Alone with Olya in Челябинск

       Yuri drove down Lenina Blvd through downtown Chelyabinsk. Although the buildings were of interest to me, our new daughter sitting in the back seat with Denise and our interpreter, Julia, had captured the bulk of my attention. I kept turning around to look at Olya. Butterflies fluttered a happy dance in my gut. Denise couldn’t keep her eyes of her. When we approached the 80 foot tall Monument of Kurchatov at the end of the boulevard, (Igor Kurthatov was known as father of the Soviet atomic bomb.) Yuri turned south and continued driving a short distance until he arrived in front of a white nine story building with thin red brick horizontal stripes.
 Click here to see the white building where we stayed in Chelyabinsk

Before getting out of the car, I turned around from the front passenger seat to look at our new daughter. I got out of the car and stared at the building in front of us. The third through the ninth stories had balconies with a view of a forest across the street. I asked Julia if that building was our hotel because I didn’t see any signs on it. She told us that the building in a sanatorium for workers recovering from a stay in the hospital and for their families.

Chelyabinsk had been the “secret” city where the Russians developed the atom bomb.  Since Russian had given up its strict Soviet Union restrictions only two years prior, there were no commercial hotels in the city.

Yuri, and the staff that came with us, carried our luggage into the building. We walked through a lobby that had a color television. Adults and children were crowded in that room, sitting on the available chairs, watching a TV program. We followed Julia and Yuri to a tiny elevator. Yuri and some of the other staff waited with our luggage while Julia escorted Denise, Bonnie, Olya and me into the tiny elevator.

We were given the “executive suite” at the end of a long hallway on the top floor. The door at the end of the hallway opened up to what looked like a lobby, with a carpet and chairs along the walls. A large window looked out onto a balcony, which, in turn, looked out onto the forest across the street.

Yuri brought our luggage and took it into our room. Julia told us that the city did maintenance on the steam lines in the summer and therefore the facility had no hot running water. Denise and I looked at each other. Julia must have read our minds, “Come with me and I shall show you how to heat the water so that you may bathe,” she said as she led us into the tiled bathroom. She went to a corner of the shower and picked up a large metal bucket. She pulled out a large coiled instrument that looked like a tennis racquet with metal coils in place of netting. A long electrical cord came out of the handle. She handed it to me. “Tomorrow morning, when you want to bath, fill this bucket with water. When it is full, place this heating unit into the bucket and plug it in to the electrical outlet.”

“Is that safe?” Denise asked. Her brow filled with worry lines. I was fascinated. The heating unit reminded me of the small heating coils that one can put into a cup of coffee. The one that I held in my hand was enormous.

“It is perfectly safe,” Julia assured us. “You must unplug it from the outlet when the water is hot.”

We followed Julia into the bedroom. She told us that she and Yuri would be gone for a short while and that we should change Olya’s clothes and then get some rest. They needed to return the clothes that Olya was wearing to the orphanage.  They left. We only knew a few Russian words and phrases. Olya didn’t speak any English. Bonnie’s eye were aglow as she and Denise changed Olya’s clothes. They put her “orphanage clothes” into a neatly folded pile on the bed.

With Olya in her new clothes, we all went into the big room that looked like a small lobby. We sat in a circle, in separate chairs. Olya was so short, only 39 inches tall, that her feet dangled from her chair. Olya held a small rubber lion, (about the size of a softball).

Bonnie walked up to Olya and held her hand out, asking for the toy lion. Olya handed it to her. Bonnie used her hands to motion for Olya to catch it. Olya beamed and held out both hands. Bonnie tossed it to her and she caught it. Denise held out her hands and Olya tossed it to her. Denise tossed it back and then I held out my hands. She tossed it to me. We were all aglow with smiles. Celeste chatted away Russian. We had no idea what she was saying. Olya seemed unconcerned by our inability to speak in Russian to her.

We continued tossing the toy lion back and forth to Olya. And then when she leaned forward to catch the lion she fell off her chair and landed on the very thin carpet, cutting her head open in the process. She let out a cry. We all rushed to pick her up.

“Good Grief!” I said. “We haven’t even had her an hour and we already broke her.”

“They’re going to think that we don’t know how to take care of kids,” Denise said as we carried Olya into the bathroom. Denise made a compress out of the toilet paper. Thank Goodness the water was cold.

Yuri and Julia showed up after a short while. Denise and I were embarrassed. When Denise explained what happened, Julia laughed and nodded her head. She told us not to worry because that was to be expected from such a lively child as Olya.” I have to admit, that I was greatly relieved.

Flying To Siberia

On Christmas Eve, 1993, a Federal Express carrier walked down the sidewalk to the front door. Denise almost knocked me over as she ran to open the door. She thanked the carrier, opened the package and pulled out the paper work about a little five-year-old girl from Siberia that we were being asked to consider adopting. She handed me the photograph of a little girl, with chubby cheeks, dark hair, and a mushroom house applique on her dress. Tears flowed because I recognized that girl. (that is another story). 

