Tag Archives: Colombia

Happy Birthday and Biblioburro

Today is my Mommy’s Birthday!  Happy Birthday Mommy.  I’m coming to see you with your small and loud birthday present soon!!!!!

And to continue our feel good birthday theme let’s talk about CNN’s Heroes series.  Sweet, right?  A welcome respite from the normal news of death and despair.  This one however caught my eye more than usual.  How could I resist this story? I mean a donkey named “Alfabeto”? That in itself is priceless. Via CNN

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more about “Biblioburro“, posted with vodpod

The Signature

Remember when I alluded to last minute drama regarding our ability to secure Elian’s visa in time to leave Bogotá together?  Yeah, that was a fun time.  And now I’m going to tell you all about it…

While we were in Colombia things went unnaturally well.  We got Sentencia 8 business days after we requested it which is CRAZY amazing.  We even got his birth certificate the same day we got Sentencia thanks to our lawyer’s savvy connections.This gave us 5 days to get his visa.  It only takes two.   We were more than golden!  We were home free! I couldn’t eat anything but saltines but I was over the moon.  We were on our way home!  And then we weren’t.

What we needed was just one thing.  A document from Colombian social welfare that says and I quote “These people adopted this child.”  Never mind the birth certificate with our names or the Court Decree saying the same things.  The stupid Hague convention requires this document.

But no big deal?  Colombian Social Services is on it!  They always turn around things super fast. We ‘ll get the doc and then we go to the Embassy and the next day visa.  Bada-bing.  Bada-boom!  Easy Peasy.  Except this is us, so of course something went wrong.  Actually many things went wrong.  Shall I tell you about them?

Monday: We leave the document to be signed.

Tuesday:  The computer breaks down. No big deal.  They’ll do it the next day.

Wednesday:  The ONLY person internationally authorized to sign the paper QUITS HER JOB over some policy disagreement and LEAVES social services.  We are now officially screwed.  Elian and I simultaneously throw tantrums at a Bogotá Shopping Mall.

Wednesday Night:  My stomach ailment mysteriously returns.  I ponder what it will be like to spend a week in Bogotá by myself with Elian and then take a 13 hour flight home with him.  I think the cold sweat is a bad sign.

Thursday Morning:  Nauseous and depressed I return to my all saltines diet while I wait to find out what’s going to happen.  I know if we don’t have that document by 11 the embassy won’t let us in and we’ll have no chance of getting the visa until next week.  I look and my baby boy and pep talk myself.  This is a blessing, a special time to spend together… but I don’t believe it.  I know it would’ve been horrible.

Thursday Morning:  Our facilitator calls and says “Get thee to Social Services we are going to track down the head of the dept and get her to sign.”  I was like, what?  The head of “Social Services” is kind of the equivalent of trying to track down a member of Obama’s cabinet.  Not easy.  When we arrived they said “Oh she’ll be here any minute, she’s at Casa Narino.  Yeah, Casa Narino is the Colombian white house.  Okay then.  ”At least she’s not actually with the president!” they add trying to cheer me up.

Thursday Morning 10:30:  Our facilitator starts visibly getting nervous.  Not a good sign as she is a cool cucumber.  She looks at me and makes a decision “We are going to the embassy with Elian.  We will beg the embassy to start processing the visa with the promise that the document is coming.  Arnold is going to stay here and get the signature.”  People at social services are fluttering around in a tizzy about our situation.  Alright then, off we go.  I’m officially scared.  It’s the first time I’ve ever seen our facilitator walk quickly.

Thursday Morning: 10:55:  We get into the embassy with 5 minutes to spare.  There are big weird gates that open and close.  They make a sound very similar to Lostzilla.  We’re there for a few hours.  They provisionally accept our application.  I try not to throw myself against the service window and faux hug the consul.  My appetite begins to return.

