American Embassy, Yay!!!!

We are now in Delhi! Delhi is a lot more sane (read more upscale) than Pune. We arrived last night and were too tired to blog. So, here is as detailed a recap as we can remember, in as self-flattering a light as possible:

Monday, we were picked up by Meenal, our lovely social worker (not really sure what that is here) and taken to the orphanage. The orphanage was quite clean and tidy (so are Rachel’s little habits), so I believe she was kept safe there and got good hygiene. Another thing that spoke well for her orphanage is the ladies who we met seemed kind of down at her leaving. I think she got some love at this orphanage. As far as we can tell she arrived there in 2006. Before that we have not a clue. Tom got a sad picture of the other orphans waving goodbye to Varsha.

Some of Varsha’s paperwork seems manufactured out of someone’s imagination. Especially the dates of things (including her birth.) The info supposedly written contemporaneously is in the same hand (and ink) as the recent info. A great example is that they have her birth as July 17, 2001, but have her first polio and other immunizations on January 1, 2001. I guess that is possible… nah!! Besides which, she is clearly NOT turning 8 this July 17th. More on this later.

Rachel, a name she already loves and is responding to, is not a big eater, at least of the Indian food we’ve been getting. I think her diet at the orphanage was very plain. She does not like spicy food, which is just too funny for words. As you know, Tom always finds the American chain foods everywhere we go. So while I’ve been filling up on curry and tikka masala (oh my goodness its amazing here!), Rachel and Tommy have dived into cheese pizza (at Pizza Hut, of course) and Baskin-Robbins strawberry banana ice cream. Funny aside: at the BR I asked the guy behind the counter how to say “ice cream” in Marathi (Rachel’s language). He laughed and said “ice cream.” oh

Rachel loves just sitting in the hotel and playing with the stuff Cindy and Dan gave her. Cindy bought a little child’s size backpack (pink!) and filled it with coloring books (that’s "colouring" books here), crayons, toys, and snacks. She is very careful with the snacks; only rationing out the goldfish crackers (which she loves) a few each day. I should point out that she loves to share all of her food with us, including the goldfish crackers. And when we saw Rachel eating those goldfish we realized that she was not a vegetarian. (Tom inserts all these jokes into my writing)

Tuesday, we walked around Pune a bit. I consider myself a pretty seasoned traveler, but Pune with its mass of people and its scary, scary traffic was intimidating. Also, EVERYONE EVERYWHERE stared at us and would not look away. I get it, but it was still awkward.

While waiting to go to the court we did some shopping for saris, pashminas, and fabric. Also, Papa bought Rachel some pretty earrings that are gold studs with rainbow gems making a flower. They look a lot like Livie’s new earrings.

After lunch, Meenal picked us up to go to court. The Pune courthouse was unrecognizable as a courthouse. It was just another crumbling building connected to other crumbling buildings. When we took the elevator to the 9th/top floor to be interviewed by another social worker (not sure what that was about-the questions were pretty mild) the elevator opened to an abandoned and decaying construction site and open sky. Around a corner was the interview area. Apparently we passed her exam because we were taken to the 7th floor (by stairway, for which I was so thankful as the elevators are about 4 x 4 feet and fit about 12 people.) There we got called into a courtroom (looked more like small classroom with ancient plastic seats) full of what appeared to be law students. The judge was not in a wig. I was hoping for a remnant of the old British system. Just a black jacket and white shirt combo. He was businesslike, but very nice. He asked me about who would care for Rachel during the day and I explained my job and that it would be me except for the times Tom would take here to court to spend time with him and meet the judges and court personnel who have been cheering on this process. The judge then smiled and signed something and we left.

