Wow -- great tales! We went back in the olden days when one trip sufficed and the 10 days were sometimes waived.
The flight over to Moscow was packed but uneventful. We were met by a translator and his UTTERLY INSANE DRIVER girlfriend. We crammed our two enormous bags and medium-sized bodies into some teensy car that was so filthy, I could not see out the windows or the windshield. In sleet (it was late October), we tore off for Moscow.
We were staying at the Hotel Ukraina. Translator helped up with check-in and we went to our room. Just a small, tatty room with two twin beds and a broken mini-fridge. OK. No problem. We're too tired to grocery shop anyway, so, gee, lots of restaurants in hotel -- we'll just eat out! We find a restaurant that looks nice -- but it's empty, save for a young man who is wearing a European-looking tailored jacket with (I am not making this up), the sleeve tag still attached, a la Minnie Pearl's hats. As soon as we walk in, the staff all peer at us and race about and suddenly, a deafening euro and disco and American Country music track is launched. It's on volume 10. DH and I had already ordered, and we don't know the term for "forget it". We try shouting over the din, but it's no use. Our meal was incredibly awful and incredibly expensive, but we were so exhausted and hungry that we ate it, crawled out and went to bed.
Our next adventure was the trip from the orphanage to a host home in Vladimir. We had gone to court, been given rights to DD, did tons of paperwork, and then drove back to orphanage to get her. By the time we get there, it is pitch dark, freezing, sleeting, and the orphanage doctor, a tall redhead, changed into in a form-fitting red dress, is already "celebrating" with a strange man in a black leather jacket -- the vodka bottle is out on the coffee table and she is clearly eager to have us gone. Our translator seems very nervous, almost frightened. I change DD into clothes we brought. We leave.
There we are, with driver and translator, hurtling through the night on a deserted, unlit highway. DD stirs and then vomits some chemical-smelling bile down the front of my only warm coat. Suspect redheaded doctor drugged her. Suddenly, a large truck coming toward us swerves toward us. Driver does a move worthy of a James Bond flick, and he and translator have a frantic-sounding, lengthy conversation in Russian. The truck turns to pursue us, and driver (ex-KGB wheel-man?) GUNS it. (Mind you, travelling 100 mph in new Audi, in pitch darkness, on icy roads, with vomit all over me).
We pull into a large housing complex with lots and lots of tall apartment buildings. Car stops and translator (who had not slept in 72 hours, she confessed) gets out and turns us over to a 12-year-old boy (who also speaks no English) -- our "guide" to the apartment. Driver pulls up to dark, urine-stenched entrance and gestures for us to get out. Kid is beckoning. We drag luggage out of trunk and enter dark doorway, me holding, clutching DD. Kid punches a button and an elevator opens -- IT IS DARK -- NO LIGHTS! -- we enter dark elevator, door closes, and...we DESCEND. At this point, exhausted, jet-lagged, starving, covered with vomit, clutching my (clearly unwell) DD, all I can think of is the basement in Ekaterinburg and the Czar and his family, and, and...I start keening and whimpering. We're gonna be robbed! We're gonna die! I've just gotten my baby, and we'll all have our throats slit together!
NOT! When we finally got there, the family could not have been kinder. They fed us, they cried with us, they hugged us, they tucked ALL of us in. (They had heard we were Southern, and had bought WATERMELON FOR US!!!) God bless them all.
The next evening, we were driven back to the Ukraina and given a suite, as requested. The phone was ringing as we arrived, someone asking for "Tatiana". DH said "Nyet" and thought nothing of it. Over the course of the next four days, that phone rang for "Tatiana" from morning until morning. (Of course, we had to answer the phone every time, as it might be translator, or guide, or arrangements for final medical, etc., etc. -- we figure Tatiana was EXTREMELY popular!!!!!!). Next day, after almost no sleep, we all went down to eat the free breakfast at the hotel's main diningroom and WE SAW TATIANA (well, actually a NUMBER of them -- young women in full evening gown regalia, all escorted by older men in suits). Breakfast consisted of cabbage, cabbage, blood sausage, pickled cabbage, soggy scrambled eggs with lots of shells, coffee with lots of grounds, etc., etc., (oh, and did I say cabbage?) -- am buddy -- nothing quite like cole slaw at 9 a.m.
OK, for the blow-out tales. DD had shigella -- for those not in the know, VERY smelly and almost constant poo. We get to Moscow airport and all is well. We check through and are waiting. Suddenly, a MAJOR blowout. Three times, I pass back outside security, begging the security wenches (mini skirts, lots of make-up, 3-inch heels) for too-ahl-yet. They yawn and nod their heads in one direction (but that old airport was undergoing renovation AND I CANNOT FIND LADIES' ROOM!!!!!!!!) and we're about to get on a flight with a diaper that could gag a maggot! Finally, DH snatches up DD and carries her into the men's room, where he cleans her up and changes her in front of the horrified eyes of a group of Mongol shepherds (they were wearing all animal skins)! (DD proceeds to have 8 more blowouts between Moscow and JFK).
Finally, they were renovating JFK. All I can remember if that DH shoved me, him and DD by physical force onto a tiny elevator, and DH screamed for me to grab the luggage (2 huge bags, but on wheels) and RUN to make our connection. He tucked DD under his arm like a football and ran (anyone remember the old OJ Simpson commercial? Like that. With me in a long draggy coat, running behind, dragging 200 lbs.)
And DD? Tucked under daddy's arm, she was laughing like a maniac.
So that's our story.
