Balloons and Yogurt-Bonding Day 4

Yogurt in the "family room"

Quiet play on the roof

Door from SKIF hotel room out onto the roof

Just as promised, the girls showed up promptly at the appointed time and as the door flung wide open I knew the shyness of being together as family was a thing of the past. Our translator said they were waiting at the gate when he picked them up and had very detailed discussion about how much fun they had yesterday as they drove to the hotel. We were treated to hugs and love before we settled into our first official English lesson. We sat around the table and reviewed the alphabet cards, singing the accompanying alphabet song, and dealt the cards for a game of “GO FISH”. The girls are still trying to remember the boys name so part of the game was to call the person name and say “Do you have…?” Immediately, Olia’s age, lack of official schooling and personality helped her shift more quickly into the groove of the whole thing. Yulia, on the other hand, was more reserved only wanting to speak if she new she would not be wrong. Her accent is also thicker. “Deen-ber, do you ha-VVE?” It is very cute and somewhat funny only she doesn’t think so. One long game was enough and a break was needed.

Yesterday we gave them each a balloon to take home and we discovered that only Yulia’s survived the night. A closet here at the hotel serves as our stash of goodies and when they discovered more balloons were available it was "game on! " The hotel here has a basketball court along with a weight room and swimming pool and although not fancy by American standards very much adequate for our purposes. We played basketball, table tennis, volleyball, and chased balloons all over. A good time was had by all. After which we retired to our room for a quick drink of water and headed out onto the roof for some relaxing. The girls had re-discovered the Petshops toys and for the next 30 minutes played together quietly. This quiet play is a phenomenon that that we have been told happens often with girls, but had never witnessed. It was marvelous. More and more I’m beginning to pick up on Russian words that give me clues as to the “gist” of the conversation. It was so nice just to listen and attempt to join them in their world.

Time began to run short and we decided a quick snack of yogurt was in order. The yogurt here is absolutely marvelous. Much better than anything I have tasted in the US. In fact, most of the food here is great. Lots of cucumbers and tomatoes, fruits and fruit juices, heavy breads, and chicken, beef and my personal favorite pork. Far and away, breakfast is the highlight of the day. Speaking of food, I was told not to long ago by a good friend that you would be amazed what will come out of a teenagers mouths when you start to feed them. Well, in Kazakhstan it works on the younger children as well. No sooner did Olia take her first bite of yogurt she started talking about her birth mother and father. I didn’t take long until I realized she was referring to us a “Mama and Papa Amerikee” and her parents as “Mama Taunya and Papa” something or other. Finally I asked the translator what she was saying, and with a long pause as he finished listening to what she was saying, he said “Wow, she knows a lot.” She knows, or thinks she knows, more than I care to share at this point but I did get a chance to question her further who taught her that "Boys are to protect girls". She said, one for her "Drunk Uncles" had taught her and moreover "Boys are not to hit girls" either. I felt odd about reinforcing her drunk Uncle but took the high road anyway. And for good measure threw in the fact the "Papa Amerikee" didn't drink, to which she responded "Neither did Mama Taunya, but Papa Amerikee is nice." I'm not sure if that made me feel better or worse.

Fortunately today we have our rescheduled appointment with the Social Worker at the RBS. Our main objective is to impress upon her mind that, despite what she has to share with us, nothing changes from our perspective. We want the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

guy