vendors hawked souvenirs sold in Euro, American dollars, or Russian roubles – your choice. Nothing had prices; everything was sold by the bargaining system. I found my bargaining skills were well out of use, and very rusty. But we didn't pay asking price for anything, although I am sure if we had been Russian, we would have gotten better prices right away. We bought a few souvenirs for our family as quickly as we could, and we were on our way once again.

When we returned from the baby home in the evening, we finally had a little extra time and energy. Even though we only had one day remaining in Russia, it was the first time we'd had had both time and energy to go out. We went back up to Stolny Prospekt, turned left, and found another Stolle just another block down. If we had realized there was one that close to the hotel, we probably would have made the effort to go out earlier in the week. They have a menu in English and the food is good. You can't ask for much more, when you are new in a country. It didn't matter that we had just been there for lunch. We successfully ordered dinner on our own, with no translator. I discovered that they sell their meat pies in two portions, which (partly) explained why I had ended up with a smaller portion at lunch than what Kim had. I am still not sure why Galena thought I should have a small and Kim should have a large, but I decided to find it amusing.

After dinner, we wandered up the Stolny, just absorbing the city. I brought an empty bottle, intending to get some water from the Neva or one of its tributaries for Yuri's baptism. It may sound like a great idea, but the one river we came across was slick with oil and smelled very bad. We ended up getting water from the tap. Later, we were to discover that if we had turned right instead of left, we would have come across a much larger and cleaner looking tributary from which we probably could have gotten some water. But that is often the case in an unfamiliar city: the better restaurant or the superior view is often in the opposite direction than the one you take at first.

First Trip, Day Three

We felt a little guilty for agreeing, but on Wednesday Galena told us we'd skip our morning visit at the baby home to go see Peterhof, the complex of palaces and surrounding parks and fountains built over the centuries by the Russian czars. I felt very conflicted: we had come to Russia to meet our son, and I felt obliged to spend as much time as possible with him. But on the other hand, we had been seeing tantalizing glimpses of the country and its culture. It was hard to pass up an opportunity to experience Russia. As it turned out, we were much in need of a respite, a chance to catch our breath. Walking through the park, enjoying the beautiful scenery, gave us a respite from the emotions of the last couple of days. This was our day for physical, not emotional, stress. I do not know how large the grounds are, but we arrived at 11:00 and walked for three hours at a pretty steady clip. I am pretty sure that we walked at least ten miles. Usually I can walk four miles in an hour, so I think ten miles is a conservative – and accurate, although staggering – estimate. Even better, Galena's friend, Luda, came along to translate. So, in essence, we had a personalized, private, tour, for no more than the price of admission.

On the way back to the city, we stopped briefly at the Saints Peter and Paul Cathedral in Peterhof (the city which has grown up around the Peterhof estate). I had never before been in an Orthodox church. The incense hung heavy in the air. The walls, ceilings, doorposts, and every conceivable surface were painted beautifully. I saw many similarities to Roman Catholic churches, but many things that were new. It made me wish I understood more.

We had just barely enough time to stop at the mall for a quick bite to eat before visiting the children at the baby home, where we were able to play outside again. Galena and Elena, the country director, were there. Elena had met us simply to remind us that, if we wished to adopt our child, we had to have a name available by Thursday, so that the papers could be prepared for the notary on Friday. Just that morning, over breakfast, Scott and I had settled on Yuri Nickolai. It is fortunate that we had made a decision, because, on our way home that evening, Galena produced pen and paper and asked us to write the names for her. I wish the names were not so "foreign." I worry that his adoption will be too obvious, that people will ask him about his name too often, and he will have to explain that he was adopted from Russia. But, in the final analysis, we could not take his name away from him. It is all he has of his birth family (other than his mother's name and age), and it is all he will bring with him from the baby home. We hadn't planned on keeping his middle name, but we really couldn't think of anything else that worked quite so well with Yuri.

