A Trip to Paradise: Part VI

Ana wakes me up early in the morning. It’s Sunday. I will be going to church with Christian today. Christian was recently baptized. I’m really glad I have someone to take me to church. I pack all my stuff into my suitcase and put it by the front door. Then I eat breakfast. I have hot chocolate with my breakfast. It is delicious! I love hot chocolate in the morning.
Christian arrives while we are eating. He talks with Ana for a while. I don’t really understand much of what they are saying. Christian doesn’t speak English. We wait for a while. At first, I have no idea what we’re waiting for. Then, Ana explains that we are waiting for a taxi. I notice there are a lot of people walking past the house to go to church. They are all dressed in skirts and suits. I know better than to think they are going to our church.
The taxi arrives. Christian loads my suitcase in, and we’re off. The drive is long. We arrive at Christian’s house and drop off my suitcase. I meet his family briefly. We get back in the taxi and head to church. On the way there, I notice many poor people. We drive past a river with much garbage along the shore. The poor are going through the garbage. It makes me really sad.
When we get to church, we are a little early. We sit down in the chapel and I am so relieved to be somewhere familiar. I mean, obviously I’ve never been to this church building before, but the church is the same everywhere. The people are very kind. They are far more welcoming than the people in my singles’ ward back home. A lot of them try to talk to me. I explain over and over that I am from Utah and I don’t understand Spanish. Still, most of them smile and keep speaking to me. I like their smiles. One brother gives me a note written in his best English welcoming me to the ward. I feel so loved among all these strangers.
The missionaries arrive. One of them is from Idaho. I am thrilled. He sits next to me and we talk until the meeting starts. He tells me that he hasn’t spoken English for over six months. As always, we start with a hymn. There is no piano or organ, so the conductor plays the song on a CD player. I try to follow along in Spanish, but my brain is telling me to sing in English. I do a little bit of both. It’s fast Sunday. Many people bear their testimonies. I begin to understand bits of their Spanish. The missionary boy translates for me occasionally, but is mostly quiet because he doesn’t want to disrupt the meeting.
After sacrament meeting is over, many more people greet me on my way to Sunday school. The class is packed. Every chair is full and more chairs have to be set up in the doorway and a little bit down the hall. The missionary doesn’t sit by me, so I’m on my own as far as translation is concerned. To my surprise, I understand most of the lesson. We talk about the blessings of the temple including temple marriages and eternal families. Then we talk about baptism for the dead and endowments. The teacher shows a picture of the Salt Lake City temple. I suddenly realize that my entire life I’ve been within driving distance of that temple. I have a moment of homesickness. I start to cry a little, but I get over it quickly.
At one point during the lesson, the teacher realizes I don’t have scriptures. He takes a set from the missionary from Idaho and gives it to me. It’s in Spanish. I don’t want to bother the class further by explaining that I can’t really read much in Spanish. I try to follow along as much as I can.
When Sunday school is over, there are a bunch of children in the hall waiting. They all surround me and start talking really quickly in Spanish. I have no idea what they are trying to say. The missionary is back and, rather than translating, he just answers the children’s questions. They leave, but more people come to greet me. I am quite certain that I have met the entire ward by now.
Christian tells the missionary to tell me that it is time for us to leave because we need to go to lunch then meet up with our friends. I thank the missionary for his help and try to remember his name. I have forgotten already. Then, I follow Christian out of the building. He tells me to wait while he goes inside the chapel where the next class, I assume priesthood and relief society, is being held. The chapel is in a separate building from the classrooms. There is about a ten or fifteen foot path between the two buildings. I wait between the buildings for a while. A man comes to talk to me. He speaks a little English. He tells me he is from Israel. He is still learning Spanish, like me. He invites me to come into the next class, but I tell him Christian said I should wait here, because we are leaving. He goes into the chapel to find Christian. After a while, both of them come out. Christian tells me that we are ready to leave. The Israeli man has a taxi and he will take us home.
