Six years ago today we took physical custody of our daughter Meg. This seems a good day to share our travel experiences. Travel experiences in international adoption vary widely depending on the country and the agency. Some agencies have adoptive families travel in groups. Some arrange hotels, some homestays. In some programs the child may be escorted to a major airport near the parents’ home. But on this anniversary I’ll indulge in a personal reflection.
We left the West Coast of the USA on a Wednesday morning. Due to crossing the International Date Line, after a 15-hour flight we arrived at the Tokyo airport Thursday evening. After a brief layover and short flight, we arrived in Seoul, South Korea about 9 p.m. We retrieved our bags and went through customs. As we stepped outside the airport, a driver from the adoption agency was holding a sign with our name on it. He led us to a blue van with pink lettering which read—honest!—“The Lovemobile”.
Our adoption agency ran a guesthouse. There was a small office with a night worker who told us to call if we needed anything. The lobby had a pay phone and computer with internet for adoptive parents’ use. We were shown upstairs to a small bedroom with double bed, dresser and small TV. It had a private bathroom with shower (no tub) and, thank heaven, a Western-style toilet. There was a common kitchen with refrigerator, stove, cookware and dishes. Many of us kept basic breakfast foods there. (Breakfast is pretty much the same as any other meal in Korea, and for some of us spicy soup and cabbage in the morning just didn’t work.) For other meals, there was a TGI Fridays and an Outback Steakhouse in walking distance, as well as a small Chinese restaurant. We were in walking distance of the subway and of a department store with a Korean restaurant inside. The common kitchen also had table, chairs, a bookshelf with a few books on Korean culture, and journals in which adoptive parents could write of their experiences and read others’ experiences and advice, on everything from meeting the children to what sights to see.
After the agency worker had left I informed my husband that I heard babies crying. I think he seriously thought I was losing it at this point, but I ran up a stairwell anyway—and there were babies! We had known that the social work and administrative offices were on floors below the guesthouse, but hadn’t realized that the Babies’ Home and Hospital (really just one large room each) were on the top floor.
We soon retired. We had been told to dress up the next morning for our first meeting with our social worker, the foster mother, and our baby!
To be continued….