In the evening, we could barely function we were so tired from walking at the Peterhof. We e-mailed back and forth with our home study provider, who has been helping us understand the requirements for obtaining a visa to bring Yuri into the United States. Our fingerprints must be taken every 18 months, and they expire this week. We will have to get a special dispensation to get an extension. The details are too painfully complicated to explain, but suffice to say we spent most of our spare time on Wednesday trying to resolve the issue.

We ate in the hotel restaurant (again) and ventured outside for just a little bit. We made it about as far as the next intersection, where our street met Stolny Prospekt, a major artery through the city. We didn't do much more than look left, look right, and come back home. The traffic was so noisy, and we were so numb from fatigue, we couldn't really talk much. Neither of us had enough energy to talk above the traffic.

First Trip Day Two

We made the mistake of turning on the computer the moment we woke up. We ended up spending the first hour of the day talking via Skype with a couple of people who noticed we were online. The first friend was responding to a message we'd sent her the week before, and didn't realize until halfway through the conversation that we were out of the country. Once we were ready for the day, we spent some time strategizing how to get answers to some questions our pediatrician had e-mailed us. With the nine-hour time difference, we were effectively able to work around the clock. While we had been sleeping, the pediatrician had translated the medical documents we had sent to her the previous evening, and e-mailed us a list of questions and developmental milestones to look for. Now, while she was sleeping, we would get the answers she wanted so that she would have them first thing in (her) morning.

The "only" thing on the agenda this day was two visits to the orphanage. But with traffic and the babies' naps in the middle, we were to find that a two-visit day essentially took us 7 hours to complete. Slava came to pick us up from the hotel at 11:45; we weren't to return until 6:30. We had a break between 2 and 4:30, which was enough time to get lunch but not much else. When we arrived at the orphanage, we were told the children were not quite ready and would we please wait outside. We thus spent the entirety of both visits on Day 2 playing in the baby home's playground. There were three main play areas, surrounded by beautiful flower gardens and a walking path. A high fence marked the edges of the property. Caretakers pushed strollers filled with three or four toddlers, or supervised slightly larger groups of 3-year-olds playing. Outside the fence, families, couples, or pensioners walked to and from their apartments, which surrounded the baby home. Yuri discovered both rocks and flowers in their turn, and was happy. Anyone who would allow him to play in the grass or the gravel was a friend in his book. While the children get time outside, we didn't get the impression they have much opportunity to explore.

For lunch, we went to another, larger, mall, which seemed more like our malls at home. It was anchored by a [name], a Super WalMart equivalent. We bought bread and Nutella to eat in the morning in our hotel room. We had caught on to the Russian habit of taking meals extremely late. We usually ate lunch around 3:00 and dinner around 8:00. In order to survive until lunchtime, we ate breakfast at the last possible moment, around 9:30. Since we were still waking up by 6 or 7, we needed something to tide us over until breakfast time. The system worked very well for the rest of the week.

In the evening, we fielded e-mails and went down to the hotel restaurant for dinner. We hated not getting outside, but we were so tired from the day we couldn't cope with trying to figure out anything else new. After dinner, we called our agency's pediatrician. Although a Russian herself, she is based in St. Louis and understands both the Russian and the American medical systems. She explained the tests and procedures that are typically done for newborns in Russia. We hung up with her just in time for a video call with the kids via Sype. They were largely enamored with the video they could see of themselves and spent time making faces at themselves in the camera. Apparently they weren't missing us too much. I told them about the mall, which caught their attention. Sarah repeated my story: "When I get to be a mommy, I will go to St. Petersburg and I will go to the mall and the man will tell me I can't bring my bag in and I will put my bag in the locker…" She started to lose track of the story halfway through, but we knew what she meant.

