Thoughts from Kokshetau

Once your eyes adjust to the retina-numbing whiteness of the steppe, you realize that Kokshetau is a city of colors. The trash cans are parrot green. Iron gating appears in all shades of aqua and lime and yellow. The hundred year old mosque in the center of town is as blue as the Kazakhstani flag. The windows on the white dakas are framed in saphire blue. The little girl walking home from school has a light pink puff on the top of her white knit cap. The woman at the market smiles with the glint of three gold teeth. In the midst of the snow and slush so thick and whitegreybrown that the spattered cars are drained of their tint from waistlevel down, these little shreds of color stand out bold and brave in the whiteness. Like the notes of a song finding their way through the static, you strain to hear more.

The babyhouse caregivers have pasted strips of thin cotton cloth to the seams around all the windows in an attempt to keep the heat in and the cold out. The cloth is a blue floral and was probably crib bedding before it got too worn for that purpose. It is beautiful and resourceful and sad.

The babyhouse smells like stewed cabbage and watery potatoes but it is very bright and clean. All of the babies are fat and dressed in a wild assortment of pink and yellow and blue cotton layers

Being here reminds me a little of being a child. I can't understand a word spoken between the driver and the interpretor, so for the hour-long car trip to and from the babyhouse I listen loosely to the conversation between the two, letting the rythmn of the words wash around me. I'm like a bouy in the ocean. I find myself repeating sounds which have no meaning: diavichka. diavitchka. diavitchkee. I remember doing the same thing on trips with my parents as a small girl. Also, I'm tired so early that I am going to bed at dusk,while most Kazakhstanis are still getting home from work. Now, just as when I was a girl, I love the sensation of sleeping while the world is still in motion.

Just photos

Day 5
Just pictures today. I figure... why should I write, if no one comments. That's right. A threat. So here you are, just pictures of a cute baby... hmmm.... not much of a threat after all.

Big smiles for our Daddy!

Garrett had the hicups - so he got a bottle of "compote" which was apple - my guess is that it is water boiled with dried apples to make a warm and weak juice - delicous!

A happy Momma and a happy baby.....together.....

Daddy and the cutie pie looking out the window.

Paka,

Becca

P.S. - Leave comments if you like what you see. I'm feeling awfully alone out here.

Sleepy but smiling

Day 4

Garrett was sleepy today and when Tim and I first arrived we wondered whether or not he was catching the cold that one of the other babies has. We went through our normal rountine of diaper and kisses and layers and kisses and hats and kisses and blanket and kisses before we were sent, not to the activity room that we had been in until now, but to the larger music room I had seen in other parent's pictures.

I caught a glimpse of Tim's fierce paternal instinct as he muttered something low and terse about getting Garrett out of this institutionalized care. Not that we blame the caretakers for sniffles and colds. That is inevitable. All that we had heard about the caretakers loving these kiddos is true. Everyone we pass knows Garrett by name and they all bark "Eh! Eh! Rrruslan!" at him in friendly russian voices and wide gold toothed smiles. They are doing everything that they can for the babies in their care and we appreicate all of their efforts to keep their little ones safe and warm and happy. They really do a great job. It's just hard to see your little one wheezing and sniffling when you know that you are ready and able to do better.

After about 20 minutes of just being held, Garrett began to perk up and we got lots of smiles playing a game that had been one of Calvin's favorites as a baby. Over and over I let Garrett stand on those strong baby legs on my stomachs as I lay on the floor, then I would swoop him down for a kiss and then stand him back up again. He absolutely adored it. Little thrill seeker.

Then, as we were permitted to let him play on the floor in this room, we let him have some tummy time.


After a while, our pumpkin was tired again and we just held him and rocked for the rest of our time together.

He is such a sweetheart. I trying my best to learn all of his little coos and growls but so far I'm just guessing. The hour and a half goes so fast! I wish I could hold him all day.

