Land of Contradictions

I’m recalling a program we watched on the History Channel a few months ago. It was about the history of the Russian Tsars (an incredibly fascinating program by the way). In it, the narrator called Russia a land “filled with contradictions”. Based on our experience thus far, I must say that I have found this assessment to be 100% accurate.

We spent the afternoon on Saturday sightseeing Russia on foot, visiting Red Square and enjoying the beautiful weather. About a 40 minute walk from the hotel (none of us were brave enough to attempt to buy metro tickets alone), we definitely worked off the McDonald’s cheeseburgers we managed to order correctly (I think the Sbarro and KFC experiences built up our confidence). Another exciting drive to the airport from our driver, Vladimir, and we worked our way past security without any troubles and boarded our flight to Krasnoyarsk (breathing a sigh of relief as the bus taking us from the terminal to the airplane pulled up in front of a brand-new Airbus 321 instead of the Tupelov we flew last time).

The red-eye to Krasnoyarsk, despite a bit of turbulence (I still have the fingernail marks in my arm from Sara to prove it), was a comfortable one (not having to eat my knees the whole flight was a welcome change). Sara attempted the crab salad that was served on the plane (I was rather impressed at her daring), but that one bite almost didn’t make it down the hatch (I wasn’t so impressed at her almost vomiting all over me). With the four-hour time difference, we touched down in Krasnoyarsk, Siberia at around 5:30 am. Yelena and Serg, our liaisons here in Siberia picked us up at the airport, and we proceeded to make the 30-minute drive into the heart of town to our hotel (all of us welcoming that because no one, except for me of course, got any sleep on the plane).

This was the first time we had done the drive between the airport and Krasnoyarsk in daylight (last time it was in the heart of winter). It struck me very deeply. The sides of the road were littered with trash, some or which had obviously been there for years. We passed homes, at least what I guessed were homes, and I was floored at the poverty present here. Such a beautiful landscape was dotted with homes that had obviously been built 60 or 70 years ago, and had not been fixed up or updated in that time. The roofs looked barely intact, fences rotted and falling down, siding peeling away from the framework. All I kept thinking was “How do these people stay warm in the winter, when the temperatures drop to dangerous levels?” I was deeply saddened. I had never witnessed poverty of this level personally. And even more heartbreaking is the fact that in other parts of the world, this would be considered luxury.

As we continued on towards Krasnoyarsk, I started to think about Mikhail. I started to think about all the doubts that we have had during this adoption journey in the light of what was passing by me outside my window in the warm glow of sunrise. We are a pretty simple family. Our three-bedroom home is pretty small on a “North County San Diego” scale. It was built in the 60’s, and could use a new roof and a fresh coat of paint. The landscaping doesn’t exactly scream “curb appeal”. We’re a middle-of-the-road, single-income family living on a very fixed budget. And there have been times that I have said to myself, “Maybe Mikhail would be better off in a family that could give him more than we can.” “What if the economy turns, and we have to downgrade even from what we have?” But as we rolled through the Siberian suburbs, I felt a firm conviction in my soul. Best-case scenario, this would be his future. Worst-case scenario, he wouldn’t even survive to see a life like what I was witnessing. What I can give him may not be much on a San Diego scale, but it is half-a-world better than the alternative. I just kept saying to myself “We need to get him out of here. We need to get him out of here. We need to give him a chance.” It would be hard enough for a child with a loving family here in Siberia to make it. But for a boy with no family, no support structure, just pushed out on his own when the time came with a “good luck”. I shudder to think of the outcome.

We arrived at our hotel, and checked in to the tune of $150 per night. I thought about the $800 price tag at the Marriott and the $8 for 2 cups of yogurt we bought from the grocery store and the 8 strawberries for $75 (which we didn’t buy). I compared that in my mind to the Siberian roadside and I thought to myself, this doesn’t make sense. What a contradiction. Such expense and opulence mixed with such poverty. I always knew that I wanted to save my son, but now as our court appointment sits just one day away and I wait in anticipation for the few hours to pass before I get to see Misha today, the first time in over 5 months, I fell a sense of resolve and peace that the little I can give him will be a hundred times better than anything he would receive otherwise, and the love and support of a family crosses all barriers of income and economy to a place of love and peace that he will feel and know for a lifetime…

JP