American Birds Poop White

Tom here.   I could write 10 paragraphs on all the sweet things Liza has said over the past several days.  But I know many are wondering why things seem so difficult here.  So, this is the post where I give you an example of what we’ve faced since day one.  I’ve wrestled with whether or not to go into too much detail in this post. On one hand, if I do, your mind may become so confused and frustrated that you won’t finish reading.  But if I don’t, you may never understand why we feel like things here are so ridiculously difficult.  So, to help keep your attention, I’ll highlight the insanity in red and toss in a funny anecdote.  How’s that?

It’s Wednesday morning here in Simferopol; our last day in this city that we are very ready to leave, even though we have gotten very familiar with it and have happy memories here as well.  The past two days have been really busy with essential errand running.  Monday, our first stop was the court house to pick up the court decree declaring Reagan and me as the legal parents of Liza.  This could have been done on Saturday as our 10-day waiting period officially ended on Friday, but the clerk of court decided to uphold the Ukrainian law stating that “if the 10 day waiting period ends on a Friday, you can pick up the decree when court opens Monday morning – even though the period for appeals ends at the close of business Friday.”  It would have been awesome if they would have given us the decree just after business hours Friday.  We might have even made it home for Christmas.

So, Monday it was.  The decree would only be official after we made our third trip to the Piervomayesk Region where she was born to have it notarized.  Notary offices are open on Saturday and closed on Mondays.  So earlier the week before, we had driven 100km to Piervomayesk to make a cash donation to the notary there so she would come in on Monday to help us.  As we started our long, notoriously car-sick trip out there, the pace of our facilitators tone increased with one another.  And as we’ve now been here nearly six weeks, our Russian is good enough to understand the topic of conversation if not the details.  They were discussing details surrounding Liza’s passport that we would need to get on Tuesday.  Then they began to make phone calls in upset tones.  Then they pulled the car over.  We could understand that there was a disagreement about whether or not Liza needed a Ukrainian intra-country passport in order to get a passport for international travel.  It was quite a while before they explained the details to us which I will explain to you in detail later…

We made it to Piervomayesk mostly in one piece, though really stressed out.  Our sense from their conversation was that there was another unforeseen (and enormous) hurdle to overcome which could add at least another week to our time in this place that feels like Groundhog Day in a Tim Burton movie.  After running through the scenario, our facilitator explained that there was no way we would be home for Christmas but if we wanted to hurry home, we could plan to spend Christmas in a medical clinic in Kiev  for Liza’s health exam.  That was too much.  It soured our moods so much that receiving the notarized copy of her birth certificate (with our names as parents on it) 3 days after the 10 day waiting period ended was not a very happy occasion.  We drove silently back to Simferopol.

After a few more errands, we went to pick up Liza once and for all.  Of course, if you’re in the blackest of moods, one thing you can count on to lift it is telling your new daughter that you are taking her away from the orphanage she has spent 10 years in – and are taking her to America to her new home.  To see that smile and those tears of joy in her eyes.  Wow.

Before we left, we made our donation to the orphanage director and passed out gifts to the teachers and children.  Thank you to our many friends who donated gifts to us to give them!  They loved them a hung on us for the entire time we were there. It was bittersweet.  To have so many kids who have no family show you so much love.  And to take only one and leave. 

We celebrated with a wonderful dinner out, listening to the adorable sound of Liza practicing her English.  We were given some photos of her by the director of the orphanage before we left.  They are so sweet, they melt my heart.  I uploaded one to Facebook until Liza realized and said “Daddyyyyyy!!!!”  Another teenage daughter!  Of course, I took it down. Later she translated something on the phone and handed it to Reagan.  It said, "I believe in miracles."

Tuesday we were up early again and off on the additional mission that had been a revelation to our facilitators:

The woman at the international notary office told our head facilitator that because Liza is now 16, she would need the Ukrainian passport before she could get an international passport.  Our facilitator didn’t believe her because it was just too ridiculous – and you’ll see why.  The Ukrainian passport would be destroyed once she applied for an international one, which we had been planning to apply for Tuesday.  But a myriad of phone calls and arguments later, it was confirmed.  On Tuesday, we would need to go to the local passport office to apply for a domestic passport.  Of course, this normally takes days or weeks.  With the help of a cash donation, however, the passport office could have it done same day.  Why is this important?  Because the international passport office only accepts passport applications at 3PM on Tuesday afternoons.  The passport application is then mailed to Kiev where it is processed.  Turnaround time is faster than the US, which is amazing!  But, the passport made in Kiev must be mailed back to the originating region (900km away) so that the local chief passport officer here can sign it – which he only does on Mondays at 3pm.  It can’t go directly to us, even though we will be in Kiev by then!  So, our facilitator will have to receive it here in Simferopol and send it back to Kiev so we can take it to the US Embassy to apply for Liza’s visa.

So, after a few stops, we headed to the domestic passport office with Liza.  We were met by our facilitator and the social worker from the orphanage who had to register the new passport in the orphanage books (for some reason).  The passport application went smoothly and with the help of the purchase of new office supplies for the facility, we were given a shiny new Ukraine-only passport for Liza – that would subsequently be destroyed three hours later when the international passport application was submitted.

Ukraine passport office - just imagine a post-soviet DMV.

We went to the notary to have Liza sign her consent to leave Ukraine.  We got a new social security card for her (needed for her international passport even though it will mean nothing when she leaves).  Then we went to the international passport office to apply.  After sitting there for an hour, the woman began arguing with our facilitator.  She would not accept the Ukrainian passport!  Why?  Because Liza’s middle name was not on the same line as her first name!  I’m not kidding!  We had to leave the international office, drive through insane traffic across town, get new passport photos made, go back to the domestic passport office and have a whole new passport made for Liza with her middle name on the same line as her first.

It seemed so absolutely insane to us but we had a good laugh on the way there.  While we were leaving the passport photo shop, there was a giant thud.  A gigantic bird poop had landed on the windshield.  We all started laughing but for different reasons. It was a really gross, brown color and huge.  Reagan said, “American birds poop is white”.  Liza looked at it, shrugged her shoulders and said “here, too.  I don't know, maybe big big bird?”   Our facilitators were so excited because they said when a bird poops on your windshield, it means “big money!  It's good luck!”  You’re going to have good luck – and the luck goes to the person who the poop would have hit if there had been no windshield.  We laughed and our younger facilitator asked if we held the same belief in the US.  I caught my breath and said “no, in the US it just means you’re cursed.  It means you're having a really bad day.”  We lost it with the kind of laugh you only laugh when you're completely sleep deprived and cracking under pressure.

Maybe the giant bird poop was good luck because the rest of the day went smoothly.  That is to say, there were no new absurd, dark Tim Burtonesque surprises.  We made it back to the international passport office just in time for the 3PM deadline, paid our unofficial “expediting fee” and went home for the night.

Liza and her brother, Ruslan

Despite all the misadventures, having Liza in our apartment at night , with the rest of the family feels perfect.  She fits in perfectly.  She and October are two peas in a pod.  Hearing her adorable voice and seeing her sweet face makes all of this worth it.