Then, we called our pediatrician. I should mention that we spent about $3 on all of our international telephone calls, whether to computer or landline, over the course of the week. Here the time change did not entirely work to our advantage. The doctor had rounds in the morning and wasn't able to meet with us until after lunch, which was 10:00 our time, on the worst day of jet lag. But we managed to hold it together and had a very good conversation. We hadn't entirely been able to get the medical information that she had wanted. Even asking for the information had created some hard feelings between us and the Russians earlier in the day. Our translator had become very defensive, and had gone back to the country director to ask the baby home director for the information we requested. Somewhere in there our agency's pediatrician had also gotten involved. Although the information was incomplete, based on the probabilities and percentages, the doctor reassured us that we could assume that Yuri's medical issues had been resolved. Even better, based on our description of his behavior over the last two days, she felt she could plot his developmental age at 13 months, perhaps 3 months behind his chronological age. She felt his only real lag was in language – he doesn't babble or talk as much as other 16-month-olds. But we've noticed that he tends to be very quiet until he feels more comfortable with the situation. And, of course, there is the language barrier: why bother talking to people you don't understand? So we will probably see rapid improvement once we bring him home. It really is amazing that he is not significantly delayed developmentally. Most children living in an institutionalized setting do not get the attention they need. We had been expecting delays and were (very) pleasantly surprised to not find any.

First Trip, Day One

Yesterday I spent over an hour typing a four-page document detailing everything that happened on our first day in St. Petersburg. Now I will try to summarize for you. I doubt you want that much detail.

Slava came to pick us up at 9:30. Kim and her mother, Hilda, also accompanied us. Kim hopes to adopt as a single mother. She is meeting a little girl from the same orphanage as Yura, so we have been spending a lot of time together. Slava drove all of us to the "Committee for Social Politics," the government agency responsible for placement of "abandoned children." We met Galena, our translator, at the office. Her name was easy to remember once we realized it was the same pronunciation and spelling as the city where Scott and I honeymooned, lo these many years ago. Yelena, the agency director in St. Petersburg, was also there.

Galena took us, one family at a time, to meet with an official of the Committee. They were to formally present us with information about a child and we were to agree (or disagree, I suppose) to visit with him. She provided us with much more medical information than we had previously known, all of it bad and all of it "resolved." She showed us a picture of the child, we signed a piece of paper, and we were on our way.

There was still some confusion in our mind about his name. Scott had called the pediatrician associated with our agency. We had been having some trouble understanding, and Scott had gotten the idea that maybe his name was Ilya. The doctor said, yeah, sure, that sounds right. In fact, she didn't have the papers in front of her, so she was going from memory. Whatever the official had said, it didn't sound like Ilya. I hadn't been far from what I had thought the doctor had said the first time. Now we had his full name: Yura Nikoleivich… I can't remember his last name right now.

So, on to the baby home. Scott and I were both very nervous, Scott probably more so. I felt numb, in shock. I couldn't quite believe I was in Russia, in St. Petersburg, on my way to the home, about ready to meet a child I had been trying to adopt since before his birth.

First, however, we met with the medical director of the baby home. I had my pen and paper handy, but she told me not to take any notes. She would give a little speech and later we would have all the information. She is of the school that believes people will understand you if you shout. The translator didn't factor into this equation. So, she pulled out an inch-thick folder full of medical information and began to itemize Yura's entire medical history, all at the top of her lungs. In Russian. Galena sat next to her, translating at the same time, shouting louder and louder to be heard over the director. When I have jet lag, as I did that day, I feel dizzy. Trying to listen to these characters just made it worse.

So, she asked, do you want to see this child? What should we say? No, I want to get back on a plane and go back to my nice, comfortable life, and my two beautiful children I miss already? We waited for a few moments while they brought Yura to meet us.

Then he was there, in the flesh, a real live child, there in the same room as us. I have never seen a more frightened child. He scowled, he stuck out his lip, he breathed so hard I thought he had a breathing problem. They told us to comfort him so I picked him up. He was light, but not much lighter than Sarah. We followed the caretaker to a room upstairs where we could spend time with him. The caretaker left us alone. Yura sat on Scott's lap while I pulled toy after toy out of my bag, trying to find something that interested him. He scowled, he stuck out his lip, he breathed so hard I thought he had a breathing problem. He was trying so hard not to cry.

