This post is LONG ... and we are so sorry we have not been blogging sooner. Before explaining why you did not hear from us in Almaty, let me first talk a bit about our little guy’s name. We are struggling! When we were home between trips, it was easy to continue to refer to him as Zak, which for the last year has been what we had planned to name him. But, he knows his name – Makseem – and it’s feeling odd to call him anything other than Makseem or Max. Did anyone else struggle with a name change? Our close friends and relatives all knew that we would call him Zak, so of course everyone is referring to him as Zak. Of course this is a minor challenge in what will be our life times together, but I just wanted to share it because we did not expect it and it is weird, weird, weird!
So, about Almaty. Our flight from Ust to Almaty was uneventful – again on Air Astana, and again on a brand new regional jet. The only highlight was when I was admonished by the flight attendant for taking a photo of Max on his first flight. Fortunately, I was putting the camera away, having already captured the moment, when I was reprimanded.
We were met at the Almaty airport by our agency’s Almaty coordinator, who happens to also be the coordinator for many other agencies (more on that in a minute). He informed us that we were off to a flat – a surprise, as we had been told by our agency before we headed to Kaz that we’d be in a hotel in Almaty.
It was that decision that basically prevented us from communicating with you until we got home. The flat was spacious – 2 bedrooms, a large living room, and a decent sized kitchen, and the 12th floor of a 15-story building. But, as we peeled back the layers of onion, we also found the following to be accurate descriptors: no hot water, no Internet, no telephone, no air conditioning, no television, no mattresses, no working/latching doors (except the front door, which had one flimsy lock and a key that I was sure would break off in that lock), no crib, and no high chair. While we felt really isolated and cut off from the rest of the world, it was the latter two items that we missed the most. After sleeping so comfortably in his air conditioned hotel room in his cozy crib in Ust, Max really struggled to sleep in Almaty.
On Sunday night, our first night in Almaty, we put the little guy between us on the queen sized box spring in one of the bedrooms, and he tossed, turned, kicked, and cried for most of the night. We took turns walking around the flat with him – so that spaciousness at least meant we could take a few extra steps before repeating the route. On Monday night, we pulled the piece of foam that was propped on top of a plywood platform from the other bed, shoved it into the living room, and Max and I slept there on Monday and Tuesday nights. Naps were basically a forgotten commodity in Almaty.
Upon arrival into Almaty on Sunday evening, we immediately walked to a grocery store, as we had limited provisions remaining from Ust – because we assumed we’d be in the Hotel Kazzoul, and we knew that they had an on-site restaurant. Fortunately, we were just across the street from one of the famous Ramstor locations (Pamctop), so off we went to load up on goods for the next few days. Our coordinator then returned an hour later (at about 8 PM), to complete our Almaty-based paperwork. The documents were primarily related to two final steps – obtaining a US Travel Visa for Max to enter the US, and filing for his status to change from “orphan to family member.” Our coordinator sat next to me at our kitchen table and, in very robotic fashion (I guess he’s done this a few times before. HA!) said things like, “Line 22, N/A, not applicable. Line 23, Mother’s name. Line 24, Address in the US, street, city, state, code.”) I felt I offended him every time I stopped to try to read what “Line 22” was actually referencing, so I did my best impersonation of Evelyn Wood while just writing down on each line exactly what he told me to write. He left about an hour later with a handshake, said he was leaving the country to escort two children home the next day, and told us we’d be picked up by someone at 10 AM on Monday to go to the SOS Clinic. With that, he was gone, and we were alone in our creepy apartment for that long first sleepless night.
We were lazy the next morning, preparing for our 10 AM departure, so we were very surprised when our doorbell rang at 9:30, and our driver stood outside our door. Scramble, scramble, scramble, and we were off to the SOS Clinic. It was in the lobby of the clinic that we met Ben and Kerrie, and Kim, who were both on Day 75 or so in country, having both adopted from the Zhez region. We quickly figured out that despite all being with different US agencies, we were all being “handled” by the same group in Almaty. These families were basically stuck at the SOS clinic, waiting for us to arrive and finish at the clinic before they could go back to their Almaty homes. So, we REALLY felt badly that we weren’t ready when our driver arrived 30 minutes early, as they were kept waiting.
