Homesick for Kazakhstan

Our travel partners and friends Maureen and Sean are currently back in Kazakhstan adopting a little brother for James. Every morning I log onto their site, keeping my fingers crossed for an update. I love reading each entry, and not just because I'm thrilled for them as they bond with Michael. I love looking at each picture posted, and not just because it's wonderful to see them all smiling. Although of course I am, and it is.

You see, their journey tugs at my heart and makes me long for Kokshetau. Don't get me wrong, there were parts of the six and a half weeks we spent in country that were downright tough; and Bob and I were both happy to get back to Maryland. But there is something about the whole experience that grabs you and never completely lets go. A huge part of it was the emotional thrill of meeting Owen and making our dreams finally come true, but there was so much more.

It was the novelty of being somewhere new - and literally foreign. I found it (mostly) exhilarating to have to try a little harder to choose groceries or get places. It was fun to visit the Tsum department store vs. the local mall, the Green Market vs. the Safeway.

It was learning that it is freeing to live with less - a smaller household space, fewer choices at the store, a limited and oft-repeated wardrobe (although by the end I was wearing a pajama top during the day because I was so tired of my other options), and no time saving appliances. On second thought, that last one never did get easier. I liked the size of our apartment (if not the bathroom) and having to walk everywhere because we had no car.

It was interesting being somewhere that we didn't act, speak or look like the majority of folks. I found it deeply humanizing to reach across the language and cultural divide to share a laugh with a new acquaintance, or wave to the clerk at our neighborhood market when we saw her at a restaurant for dinner.

It was the way we had to roll with the punches ... our daily schedule often depended on what some faceless official or hospital administrator decided; many times we had to trust Rada our translator for meal choices; we happily ate raisin pie for dinner with Sean and Maureen when the cooking gas ran out and couldn't be refilled until the next day. I think it was liberating to learn to let go - especially for someone like me who prefers to be in control.

It was being somewhere where our evenings together weren't interrupted by work phone calls, emails, or even TV reruns. We spent every day - all day - together, and we had to work as a team to finish what we had set out to accomplish. I found that was a good thing for our marriage.

In Sean and Maureen's words and pictures I remember the sights and smells and sounds that will always be within me. Bright blue paint, worn but serviceable furniture, plates of rotisserie chicken and mayonnaise and dill, glossy dark hair and gorgeous faces, ornate ironwork and crumbling cement, car horns and techno music. It all takes me back to the biggest decision Bob and I ever made, the most rewarding journey of my life. I will forever treasure Kazakhstan for giving me the greatest gift, our Owen, and I suppose part of me will always be homesick, but in a good, good way.

I won't publicly post pictures of Michael yet, nor say what city they are in, as the legal process is not yet complete. But if you would like to read Sean and Maureen's journey, leave me a comment and I'll send you a link and the password.