Day 1

Today (Monday) began the long journey to Kazakhstan! Whitney read some Harry Potter to the enthralled Holland in PDX before the first short leg of our trip to SFO. 

En route, we were fortunate to catch a replay of the NCAA softball regional of Oregon State vs Alabama. Sadly, I knew that OSU had lost, but it was fun to cheer on the Beavs from the stratosphere.

In SFO we rushed to the catch our flight to Istanbul. Luckily we got to the gate early enough that when we asked for bulkhead seats + a bassinet, they had one left. Usually on international flights, I walk on the flight with ear plugs, eye covers, and Ambien, ready to settle in for a sleepy and uneventful journey. This time--with a baby--was a little different. Holland really was a very good travel baby who only squawked when she woke up hungry from a nap. I was on stressful high alert to keep her from prolonged crying. For her comfort, of course, but also to appease our neighbors. This trip I got up and down many times to grab formula or a burp rag or a blanket from the overhead bins. The Turkish flight attendants loved Holland and she was really good at flirting with them. She squealed when one attendant spoke Turkish baby talk to her.

Our seats were in the front row, and they latched the bassinet onto the wall in front of us. Unfortunately, a big screen positioned on the wall above shone the whole flight to display our path... not conducive to baby sleep. The bassinet had a safety strap, onto which we propped my had and burp cloth to shield Holland's precious little eyes from the glare. Bathrooms were on the other side of the wall, which only bothered Holland a little when they'd flush. Multiple times I considered locking the bathrooms to prevent the intermittent WHOOSH of flushes, but I didn't want to get tased by an air marshal.

Our 5 hr flight from Istantbul seemed short in comparison, but after being spoiled by the bassinet front row seats, we felt like sardines! The ~$75/seat ticket for those seats sure are compelling on the return...
We finally landed in Astana at 2:30am on Wednesday (somewhere a whole day evaporated), and had a pretty uneventful passport/border control process before meeting up with my folks! They bargained with a young taxi driver, we squeezed in again (we have so much practice being sardines) and drove through an eerily empty capitol city (ok, it was 3:30am afterall).

 Holland getting in some grandpa snuggles.

My parents have a comfortable two bedroom apt that overlooks an elementary school on one side and commercial street on the other. The view of the school provides an insightful window (heh) into Kazakh life, and my parents have really enjoyed following the kids' activities through the year- watching them play pogs, tumble around on the playground equipment (some of which looks torturous), march and dance to music, and ignore an ice skating rink. Beyond the school is a mosque, which I'd like to check out.
Not surprisingly, my dad has plants on all of the window sills that he's grown from seeds or from "borrowed" cuttings. He even has a phone alarm that goes off in the evening. "Oh, time to put the Chrysanthemums to bed!" he announces; he's trying to trigger their seasonal sensor so they bloom before my parents leave.

Though my parents offered to rig up a baby play pad with chairs, toys, and string, Whitney and I opted to bring a ready-made activity pad. We've had a fun time encouraging Holland to roll over.

Post-breakfast with hand-shucked strawberries.

For lunch, my parents took us to a small mall about a block away. It was full of small shops selling kids clothes (very silly but unbearably cute), toys, and makeup. On the third floor lay a food court of sorts, which really felt more like a break room. We ordered a some beef stroganoff, noodle thing, and a Napolean mille-feuille (which triggered discussion of the Great British Bake-Off).

We walked through a meat market in the basement, which was a sight to see! and smell. The room wasn't exactly cooled, but the meat mostly appeared edible. As we walked by each booth, an older Kazakh woman would calmly tout the qualities of her meat while flipping the slabs back and forth. I opted to buy some chocolate from a candy shop in the corner.

After that carnivorous event, we stopped by a market for grocery shopping. Among our finds: sunflower seed Snickers bars, apple-pumpkin juice, and Coke Zero (which is curiously cheap).

We came back to the apt for a bit, and Holland passed out. Party on, Holland.

For dinner, we met up with the young volunteers at a shish-kebab place (or "shashleek" in Kaz). It's my parents' favorite dive--where they celebrated their 50th anniversary. Holland had slept in the carrier, but about halfway through dinner she started squeaking, so we brought her out. She was understandably pretty dazed and confused, looking around with her bobbly little head. One of the waitresses came over and clapped her hands at Holland like, "okay, hand her over, it's my turn." Holland--normally a very smiley baby--just looked back at us with a strained look on her face. I guess she needs to improve on her international diplomacy skills.