We take the taxi back to Christian's house. I notice the streets here are lined with people selling things, mostly food. Christian's family has a stand with different foods and candy just inside their front door. They are not selling today.
There is a computer in the living room. Christian pulls up Google Translator. He tells me that he is going to buy something to make for lunch. He says I can use the computer while he is gone. My sisters are on Facebook, Stacie and Toey. I miss them. I am very grateful for technology. I tell my sisters a little bit about my trip, but I would rather tell them about it in person.
Christian comes back with some chicken. I wait a while longer, then lunch is ready. We have chicken and rice with beans and juice. The juice, again, is fabulous. I have two glasses, but I can't finish my food. I think Nathan would love this much food. I wonder if they feed him a lot in Chile.
I notice a vase on the table. My mom has the same one. It's like the ones she gave out for Christmas last year. I try to explain this to Christian. The table is right next to the computer, so we carry on our meal-time conversation with a lot of help from our friend Google Translator.
We finish eating. Christian takes care of the leftovers and then asks me what we need for an Easter party. He tells me we are going to meet with our other friends for my Easter party. I told David and Davis before my trip that I was sad to be missing Easter at home. I am a little surprised and a lot excited that they put together a party for me even though they don't celebrate Easter the way we do. I try to explain egg dye to Christian. He doesn't really get it. He brings paint. I decide it doesn't really matter. Christian changes out of his church clothes. I do not. Wearing a skirt is a bit of a relief after wearing jeans in this heat. I wish I had brought shorts, but I don’t really own many pairs of shorts. Christian tells me to bring swimming clothes with me. I put my stuff in my awesome carry-on bag, and we head out.
First, we walk several blocks to a bus stop. It's very hot. I'm super grateful for my water bottle. I take some pictures while we wait for the bus. The bus company in Cali is called Mio. The buses are bright blue with "Mio" written in white letters and three colored dots over the “i”. To get onto the Mio bus, I need a pre-paid card. Christian has only one card. A lady sitting near the front lets me use her card. Christian pays her after we are seated.
We take the bus to a bus station of sorts. It looks a lot like the trax stops in Salt Lake only bigger. Here, we get off and wait for another bus. We don't have to pay for the second bus. The new bus is packed. We have to stand. I am too short to reach the handle on the ceiling. For a while, I try to hold on to whatever is around me. This bus is the kind that has the accordian-esk part in the middle that makes it easier for the bus to turn. We are standing in the middle of that part. I try to hold on to the accordian-esk part, but I am anxious about my fingers getting squished. Eventually, some people get off the bus and I find a seat.
The bus ride is long. I have no idea how long. When it's over, we find a taxi. It’s not a normal taxi. It looks like a regular black car, kind of old. The taxi takes us out of the city. It drops us off at a sort of park surrounded by shops. A lot of my friends are waiting there for us, Davis, Jessica, Beatriz, Sergio, Hugo, Jaiver and a lot of others. We sit, for a few minutes, in chairs under a tree. They talk a lot in Spanish. Then, we all pile into more taxis. Davis and Jaiver have their motorcycles. Each of them takes a passenger. I ride in the taxi this time with Jessica and Christian. The taxi's take us further out of the city. We turn onto a dirt road. I am anxious momentarily about driving on a dirt road with the windows down, but I guess dust doesn't kick up so much in the humidity as it does in dry Utah.
The taxis stop at a gate. We all unload. Someone explains to me that this "farm" belongs to Sandra's family. The "farm" has two beautiful houses, one is blue and the other is yellow. There are many trees, especially palm trees, and a small creek running through the yard. Near the far end, there is a good sized swimming pool, not too small, but not huge. The grass is thick. I haven't seen grass like this in months. I miss grass so much in the winter. I want to lay down in it and take a nap, but that would be weird.
My first thought is, "This place is perfect for an egg hunt!" I'm thrilled. I follow my friends to a pavilion with a roof made from some kind of plant. There are tables around the edges of the pavilion, but the center is a smooth, clear space obviously meant for dancing. More friends are waiting there. Some of them have been painting Easter eggs. I realize all of the eggs are brown here, so dying the eggs wouldn't work anyway. I've only seen brown eggs a few times, since eggs back home are always white. I'm a little sad to paint them because the brown color is so interesting to me.
