Nungesser's Russian Adoption Weblog: Season II, Episode 3: A Day In The Country

The next day we slept in, at least I did. DW was jet lagged. She woke up in the middle of the night and could not fall back asleep. We ate breakfast from among the yogurt, dried apricots, and almonds we bought at the Seven Continents grocery store the evening before.

DW and I had to be out of our apartment by 2 PM. Our plane to Orenburg from Domodedovo Airport [Домодедово Аэропорт]was not until 9:45 PM. Pasha planned to pick up at 6:00 PM. We had a lot of time and a lot of baggage and no place to put either. I thought we would stow the bags for several hours with the bellmen at one of the more reputable hotels, see more of Moscow, pick-up our bags at the hotel close to 6:00 PM, and have Pasha pick up from the hotel.

My next move was to call Pasha and brief him in on my plan; however, he proposed an alternative. He was driving other families that morning, but would pick us around 2:00 PM. Then he would take us to his country house called, a dacha [дача], in Krasnogorsk [Красногорск], northwest of Moscow, to spend the afternoon with him, his wife, daughter, and son. It sounded good to DW and me. Plus it Pasha could go spend the afternoon with his family and avoid another trip into Moscow center to pick us up.

Pasha said that though he was familiar with the general area of our apartment, he did not know exactly where our building was and would call when he got closer. I was familiar with the area either so I decided that DW and I would spend the morning scouting the nearby streets and landmarks to gave Pasha some directions. Because He said that he would pick us up after dropping other PAP’s off at their hotel, I presumed that Pasha would approach our apartment building from the east; A majority of the hotels where PAP’s stay are east of our New Arbat Street.

DW and I dressed and once again walked out onto New Arbat Street. We headed east down to Nikitsky Boulevard [бл. Никитский]. I looked across the street and wrote down the name of the restaurant on the southeast corner of New Arbat Street and Arbatskaya Square [пл. Арбатскя] - a big supper club looking type of place. Many Moscow streets change names every few block and Nikitsky Boulevard turns into Arbatskaya Square when it crosses New Arbat Street.

While walking east on New Arbat Street I saw a coffee café on the other side. So we took a tunnel going under New Arbat, emerged on the other side and walked into the café. DW and I each ordered a cappuccino. Our menu options were kind of limited. I can read some Russian, but not enough to get through an entire menu. But I can find coffee, espresso, and cappuccino. If you just want a good old cup of joe, ask the waiter or waitress for “coffee Amerikansky” [Кофе Американский]. Sugar is “Zach-haahrr” [Сахар], milk is “Mahlahkah” [Молоко]. We each enjoyed our cappuccinos and then headed back to the apartment.

We showered and packed-up, then, unable to resist, I headed down to Stardogs for a beloved sausage sandwich with fried onions and hot mustard. When I got back I finished some last minute packing and sure enough, just as I was finishing and ready to dig into that sandwich, Pasha called to say he was downstairs to pick us up.

I took the elevator down and walked out onto New Arbat Street looking for Pasha. Moments later I saw him wave at me from down the street. We walked toward each other, shook hands, and started for my apartment. Back inside the apartment I stowed my sandwich in my backpack and helped Pasha take the baggage down and load it in the car.

Once in the car Paha said that we needed to stop by his apartment and the store and then we would be on our way to his dacha. “No problem” I replied. He then asked whether I still had my reservation at the Marriott Royal Aurora for when we returned to Moscow after finishing our business with Candidate #3 in Orenburg. “Yes” I replied. Then Pasha asked whether I'd prefer to rent his apartment instead. He and his family were staying at his dacha for the summer. It was unoccupied and available for $100 per night. He said there was no need to decide immediately; DW and I could come up and see his apartment when we stopped there, decide later, and call or e-mail him with our decision after we had a chance to talk about it.

It took about 20-25 minutes to get from our now former apartment on New Arbat Street to Pasha's apartment just north of the Aeroport Metro station [Аэропорт станция Метро] on Leningradsy Prospekt. The apartment looked good - great location, several bedrooms, a crib, a kitchen, air conditioning, and a fast Internet connection.

Next we stopped by a supermarket. Pasha parked on the street, went in to buy food and beverages, and instructed DW and I to wait for him in the car. This was my chance. I opened the door stepped out of the car, withdrew my sandwich from my backpack, and ate it on the curb. It was good even cold.

Pasha returned about ten minutes later and we drove to the open-air market. Once again Pasha went in and instructed DW and I to wait for him. I can't resist going into an open-air market and this was no exception. As soon as Pasha was around the corner of the wall I was on my way into the market. This market was really more of an outdoor supermarket than what we think of as a “flea market” in the states. Most of the goods for sale were edible - meats, breads, candy, and huge amounts of fresh fruits and vegetables. I got back to the car and Pasha returned about ten minutes after me.

Back in the car and headed to Pasha's dacha. It took about 40 minutes to drive there. It’s a small green wooden house in a residential neighborhood. Like most dachas it's pretty rustic. There is electricity and running water, but the toilet is like the ones usually used in a camper and the shower is in an outhouse. No air conditioning. It's next to the woods so there are a lot of mosquitoes. It has a huge yard for Pasha's children to play in and he has built a gigantic playhouse with a slide and climbing wall for their amusement.

