A Trip to Paradise: Part II

My plane departs for Bogotá, the capitol of Colombia. This flight is even more exciting than my first. It is night. Most people are sleeping or have their windows closed. There’s not much to see in the darkness. I am still mesmerized by the view. I struggle to pick out spots of light from the earth below. Most of the time, I see nothing. I wonder if we are flying over water. We probably are. I try to sleep, but I cannot. I can see the stars out my window. I don’t recognize them.
The plane starts to shake. Looking out the window I see something more marvelous than I can describe. Below me, a huge storm is raging. Lightning flashes more frequently than in any storm I’ve ever seen. The clouds are bright with electricity, even when the lightning is gone. Yet, when I look up I see billions of stars in a clear sky. We were safe from the storm, so high above it. I will never forget how I felt at that moment when I witnessed God’s marvels while the rest of the passengers had their eyes closed.
I watch the storm until it falls away behind us. Then, I watch the darkness again. There are more of them. Someone in the airplane is sick. The flight attendants ask if anyone on board is a doctor, just like they do in movies. There is a doctor. I don’t watch. One thing I have learned is that people don’t like to be stared at when they’re having problems. Until now, the two seats next to me have been empty. Now, though, they move another passenger to give the sick person more room. The man that sits next to me is very nice. He speaks a little English. He is going home to Bogotá. He quickly falls asleep. I go back to watching the window.
I finally see a row of lights, ships, maybe. Soon, I believe, we are flying over land. There is light everywhere. The captain announces that we will soon land. Bogotá is immense! Lights stretch out over the mountains and as far into the distance as I can see. I must confess the immensity overwhelms me.
We land and I snap a picture on my phone. I send it, with a message, to my family to let them know I made it safely to Colombia. Oh, right, I’m stupid. My phone doesn’t work in Colombia. The message never sends. I follow the people off the airplane to the baggage claim. I look around, but I obviously know no one here. The signs are all in Spanish. When my luggage finally comes to me, I walk up and down the long hall two or three times. I find a place to exchange my money. The lady at the exchange counter doesn’t speak English. I figure out that she needs my finger print, mostly from a sign giving me directions. I notice that I can understand printed Spanish a lot better than spoken Spanish, but still not as well as I would like. She gives me a stack of colorful bills. They mean nothing to me.
I cannot figure out where to go next. I try to watch the other people. They finally lead me to a line. At the end of the line I must present my papers to immigration. I do not fill my papers out right. I do not know the address of the place I am staying in Colombia. I tell the lady at the desk that I cannot give an address. I cannot call my friends. She says that I can write down a phone number instead. I am relieved.
I finally get through. I pass rows and rows of baggage check stands, but there are no one people around other than janitorial staff and taxi drivers. All the booths are closed. I come to an elevator and take it up to the next level. The gates are on the next level. No one stops me. I walk to my gate. There is no one at the security desk, but I can see passengers waiting to board. A security guard sees me and comes up to the desk. I ask him where I can get a boarding pass. He does not speak English. I leave. I wander up and down the halls asking people if they speak English. No one does. I find an information desk. The guy at the desk speaks a little English. He says I need to go back downstairs to get a boarding pass. He doesn’t understand that there is no one down there. I go back down anyway. The elevator is turned off, so I carry my luggage down the stairs. Why did I bring so much stuff?
Back downstairs I find two taxi drivers. One of them speaks English enough to help me. Still, we are unsuccessful. Finally, we conclude that the only option is for me to get a hotel for the night and change my flight in the morning. The men take my luggage and tell me to follow them. I walk with them out of the airport. I want to cry, but I do not want these strangers to see my tears. I hold it in.
I have been warned all my life not to get into a car with a stranger, especially a male stranger, and especially two male strangers who don’t speak the same language I speak. Yeah, I am grateful to Heavenly Father for protecting me that night as I completely ignored that warning. The man who speaks English asks questions. I try not to tell him anything unsafe. He tells me that his son is a soldier in the Colombian Marines. His son speaks English. He calls his son on his cell phone and gives the phone to me. I am relieved to speak to someone in English. His son explains better what is going on. He tells me that his father will take me to a hotel and then come to get me in the morning. The airport opens at 4:30 am. He will come to get me at 4:00.
I am relieved to arrive safely at the hotel. I pay the nice man. Then I pay the hotel manager. They take the bills they need. This makes me nervous because I don’t know what the bills mean or how much they’re taking. I am relieved to have internet. Still, the moment my door is closed, I let myself cry, and cry, and cry. I am terrified. It is hard to write about. Writing about it makes me cry more. I have never felt so alone, so completely lost, and so helpless.
I have no phone, but I have Skype and a debit card. I quickly buy Skype credit and make a call to my friend Davis. Davis is waiting to pick me up at the airport. I tell him I am not coming. He tells me not to worry and he will see me in the morning. I am disobedient. I am very worried. Next, I call my parents. I tell them what is happening. I ask them to get on Skype so I can talk to them for free. I cry as I talk to them. I talk to them until I cannot cry more. They stay up with me until I am ready to sleep. I love my parents.
I sleep for three hours. My alarm wakes me up. I get ready and take my luggage down to the lobby. My hotel is on the fourth floor. There are no elevators. My arms hurt from pulling my luggage all over the airport last night. The hotel manager is waiting in the lobby. He tells me in Spanish that I am too early. It is only 3:00 am, not 4. The clock on my phone is still set to Florida time. It usually changes automatically, so I did not know that it was wrong. Apparently, if I don’t have service, the clock won’t change. The manager puts my luggage behind the desk and sends me back upstairs. I sleep for another hour.
The manager calls the phone in my bedroom. The taxi is here. The drive back to the airport is silent. The taxi driver parks and takes my luggage into the terminal for me. He points me to the line I need to be in. I thank him then pay him then he is gone. I wait. When it’s my turn I feel clumsy. I drop my papers and I can’t find my passport in my bag. The man at the counter doesn’t understand English. He asks someone to trade him. The new man speaks English. I stand awkwardly as he clicks buttons on the keyboard. It takes forever, but he finally finds what he’s looking for. I pay him a little money, less than I paid for the hotel, so maybe it’s not too much. He hands me a boarding pass. I look at it. My flight leaves in ten minutes. I take the elevator back up to the gates. This time, I get through security. They don’t ask me to take off my shoes or empty my water bottle like they did in the US.
I find my gate. There are only a few people waiting, maybe four or five. I hope I can get my computer to turn on fast enough for me to skype-call Davis and tell him I’m coming. My computer loads quickly enough, but the internet won’t work. I try it several times. I move around the room. It still doesn’t work. My flight is late by a half an hour. I think about using a pay phone to call Davis, but I have no coins and I cannot read the directions. I consider asking someone to loan me a cell phone. I don’t know how to ask that in Spanish. I give up.
They say a lot of things over the intercom in Spanish. I can only pick out words. Eventually everyone starts to line up in front of the gate. I follow. Apparently they don’t call people up in groups like the do in the US. We all board at the same time. Finally, I’m on my way to Cali. I am a little sad. My friends won’t be waiting for me at the airport. They don’t know I’m coming.