The orphanage then and now

The orphanage is much the same in 2011 as it was in 1993. See the earlier post Memories -- the rooms for our reactions as we wandered these rooms. Here, I just want to show the pictures of the rooms now compared to 1993.

The eating area

The kitchen

The living room

The bedroom

Where is that orphanage?

Finding Erinna's orphanage was much more difficult than I had expected.

Before the trip, I had Googled the orphanage, found the address for the only orphanage listed in Khmelnitsky, and located it on Google Maps.  From above, it looked pretty much like I remembered. So at 10 in the morning, we headed out. We knew how to get to the highway it was listed on, and I was sure we'd recognize it once we got there.

We drove up and down the highway several times, and couldn't find the street number or see anything that looked familiar. We stopped at a gas station and got hand gestures pointing us back in the same direction. We wandered in the area. But nothing.

Around noon, we headed back to our favorite restaurant so that we could use their wi-fi. By doing so, I was able to use my phone's GPS and offline map to guide us to the street number. But no orphanage.

Now I wasn't sure what to do next. Obviously, I had the wrong address. But we could hardly wander around town showing people a 1993 picture of the building and asking for directions.

So, we headed to the Department of Education.

Department of Education 2011

Department of Education 1993

Our knight in shining armor, posing for us when we
went back later in the day to say thanks.

This was the building where the process started in 1993. Inside the main entry, there was a security person. I showed him my prepared statement, then the picture of the lady we met with 18 years ago. His whole demeanor changed—he smiled and motioned us to follow him upstairs. He stayed with us as we got passed from group to group, until a young woman took us to her office. All this time, we had no language in common other than my prepared statement.

This woman was grumpy. She kept talking to me in Ukrainian, apparently on the theory that if she just kept on talking, I'd surely get it sooner or later. But she made some calls, and eventually put me on the phone with someone who spoke some English. The English-speaking woman eventually showed up in the office too, and we started to make some progress.

Khmelnitsky Specialized Children's Home
"Berischka"

Grumpy or not, this first woman was determined to help—not just to get me the address, but to coordinate a visit and everything! But in the end, she couldn't reach anyone at the orphanage, so she called a taxi for us, and the English speaker took us downstairs and told the taxi driver where we were going and not to lose Joan following in our car. (The taxi driver laughed at me when I tried to put on my seat belt, and just shook his head.)

We were so close earlier! But where our earlier drive never stirred up any memories, this one did. And at last, we turned the corner to see that oh-so-familiar building!

The orphanage in 2011. Trees and apartments have grown up around it.

The orphanage in 1993. Even though it was April, winter was still holding on tight.

So, to ensure that I can always find it again, here is the map:

View Larger Map

Where I started

On Friday I went to my orphanage.

It was very emotional for me because I got to see the place where I grew up for the first three years of my life. It was amazing just to see it. I got to see my playroom. I got to see the place where I slept. We showed the ladies pictures of me when I was very little and they laughed.

I'm very glad I saw my orphanage. It was nice and clean, the building was in good shape. I think that when the ladies saw me, it meant a lot to them that I came back.

When I left the orphanage, two of the ladies gave me a big hug. The lady said something to me, but it was in Ukrainian so I couldn't understand it. But I think it was something very sweet.

Memories—the rooms

After we wandered into Erinna's old rooms at the orphanage, an older lady appeared in the the other doorway. I showed her my prepared statement in Ukrainian explaining why we were there. She smiled and took us down another hall to what I assume was one of the doctors or directors, who read the same statement. She smiled, and they both led us back to Erinna's old rooms.

There were the same little tables and chairs where I sat with Erinna that first day while she ate soup for lunch, with the little kitchen nearby. She drank her soup from a huge tin cup that seemed way too big for her.

There was the wall of stuffed toys. Different toys, now. I had brought a large stuffed animal for Erinna, which quickly became the orphanage's stuffed animal and lived on that wall.

There was the living room where the kids played. When we arrived each day, this is where they would all surround us, begging for attention and play.

There was the door to the "bathroom" at the far end, where the kids all sat on chamber pots during their potty break. If we arrived in the middle of potty break time, the kids didn't get up, but they all started scooting on their pots towards the door! Hilarious!

And in the large bedroom area, there were 16 young boys sound asleep. (I guess that explained the total silence!) No girls now, just the boys. A little more crowded than it was in Erinna's time.

And all this time, Erinna was nearly overwhelmed with excitement and the emotions being stirred up!

Memories—the bench

It took us nearly all day to find it. But finally, there it was. The orphanage where I met Erinna.

We walked in the front door and no one was around. It was eerily silent. Had we finally made it, only to find the place suddenly abandoned? We went down the first hall to the right, just as I had done nearly every day for a month 18 years ago. Up the same stairs, to the door to Erinna's old rooms. Did I dare just walk in?

I knocked, then opened the door.

There, under the window, was the bench.

The bench where I sat with Erinna on my lap the second day we came to visit. She had run straight up to me, with her arms up, saying, "Mama! Mama!"

The bench where we sat every day to get her dressed to go back to the hotel with us for the afternoon. They insisted that she put on layers and layers of clothes before going out into the cold.

Funny how that one bench nearly overwhelmed me with memories!