He's such a big boy, too. The pants I brought for my 6 month old baby are sized 9 months and they were so tight I unbuttoned them to give his tummy a little more room. The "I'm Calvin's Little Brother" shirt that he's wearing is a 12 month shirt and, granted he has two layers underneath, but it is snug! Looks like Garrett is going to fit right in with the big boys in the Snyder house!

Before I finish, here are a couple more views around the music room.

A view out the window of the older children's play area

Another view out the window. I don't know what that big black thing is.

A wooden wall hanging with a mother hen gathering in her chicks.

Acoustic ceiling tiles with butterflies printed on them

The front of the music room, with piano, a stack of xylophones on the shelve and a radio. There was also an accordian which we heard them playing for the children yesterday when we came in. Each of the groups of older children (up to age 3) have music time everyday in this room.

Just before we left, a photographer came in to take Garrett's passport picture.

After we had said our goodbyes and were walking to the car, Makhabat told us that Garrett hadn't taken his morning nap with the rest of the babies. Tim and I said that we had noticed how tired he was. Makhabat shook her head and said "No. You don't understand. Ze babies they feel zeez things. Zeez is a good sign. He knew you were coming. He was too excited to sleep."

Paka

Becca

A smiling baby and a view around the nursery

Day 3

Today our little bundle of joy smiled as soon as he saw us walk in the door! In only two days, he has already figured out that we belong to him! What a smartie. Can I just say, my little mohawk man has absolutely the most charming smile of any baby in Kazakhstan. He absolutely lights up the room.

So after a quick change into four layers of clothes, socks, a hat, and a fleece blanket, we were off to the play room again for an hour and a half of smiles and rattle shaking. As our playtime is right after lunch, we also saw our fair share of mashed potato and meatball spit up, but even his spit-up is endearing... stinky, but endearing.

Garrett is facinated by Tim. He can't take his eyes off of his daddy. Tim believes Garrett's attitude is because, even now, Garrett knows that daddy will someday buy him a car. If this is indeed Garrett's line of thinking, then he and Tim are truly kindred spirits. Whatever the reason, it sure is cute!
I also got my share of smiles today.

But far more important than either parent were the teething toys from Big Brother Calvin and the "bowling pin bear."

So when our time was up, we kissed those chubby little cheeks, secured his socks, put his hat back on, wrapped him in his fleece blanket and walked the 15 steps back down the hall to the nursery. The nursery that Garrett lives in has about twelve babies under the age of one. Their living quarters are divided into a sleeping room with cots backed up to one another in a giant U shape. The other room has two large play pins (basically full sized mattereses with rails all around and a pole across with mobiles hanging down),a small changing table with a space heater aimed at it which is always warming a pile of brightly colored socks. There are two highchairs that the end of the playpin. There is a small desk in on corner and a table with two chairs where the caretakes feed the babies and also eat their own lunch. A large window separate the two rooms. Underneath the window is a couch. Everything is brightly colored. Here is a pic. I'll take more when I think caretakers aren't looking.


Love you all. I'll try and write about life in Kokshetau tonight. Right now Makhabat (our interpreter) and her 8-year-old daughter are going to take us to Pyramid Pizza for a treat. Nothing like a local delicacy.

Paka!
Becca

A teething baby and the Eagles of Victory!

Day 2

O.K. - Let's put the biggest mystery to rest right away. What are the Eagles of Victory, you ask? Well, they are only the most ridiculous slippers ever! When we showed up to visit Garrett today, we were chastised for not having slippers to wear inside, so after our visit, Makhabat (our interpretor) took us to the Green Market across town to remedy this serious deficiency in our wardrobe. The only slippers available to me (for cheap) were bright red monstrocites with "Eagle of Victory" proclaimed in bold gold script across the front. Lovely! Take a look.

