Dostoevsky, Crepes and Sushi

Friday morning we finally got out of the apartment around 9:00 am, rode the rickety elevator down 22 floors and walked out to New Arbat Street.  It's one of the main thoroughfares that runs directly to the Red Square.  We walked up the street to take the stairs down into the tunnel which goes under the street (so one can avoid getting hit by the six or eight lanes of traffic) and came out the other side.  

Standing across the street from the
apartment building we're staying in this
week.

Our goal was to find a place for breakfast.  Score one us!  We ate at a place called Кофе Хачс (phonetically pronounced Coffee House, I think)  We had a great experience, partly because the waitress spoke some English and because the menu had pictures so all we had to do was point to what we want and tell her how many.  We enjoyed cappuccinos, cottage cheese pancakes, blinis (crepes) stuffed with cream cheese and chives, and croissants.  Yum.  

Proud Papa and his boys.

There was a young Russian couple sitting at a table not far from us, observing us and obviously discussing us.  It's quite entertaining to watch the looks on faces when people nearby first hear us "foreigners" speaking and then they hear Max rattle off everything he wants to say in Russian jibber-jabber mouth with a "Mama" or "Papa" thrown in our direction for good measure.  Then they notice us replying with a few Russian phrases and their equivalents in English.  We notice them noticing us and smile politely.  We usually get a smile back and a look of either genuine concern, disbelief, compassion, or amazement.   I have to believe that it gets to be a semi-common sight since thousands of foreigners adopt orphans here every year.  I sometimes think to myself, "What would I think if I ran into a foreign family in the U.S. that had one child with them who obviously didn't speak their language? Would I think they kidnapped that child?"  Hmmm.  Things to consider.  


Another funny thing happened this morning after breakfast.  We were walking toward the Kremlin and a police officer stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of us.  Maxim said something, the police officer turned around and gave us a look but kept walking.  Then Jose repeated to me what Maxim had just said aloud:  "Ya ni lublu militzia." (or something to that effect) which essentially translates to "I don't like police officers.  We're wondering if he's had some sort of contact in his past with police officers which prompted this response.  More things that make us go "hmmmmm."

Dostoevsky holding down the fort in front
of a HUGE library.

We walked as far as the Kremlin, but the area where we ended up was full of tourist groups waiting to enter the square with their tour guides.  Since it was getting toward lunch time and it had already been a rather long walk, we decided to turn around and head back toward the apartment.  The Kremlin and Red Square would wait for the weekend.  We did run into this huge statue of Dostoevsky, though.  The boys loved chasing the pigeons away.


Maxim had another first today...  his first sushi lunch.  We also had some edamame, and ordered some pork dumplings and it all went rather well.  It was a challenge trying to keep him from eating the wasabi paste.  It's so very frustrating to not be able to explain why something is a "no, no."  On the way back, we found a fabulous, huge book store.  They had a little activity table in the kids section.  The store had great postcards and gifts and provided a great place to kill an hour and everyone behaved rather well.  





Once we got back to the apartment, we thought, "surely these boys have to be so exhausted from not sleeping last night and they'll want to take a nap."  So, so wrong.  All the boys wanted to do was play and wrestle around.  An hour later, we gave up on that idea and decided to head downstairs to the Soviet-era playground that sits behind the building.  We are so grateful and we don't even care that it had some major safety concerns.  This playground would have been torn out 25 years ago if it were located in the U.S.  Broken, rusty, metal stairs, missing bars where kids can fall through, chipping (probably lead-based) paint, a super-steep slide (the kind that heats up so much in the sun that you can scorch your behind).  We were just happy to have a place for the boys to blow off some steam.


Before heading in for the evening, we stopped for ice creams and picked up some bottled water and some meat-stuffed rolls for a light dinner.  After baths and pajamas, both boys fell asleep without any battle.  Thank you God.  Ready for a new day.


At one point, yesterday, I asked Evan if he wants us to change his name to Kevin (since that's what Max calls him most of the time). He said, "No, I don't think so.  How about Jinga?"  I about rolled out of my chair laughing.  He's such a funny kid.  Who knows where this stuff comes from.  I can't wait to be able to understand Maxim... I'm sure he's equally as hilarious as Evan/Kevin/Jinga.  

The view from our window at 3:30 am,
the first time Evan woke up today.  At
least he went back to bed.