The SOS clinic appointment is another thing that doesn’t live up to the reputation that precedes it. Max was weighed and his height was checked by a nurse – sort of – he was screaming and wriggling everywhere, so it wasn’t really effective. We then went upstairs to see the doctor, who listened to his heart, looked in his nose, looked in his ears, and then reviewed his list of vaccinations with me. That was it. We then handed over our $130, and all three families left together with our driver. It turns out that the Embassy is on the top floor of a high-rise building that was across the street from our apartment, so while the driver ran some paperwork over to the Embassy, our three families all stood around the van in our apartment parking area and compared a few more notes and stories. When the driver returned, we said our "good-bye"s and "good luck"s to the other two families and we walked to our apartment, confirming that we would be at the Embassy at 2:30 the next day. We spent Monday afternoon and evening exploring the neighborhooods around our flat (with Max in his beloved stroller), and hoping that if all went well, we could fly out a day early. We enjoyed Almaty, but we were so ready to go home.
We had a much better night Monday night, with Max and me on the floor. He still rolled around and kicked a lot, but I had more room to maneuver out of his way and I could at least block him from rolling towards my half of the living room. Glenn wasn’t feeling so great on Tuesday morning, so we just had a leisurely morning in the apartment, and took an early afternoon stroll before we headed to the Embassy.
At the Embassy, we were first asked to fill out a one-page simple survey about our adoption experience. I remember people saying that as they started to investigate Kazakhtan adoption, they had contacted the Embassy to gather feedback on which agencies were receiving the best ratings, so I was happy to complete the survey as these results may help someone make an agency choice in the future. Next up, I was called over to pay our fee, and then it was time for the family to head to the window to officially sign the forms that we’d started with our Coordinator on Sunday night. We were then handed Max’s passport, complete with the US travel Visa, and the special “sealed envelope” to hand to Immigration in Detroit. And, then we were done.
Ben was with us again, and we were thrilled to see him finalize his paperwork after what had been unexpected delays in Almaty. His family and Kim and her daughter were all booked out on a flight that evening (that crazy 3:10 AM flight to Frankfurt), so we trust they all made it to the US and are all well on their way to settling into their new lives as well. I
was a little emotional thanking the Embassy staff and the security person who escorted us between the office building lobby and the top-floor Embassy. I realized that this was indeed the final step, and I was overwhelmed with relief, happiness, fatigue, and multiple other emotions. All over a sealed brown envelope. ☺
We dropped Ben off at his flat, and headed to KLM to try to switch our flights from Thursday to Wednesday, and to purchase Max’s lap ticket. We love Eldo at Golden Rule, and he was a huge help to us at every step of the journey, but he accidentally forgot to book Max’s ticket, so we had to purchase it in country. All good, as I think Eldo had quoted a price of $400 or so, and at the KLM office, we paid $125. It took forever to get our tickets changed and to get Max’s paper ticket issued. (The time span was made worse by the fact that our son’s diaper was stinking up the joint). But, by 5:00 PM that day, Tuesday, we walked out with tickets in hand for the 7:20 AM flight on Wednesday.
It was a short night, given that we were being picked up at 4:00 AM. As we exited our apartment at that hour (having agreed to meet our driver downstairs and outside of the building), we heard banging on a locked door leading into our 12th floor hallway from a stairwell. Naturally, we ignored it, since we all know you never open a door in Kazakhstan to anyone you are not expecting, let alone at 4:00 AM! As we stood forever at the elevator, the banging continued (which was clearly being ignored by our neighbors, too), and we eventually realized that the elevators were not working. Hmmmmm. Wonder if it is our driver out there banging?! It was pitch black darkness, and I could not see through the door to see who was banging on the other side. I said a quick prayer, and opened the door – and saw the familiar face of our coordinator’s father, who had helped us on one of our Almaty stints during our first trip. He explained that the elevator was out, and that we would need to walk down the stairwell. Oh joy. Our assistant, who is at least 70 years old, grabbed one suitcase, Glenn grabbed one carry-on, the other suitcase, and our stroller, and I strapped on two backpacks and held tight to Max … and we all descended 12 stories in the pitch dark. (As has been well documented, it seems to be a given that there are no light bulbs or any form of light in Kazakhstan apartment stairwells). I kept insisting that we stop to rest, as I was really concerned for our assistant, who of course had already walked up the stairs to retrieve us. We were all sweaty messes by the time we made it down and outdoors, but we were all safe and sound, and that’s all that mattered. All that our assistant ever said about the elevator is, “This is our reality.” Enough said.
We checked in at KLM without any problems, especially now that we are veterans at understanding that there are no such things as organized lines, and you just keep pushing your way to the front with everyone else. Clearing passport control in Almaty takes forever, so don’t bother wondering why you have to get to the airport 3 hours early – you might just need all of that time, so do as you are told. ☺
We can summarize our flights by saying, “We love KLM, and Northwest, not so much.” We were on a large jet – I think an Airbus – from Almaty to Amsterdam, with a 2-4-2 seating configuration. We were in the first row of coach bulkhead seating, in the middle, which had just three seats across. The flight was two-thirds full, so the fight attendants quickly found a new seat for the third person assigned to that row, and we had three seats to ourselves. Max took a two-hour nap across the seats, and when he wasn’t napping, he played contently on the floor in front of us.
