Kazakhstan: An Idiots Guide

During our first week I’ve made a few overarching (uninformed) observations regarding this wondrous country. Most of theses observations are backed by nothing more than my own misguided conclusions based solely on my view from the passenger seat of a Passat wagon. With that qualifier out of the way, we may proceed.

1. Public Works: To heat homes, there are huge pipes that run above ground all over the city and carry hot water from somewhere to each individual house. Imagine how hot the water must be when it leaves the “hot water factory” because I gotta say that when it’s coursing through our radiators it must still be like 700°… Fahrenheit! How hot is lava? Mee and I wake up every night and throw the blankets off or throw the window open (usually both) because we are broiling like two things that are usually broiled.

2. Transportation: Like a cross between Cuba and somewhere not Cuba, the autos here seem to vary in vintage from the height of the cold war to the global war on terror. The most common cars are a Russian make called “Lada”. While it is not in any of our phrase books, I’m certain that Lada means “built with coat hanger, lump o’ coal and vodka”. Or maybe it’s an acronym: Look At Dat Ass???

Public transportation features a network of forty-five year old Russian buses that resemble rusted out orange Mystery Machines. They must be constantly on the verge of giving up the ghost, but the combination of Kazak grit and prayer flags waving in the windshields keep them moving, one wheel at a time.

3. Fashion: Weather be damned, women here find a way to wear crazy knee high five-inch heeled boots through snow, ice, mud and men. The men (young and old, student and truck driver) wear fashionable pointy-toed shoes and boots. Every time we’re in public, people stare confoundedly at my Timberland’s, then slowly work their way up. When their eyes meet mine, they look thoroughly disgusted with my sloppy Yankee self. What was I supposed to do? I was told to pack practically. Another dead giveaway that you’re not from ‘round here is when you wear anything not dark, preferably black. I may have the only pair of khaki cargo pants within a 500-mile radius.

4. Shopping and Markets: Most of the grocery shopping here is done at little corner markets. There is one or more on each block, and each time we go into one, there are people stocking up on god knows what. The stores are very small, some are just 8’x10’ rooms with shelves featuring one of everything. There are a few larger ones; the one we patronize regularly is called “Viola Market.” Surprisingly, even though they don’t stock much at these stores, they don’t re-stock much either. One would think that one would note that certain items are “hot movers” and one would want to make those “hot movers” available when other ones patronized said establishment. One would be wrong! If you see it, buy it or say “da svidanya.” It won’t be there tomorrow.

For things other than groceries there is a place called the Tsum (Zoom) Store; a makeshift mall made up of a colorful array of individual shoppes. With no apparent rhyme or reason to the layout and a host of surly merchants, this place can seem a bit daunting to the unseasoned adventurer. Remember, this is a different culture. In this former Soviet country, if a merchant doesn’t acknowledge your existence, it means “Thanks, come again” and if they smile at you and act nice, it means “Die you American scum.” Either way, we win. Now the Tsum store has it all, but keep in mind, they only have one of each, so when you see it, buy it.

While I’m sure there may be a few blurry hectares in my vision of Kazakhstan, you must trust that these four bullets pretty much cover my “knowledge” on the subject. Now you too can explore Kazakhstan with the confidence that comes only by having been informed by a seasoned observationist such as myself. Adventure awaits!

P.S. We finally got to see our baby's toes, they're all there, and I can tell you they are delicious.

She fell asleep in my arms today.

What else needs to be said?

Right, so about my callused feet. I’ve been catching myself looking interestedly at the kitchen grater lately and I … whuh? Oh. Um, ahh, you’d rather hear about the baby? Well ok then.

Yesterday’s visit went well. Chloe was feeling a bit better than the previous day though she still seemed to be a bit sleepy and bothered by her teeth – I gathered this from her attempts to cram her teething toy way into the back of her mouth. Any illusions I might have had of my little girl (or orphanage babies in general) being fragile flowers are gone. Chloe is a sturdy baby with a surprising amount of determination and wherewithal for such a little thing. Not that I have so much experience with babies as to be able to compare but, you know. Based on nothing in particular, here am the facks as I sees ‘em. You should hear her grunting like a tiny longshoreman while trying to pull up to a sitting position. Or chugging her tea or kefir at lunch. Frat boys in the middle of a pub crawl are more delicate. Hide the beer bongs, boys.