There is a bowl on one table full of boiled eggs. I pick one out to paint. My friends ask why we paint the eggs. I really have no clue. We just do because that's what you do on Easter. They ask me what the eggs mean. That one I can answer. I explain about spring and new life. I'm not sure how much they know about Christ and the resurrection. I bet they know quite a bit, being catholic. Still, I don't go into details.
There is only one paintbrush. My friends insist I use it. They use their fingers. I paint half my egg like an American flag, and the other half the Colombian flag. When it is finished, I paint another one, just with squares of different colors. Then I take a lot of pictures.
More friends keep arriving. I don't think I've ever had so many friends come to a party for me. I feel very loved. I pass out the last of my gifts from Utah. While the eggs are drying, we dance. I feel very self-conscious. I've never been a good dancer and all my Colombians are awesome at it. Still, I dance anyway. Davis teaches us a dance. It's fun, but I mess up a lot. Sergio is our DJ. He plays a little bit of American music for me. I didn't realize how much I miss my music.
After dancing, I check the eggs. A few of them are still wet. I decide they're good enough to hide anyway. I tell everyone not to watch while I hide the eggs. There are some kids in the pool nearby. They ask me if they can have some eggs. I am surprised that they speak English. I tell them that they have to find the eggs if they want them. I tell them not to look.
I've never actually been the Easter bunny before. I debate with myself for a little while, “Am I hiding them too hard?” Most of the hunters are adults, so I decide they can use a challenge. There are thirty six eggs including the five white chocolate eggs someone brought, to for each person. I think of the egg hunts going on at home. I know children will be getting perhaps dozens of eggs. I kind of wish I had brought some plastic eggs with me. Ah well, they won’t care that they’re getting only two. We’re definitely spoiled in Utah.
I walk around the yard hiding the eggs in the hedge, in the trees, on the fence, in more trees, on one of the motorcycles. One egg is painted like a ninja, all black with eyes and a mouth showing. I like it a lot. I hide it in hole in the wall of the garage. I like the way it looks there, so I take a picture. I think, maybe, I should not hide any eggs in the tall, thick grass. I don't want anyone to step on them. Instead, I hide some in the plants along the creek.
I am finished hiding them finally. I walk back to the pavilion. My friends look like they’re having a lot of fun, dancing, and laughing a lot. It makes me happy to be with them. I miss the times when my friends back home danced and laughed together. It’s been so many years, at least five. I wonder if I had a dance party at home if anyone would come. Probably not. Movie parties are the thing to do in Utah. I think dance parties are much better.
“Okay, I’m ready guys.” I announce. Back home, when the eggs are all hidden, the children rush the door to be the first outside. My friends, they take their time. They gather around me, take pictures, and ask me what they’re supposed to do. I explain that there are two eggs for each person. Davis translates for me. I feel a little silly because that’s all there is to my explanation. I feel like there should be something more to it, but there really isn’t. Back home, we have Easter baskets to find, but I didn’t bother with baskets, especially since I have little money and I didn’t know how many people were coming. Still, even Easter baskets aren’t that exciting. I wonder, for a moment, why I like Easter so much. I realize that I like the simplicity of it. It’s not like Christmas or Thanksgiving where there is so much work involved in the preparation that the event itself is a bit, and sometimes extremely, stressful. Easter isn’t like that. Not to me anyway. Easter is simple. Easter is about being happy together as a family. Today, my biological family is far away, but I have family here, in Colombia. All these people coming together to celebrate Christ, spring, and new beginnings, it’s pretty much perfect.