I wish that I had taken my camera into the Green Market. It's a bazar, basically - a two story warehouse divided into about a hundred cubicle-like units. Each unit is individually owned and they sell everything from the 3 inch stilletto heel boots that all of the women wear to sheep's heads. We were even able to find.... vegetables!!! I think fresh produce will become our prized posessions here in Kaz because, at least in Kokshetau, they don't seem to have the luxury of grapes from Chile and pineapples from Hawaii. If it isn't growing on the frozen Steppe, it's not easy to find. Half of the upper floor fo the bazar was dedicated to groceries, but it wasn't all one store. You still paid each of the vendors separately. Tim was like a kid in a candy store and happily stocked our shelves. The concept of buying in bulk is definately unheard of in Kazakstan and the cheese vendor was much amused when Tim requested half of her block of cheese. The carrots are probably one of the coolest things we found today. Here is a picture of Calvin with a classic giant Kazakhstani carrot.

O.K. now the babyhouse update. We officially have the cutest baby in Kazakhstan, even when he is grumpy.Our little bug was teething and pretty miserable today. When we came in, he was sitting in the highchair having just finished his breakfast of formula and meatballs. Yup, really. He looked a little bit dazed, not quite as bright-eyed as yesterday. When they saw us, the caregivers swooped him up and asked us for our diaper. We are supposed to bring a diaper everyday for our visits with Garrett. This is the only time that the babies wear diapers. It's too expensive for the babyhouse to diaper all of the kids all of the time, so generally, they just wear layers of long underwear. After they diapered him, I was told that I could dress him in the clothes I had brought. I thought, since he now had a diaper on, that Garrett would not need any long underwear underneath his clothes. Boy was I wrong, after I had finished putting a long sleeved onesie, jeans, socks, and a sweater on our fussy bub, they told me to take it all off and put on a longjohn jumper underneath. Then they pulled a thick cotton hat on his head and wrapped him in a huge fleece blanket so that he wouldn't get chilled on his walk down the hallway. Now, I'm only going to say this here, because the caretakers make the rules at the babyhouse, but it wasn't cold. In fact, it was downright hot in there. I was perfectly comfortable in a thin cotton tee-shirt and my baby is dressed for a blizzard! Oh well.

We played for a little while today, letting Garrett stand on our laps and show off those strong legs of his. He really is so big and strong. The clothes I brought along are almost too small for him and the diapers are definately too little. The caretakers told me that he is a good eater and a good sleeper. That is definately evident from how big he is! At least three of the caretakers have commented on how well he will fit in with his tall daddy.

They also told me that he is a very happy baby with a big smile. I bet we'll get to see that smile another day. Today he just wanted to be held and to chew on something, anything to ease those throbbing little gums of his. He finally settled on plastic bear bowling pin that was on a shelf. It was delicious.

Then Tim and I took turns rocking with our sweet boy while he fussed. Every once in a while, he would just drop his toy and let out the most heartrending little cry of pain and desperation. It absolutely broke my heart.

I just wanted to strip off half of those hot layers of clothes and give him something a little bit more soothing to chew on. But, as our visit was under the constant supervision of a very well meaning caretaker who was scrubbing the room, that was not in the cards. I'm hoping that tomorrow we will be left alone for a while. We bought him some real teething toys at the Green Market and I'd love to be able to set him down a little so that he can stretch out.

Isn't he the cutest!!!

I'm in love.

Paka,

Becca

Introducing Garrett Ruslan Snyder!

Hello Everybody! I'm finally here and aren't I cute!


Mommy says my mohawk is darling!

Hello, brother.

Here is our little family!

Daddy and his boys! Finally.


Love you all. Way too exhausted to type. Must sleep. zzzzzzzzzzz...

Becca

Almaty Amazing!

March 11, 2009

After our meeting with Gulzhan yesterday, we had time to do a little sightseeing in the section of Almaty near our apartment. What luck that we happen to be within walking distance of some of the biggest sights of the city. Let me take you on a tour.