1:30 -No sign of Arnold.  I’m wondering where the hell he is because cell phones are not allowed in the Embassy.  Nor are ipods. Nor are cameras(thus this all text post) It makes the hours you spend there freezing outside like cattle all the more entertaining.

2:00 – We return to Social Services after promising to bring back the document later that afternoon.  We arrive to find Arnold in a hysterical fury.  Social Services neglected to put my name on the document.  And Ms. Cabinet Member has gone into another meeting while the document is being re-written correctly.  Arnold has spent the last four hours wandering the hallways with the plan of launching himself on her if she accidentally steps in to the hall.  All of social services is eyeing him suspiciously.

3:00 pm -Arnold tells me he is going to throw Elian at Ms. Cabinet Member and grovel at her feet if he sees her.  I plan my “begging for mercy” speech to use at the Embassy.  And then our last minute miracle occurs and they FINALLY appear with the document.  I try not to scream with joy.  I am hysterical but not lacking in dignity!

3:30 pm – We turn in the document and finally eat for the first time today.

FRIDAY -We pick up Elian’s visa 8 hours before our flight is scheduled to leave.  I’m not ashamed to say that I wept there in the Embassy when they handed it to me.  And when I mean I wept, I don’t mean a little, I mean  A LOT.  I may have imagined it but Bogotá suddenly seems to me the most beautiful it’s ever been. Pristine clear skies.  I feel like Amelie after she gives the box back to Dominique Brodetau.  Everything is WONDERFUL!

And that my friends is how spend our last two days in Bogota.

The Name Game

So what if we have weird names? That's how we roll!

I think it’s time for a little cultural lesson on names in Colombia.  To start everyone in Colombia has two last names.  i.e Gabriel Garcia Marquez.  His last name is Garcia Marquez.  Garcia is his father’s last name and Marquez is his mother’s last name.  Women in Colombia of my generation usually do not change their names to match their husbands but keep the two last names they inherited from their parents.  Children inherit their names with the same pattern.  So if Gabriel Garcia Marquez marries Isabel Allende Salvador then their child would be called Elian Garcia Allende.

Don’t worry I’m going somewhere with this.  And hopefully somewhere amusing.

A few weeks ago when we were buying our plane tickets to Bucaramanga we were buying them at 3:00pm on Dec. 31st, this is equivalent to trying to buy plane tickets at 4:55 on Christmas Eve.  All the employees are mentally checked out and ready to GET HOME ALREADY.

Enter us!  Ready to buy our tickets with our weird American names. So Arnold gives his name.  Great!  No problem.  Then comes my name and the guy is like What?  What do you mean you have the same last name?  Wh-Why?  Huh?

Apparently the rep’s stress was contagious because Arnold started blurting out random unsolicited information “She has two middle names” The guy is like, I don’t need any middle names but Arnold continues to not pay attention  “Two middle names.  Two middle names!”  Finally I had to step in and say chill…. He doesn’t care about my middle names.  My last name is Perez.  The rep begrudgingly accepts this and we all move on.

Then the guy goes “What’s the babies name” and Arnold goes “Uhhhhhhhh?????”

That’s right, he goes blank because Elian’s name is not his current legal name and multi-tasking information is not Arnold’s forte.   The rep is looking at Arnold as if he’s going to kill him. That’s when I have to intervene again  “Hi name is XX” This proved to be too much for our weary Aerorepublica rep.  “What? You two have the same last name but his is different?”  He starts to eye us as if we are kidnappers.  Then we have to step in with the “Adoption process, blah, blah, blah” explanation.  The rep’s eyes start to glaze over.  He hands us our confirmation number with a look on this face that says, “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

If we were a normal couple… that’s where the story would end but we attract disaster like young women in horror films.

Satisfied with our purchase we sit down at Juan Valdez to celebrate the successful purchase of plane tickets.  Yay!  That’s when we realize that my first name is spelled wrong.  Ruh-oh!