After a while we noticed he had a death grip on the ball we brought for him. Scott had managed to convince him to hold it and now he wouldn't let go. It isn't exactly a ball – it is a set of 10 nesting cups that make 5 balls, one inside the other. So you can stack them, or you can make them into balls. You can make individual balls or you can put small balls inside big balls. Each ball has a hole in each end, so you can look through it. There is a very small, rattly ball in the middle, just the right size for a baby's hand. We spent most of the rest of the day playing with that ball. You can shake it, you can throw it, you can hide it inside other balls. It can help you forget the Really Scary Grownups, and it might even help you believe that the Really Scary Grownups aren't so bad after all.

Then, suddenly, his caretaker came to put him down for his nap. We had spent an hour and a half playing together. The time had gone by so fast. We left with Galena, Kim, and her mother to get something to eat. Scott had stars in his eyes and kept asking me, "What do you think?" and "Should we adopt him?" in front of the other people. I was still trying to get over all of the medical issues they had mentioned. It was so much more than our agency had told us. I hadn't felt that immediate connection that Scott had. Everything felt so unreal, like I might wake up from this dream. I felt dizzy, incoherent, incapable of making basic decisions, like chicken or cheese pie for lunch? Certainly I couldn't make any major life decisions, at least not before a good long nap.

After lunch we headed back to the baby home for more time with Yura. We had another hour and a half with him. He was much more relaxed this time, although still uncertain for the first little while. He walked across the room, he threw the ball repeatedly, he sat on my lap while I read him a story. He pointed at all the animals in the book. He may have said his first English word, which, not surprisingly, might be "ball." I felt more comfortable with him, and Scott was just happy. Then his caretaker abruptly appeared and, although he didn't cry, it was pretty clear Yura was not done playing with us. We promised him we'd be back the next day.

To our great relief, Galena provided us with a 2-page document detailing his medical condition at the end of our visit. The director had had no intention of giving us any medical information in writing before the end of our trip, and it was only after we pleaded with Galena to intervene that we were able to receive the document. The paper, unfortunately, was in Russian, but we had so much trouble obtaining it we certainly weren't going to complain. We felt it was necessary to consult with an American medical doctor about Yura's health. We had found someone, Dr. Ladage, who has experience working with children adopted from Russia. She has certainly been very helpful over the last couple of days. We spoke with her briefly, and she was very reassuring about the medical conditions revealed over the course of the day. She told us she had a Russian translator available so she would find out exactly what was in the document and talk to us the next day about everything. In the meantime, she sent us a list of developmental milestones to look out for.

By this point, it was very late, perhaps 7 or 8. We were absolutely exhausted, and very hungry. We certainly did not have the energy to find a place in the city to eat, so reluctantly we headed to the hotel restaurant for dinner. They had a very nice sausage plate, which also included cabbage, and mashed potatoes. It was very good. We talked about Yura. We both enjoyed playing with him; the only concern was the medical issues. We had been warned that children given up for adoption have a lot of issues, but that's better heard in abstraction than when you are suddenly faced with an actual child and an actual decision. And, have I mentioned the jet lag? Nobody should have to make major life decisions while jetlagged. We are very fortunate to have a whole week with him.

So, I will write more tomorrow. I am amazed at how much time everything takes. Of course, much of it is because we are spending so much time at the baby home. But when you are as tired and emotional as we are, everything moves more slowly.

Things We Are Thankful For

Every morning, when I begin to pray, the first thing I do is thank God for all of the things He has done for me. This is a list of ways we saw God provide for us as we traveled. I know some people would say that we were just fortunate, but we know it is because of your prayers and God's intervention that we traveled so well. It is basically a list of everything that happened to us. I am sure that, as things progress over this week, the list will get much longer.

*Lisa's friend Ruth was available Friday night and Saturday morning to help us. This saved us some time and hassle at the Kansas City airport.

*Ruth's sister Naomi was willing to put us up in her basement Friday night, before our flight left. This saved us probably $150 in hotel and meals.