Contrast that with the jam-packed 757 with 3-3 seating on our Northwest flight from Amsterdam to Detroit, during which we had a middle seat and a window seat, and in the aisle seat was an incredibly friendly man who was traveling home on his own very long business trip from South Africa. Glenn and I were miserable, being jammed into those seats, but Max was a trooper, despite sleeping for only 2 hours on this flight. He spent a lot of time climbing up and down from my lap and tugging things in and out of the seatback pocket. To top things off, they ran out of water on the flight, and one of the bathrooms stopped working. We fully understand that fuel costs have caused airlines to cut back on services, but running out of water on a flight that begins with a film about the importance of stretching and drinking a lot of water on the flight? Something doesn’t quite add up.
In Detroit, we were directed to the Immigration line labeled “Special Services” or some such thing, and it didn’t take long before we realized that this line was for people who were emigrating to the US. People in line before us had envelopes that were twice the size of the one we’d been handed in Almaty, and we waited a very long time. Max sat patiently in his stroller, so we made it a point to draw his attention to the drug and food sniffing dogs (sabahkas) … all good fun, until one of the dogs came and sat down directly in front of one of our backpacks! Having inadvertently watched one too many movies while on our first trip to Kaz about drug smugglers, people framed for crimes they didn’t commit, etc., both Glenn and I instantly thought, “Oh my gosh, someone has snuck something into one of our bags!” Except, in this case, the contraband was an apple and a banana, and we were caught red-handed. I completely spaced while packing in Kaz and forgot that you cannot bring produce into the country, and the cutest little beagle you’ve ever seen nabbed us. The dog’s agent took our Customs Declarations form, and with a green Sharpie marker, wrote some type of code all over it that clearly indicated, “Idiots bringing produce into the US.”
We continued to stand in the Emigration line until finally, another agent took pity on us and directed us to his line, where Max was processed in as a new citizen. We were then directed to the “Agriculture Violators” special glass-enclosed room, where the agent took our baggie with the apple and the banana, said “fortunately, these are both US grown”, permitted us to throw it away, re-screened our luggage again, and then directed us to the area where we could re-check our luggage for our domestic flight home. Now, I’m here to tell you that I carried that apple and that banana all the way from the Ramstor in Almaty -- so is it true that these produce items had just completed their around-the-world adventure while still ripe?
We found our way to the Exit, and upon finally clearing all of the customs, agriculture, baggage re-checking, and immigration hurdles, we were met by my mom, and my aunt and uncle, who drove from Toledo and Ann Arbor to spend 20 minutes with us on our short layover in order to meet the newest member of our family. By this time, we were exhausted, and the floor felt like it was moving. Max fell asleep in my mom’s arms for 15 minutes, and it is undoubtedly a time that she may well consider her 15 minutes of fame. We are still so happy that our family made this trek to spend such a short amount of time with us, and we look forward to my mom’s “real” visit later this week, when she will have much more in-depth quality time to bond with her first grandchild. We then gathered up our stuff and made our way to the main airport security entry point to re-enter for our domestic flight home, where again it took forever to clear security because it just takes longer with a baby and all of his accoutrements!
We thought we were in the clear when we boarded our small plane for Cincinnati on time, but we got out to the tarmac, and the pilot announced that we had to idle for 10 minutes to burn off fuel for weight reasons. So, is it really not possible to just pump slightly less fuel into the plane in the first place? Last I heard, diesel fuel is expensive. It was during this idling that our angelic son launched into his one and only true meltdown, and the crying and screaming began. As he was well into an uncontrollable fit, the pilot shut down the engines, and if we understood him correctly over our screaming child, the airport had been shut down for “VIP Activity” that supposedly had something to do with the President or the VP flying in and/or out of Detroit. Max was not impressed, and his screaming and crying escalated to decibel levels that would have rivaled the jet’s engines – if only they’d been running. I was in the aisle seat, and as I looked up and down the aisle, I could see every other aisle passenger holding his or her head in his or her hands. I’ve been that passenger on the tiny plane stuck on the tarmac with someone else’s screaming child more times than I can count, and I will never look at the situation through the same set of lenses again. We handed Max back and forth between us but there was nothing either of us could do (or the flight attendant, for that matter, who came back to check on us a few times) but to let our little guy cry out his exhaustion and fear. By that point, both Glenn and I were practically in tears, too, as it was so painful to see Max so inconsolable.