The only visions of Siberia that I had were Cold War images and scenes from war movies. The Siberia in my mind’s eye was a frozen wasteland spotted with gulags where the Russians sent their prisoners. We were going to fly to Chelyabinsk, on the Asian side of the Ural Mountains. Chelyabinsk had a population over one million. We did some research and discovered that Chelyabinsk was one of the worst polluted cities in the world. This was a secret city where the Russians developed the atom bomb. There had been a nuclear accident in the 1960s that was worse than the one at Chernobyl. What were we getting ourselves into?
This photo of Monument to Kurchatov is courtesy of TripAdvisor

We thought that we would be going to Siberia in February or March. We purchased warm clothing. The governments opened and closed doors often. We didn’t end up flying to Russia until July. Denise, our daughter Bonnie, and I, boarded an Aeroflot jet from Moscow to Chelyabinsk. Denise took her seat. She put on her seat belt but when she leaned back to adjust her seat, the back of her seat fell all the way back. She struggled to get up. She found another seat. The plane took off toward the east, toward the morning sun, toward Siberia.

After a short while in the air, the cabin attendant came down the aisle holding a tray of small Tupperware bowls of different pastel colors (capacity 6 oz). They were each filled with something resembling 7 UP in taste and color. The cabin attendant returned to the front of the plane. She came out pushing a steel three-open-shelf  cart. She handed each of the passengers a clear plastic bag that contained dark Russian bread, cheese, sausage and a small plastic container of horse radish.  Denise put some on her black bread and took a bite. Her eyes popped wide open as she gasped and coughed. She fanned her mouth and bit off a piece of bread that was clean. And then she burst out laughing. “Oh my God! That is hot! It felt like someone took a small rake, shoved its prongs up my nose and yanked it over the top of my head.” She sipped some of her drink. Her teary eyes squinted as a mischievous grin came across her face. “You should try this,” she said. “It makes everything that I eat now, taste even better.” Bonnie and I shook our heads. “No way, not after your reaction.” Bonnie said.

We landed at a small airport, not unlike the Long Beach airport. The yellowish stucco building, with its light blue turquoise roof was surrounded with concrete. As the plane came to a stop, the airport staff pushed mobile steps up to the plane. We looked out our window and watched a group of well-dressed people assemble themselves at the bottom of the steps. Two of the women held large bouquets of flowers. We wondered who they were waiting for. To our surprise, they were waiting for us. Click here for a photo of the Chelyabinsk airport

They led us through the airport, grabbed our luggage and escorted us to two waiting cars. Julia, the interpreter, sat in a car with Yuri, the driver, Denise and me. They put Bonnie in the other car. Yuri yelled, “Nyet!” and waved his hand when I tried to put my seat-belt on. Julia told us that seat belts weren’t necessary and that Yuri was a very good driver. He may be good at driving, but he didn’t obey any of the traffic laws. He reminded me of the tax drivers in Sri Lanka who drove all over the road. Denise’s knuckles were white, and for good reason. The road from the airport to the city of Chelyabinsk was pretty flat. Julia told us that we were not going to the orphanage. Instead we were heading out of the city to the dacha, the place where the orphans spend the summer while the steam system is serviced throughout the city.

Way off in the distance ahead of us, I saw the tall building of Chelyabinsk. We turned off the pavement and onto a mud road. The back end of the car slid and sloshed its way through the mud. The mud was thick and I worried that we would get stuck. There were fields of grass on either side of the road. A line of telephone poles stood, marking the line of the road ahead. Many of the houses were constructed out of gray concrete masonry units. But we could only see the tops because they were behind a tall wooden fence. Many had steep pitched roofs. I felt like we were driving in the back way, through an unpaved alley; expect that this was the road to the dacha. Click here to see what the dirt roads looked like

We stopped in front of an iron gate. Yuri got out of the car and walked to the gate. He yelled through the gate’s bars and someone yelled back. He got back in the car and drove to another gate. We drove into a dirt courtyard. A couple of German Shepard dogs came around the cars, wagging their tails. Yuri parked in front of an old two story stucco building. We got out and were led up some steps and into the building. We were greeted by the staff, all nicely dressed. They escorted us to the second floor, to a dining room table that was decked out with flowers, plates, bowls, and glasses of Champagne. We all sat down. Denise, Bonnie and I were the honored guests. We were served Champagne and a bowl of borscht, along with black bread. Dollops of sour cream were in each of our bowls. The head of the orphanage made a toast in Russian. We all held up our Champagne glasses, including our 14 year old daughter. We ate while Julia explained that our new daughter was taking a nap. They would bring her to us when nap time was over.