“Okay, um go.” I say. Everyone scatters, but not so quickly. That’s what people do in Colombia, they take their time and enjoy every moment. I watch them, and wonder if I could live like that. At home, we’re always rushing. We rush to work, to school, to eat, to visit, to breathe! Here, I love it. Back home, though, I don’t think that lifestyle is practical, at least not yet. Maybe in the future I can live like that, but probably not. I am hardwired to work quickly and efficiently, to move fast so that I get more eggs than my siblings. Still, watching my friends, I know that I miss out on a lot more than extra eggs by living such a busy life.
It doesn’t take long for the eggs to be found. I walk around, watching, and taking pictures. The children have come out of the pool to hunt. They find their eggs, and run up to me “Look! What do I do now?” This makes me laugh. Back home, the eggs are the reward, the goal, the point. How do I explain to them that they should be happy over eggs? It sounds kind of crazy now that I think about it. We have eggs all the time, all year round. Why are they so much more exciting now? “Um, you win. You get to eat your eggs.” is all I can think of to say.
The hunt goes on. Soon, though, my friends are coming to me saying, “I can’t find any more.” I walk with them, careful not to tell them directly, but only hint when I see an unfound egg. I think of my dad back home. His hints are rarely helpful. Usually, they just result in all of us kids searching the same area for the same egg, when there are dozens more to be found elsewhere. It’s silly, but it happens every year.
Most of my friends have finished hunting and have returned to the pavilion. I keep giving hints until most of the eggs are found. I think, there are only two left. One boy hasn’t found any eggs at all. I decide to give him a more obvious hint. I point to a tree and say, “Go look in that tree.” He runs off in that direction, and I return to looking for left-over eggs. A few minutes later, he comes back. “Did you find it?” I ask. He puts his empty hands up, showing me that he didn’t find the egg. I wonder to myself, how on earth did he not find it? I told him exactly what tree to look in. Sigh, “Okay, come stand right here.” I point. He comes. I gently move his shoulders so he is facing a pole. In a small hole, there is a solid black egg. He smiles and grabs the egg, then runs off with the other children.
I wander back to the tree, wondering if someone else found the egg and that’s why the boy couldn’t find it. Nope. The egg is still there. There is also another egg in the fence behind the pool. I go back to the pavilion. Some of the kids are still looking, but I’m tired of wandering around by myself. I want to be with my Colombian family. They ask me if I am going to swim. “Of course!” I say. I love swimming, and it’s so hot. Also, I’ve noticed the mosquitoes are coming around. I go to change into my swimming suit. I realize, I forgot to bring my shorts. Suddenly, I’m really nervous. I haven’t been in a swimming suit without shorts since, well, probably since I was too young to know that my legs are unattractive and that I should be conscious of immodesty, so as far back as I can remember. Still, I want to go swimming. It’s so hot and my friends are all waiting for me. I change into my swimming suit anyway.
Of course, none of my friends are outlandishly shocked by my lack of shorts. Seriously, I don’t know why it bothers me so much.
Partly because I want to show off, and partly because I want to get into the water as quickly as possible, I dive into the pool. It's shallow, but I don't hit my head. He as years of diving off the dock at Salem Pond have mad e me pretty skilled at shallow we diving. My friends are amused. A few of them clap. The water feels amazing in the heart of the day. I wish a little that Nina were here. I usually go swimming with her on Tuesday's. We haven't been in a while because I've been so busy lately.
It's not long before someone suggests a game. They expand to me the rules. I recognize the rules. We're playing freeze tag, you know, the one where someone has to swim under your legs to unfreeze you if you get tagged. I am declared a captain. It's hard to pick people for teams. I never really did this sort of thing in school. I think I was the sort of kids that was too afraid of not being picked to even try to play. Mostly, I was a giant bookworm. I'm glad to be included now. We play only one round. The two people who are it win by a landslide.
One of the girls asks me why my face is red. It makes me laugh. I guess if she hasn't been around that many white people she wouldn't know a suburb when she sees one. She isn't the last to be concerned about it either. I assure them all that I am fine. "It's just hot" I try to explain.
Next, we play water polo. I've never played before, but I did watch the Michelsen boys play a few years ago. David explains the rules to me. They aren't hard. It's basically soccer in the water. I don't suck too badly. I am a pretty fast swimmer.