So a few things about our daughter: Chloe’s eyes are so dark that you almost can’t distinguish her irises from the pupils. “Doe-eyed,” isn’t that the expression? Her favorite color is orange. She favors her orange cup to chew on, prefers the orange button on her Winnie the Pooh telephone, and is drawn to the orange parts in any pattern or picture. Chloe’s the cutest little girl who ever resembled Tweety Bird (it’s all in the forehead) and Wallace from Wallace and Gromit (a certain toothy, cheeky smile she smiles). Sometimes she’ll glance sideways with a hint of a smile on her face that makes her look like she’s plotting some secret bit of fun that she knows her poor old parents would disapprove of but she’s going to do it anyway. When she’s waiting to get fed, she pounds on the table with her hands and does a side-to-side head waggle like a prize fighter waiting for the starting bell. It’s the best move ever and now I totally do that pound and waggle when Zac is dealing me my Uno hand or I’m waiting for the blog comments page to load up.

We have no idea as to what is Chloe’s actual size. I got a variety of baby clothes sized from nine to 24 months and they all seem to generally fit. The thing that you can’t see from the pictures of her is that she’s almost always wearing three to five layers of clothing during our visits. And no, it’s not because we’re outside. We’re actually in the music room within the baby house, which, though it does usually tend to run a bit cooler than the rest of the building, is still heated to at least 70 degrees. When we dropped off her outfit and diaper for the day in the baby room, she was dressed in snow pants and moon boots. In her playpen, in a room that’s probably about 78 degrees Fahrenheit. She looked like a stuffed sausage.

People in Kazakhstan believe in keeping babies warm and bundled at all times. If you’ll look at the pictures from today, you’ll see that her feet look like enormous clown shoes. That’s because she’s wearing footed tights under the yellow footie creeper which are topped by wooly knitted booties and then on top of those, the caregivers stretched on the cute little (well, they used to be little) mary jane socks that her auntie Sara got for her. It’s the same for the rest of her clothes. She’s wearing a long-sleeved onesie and a padded jacket (a jacket!) under that yellow creeper. I can’t wait to get her home so that I can check her little self out.

Anyway, aside from all that she’s an okay baby – if you like babies, which, you know, maybe I do or maybe I don’t whydoyouwannaknow? She spit up on me today at the beginning of the visit so we both smelled like vomit for the entire two hours and her nose was all snotty and boogery from a cold that’s been going around so I had an armful of that delightful mess when she fell asleep while I was rocking her toward the end. So anyway, did I mention her eyelashes? The most beautiful long fairy lashes …

A Pacifier for the Aunties

For all you hens a cluck cluck cluck'n, here is a photo of the three of us. I, of course, look like I just escaped from a gulag (like I do in all of my photos).

Today's post will follow when we write it, tomorrow, but you will see it today, but tomorrow.

International Women’s Day

Chart our visits with Chloe Madina over the last four days, and what you will witness is a steady up-tick in baby comfort/fun/general good-babyness. Until today. Today the baby-am-happy market took a decided turn for the worse. We started fantastically; after getting settled in the music room Marina asked if we would like to feed Chloe (this particular baby house does not usually let adoptive parents feed, dress, or change their babies. Certain to ensure hilarity at the airport, as when you finally take the baby into your care for good, there are still all kinds of wonderful surprises.)

Feeding Chloe was very cool; this little girl is a great eater, maybe too great. In fact, the only real information we have gotten from her caregivers is that she likes to eat, she will eat most anything, and that usually one serving is not enough. How she maintains that petite little figure, I do not know.

After eating we went to the music room as usual and began playtime. Unlike the previous days, however, Chloe was fussy and cranky and just plain testy. Maybe she was tired or maybe gassy, or tired and gassy??? Either way, Mee and I spent the next two hours trying to figure out the riddles of a one year old. It is amazing how expressive her little face is. She’s already quite capable of letting us know she’s not amused.

