We stayed at the apartment until 2 pm when Yelana and Vassily, our driver took us into the city for our appointment at the National Adoption Center. The Center has been moved from the location we knew when we adopted Olya a few years ago, Now it’s right at the foot of the famous St. Andrew’s church at the beginning of Andriyivskyi Uzviz (Andrew’s Descent). From here the street winds down to Kontraktova Ploscha in Podil. Podil is Kiev’s Greenwich Village, we’re told. The street is lined with souvenir sellers, restaurants, galleries, and museums. No doubt Pippa will insist of spending a lot of time on this street in the days to come. We were here a few years ago and bought a lot of things we really liked: painted eggs, Ukrainian blouses, paintings, painted dishes and carved bowls. Today, however, is all business and this appointment is the critical first step of the adoption process in Ukraine.
We waited in the courtyard with Yelana, Vlad and his wife, who helps Vlad with housing arrangements for the families, but she spoke English with a very heavy, Russian accent right out of a Saturday morning cartoon. Vlad’s English is impeccable. He also dresses like an American. In fact the first day we met him, a very warm day, he had sandals and a Hawaiian shirt and looked as if he was strolling around Lincoln Road on South Beach.
While we were waiting he got Pippa’s cell phone, one more technological device functioning for us. One by one we’re getting there. TV now works, hot water also, and internet connectivity. Unbelievable!
Other adoptive parents gathered around the door for their appointment, all non-English speaking. A young woman in her late twenties or early thirties appeared at the door and invited us in for our appointment. She took us into a small office and introduced herself and another young woman, both nice, pretty and smiling. She is our translator (perfect English) and the other woman, our appointment administrator. There was an older man in the corner who was not introduced to us; he glanced at us then returned to his computer.
Very quickly we were told in both Russian or Ukrainian and English, that they had read our file, everything seems to be in order. They were both smiling as they spoke, making us feel very comfortable. They presented Andry’s file and asked us if this was the child we wanted to adopt. We both chimed a big YES. The picture of Andry was several years old. We wished we had been able to adopt him at that age.
We brought out the large (My Publisher) photo book and asked them if they would like to read it. The text was in Russian; there were photos of Olya from the time we adopted her until present; photos of Andry when he was with Olya in Spain; other photos of our house, Miami Beach, where Andry will sleep, play, and go to school; photos of our vacation house in the mountains of North Georgia, etc. The women poured over the book intensely, smiling and pointing at every page. They even called the man over who had begun looking up, interested at what was going on. The man walked over and looked at a lot of the book then walked over to Ron, pulled out his wallet to show us his two children, Elizabeth and Alex. The kids were beautiful, most likely taking after their mother. The man was round-faced, and stocky, but he did not share the looks of his children. The women put down the book and almost tearfully told us what wonderful parents we were, what a wonderful job we had done. They repeated this several times as they said goodbye to us. What a big difference from the brusque, business-like experience when we had our appointment for Olya. Pippa and I both had tears in our eyes when we came down and told Vlad what had happened.
Of course this is just the first step and there are many pitfalls ahead, but we had tremendous relief. We headed back to the apartment to change clothes and relieve Pippa’s parents who were baby-sitting Olya and Andry.
Vassily drove us later to a cinema house, a multiplex that sometimes shows films in English. Tonight however we just opted for whatever was playing. We got to see the new release of “Fantastic Four” who apparently speak perfect Russian.
The auditorium was huge, far bigger than our cinema houses. We had tickets for more expensive seats (each seat is reserved) but could have sat anywhere because the place had hundreds of empty seats. As it was I sat next to a man drinking beer out of a glass bottle which he kept clinking on the floor. Didn’t matter to me since I slept through most of the film. Andry of course understood the Russian and Olya could care less about what they were saying. She only wants to know which are the good guys and which are the bad. In this film it was very easy to tell.
Jim, Pippa’s dad, had caught a little bug and was uncomfortable until he found the location of the toilet. It’s very helpful to have Andry with us who can read the signs
and get directions for us. He’s also the kind of person who wants to help everyone and he’s eager to do whatever you ask him. Sometimes it takes a little English, Spanish and German to ask the question however. But his comprehension of English is getting better by the hour.
After the movie all sacked out back at the apartment. By then it was midnight; the kids were still wired and it took some convincing to finally get them settled down. Tomorrow we expect to be an easy day with no official appointments to meet.
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