I try the internet again. Finally, I am convinced that it will not work in this spot. I pick up my bag and roll my suitcase to a new spot. No dice. The internet still won’t work. Another spot, nothing. Third spot, right in the middle of the room, I sit next to a lady and her baby. I tell her that her baby is cute. She doesn’t understand English. The internet connects at last. I skype Davis. He says he will be on his way. Ten minutes, he says. Thank goodness.
I am starving as I wait for Davis. I have had nothing to eat since pizza before my flight the day before. That was nearly 24 hours ago. I look around at all the food shops, but I still don’t understand the money. Even if I did, I wouldn’t know how to order in Spanish. I decide to wait for Davis. Thinking about waiting, I realize, I forgot to tell Davis where to find me. Maybe he will look for me back by the baggage claim, but I will not be there. Maybe he will look for me outside. Hmmm. I decide the best idea is to keep moving. If I spend a few minutes in each area, eventually I will find him. I pull my heavy suitcase back to the elevator and ride down to the baggage claim area. I look at the trees some more. A bird comes to say hello. It is so beautiful, green and yellow. I see taxi’s waiting. They are so small, like the cars my friends used to call “Barbie Cars”. I take more pictures.
I decide to go back upstairs. I take the elevator and start down the hall. There he is! I let go of my suitcase and run to him. I am so relieved to finally see a familiar face. I am also happy that that familiar face belongs to Davis.
We hug for a moment. Davis asks about my night. I explain what happened as well as I can. I don’t think I make much sense because I am tired and my brain isn’t making the right words come out of my mouth. I tell him that I am hungry. I have money to pay, but he buys Subway for me. Like Walgreens, I do not go to Subway often, but I find a new appreciation for it under the circumstances.
After food, it’s time to meet the city. Davis has only a motorcycle. Obviously, he cannot carry my suitcase on his bike. I must take a bus. Davis buys me a ticket. The bus driver loads my suitcase into the back of the bus. The bus is small, smaller than a short-bus at home. It’s blue. I put my carry-on bag on a seat inside, then I get off to wait with Davis until the bus is ready to leave. I hug him again, wishing that I could go with him on his motorcycle instead of going by myself on the strange crowded bus. On the bus, someone has moved my bag next to the window. I have to climb over a girl to get to my seat. I instinctively apologize. She looks at me funny. Oh, duh, she doesn’t speak English.
Looking out the window of the bus is nearly as captivating as looking out the window on the airplane. Everything is not quite familiar, like the ideas are the same as back home, the farms, the roads, the telephone lines, but they are unique in a subtle way. The trees are the biggest difference. Back home there are evergreens. Here, there are palms and fruit trees and so many trees I’ve never seen before. I am amazed by the greenness. I wish I could take a picture, but the bus is too crowded. I cannot get into my bag without bumping the girl next to me. I will get plenty of chances to take pictures later.
It’s not long before we reach the city. I have read about South American cities before, how the houses are stacked on top of each other, how everything is built so close together. This was not what I pictured. It’s true; the houses are built on top of one another, sometimes as many as four. Some of them have spiral stairs to the upper levels. I love spiral stairs. They are so beautiful. What I didn’t expect was the colors. The houses, like the trees, are much more rich in color than I could have imagined. There are pink houses and yellow and green and blue, and they are all connected in a beautiful mosaic to make up this maze of a city.
The bus keeps going. I can see Davis driving beside the bus. I wonder how long it’s been since we left the airport. The bus turns. Davis does not. My anxiety returns. Where is he going? What if he’s not there when the bus stops? I try to relax. The bus keeps driving down street after street. I try to keep track of where I am, but there are too many turns. I know, if it were left up to me, I could never find my way around this city.
Finally, the bus pulls into a small station. The passengers unload. I unload with them. The driver unloads my suitcase. I pull it onto the curb. The bus driver points and says something to me. He is pointing at a railing a few feet away from the curb. I think he wants me to go behind it. I do. I don’t see Davis. I try to control myself. I need to trust him.
I see a red motorcycle pull up. Thank goodness, again. Of course Davis knew where the bus would take me. He didn’t need to follow it. I was stupid to be worried. Next time, I will trust him better. Davis gets me a taxi. This will be my first taxi ride ever. The driver drives like a crazy person. He drives in the middle of two lanes. He does not stop for stop signs. He does not ever use his blinker. He drives really fast. I am grateful when the ride is over. Davis pays the driver and the driver gives me back my suitcase. Davis leads me down a very narrow road. There are houses on both sides of the road. Many of the doors are open. We can see inside. People talk to Davis as we pass. Davis says that I look international. I think he means that I look like I could be a really light skinned Colombian. People don’t know that I’m from the US just by looking at me.
Davis’s house is somewhere in the middle of the block. He lives on the ground floor. He drives his motorcycle right through the front door and into the living room. His family is waiting for me. His sister, Madeleyn, is so sweet and full of energy. She hugs and kisses me right away. She doesn’t speak English, but we are instant friends. They show me to my room. They tell me it is the nicest room in the house. I am flattered. Davis asks if I want to shower. I showered just before my flight, so right now I only want to sleep. I tell him so. He laughs. He thinks I am really funny apparently. He laughs at a lot of things I say. It makes me happy to make him laugh.
The bed is hard, just the way I like it. Beds back home are always too soft. They make my back hurt. There is a fan in the room. I am grateful for it. Cali is hot. There are blankets on the bed, but a thin sheet on top. I use only the sheet. I finally let go of all my anxiety and let relief take me to sleep.
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