In the US this would be a MAJOR problem so I send Arnold back to Aerorepublica.  It’s now about 5 minutes before their office will close on the eve of Colombia’s biggest holiday.  Elian and I settle in at Juan Valdez and enjoy our tintos while the employees noisly close up all around us.

Five minutes later Arnold returns giggling.  He says “When I told the guy about your name he freaked out.  He started saying Emili, Emily!  If I call her name “Emili” is she going to say “Who is Emily? I don’t know who Emili? is”  NO, SHE’S GOING TO SAY I’M EMILY.  What’s the PROBLEM?”  So yeah, needless to say I now know that in Colombia Emili=Emily and it’s NO PROBLEM!

Happy New Year

Today I’m guest blogging over at Raising Colombian Kids about what it’s like to spend New Year in a small town.  To check it out click here.  We’ll be laying low today as I’m sure all of Colombia except us will be sleeping off their hangovers.  Well except for us and Abuela Carmen.  As she’s told me many time “A little brandy does no harm.”  While we enjoy the empty traffic-free streets, enjoy these pics of Arnold and I showing off our new acquired parenting skills.

My GAD gave us the best airplanes. I'm working on my technique but Elian is a little squirmy not to mention the drool... EVERYWHERE!

SuperArnold shows off his hipster urban Dad credentials.

El "Bus"

Elian shows off his Hip-Hop swagga with his oversized hood.

One of my favorite things about Latin America has always been the bus.  I grew up in public transportation deprived California and as a result have an unrequited love affair with public transportation. Weirdly after I studied abroad in Chile I fell even deeper into the love affair with everything that other people hate about busses in South America.

I love it when they are so crowded that you get to shove people out of your way to get off.  I love the small adrenaline rush of knowing you’ve got to get OFF THE BUS before the driver take off without you and I especially love it when people get on the bus and sell stuff like ice cream or miniature paper models of Chilean navy ships (true story).  I love that there’s no schedule, you just hang around till one comes and I love, love, love watching the city whizz by out the bus windows.  And if I loved busses before today I entered into a domestic partnerhsip with them because the bus blessed me with a memory that will endear me to them forever.Today we walked all over downtown Bogota much to mine and Elian’s delight.  Bogota is especially beautiful at Christmas time and Elian was beaming with joy watching the bubble vendors in Plaza Bolivar and laughing as the other children jumped up to pop them.  We were having so much fun in fact that our party of 5 walked about 2 miles and then realized we would have to walk 2 miles back.  We couldn’t get a taxi so we decided to take the bus which I thought was a great idea except… the four of us were also carying 5 bags of  heavy groceries, a crib mattress, a stroller, a toddler bathtub and a very active toddler.  And uh, bus drivers don’t like just sit at the curb cause you’re slowed down by your million pounds of food or small toddler.

But this is Colombia, the land of possibility and qustionable safety rules so Arnold took a firm grip on Elian and the rest of jumped on the bus whilst hystericlaly throwing on packages, mattresses etc.  I would’ve been embaressed but it’s too much fun being the crazy people who are basically moving into the bus.  Besids I’m a parent now, I don’t have time to be embaressed.  And where’s the fun in that anyways?

So we’re all sitting seperately in the back of the bus packed with people and 4 weeks worth of groceries laughing or asses off at the ridiculousness of it all when I spied Arnold and Elian sitting four rows in front of me.  They were sitting in front of a man who was playing an Andean pan flute (again totally normal). Elian was dancing and babbling and generally crowing with joy.  Apparently he loves buses, music and dancing, just like his parents.  His pleasure was so infectious he seemed brighter and more alive then the thousands of Christmas lights floating over La Septima.   And as I watched Arnold through the crowd of people I saw him holding Elian up and at that moment I thanked God for busses and the joy they give little boys, new parents and their family friends, all sitting like sardines in a bus, weighed down by 5 grocery bags, one baby bath, a stroller, a mattress and the insanity of being totally infatued with a small boy.