Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore ...

Our train ride was an experience.  Let's just leave it at that.  Not bad, not great.  Just an interesting experience.  Because we were in the last cabin of the last car, we felt every turn like a ricocheting boomerang.  Blake and I both managed to get in a few good hours of sleep, regardless.

Sometime around midnight, my second fit of uncontrolled laughter came upon me.  The first one occurred as were were on approach to landing in Kiev and I looked out the aircraft window to the bleak, overcast, almost lifeless landscape that is Ukraine.  Maybe the lack of sun and spring colored my perception, but it seemed so apparent that we were flying into a former Eastern block country, one very different than any I've been to before.  The absurdity of what we were doing really struck me at that particular moment.  Last night, as I lay in my "deluxe" sleeper cabin railing along somewhere in the middle of Ukraine in the middle of the night, the same sense of absurdity hit me.  What on earth had I gotten us into?

Irina, our translator and court liaison, met us right at our cabin.  We were packing up and she ran to us, all out of breath.  She had been told our car was at the opposite end of the train, so she had run all the way back so as not to worry us or miss us.  I was so impressed with that.  We just thought she'd be waiting on the platform.

Irina is a dear- very sweet, very professional, and very educated.  I was surprised to learn she had never been in the U.S. or U.K.  because her English is so good.

We went back to the flat Irina was staying in last night to get washed up and changed for our appointment with the Director of CPS (Child Protective Services) for this region.  Our appointment was at 10am.  The director asked for a few additional copies of our documents so Blake and I went down to the main lobby area with Irina while she accomplished this.

Watching all of the people come and go is a study of a culture vastly different than ours in the U.S.   It is so apparent everywhere in Donetsk that we are in a country that was, until fairly recently, under Soviet rule.  Almost everyone and everything looks so -- bland.  I was going to say vanilla, but vanilla has much more flair than this.  It's like watching a dreary black-and-white film just dying for some light or some color to appear.

My husband is a true patriot.  One of the things I find so endearing about him is how much he loves our country.  I am also a very proud American, but I've always enjoyed seeing and traveling to other countries, where Blake, while fine with that, really prefers vacationing in the good ole' USA.  I have to say, though, Blake is handling this trip better than I am.  I miss my country so much.

I realized today that when I've traveled abroad I have been either a) much younger, b) with Blake and/or friends in a more western culture, or c) in the cocoon of American Airlines.  You cannot discount the comfort of being in a foreign land, staying in a crew-friendly and modern hotel, usually in a great neighborhood, with people you know.  No matter where you are, a part of your world is still with you.

I'm learning a lot about myself on this trip- some good, some not so good.  Maybe I'm not as adventurous as I thought I was.  Or maybe my idea of an adventure is not the same as it once was.  I do know that as we drive through the streets of Donetsk passing dreary tenement after dreary tenement (which is the average home here), it is becoming very clear to me that what we're on is way more than an "adventure".

I still do not know how this will all turn out and what God has planned for us.  But one thing I know for certain:  there really truly is no place like home.