After two hours of cranky baby it was time to return her to C-block. I know it’s a bit selfish but, would it be so difficult for her to act a bit sad when she is being returned? Instead, Chloe became brighter and more cheery with every step closer to the baby room. When she was back in her caregiver’s arms, she was all smiles and ready to get down with her friends. I’m on to her game.

In addition to baby maladies, I managed to make an international faux pas in a very domestic way. Today is “International Woman’s Day” here in Kazakhstan. If you didn’t do anything for the holiday you will at least have the excuse that you did not know of such a holiday. I, on the other hand, have had repeated reminders to prepare a little gift for the women who care for Chloe. A man smarter man than myself might say “My wife is a woman, wouldn’t it be nice if I got her a little sweet, maybe some flowers? Yes, that would be nice.” I on the other hand, am not smart. The husband of the couple we are staying with (Ali, a very sweet guy, and smarter than me) totally schooled me when he showed up with some flowers and chocolate for his little lady. I seem to be the only schmuck who didn’t get his wife something. SOR-ee! (Russian for “I’m a moron.”)

We need a pumice.

I wish I’d listened to my instincts and brought one but alas, Zac’s instincts for hectoring his wife into packing light won the day. So now we pass the time by playing the “listen, listen” game, wherein we take turns rubbing our callused feet back and forth across the satin bedspread and having fits of hysterics over the loud scratching sounds. Like I said -- no TV, newspapers, or shopping malls.

We did go to the Tsum (Zoom) store today though. The Tsum is an indoor marketplace in Kokshetau, and we popped in with the couple that we’re sharing the cottage with for a quick hour between visits to the baby house (they visit their son in the morning and we see Chloe in the afternoon -- we share the same driver). I wish that we’d gotten a chance to take some pictures but we were in such a rush trying to get a bunch of shopping done in a short time that there wasn’t even a chance to think about it. I’m looking forward to going back and taking a good long look at all the merchandise and people.

I know that we’ve talked about this before but I have to say it again, the people here are so good-looking! Seriously, so many of the Kazakhs, the Russians, and everyone in between are really striking, and they look nothing like Borat from the Ali G show though I hope that’s not news to any thinking person (As, of course, you all are. Right???). I can’t deny that the bit is funny but it has about as much relevance to Kazakhstan as it does to Canada or Kokomo, Indiana.

Marina has promised that she’ll try to take us to the open-air market next if there’s time. I definitely want to get a piece of that action. I’ve heard that the market is open year round, even when it’s below zero out. Marina says that the stall keepers stay warm by drinking vodka (VODE-ka as she pronounces it – sort of). So. It seems that the forced air heating industry has been depressingly successful in their efforts to hoodwink the American public. Boo! (Have I mentioned that Marina is ethnically Korean? Isn’t that cool?)

Chloe was a complete doll today, really mellow, still mouthing everything within reach and drooling rivers and streams. We’re thinking about volunteering her to visit drought-stricken countries around the world as a goodwill ambassador. Angelina Jolie had better watch out! That husband-stealing, brother-frenching, Billy-Bob-blood-wearing weirdo’s got nothing on our little Kazarina.

P.S.: Zac and I want to thank everyone for all of your supportive comments and emails. We wish that we could answer you all individually but our Internet access is somewhat limited as Zac’s modem is malfunctioning and we’ve had to rely on the generosity of our cottage-mates. Reading all of your comments and emails while we’re so far from home means so much more than we can say. Please keep them coming! Chloe sends her love (and drool).

PPS: We're working on a pic of all three of us, but Zac hasn't gotten his arm stretched out long enough yet. I suppose we could ask Marina ...

Forces of Nature

When we awoke Monday morning there was about 12 inches of snow outside our window and the wind was whipping relentlessly. When our driver and interpreter showed up they warned us of the possibility that the police would close the highway and force us to turn back.

We set out, fingers crossed, and at 2/3 into the trip (the trip is about an hour at breakneck speed under average conditions), we reached a police barricade. A bunch of trucks and cars had been pulled over and were waiting to be allowed to continue their journey. Luckily we got through after only a few minutes, but our interpreter warned us that we might not be allowed to pass on our return for the night. Last year, she said that there was a very bad storm and she and a previous adopting couple and the driver were forced to stay in the car on the side of the road next to the police station overnight. That sounded pretty awful but Mee and I had nothing but Chloe on the brain after that hurdle was cleared.