We play awhile. I don't really know who is winning, but I don't really care. Someone announces that dinner is ready and we all get out of the pool. I forgot to bring my towel too, but there is one for me to borrow. As we eat, it starts to get dark. I put my jeans on over my swimsuit. Pretty soon, I notice the mosquitoes again. They are everywhere! Earlier, Jessica had let me borrow some type of mosquito repellant. It wasn't s spray like ours usually is back home. It looked like a bar of soap to me. It didn't really help either. Disputes my best efforts to start the mosquitoes away, I am slowly eaten alive. David says the mosquitoes are just teaching me to dance.
I do dance a little more. I dance with Hugo and Jenser. I'm still awkward when dancing, but I'm less self-conscious now. Pretty soon I remember the eggs. I know at least two had not been found before I got in the pool. I figure I should check. I'm not afraid of the dark, but I ask Davis to keep me company anyway. We talk a bit as we walk around the yard. One of the two eggs is gone. The other, the one in the tree that I pointed out to the boy earlier is still there. I take it from the branches and carry it with me back to the pavilion. Hugo sees me with it And asks if he can have it. I playfully refuse insisting that the egg is my reward for being a good Easter bunny. I don't think he gets my joke, but he laughs anyway. Hugo is the kind of person that moves to make jokes and laugh all the time. He is a fun person to be around.
Soon people start to get ready to leave. Before they do, we all gather for a picture. While we are gathered someone brings out a chocolate cake. Davis explains that they like to celebrate special occasions with cake. Many of my friends say kind things to me. They tell me that they water grateful that I am here and that their families are grateful to all of us who took care of them while they were is Utah. I feel like crying, but I resist. These people are so kind to me even though all I did was my job as their country chairman. I think that, back home, we tend to forget to show gratitude for little things, especially when those little things are part of a person's responsibilities. Back home, I feel like just another person in the crowd going to work and school, doing what is expected of me, but not really making a difference or even standing out. Here, I feel like my work matters, like I am amazing. I really don't feel this way very often.
The cake is fabulous and the farewell hugs are too. My friends promise to see me again. Davis is waiting on his motorcycle for me as I hug and thank everyone especially Sandra and Sergio. I wish I could tell them how much this party meant to me. "Thank you" doesn't quite seem to cover it. Finally, bag empty of gifts, legs covered with mosquito bites and mind full of joy and gratitude, I climb into the motorcycle and we depart leaving my waving friends behind.
I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but when Davis and I arrive at Luisa's house, my suitcase is there waiting for me. She comes to greet us and lets us through a tall gate blocking our access to the house. There is a beautiful spiral staircase leading to free upper levels. Luisa's house is on the third level. We climb the spiral stairs to her house. It's a little hard because I am so tired. At the top, there is another gate. A small dog is waiting to greet us. Luisa's parents are sitting under an awning on the balcony in front of the house. They greet me in Spanish. Luisa introduces me and Davis, then takes me inside to show me around. She shows me into her bedroom where there are two beds. One has a small American flag sticking out from the headboard. "To make you feel at home" Luisa explains. I love it. There are beautiful paintings of cartoon bugs on the wall. Luisa tells me she painted them.
Davis has to leave. Luisa and I go back out to the balcony and sit with Luisa's parents. Luisa has a small laptop sitting on a table she opens it up to Google translator. With the help of our dear friend Google, we have a lovely evening conversation. I like Luisa's parents very much. They are fun and relaxed. We talk a lot about work and school and my family. Luisa shares some Colombian candy with me. It's delicious, as little like caramel squares. She shows me the gifts she wants me to take to Kristi and Mark, her Utah host family.
We have another guest. He is one of my friends from Carmen Lopez. I think his name is Janer, but I could be wrong. He sits with us on the balcony and joins the conversation. I'm really tired. I have no clue how late it really is, but I'm sure it's nearly midnight.
Finally, it is time to sleep.