Pasha has an eleven-year old daughter. Her room occupies the entire second floor of their dacha. She speaks English very well. She brought DW and I up the ladder to her room and she showed us her toys, games and clothes. There is a little balcony and the tree of us went out and watched Pasha and his wife prepare lunch for all of us.

Pasha and his wife are gracious hosts and we really appreciated their hospitality. We ate the food and drank the beer from the supermarket and open-air market. Pasha BBQ’d sausages on an open flame in his back yard. Guys grilling in the back yard on a Sunday afternoon; I guess it doesn't matter where in the world you are, some things just don’t change. We also had potatoes and sliced tomatoes and cucumbers. It was a fine repast.

Pasha put wood in the family samovar to heat up water. After lunch we enjoyed tea in the traditional Russian way. DW and I brought a good load of candy as gifts with us and this was a good opportunity to start giving them. DW and I presented a box of Fannie Mae Pixies to Pasha’s wife. Those of you who are from Chicago know what I’m talking about. Those of you who don’t, Pixies are like Turtles. The Pixies were pretty popular because by the time we left at 6:00 PM, all of the Pixies were long gone. The best part of the Pixies was seeing Pasha’s four-year old son stuff almost an entire Pixie in his mouth at once. I was afraid he might choke on it, but he chewed it up and downed it in a state of near euphoria.

Pasha lives near Moscow’s only golf course at the Le Meridian resort. His daughter is an accomplished junior golfer already. At about 5:30 PM we prepared to leave, said our good-byes to Pasha’s family and drover his daughter to the golf course. We had some extra time so we used it to take a look around and watch Pasha’s daughter warm up on the driving range. She must have hated it. Having her dad and a couple of strangers watching her hit balls. DW and I discreetly withdrew from the driving range to look at the first tee and fairway. As we passed the driving range on our way back to the parking lot, we noticed Pasha’s daughter was hitting the ball much straighter and further than when she had DW and I in the gallery.

Before we knew it, it was 6:00 PM and tome to lave for Domodedovo Airport for our flight to Orenburg. Traffic was heavy and it took a long time to get on the freeway. Once on the freeway, traffic moved. Domodedovo is still under construction and it improved greatly since our last trip through there in March. The security check-point is larger and we did not have to wait nearly as long. However, be prepared to fight tenaciously for a bin to put your shoes in and dish-out angry growls to the inveterate queue cutters that frequent Domomdedovo.

We took the customary bus ride out to the aircraft, an Orenburg Airlines Tupelov TU-154. With it being early June with the sun setting late in the day, at least it was light as we boarded the aircraft. As I was standing on the bus there was a little boy sitting on his grandmother’s lap behind me. Out of nowhere he took one of his index fingers and stuck it into the side of my behind. Just out of nowhere, for no reason. His grandmother was furious. DW ad could not stop laughing. We both found it endearing. Then I began to wonder if I would find it as endearing in a few days when I, hopefully, would be in the grandmother’s place.

Before take-off I sent a text message on my mobile phone to Natalia our consultant/translator in Orenburg to expect us in about two hours.

Our plane departed at 9:45 PM. The flight was uneventful. The most remarkable part is that on Orenburg Airlines the crew, at least when making announcements in English, merely “requests”, instead of “insists” that passengers not smoke in the restrooms. The natural result is that the restrooms double as smoking lounges. If you need to go, you’ll probably wait until someone finishes their smoke of two.

It takes about two hours to fly to Orenburg and Orenburg is two hours ahead of Moscow. So we arrived into Orenburg at approximately 1:45 AM. This is the only flight from Moscow to Orenburg. I just can’t for the life of me understand why it has to be so late. I know Orenburg Airlines – currently the only airline between Moscow and Orenburg – has other things to do with their aircraft during the day, but it’s not like Moscow is some obscure one-horse town. If they were to schedule convenient flight time from anywhere, you’d thin it would be Moscow first. Perhaps, I’m just an ignorant and pampered Westerner who does not appreciate that most travelers prefer combining the 20 to 30 minute drive from the airport and the queue at the Hotel Orenburg [Гостинтца Оренбург] with getting into their rooms just before 3:00 AM local time.

Natalia met us when we deplaned and thanked me for the text message. Our usual driver from our first trip, Sergei, was not available. Instead a young gentleman named Alexander drove us from the Orenburg airport to our hotel and would be our principal driver during our stay in Orenburg.

Natalia must deliver a lot of business to the Hotel Orenburg because when we arrived we did not have to stand in the queue at the front desk. Instead, Natalia told us that when had the keys to the rooms from our first trip (Room #410) and she also had the keys to another room (Room #308) with a large bed instead of the two twin beds in Room #410. Room #410 worked fine on our last trip but we decided to take a look at Room #308. Once we arrived in Rooms #308, e decided to stay notwithstanding the extra Rubles per night. It would cost us. Three things factored into our decision: (1) there was a shower curtain in the bathroom so we could take a real shower, not just spray off in a bath, plus we could hang our laundry from the curtain rod too, (2) the larger bed, and (3) last, but certainly not least, the air conditioner in the room.

We told Natalia that we would take Room #308. She handed us the key and told us we could check-in and get our passports registered with the front desk in the morning. It was not long before DW and I were both fast asleep.

In the next episode, Nungesser and DW reunite with Candidate #3, take Candidate #3 for his passport photos, and take a trip to an Orenburg bowling alley.

DW outside the coffee cafe on New Arbat Street