Nestled in the woods of a small village, along the same latitude as St. Petersburg, this orphanage cares for about 120 kids from 6 - 18 years old.
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My partner, Lyosha and I with the teacher and our nine boys. Each one of the boys had enough energy to power a 10-story house.
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About thirty people took the 8 hour train ride up from Moscow. Most of them were pyschology students and 5 were foreigners. We woke up at 7:30am every morning and worked with the children until around 7:00pm.
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After breakfast, we took the 2 kilometer walk to the orphanage from the camp we were sleeping at. It was peaceful hike through the woods, past oak trees and blueberry patches to the orphanage road where the children were always waiting to greet us.
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Aside from just playing with the children, we tried to do crafts with them such as sewing, clay, painting, drawing and collages.
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The orphanage grounds were beautiful, located on a hill covered in oak trees and a river running along the hill's bottom. Without fail, the kids would want to go swimming after lunch.
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Laura with two of the little girls she worked with.
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There was a timeless feeling that clung to the orphange. And when it was time to leave, no one dared to think about what would happen to them. Ten of them had become "my" boys. Ten shining little faces that ran to meet me on the road to the orphanage and listened patiently as I fumbled around in their language. And to think that their own country had dubbed them "not worthy of an education" makes my heart break.
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