After what felt like two hours, but was probably more like 20 minutes, he fell asleep, and I could hear the collective sigh of relief from the rest of the passengers. The VIP activity came to a close, the airport re-opened, and we finally took off, a little over an hour late, for our short flight to Cincinnati.
We were met at the Cincinnati airport by two of our closest friends, Heather and Kathleen, and our awake but exhausted son gave them the appropriate cold shoulder. We had ordered Max’s car seat online right before we left for trip 2, so Heather graciously took my car and had it installed at the fire station while we were in Kaz, and she drove my car to the airport to pick us all up. Heather has two little girls, ages 3 ½ and almost 1 (Max’s girlfriends), so she supervised us as we buckled Max in for the first time. Both Heather and Kathleen had ensured we had groceries waiting for us at home and we all munched on delicious turkey (from the Honey Baked Ham store – YUMMMMMMY!), macaroni and cheese, and fresh bread. They said their good-byes around 9:30 PM, and then … Max, Glenn, and I were finally home, alone, as a family.
In hindsight, the total lack of sleep for all of us paid off in the end, because we are all back on our time zone relatively quickly. Max fell asleep in Glenn’s arms at about 10 PM that first night (photo below), and Max slept until 4 AM. He awoke crying, and I went into his room and got him, silently (and selfishly) hoping that was not the beginning of my day! I laid him between Glenn and me, where he fell fast asleep, and the next thing I knew, he was waking me up at 8 AM by smacking me in the head with his stuffed doggie. We had a great "first day home" on Thursday, which included a nap for Max from 1:30 – 5:30 and accompanying naps for his parents.
On the “how well is he adjusting?” scale from 1 to 10, our son is scoring in the millions. He is pretty much sleeping when he should be, eating everything and anything that we give him (having already learned the “more” sign – is there any chance that they used it in the BH? -- because seriously, he gets it already), and walking around the house with a big smile on his face. He loves his crib and his high chair — two things that I love, too, given that we had neither in Almaty.
Max and the koshka (cat) Tiger are slowly developing an understanding of one another. Tiger has swiped at Max a couple of times — no claws — and Max has giggled every time but now has a lot less nerve in approaching Tiger – all good. Below is a cute photo (if you don’t hate cats) of Tiger pulling down on the crib bumper so that he can get a peek at Max while he is sleeping. Dog Boomer is still hanging out with my ex-husband and his wife, where she spends alot of time anyway, and we will probably introduce Max and Boomer to one another within the next day or so. We are excited to have the entire family reunited very soon.
Although he seems to be a totally developmentally on-track and very happy-go-lucky 18-month-old, Max does exhibit what we are assuming are orphanage induced behaviors — primarily some “hard rocking” behaviors when he is trying to put himself to sleep, and this weird habit of doing something that will give him a reason to cry when he is really tired and about to go to sleep. We picked up on this latter sign while we were in Kaz, so we were ready for it when we got home. He either does something mean to one of us (pinch, hit, etc.), so that we will tell him “nyet”, causing him to burst into tears, or he will hit himself and start crying. We have an appointment at the International Adoption Clinic at Cincinnati’s Children’s Hospital on Monday morning, so we are interested in talking with the doctors about these behaviors in case there is anything in particular we should do (other than stare at him in disbelief and duck when he swings at us with the remote control).
We feel like we are settling into a great routine, so we will try to blog semi-regularly over the next couple of weeks, at minimum, during which we will add other insights from our journey.
In the meantime, thank you for your continued support, thoughts, and prayers. It is not lost on us that we had a speedy (by current Kaz terms) journey that was absent of any major problems or challenges. We know how blessed we are, and we continue to be humbled by the wonderful support of our friends (especially and including our many blogger friends!) and family.
Finally, this post closes, so you can view more photos!
With love,
Karen, Glenn, and Max
A mirror and a pack of baby wipes provided loads of entertainment in our Almaty flat.
Max standing on our "bed" -- and mapping out the day's journey in Almaty. Yes, there is a televisiton in the background, but it was not operable.
First night home: I left an exhausted husband and a crying child for a minute to retrieve a sippy cup of water, and here is what I found when I returned. I love these two boys!
What the $#*!& is in this crib?
We took this photo in the long hallway between the jetway and the Immigration Hall at Detroit Metro Airport. Max is basically catatonic from exhaustion at this point -- I don't think he even realized I had put the flags into his hands. (And, where is his neck? HA!)