Walk down the three flights of sloping and uneven soviet era concrete stairs, past the dilapidated mailbox center with its small metal doors hanging open like a discarded advent calendar and out the bright blue metal door of the apartment building. Make a right and walk along the side of the building out to the main street. Now you should be facing the Japanese food restaurant (strangely named “Seoul”) that keeps the blue Christmas lights in its window illuminated all night. Make a left and walk tight against the line of cars parked haphazardly along what we must assume is the side of the street. The concrete curb is only 2 inches tall and as everything is covered in a couple inches of snow, it’s impossible to know for sure where the street ends and the grass begins. The drivers, however, seem less concerned with this distinction. They have parked both parallel and perpendicular to the edge of the street in a rough semblance of a line. There are no sidewalks here and as none of the very smartly dressed Kazakhs want to get their black leather boots covered in snow, everyone walks in the street, completely unconcerned with the cars and SUVs racing past them. When driving the Kazakhs subscribe to my father’s old saying that ‘an inch is as good as a mile.’ In other words, as long as they don’t actually hit you with their cars, it doesn’t matter how close they get. Also, there aren’t any crosswalks here and everyone crosses the harrowing street wherever they want. It took us a while to get the hang of it, but here is how you cross a street in Almaty: Only look in one directly, when there is a break in the line of cars streaming towards you or one of them appears to be going less than 40mph start to cross. Get the middle of the street and stare at the oncoming traffic like a matador in the ring. Exude confidence because if you show weakness you could be stuck there all day. Instead, you should glare at the speeding traffic with a look that says “I’m going to walk in front of your car and if you don’t stop I’m going to be really pissed!” That usually does it.
So after crossing two streets in that way, you’ll reach a wide flight of concrete stairs like you might see outside some impressive courthouse in America. Here, however, instead of leading up to a building, these stairs take you under a huge concrete archway and into a wide plaza flanked with large metal soviet stars and HUGE black statues and commemorating the various wars in which the Kazakhs have fought. When I say that these statues are big, that doesn’t do them justice. They seem to be carved from chunks of a mountainside and have haunting faces and arms brandishing weaponry jutting out from their sides. The largest and most impressive, by far, is the statue honoring the soldiers of WWII. I’ve seen this one before, when googling images of Kazakh weddings. It seems to be a tradition for the couple to take a picture in front of this huge slab of what I think is black granite. This statue depicts a Kazakh soldier, arms spread eagle, face clenched, who seems about to leap out of the rock and into the middle of the courtyard. He is about 2 stories tall and is surrounded by faces of all ethnicities, some peaceful, some tormented. It’s really a powerful image. In the middle of the courtyard is long slab of black granite, I’d say about half a football field, with an eternal flame of remembrance in the middle.

Behind the main statue is a giant and ornate yellow building with blue trim and rounded gold turrets. Sasha the Benevolent had told us that it was a mosque but upon closer inspection it turned out to be a very ornate Russian Orthodox Church filled with very emotional and devoted worshippers kissing the ground and genuflecting.
This plaza, with its statutes and church seems to be a hub for Kazakhs walking to and from work. They walk determinedly with their laptop cases along the wide treelined walkways. The Kazakhs in their fancy black coats trimmed with fur will not make eye contact with you as you pass. We garnered quite a few distasteful looks from the locals when we greeted them with a smile and “Privet!” as we passed. We are quick learners, though, and have almost mastered the indifferent glare we have seen so often. Not that the Kazakhs are cold, mind you, it’s just not culturally accepted to acknowledge strangers in the street. It’s very much like NY or any other big city in that way.
So that was our big adventure after which we mustered up our courage and crossed the streets again, wandered back along the snaking lines of parked cars, passed the colorful rusty metal playground, trudged up the slanty stairs and tried to remember which of the unmarked doors was ours. Then, as has become our habit, we all collapsed in various states of exhaustion. Tomorrow we hop a plane to Astana, and drive to the babyhouse to meet our son!!!
Paka!
Becca