We were taken on a tour of the dacha. We were shown the room where the children were napping. There was one empty bed. Julia giggled and told us that Olya was too excited to sleep. The staff was getting her dressed. We went outside and met some of the older children, including some young teenage boys. I showed filmed them with the video camera and then I showed them. They all crowded around. One of them spoke a little English. He asked, “How do you do?” The boys all laughed nervously when I said, “Fine. And you?” One of the boys asked Julia if I had an American dollar. They knew of them but had never seen one. I reached into my pocket, removed my wallet and extracted a one dollar bill. I handed it to one of the boys. He took it very carefully and examined it. He showed it the other boys, holding it as if it were made of delicate porcelain. The boy returned my dollar and then orphanage staff sent the boys away.

We went back into the main building and sat in a small room with highly polished blond wood covered walls. A woman came in holding a little girl by the hand. I recognized the girl from the photo. The woman introduced us to Olya, who smiled and then put her head down. She started to cry. One of the male staff sat in a chair and put her in his lap. She leaned her head against his chest and looked at us. Julia told us that Olya was crying happy tears. I think some of her tears held fear, as well.

Julia told us that Olya had been told a story about how she ended up in the orphanage. When Olya was very young, she had been out shopping with her parents and they got separated. Someday her parents would find her and take her home. This was not true, but it was a good story.  And, because of the story, Olya thought that we were her real parents who had finally found her. And the fact that everyone remarked about how much I looked like her only added to her belief. Click here to see the main street in Chalyabinsk

We left the dacha and Yuri drove Denise, Olya, Julia and me in his car. Bonnie was with other staff members in the other car. Olya sat in the back between Julia and Denise. She had been given a can of Coca Cola and chocolate. Her lips were soon covered in chocolate. We drove through a city with a main street that was ten lanes wide. Most of the buildings were 5 stories tall. There were overhead lines for the trolleys. Yuri drove us to a sanatorium across the street from a forest. We were taken to the top floor and shown our suite.
Click here to see the place we stayed 

This story will continue at another time.

How To Do Circle Breathing

Didgeridoos and Drum

Can you blow air out of your mouth while inhaling? That sounds like doing two opposing things at once. And it is. But it can be done. Why would anyone want to? Is there a practical reason for doing that? Or is it just something a person can do that has no useful purpose, such as rubbing one’s tummy and patting one’s head at the same time?

Circle breathing has a practical use. Circle breathing is a technique used by musicians who need to continue blowing into their horn or didgeridoo while, at the same, time breathe in air.

Learning to circle breath takes time and practice because our bodies have to be trained to do things that are opposite each other.

It is best to learn with a tube whose opening is about one inch in diameter. A plastic golf club sleeve would work. You can also use a didgeridoo.

When I was in the Navy, I was taught the phrase, Loose lips sink ships. We were taught never to divulge where our ship was headed to anyone. Loose lips in circle breathing is all about the physical nature of your lips. It is not what you say to anyone. Thus, you need to learn how to blow through loose lips.

Step One: Fill your cheeks with air and blow the air out between your loose lips so that your lips flap as the air passes through. Pretend that you are a little child playing with toy cars and making the engine sound with your lips. After you have done that a few times, blow the air out without making a noise, other than the noise your lips make as they flap against each other. Practice that a few times.

Step Two: Fill your cheeks with air. Take your two hands and push your fingers into your cheeks so that you push the air out. There should be a small sound emitted as the air escapes between your lips.  Practice this a few times.

Step Three: Fill your cheeks with air. Hold it in your cheeks. Blow the air, that is in your lungs, out through your nose. Make sure you retain all the air that is in your cheeks. Once the air in your lungs is gone you will need to take air in. Wait just a bit longer. Now go back to Step Two: Use your fingers to push the air out of your mouth as you breathe in air through your nose at the same time.

The first time you try this it will not feel natural to your body. Your body might refuse to cooperate by waiting until you have pushed all the air out of your mouth before it allows you to inhale. Do not be discouraged. Your body is being confused by what seems like conflicting commands.  Ignore your body’s confusion and keep trying. You will succeed. Practice doing this a few times until it feels easy.

After you have succeeded in doing Step Three you are ready to move forward.

Step Four. Fill your cheeks with air and hold it. Blow out all the air in your lungs. Make sure you blow it all out. Retain all the air that is in your cheeks. Hold it until you feel you really need to breathe. Now, without the aid of your fingers, use your cheek muscles to blow out the air in your mouth while you inhale through your nose.

It is harder without the aid of your fingers. But with practice you can do it. Keep practicing. You can use your fingers as a reminder. But practice without the aid of your hands. You can tighten your lips a wee bit, if necessary, when you use your cheek muscles to push the air out of your cheeks.

Once you have succeeded with Step Four and you feel confident, you can move forward to circle breathing with an instrument.

Step Five. Take your tube or didgeridoo. Hold it against your lips, but not too tightly. Fill your mouth with air and hold it. Blow the air through your didgeridoo or plastic golf club sleeve with loose lips. Before you run out of air, use Step Four to inhale through your nose so that you can blow continuously through your didgeridoo, without stopping.

When you have mastered Step Five, contact me and I will teach you how to swallow while circle breathing.