Part I: The Trip To Addis

Meeting my sister, Stephanie, at the Chicago O'Hare airport to drop off Sky 9/3/09

Me getting some sun at the Toukoul guest house

The flight to Addis was uneventful with few delays. It was LONG, a couple hours up to Chicago so we could drop off Sky with my sister, a layover, then a couple hours to Washington DC, and another layover with a short delay until finally we got on our 16 hour flight to Addis. We stopped in Rome for refueling and I didn't realize that meant stopping for a full hour or more. It marked the half way point in our minds, but we were agonizing to get off the plane at that point. The hour felt like forever. We'd flown longer to Mumbai, India 2 1/2 years earlier (21 hours), but it's funny how the mind completely forgets the suffering of international travel. Overall it was about 30 hours of travel time, so when we arrived in Addis around 10:00am we didn't even know what day it was and were suffering from delirium. NO SLEEP on the plane. I think I fell asleep for a total of 20 minutes because I just cannot sleep sitting upright. Anyway, we left on September 3rd and when we arrived it was September 5th.

The airport was smaller than anticipated, and much cleaner than I'd imagined for a third world country. It was easy to find where to go, and there was a simplicity to the airport that took the usual fear and uncertainty out of the equation. When we landed in Mumbai, India it was a huge airport with masses and masses of people, grime everywhere and a grittiness that hummed through our bones, not to mention the sour smell of a bad sewer system, and indecribable public restrooms (I won't go there). Addis was surprisingly nice, even their bathrooms, and on the outside looked strangely space-age modern with all glass and metal construction. It had a lot of natural lighting. The air was filled with the smell of petro fumes and I knew it would only get worse once we got in the car.

We were able to stay with three other American families at the Toukoul guest house, and we met up with them at the airport. This gave us a sense of security we didn't have with our other adoptions in country. We all rode from the airport to the guest house together and spent days getting to know one another during meal times and outings. I'm not AT ALL a socializer by nature, and I have never spent so much time in conversation before, but it was very good for me. I never really tired of the interaction and it must have been because I was so grateful to share the experience with others who were going through the very same exciting but stressful, new experiences. There was the Waits family from Colorado who met their beautiful twin girls, then Gary and his 17 year old daughter, Morgan from Ottawa, Kansas who adopted a baby girl along with a boy who has Downs syndrome, and then there was the single mom, Rebecca from Seattle who really touched our hearts with her determination. She adopted two infant girls and traveled alone. The work she went through to take care of, and get those girls home ALL BY HERSELF showed the power of a mother's love. Her girls are amazing and we're hoping she made it home without too much trouble on her flights.

The drive from the airport to the guest house wasn't long, so we got a brief look at the city. It was sunny, around 70 degrees. Perfect weather. There are zillions of blue taxis and buses, along with small merchants and shops beside the road next to shanty corrugated metal buildings that remind me of something my son, Sky, would enjoy building with his Legos. There are modern structures and sometimes very nice homes next to what I'd call slum houses. This disparity between wealth and poverty is present in all third world countries, but Addis wasn't what I'd call terrible. Compared to what we saw and experienced in India it was mild. I found myself looking for the little rickshaw cars, the mangy and tattered clothing, religious symbols, the festively painted cars, dogs sleeping at the center of the roads, people lying in them, cows blocking them, the heavy traffic, and maimed beggars banging against the car at every turn, but it just wasn't like that. Addis, for us, was quite civilized with orderly traffic and a reasonably clean feel. The air was thick with smog, and the beggars who did come to the car windows were very happy to receive protein bars and food donations. The beggars in India wouldn't accept food and always demanded rupees (and were far worse off looking). They were often small children. My heart had already been torn to shreds seeing the severity of India's poverty, so I was better able to handle it this time around.

I think it's important to take it in, no matter how difficult it is to look at. To look poverty right in the face and see it as a reality cultivates a deeper compassion for mankind. I get upset when I hear people say things like "Oh, I just can't stand seeing the poverty and how people suffer, so I don't think I want to go back." That is not compassion. It helps no one to turn a blind eye. I know someone who really disliked the film "Slumdog Millionaire" for the same reason, but I think people are missing the core message when they view things purely on what they see with their human eyes. Poverty, scum and suffering bring us to a different level of consciousness if we're open to it. As Americans, we have grown so accustomed to physical comfort and wealth that we often don't want to know what exists on the other side of the world, and how most of the world has to live. For me, I have grown to appreciate every small bit of physical comfort we have. But physical comforts are not the only wealth in the world... in both India and Ethiopia I experienced a wealth that we don't have here. Both spiritual and psychological, and they have an authenticity we're severely lacking. That could be a whole post in itself, so I won't even go there. Let's just say we have a poverty of our own. One could say that the whole world is a mirror, and when we see something that makes us uncomfortable we need to ask ourselves "What is it in us that is lacking, or ugly or impoverished that we do not want to look at?" There are some beautiful lessons to be had when we leave our comfort zone.

After arriving at the guest house we had to notify our attorney that we arrived before venturing out to the orphanage. Our agency director had informed us several times that we'd definitely meet with the lawyer that day (Saturday), but the lawyer said "No, no, Saturday and Sunday are my days off. We meet Monday." This became a theme throughout the trip- being told one thing by someone and finding out something completely different by someone else. The communication barrier was huge, and we found ourselves lost and frustrated when trying to convey things, set schedules with staff, make requests, etc. It was comical, really. We laughed about it a lot. We also laughed about our TINY room. I think it was about 10' X 12' with two cribs and a full size bed squeezed in. No walking room! The other three families had large suites, but they all had 2 children so we didn't complain. We spent a great deal of time walking around the grounds, enjoying the patio and trees, and walking the quiet streets. The staff at the guest house was EXTEMELY warm and hospitable, and they went overboard trying to meet our every need. I recall at one point being told by the staff that Amelie was a very lucky baby because she was going to live in a country "with many comforts." I told them, "No, no, America is VERY lucky to be getting a beautiful Ethiopian girl like Amelie!" I was looked at with amazement. Their idea that we're so used to our 'comforts' gets them trying very hard to make sure that we are comfortable.

The guest house is affiliated with the orphanage, which made things pretty easy when it came to planning visits. We were encouraged by our agency to stay there, and had heard horror stories about families who hadn't stayed there. After arriving we realized that we could've saved a lot of money had we stayed at the Hilton, but we just didn't want any kinks during our stay. I'd heard about families having trouble with the lawyer and not being allowed to check their children out of Toukoul because they stayed elsewhere. Sounds very unfair, but no thanks. We avoided that one and had a flawless process, so we didn't mind spending the extra money. Sure, I would've liked a bigger room, different food, our own driver, etc. but overall it was a great place to stay with an amazing staff of loving people we will never forget.

Next, the orphanage and meeting Amelie/Sosena...