OK, now we were moving forward again, great! I’m looking forward to seeing my girl and hoping she would still like me, and all that good stuff. The thing to remember here is that we are moving forward yes, but it is almost impossible to see exactly where we’re going. Our driver, Nursultan, pressed his nose against the windshield and pushed forward at what must be an irresponsible speed considering the zero visibility (really! ZERO!). My feelings were torn between “hurry up and get us to our baby” and “make sure we get to our baby alive.”

We cruised along in the whiteout conditions until we made a left. I’m not sure why we made that left but we did. Now, even though we have made this trip a few times, both Mee and I were not 100% certain that this was our turn. The “road” was marked by a trail of wandering reindeer that must have turned down this same path and lost hope of ever being found alive again, and eaten each other (look for my made for TV movie on the subject). Anyway, we made it about 200 yards when Nursultan realized we had made a wrong turn. Then he stopped. Why did he stop there? Oh, I see, this is a learning experience. We’re going to learn how to push a car out of a ditch Kazak style. Great! Mee, Marina the translator (in her high-heeled boots and fur coat), and I pushed while Nursultan revved and revved the engine. Good thing we’re stronger than we look. Also, the car is little.

We finally got turned around and back on the road. When we did finally make the left turn we were supposed to, the road was fine and there were no reindeer carcasses to be found.

Our visit at the baby house was shortened to only one hour because of the bad weather. Chloe was in a great mood and she seemed to be getting more and more used to us. I think that we’re learning her signs and signals as well. She definitely has her own personality and it will take some time for us to really know who she is. I can’t wait.

Trip back was nearly the same, except instead of getting stuck in a ditch we waited at the police check point for nearly an hour. That was time enough for the fierce, tundra-like winds to turn the car into a mobile igloo, frozen on the outside and moist on the inside. Nummy!

Last thing, we walk into the cottage to find that the power is out. It is about to get dark so we scramble to get candles and flashlights ready as well as cook anything that might spoil. As dinner by flashlight is about to be served the power came back on. Thank God (and his forces of nature).

Day of the Drama Queen

Well, I think maybe that we’ve gotten a taste today of Little Miss C’s true personality and we seem to have one determined little girl on our hands. She wasn’t bothered at all when she came into the music room, got handed right over and started looking around and at her pile of toys on her blanket. When I set her down, she promptly started gathering every toy in front of her, picking up one after the other, putting it in her mouth, and then moving on to the next item. She seemed somewhat tired and over-excitable as she was rubbing at her eyes a bit and didn’t seem to want to sit still or focus on anything.

About halfway through the visit, she decided that she wanted to chew on Zac’s watch. No -- she really, really wanted to chew on that watch. And since it’s far from clean enough for a baby to suck on, Zac tried to get it away from her. There was a lot of squirming and wrassling at this point, at the end of which he was able to put it out of sight. After a brief, angry meltdown, I quieted her with lots of soothing while Zac cowered in the corner but it was very clear that Miss Chloe was not happy with her father. When he eventually tried to get her to look at him, she snapped her head away and held out her arm in the international signal for “talk to the hand.” It took a little time and a game of patty cake to gain her forgiveness and the rest of the visit was spent commando crawling around the blanket, rolling back and forth, babbling, and pretending to nap. Chloe did some of this too.

She said “mama” today, though I don’t think that it meant anything in particular. I suspect that she was just messing with me but I’m on to her. Bring it on, baby. Bring. It. On. She can also walk assisted, though with lots of wobbly hip action to accompany it – or maybe she’s just getting’ down? She also does this funny thing where she works herself up on her elbows and knees, butt in the air, and kind of revs herself up back and forth with accompanying sounds. I worry that this might be evidence of self-soothing behavior resulting from institutionalization. She also has a tendency occasionally to become disengaged and stare off into space in the middle of an activity. But then again, so do I. Maybe I’ve just officially entered into the “lifetime of obsessive worrying” stage of motherhood? That part, I’m going to be good at for sure!