*The hotel in Kansas City where we will be attending a conference next week allowed us to park our car in their parking lot for free. They told us over the phone it would be $5 a day.

*I was able to buy a new camera at WalMart. I hadn't done any research, but another lady who was shopping said I should buy a Canon, and the clerk said I'd made the right choice. So far we have been very happy with our decision. God can guide us through a variety of means, whether it is our own study or the testimony of others.

*All of our flights left on time and arrived on time.

*None of our flights had any mechanical problems.

*The children – and dogs – on all of our flights were adorable. We didn't have any screamers (or poopers). For that matter, we didn't have any drunkards or otherwise obnoxious fellow passengers (except that Scott kept making faces).

*The weather was perfect for flying (except for the pouring rain at Minneapolis, but that didn't start until after we arrived at the terminal and stopped before we left).

*We had just enough time in Paris to make our connection.

*The Rossiya officials were motivated and successful in finding our bags and putting them onto our plane to St. Petersburg.

*All of the airplane food – even (and especially!) the Russian one – was delicious. (The Rossiya meal was the best airplane food I've ever had!)

*The form we left behind was not needed for customs. (It was only needed to process our visa, which we'd already acquired.)

*Russian customs took less than five minutes. The official didn't even speak to us – just processed our passports and entrance papers.

*Our baggage went by on the carousel just as we were exiting customs. We walked 10 feet and did not spend any time looking for our bags. This is remarkable, especially considering the other adoptive family traveling with us lost their suitcases. Luggage does not automatically arrive in Russia. (The potential problem was with our American carrier. The French and Russians were great).

*Our driver, Slava, was waiting for us immediately outside the baggage claim area. We spent maybe 20 minutes total in customs, baggage claim, and walking to the car.

*We did not get into any accidents on the way to the hotel.

*Our hotel is cheap – maybe $120 a night – and includes breakfast.

*The all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet is enormous and very tasty. It includes a sampling of American, German, and Russian breakfast items. Scott's father, who loves buffets, would be very happy. Believe me, we do eat all we can.

*Our hotel is immaculate and very modern. It is cleaner than many American hotels we have stayed in.

*The amenities are not quite what you would find in an American hotel, but we are not in an American hotel. The one iron shared by all hotel guests is kept in a room across from our room. This is very convenient.

*Our room includes in-room Internet, free of charge. If we want wi-fi, we can go downstairs to the lobby. But it is nice to be connected while in our room. It feels, virtually, as if we haven't left home at all.

(I should also have said I'm very thankful we saved our eyeshades from the plane. They compensate for the lack of blackout curtains in our room, and the sunshine that lasts until 2 a.m.)

Going, going, gone to St. Petersburg!

Well, we have just arrived!! We have Internet in our room, so we will be available if anyone needs to contact us.

Our flights were very very good. Like unbelievably smooth. We had mid-row seats on both flights, but no neighbors, so we could spread out. Two of the flights left 10 minutes late, but both made up the time. In fact, we think part of the reason we left Paris late was because the Rossiya staff went above and beyond trying to make sure our bags were transferred from the Delta flight. We saw our bags get loaded, a maintenance worker came on to tell us that our bags had been collected, and then we started leaving the terminal. Our 3 hours in Paris De Gaulle were surreal - that is a very strange airport. Customs in St. Petersburg took less time standing in line than it did going through. We could see the baggage carousel from where we were at, and when we walked out of customs our two bags just happened to be going by, about 10 feet from where we were. I have never in my life spent less time in baggage claim.

Well I want to take a shower and go to bed. It is 8:45 here, but I think we had about 4 hours to sleep yesterday. I don't know how much time we actually slept. I will try to post more details tomorrow.

Our driver (Slava) is picking us up at 9:30 for an "official" visit at the adoption center before we go to the orphanage. We are also picking up a translator since Slava's English is marginal. Pray about it now, so you don't have to get up (or stay up) at 12:30 a.m.!

Thanks for all of your prayers. It really made a difference on the way over.