Harasho

There is nothing like a few days in Moscow to make you thankful.

Thanks to a quick lesson from Dawn (more on her visit soon...) I was able to read my train ticket and got myself safely to Moscow. The journey was long, but the car was posh. The in-transit movies ensured a quiet ride. There was plenty of legroom and one of the videos was a Russian version of Winnie-the-Pooh. Sort of. And, then, eight hours later, I arrived.

While there is an energy and an efficiency (don't laugh--only imagine...) in Moscow that St. P's lacks, I was glad to come home. It was HOT in Moscow. It's not my city. The metro is rude.

Instead of our charming tokens and turnstiles, Moscow has scan-cards and gates that slam shut if entered wrongly. When I arrived in Moscow at 10:30 p.m. I was surprised to find it was already getting dark. I was in a hurry to get to the flat I was staying in before it was completely dark and went through the gate too quickly. I backed out and tried again. Same result. And same result again. I was about to just leave and try another gate when the young (mid 20's) man behind me said calmly, "Devochka, devochka." with the inflections Southerners use when calming a child by saying, "Honey. Sweetheart." It just means, "Girl" but I found it very reassuring. AND I made it through the gate.

I made my way to the flat and the next morning went to the Embassy where...

I filed my I600-A and got finger printed!!

(The I600-A is a visa form so that my new daughter can come to the US. The fingerprinting is just one more way to prove I'm a safe and capable parent.)

It was so nice to be at the Embassy and talk to the DHS rep who told me her job and DHS policy was to "facilitate and expedite" adoptions. She was a great help.

It was also nice to be around that American can-do attitude. When I went to pay for my I600-A, the credit card machine was broken. My heart sunk. I thought I'd made the trip to Moscow for nothing. My mind was racing to find a way to get the money for the processing fee in dollars in cash and get back before the Embassy closed.

Then, the above-mentioned rep casually said, "Why don't you just pay for it in St. Pete and send me the receipt? You can just fax it to me." I was amazed!! I've been told so many times lately that things must be done THIS way and then met with a shrug when it proved impossible. Her efforts are appreciated!!

But, even with all this positivity, I was ready to come back to St. P. On the way back on the train I was surrounded by an Italian tour group. It made for a lively traincar! When I finished reading my book, there was still an hour left before we arrived in St. P. I started playing with the four-year-old in front of me. Anastacia was happy enough to play knock-the-giraffe-off-the-seatback for a while without conversing. Then, she started to tell me all sorts of things. While my Russian is improving, I don't speak pre-schooler yet. He grandmother and I tried to explain that I didn't understand, that I spoke another language. (Grandmother at first told her I was Italian and was surprised to find I was American.) This concept of another language was, well, foreign to her.

Anastacia persisted. I found myself murmuring things in English, just as you do with any toddler-babble, that I knew perfectly well how to say in Russian. So, I just switched languages. When she'd pause in her monologue and it was my turn to speak, I'd just say, "PRAHvela?" (Really?) and when she'd reassure me, "Da." I'd reply, " HArasho." (Good.) Then she'd be off again. I'd vary this with other answers (No, really?) and some simple questions when I'd catch a word I knew. When I heard her say "sleep" I asked if she was tired. She assured me she was. Her grandmother was so tickled!! She asked the girl, "Does she understand you?" My little friend replied, "KaNECHna!" (Of course!)

Yesterday was harasho. Pravela? Kanechna!