One More Moore

It is now official, and real. We have Dasha with us, and it is magic (though far from easy). This picture, while not charming, reflects the reality. We got a call from our agency (boo, hiss, mumble, mumble) yesterday evening saying that there was a change in plans. Rather than driving to her orphanage to pick her up, the director of the orphanage was going to bring her to us at the hotel. Imagine 2 very unhappy people. We objected. See Fait Acompli in your dictionary. There is great symbolism in claiming a child from an orphanage. The imagery is much less pleasant when she is 'delivered' on an anonymous street corner. She was in tears, and extremely scared and uncomfortable.


On our first walk, she was silent and sulky. We sat on a bench, with Sharron and I searching for some way to ease her discomfort. I held out the camera, and took a picture of myself. Then I showed it to her, pointed at my woeful double-chin, and said 'tolstay' - Russian for 'fat'. And she giggled.

And I took her picture, in the same hold-out-the-camera-without-looking-through-the-view-finder way. And she made her trademark Dasha face. And she laughed.

And once again, I held out the camera, and I took Sharron's picture. And we all laughed, relaxed, and began our adventure in earnest.



Fast forward 6 hours. We've gone on a couple of walks together. We bought a book at the book store. We've colored. The video of Sharron feeding Dasha Cheerios, one O at a time, is priceless. She is more at ease, and more playful. Every word of Russian I have learned has been of use, and the soft, gentle touch of my wife is magic.

One last update. We are at "The Chicken House". This Russian fast food restaraunt was so named by our travelling companions from North Carolina. We had Chicken for dinner, and for desert, Morozhenoye - Ice Cream.

Next