Road Trip--Bonding Day 11

The gang in the back of the van.

I’ve done my very best to keep my requests to a minimum, but felt strongly that I wanted to retrace the path that the girls have trod since being taken into custody by the state. After a few days of making the appropriate arrangements, my wish came true. Today, we hired a driver, piled everyone into the back of a VW van and hit the road. Our destination, Poloundino, to tour an orphanage for children aging from 3-7 years old 60 km to the north. The very place Olia had been sent after leaving the temporary shelter back in March. On the way out of town we picked up the girls at the RBS. Yulia was waiting by the gate out by the roadway when we pulled up. We hadn’t shared our plot with the girls as we wanted it to be a surprise. Indeed, it was.

Poloundino is a small town of 1500 people, give or take. There’s not much between Petro and Poloundino except wheat fields, lakes and birch trees. The terrain is absolutely flat and the earth blatantly fertile. The dirt is a thick with a beautiful dark tone like the pictures you see in the gardening magazines. Small wonder the tomatoes taste so good. As we drove north, we saw signs to Omsk, Russia, a city of 2.5 million people just across the northern Kazakhstan border. If we would have had the proper paper work,we would've made a run for it.

About 40 minutes into our journey we took a right off the highway and the road quickly turned into dirt with potholes, like landmines, demanding attention. Shortly, a very large, straight and well fortified railway needed to be crossed. Igor, our translator, announced “Trans Siberian Railway.” A quite hush came over the van, broken only as I heard Debbie whisper to Denver, “Trans Siberian Railway not Trans Siberian Orchestra."

We continued down the road lined by very small homes in serious disrepair, complete with towering woodpiles nearby. A reminder that long nights of winter are not far distant. It wasn’t long before the building came into view. It would be hard to miss. Very big, brick, with a yard full of children’s play equipment surrounding both sides visible to us. We entered through a large locked gate and promptly parked to the rear next to the "old school" fire equipment.

Olia rushed off the moment the door flew open. As we attempted to follow, I realized that there was something very quiet about this place. I mean, it was supposed to be full of young active children and the whole place looked, and sounded, deserted. We were escorted to the huge play room and asked to wait until the director showed up who would then give us a tour of the facility. The kids made quick work of destroying the neat and tidy play room as we killed some time. It was large, well lit, completely immaculate, and had some great stuff. Even Dad got some big boy fun in before the Director made his appearance.

The boys attempt to "one up" their father.

Introductions were made and the tour commenced. All of the children except “Camera Man Cade” remained in the play room as we were shown, room by room, both floors of the non living area. First were the toilets, the nicest we had seen thus far and the pride of the orphanage. Next was the music room, indoor garden room, speech therapy rooms, party room, infirmary, temporary quarters, directors and staff offices, and everyone’s favorite “Sensory Room” that Cade quickly named the Disco room. The windows were covered making the room dark, disco ball hanging from the ceiling and every kind of weird funky lighting option on display. Bean bags on the floor and other make shift beds where one could lie on the floor, stare at the ceiling, watch things spin, and get sick as you experienced “Sensory Overload”.

Disco Room.

Of course, what we really wanted to see were the 52 children who live at this facility, Olia just having moved out only a matter of weeks ago. The very children, to this point, I was convinced did not exist. We were told they were just waking up from nap time and would be headed out for some play time as the walked us towards the door. Thankfully, Olia announced she had really wanted to say goodbye to her “family” to which the Director just couldn’t say no. He motioned for us to follow as we walked down the hallway, Olia holding his hand. She’s a professional.

Oila's former family.

The children finally came into view and, to my surprise, were fully awake and dressed, just very, very quite and…. small. The looked miniature but ever so cute. Olia, the towering giant, made introductions, showed us around the place, and chatted with her care giver for a few minutes. The children looked on and listened intently, quite as church mice. Cade showed them the video screen to the camera as he filmed, their eyes got really big and they flashed a big smile but made no sound. Goodbyes were finally in order. She made sure everyone got a hug as she said goodbye. We then ventured out the play grounds to find one remaining care giver that Olia really wanted to see. Once found, Olia gave her the low down about her new parents, America, and brothers as more children listened on. Big hugs and more goodbyes. No doubt, love had been mutually shared and now thankfully, witnessed. As we loaded back into the van, I told the group I was so glad that we were able to make the trip. A phrase I found myself repeating over and over the entire evening.

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