On the way down the stairway we noticed a sign in English and Hindi that said “no smoking or spitting.” Tom pointed out that smoking or spitting might make the place dirty or something. We couldn’t have that…

Then back to the hotel to check out and take a taxi to the airport. Rachel’s first airplane ride. I think she was pretty oblivious to being up in the air as it was dark out when we took off. She had a bit of cry on the plane and it broke our hearts to not be able to figure out the cause. But Tom wrapped her in a blanket and I gave her orange juice and then we colored and she was fine again.

Airport to The Imperial Hotel in Delhi. The Imperial is a wonderful, very old, Victorian hotel—British Colonial with doormen (and doorwomen!) in full uniforms with sashes and medals and everything. Its one of the prettiest hotels I’ve ever seen and air is pumped full of jasmine. (So Mary would really like it! ;)

The traffic in Delhi was slightly toned down from the traffic in Pune. Rules of the Road are mere suggestions, with much honking and near misses. In fact, Tom came up with a great idea. Tata, the Indian car-making company, should offer a feature on its cars for Indian drivers: intermittent honking (like the windshield wiper thing) or, for an extra amount, 100% honking once the car is started. It will free up both hands for the average Indian driver!

Tuesday night we fell into bed exhausted from the day. Mary calls me when I’m needed for the law office and she only called me once and that was at about 6 a.m. so I’m totally rested today/Wednesday. Yay!

Wednesday, we ate at the hotel “scarfarama” as Tom would say. (this means a giant buffet and omelet bar.) Then our new “social worker” picked us up and took us to the American Embassy. I’m embarrassed at how happy I was to be on American soil for a while. There was still paperwork and bureaucracy, but you get the feeling that they are there for you to succeed. So much of the past year has been struggling with Indian bureaucracy and the feeling that our daughter was not their priority. The redundancy built into their requests for more and more paperwork was, at times, making me pull my hair out.

Anyway, we got interviewed by a nice man, Mr. Patel, who approved us to go to the Visa department.

Then we went to a local private doctor, Kimberly Chawa, at her home/office (pretty garden at her house) who weighed and measured Rachel and gave us another official looking document. The doctor could not have been nicer. Rachel cried when I took her dress off to be weighed, but soon realized no shots were involved and cheered back up.

BTW, SHE WEIGHS 30 LBS AND IS 40 INCHES TALL. She is smart and funny and chatters away to both of us frequently calling us “mommy” and “papa”. She seems to be perfectly proportioned and is healthy. She does not look or act like an emaciated/stunted 7 1/2 year old. She looks and acts like a bright and healthy five year old. I’m positive she was not born in 2001. We’ll let a pediatrician and her dentist figure it out. I’m so relieved by this for the dumbest of reasons. I want her to live as much of her life with Tommy and me as her parents as possible and as little of her life as an abandoned child. …maybe that’s not so dumb.

Then back to the Embassy to the Visa office where we got interviewed again by a really nice man who used to be a federal prosecutor. Weird. He told us he was vegetarian, and we said that he must love India. He said “it’s working out” and then winked. Later the same consular officer announced over the loud speaker when our turn came for the interview, “Would Miss Varsha Thurlow please bring her mother and father to window 14.” When we got to his window he was all smiles.

He asked us more about what we thought of the adoption agency we worked with and the Embassy and whether any of the process could be improved than about our parenting or any of the other millions of private questions we’ve been getting asked. He paused and said, “I’m happy to tell you that your daughter is approved for a visa.” Then we were given her passport back with a permanent American immigrant visa stamp. (Background music here: Born In The USA).

Now we are back at the hotel. Rachel immediately went to her suitcase and got out the blanket Julie made for her and lay down with Tom and went to sleep. I ordered in and they can eat when they wake up. This afternoon we are walking to the local McDonalds (go figure) and I’m certain Rachel will be given her first cheeseburger happy meal by her father. I have no say in this, nor should I (Tom added this.) I think Andrew’s first burger and DIET (!) Coke were given to him by my husband when Andrew was only 9 months old! I love my husband (and of course his rippling biceps).

Love, M (maybe with some later additions by Tom, but not the more obvious places)