Africa Journal July 8

I am grateful for the strength you have all given me. There is so much sadness in this country. Some days it threatens to overwhelm me. The suffering of my fellow men is great and deep. I feel sorrow that so many people in our country live in comfort, unaware of the poverty of their brothers and sisters; a poverty which to see brings me to tears.

There is so much work to be done in countries such as this one. The streets are as full of garbage as they are people. Though medical attention is free, disease is everywhere; disease which could be prevented by a habit of better sanitation. Yet, the habits of a nation are hardly altered, and for one voice, or even a few, the task seems fruitless.

Still, I have learned much of the joy of the Lord. His love reaches these far corners of the earth and makes the suffering bearable. It makes the heart hopeful for a better future, and gives comfort in the knowledge that this suffering is but a moment, and for their faith in the poverty of the world and humility of heart, they will receive kingdoms of greater wealth and peace than ever was their suffering. In this, I sorrow for my own life, and those I love back home, that in our prosperity we forget to be humble. We forget to have faith in God; rather, we take credit for our successes and become greedy in our imagined need. When we should praise God that he has given us a home, we curse that it is not big enough, warm enough, clean enough, or beautiful enough. We whine when our technology fails, yet rejoice not that we have been blessed with bodies and minds surpassing the capabilities of all creations of man. We see in our lives a lacking which we try to fill with temporal things, new cars, new toys, new clothes, and all other things created for the comfort and luxury of man. Yet, these things do not fill our lacking. If anything, they intensify it by feeding our ego and crippling our independence. For example, who of us has washed laundry entirely by hand? Very few, if any, of us in the U.S. would do such a thing. Even if we are not blessed to have washers and dryers in our homes, there are laundromats in every city so that even the poor people of our nation need not wash clothes by hand. I wonder, though, that we do not notice our disability. Though washing clothes by hand is simple enough, when I came to Liberia, I did not know how it was done. We are so dependent on our technology that it has become a crutch to aid an imaginary cripple.

It is my wish that we strive more to free ourselves and those we love from captivity. Let us recognize the potential within us to become independent, that when our technology fails, our money is gone, and we are faced with the poverty of nations that we will not shrink from the task, but soldier on with strength of knowledge that in our bodies, our minds, and especially in our hearts, we are free to change the world.

A Trip to Paradise: Part VII

Luisa warned me before I feel sleep that we would have to wake up early the next morning, but she doesn't wake me until after eight. Claudia is coming at nine to take me to breakfast. I shower and east breakfast. Again, the juice is my favorite part.
Claudia shows up on time. Her mother is driving. Claudia sits with me in the back seat. The car has a seatbelt. I put it on, grateful to feel safe. She laughs and we reminisce about all the times I had to remind them to put their seatbelts on when they were in Utah. I give her the gifts I brought and the gift Kristi sent for her. She has a gift for me too. A hand painted picture of a dancing girl with a note written on the back. It is beautiful. When I get home I will put it on my wall so I can think of Claudia, my dear friend, every day.
Claudia's mother drops us off at a small outdoor cafe. There are a lot of cafes like this one in Cali. This is the first one I've been to tough. It takes us a while to order because I don't really know what most of the food they're serving is. Claudia explains the dishes to me. I end up with scrambled eggs, yay for normal food, a potato, another arepa, and some other thing that was really good but I can't remember what it was called. It was like a package ball with cheese inside. Yum!
I really try, but I cannot finish my food. Back home, I usually don't have time for breakfast at all l let alone one as big as this. My stomach is just plain not accustomed to it. Claudia and I finish, then start walking. I had expressed a desire to go shopping so she was going to take me to another mini mall. The walk is not excessively long, but it is hot. We see some really beautiful flowers along the way.
We arrive at the mall. My first priority is figuring out how to get more money from my bank account. I'm concerned because I don't know if any of the banks here will take my card. The first one we go to can't, but the teller shows us where another bank is that can. We are much more successful at the second bank. It is kind of weird to use an ATM with Colombian pesos instead of dollars. Claudia takes a few minutes to explain how the pesos translate into dollars. One thousand pesos is nearly fifty cents, so obviously two thousand pesos is close to a dollar ish. I take what I think will be enough to last me the rest of my trip from the ATM.
Next, I want to buy some sandals. Sandals are very common here. It makes sense considering the climate. Back home I don't think I even own any sandals. I have a lot of boots, though. Claudia takes me to a shoe store. They have the exact sandals Claudia is wearing today. I like them a lot. They have my size in the back room. I pay somewhere around thirty thousand pesos for them. I hope they will be useful if Africa.
Wearing my new sandals, Claudia and I next go in search of a place to send my postcards. We go to several stores, but have no luck. Finally, in a kind of grocery store, we find a place that will send them...for forty dollars! I decide I don't want to send postcards that badly.
Claudia asks several times if I am hungry. I am still full from our huge breakfast. I won't let her buy me more food that I won't be able to finish. Luisa calls. She says it is time for me to return to her house. She is taking me up to the mountains. Claudia finds us a taxi. We drive down the same road Claudia and I walked up earlier on our way to the mall. The road looks much longer now, perhaps because I am more tired now than I was earlier, or because I am excited to go to the mountains and this long road must be passed before that can happen.
When we arrive at Luisa's house, she tells me to dress warm. She says the mountains are cold. I change into warmer shoes, sad to take off my awesome new sandals, and dig out my leather jacket which I haven't needed to wear since I arrived.
Luisa's cousin comes to pick us up in her car. it is the first car I have seen here that wouldn't be out of place back home in Utah. It's dark colored, clean, and has seatbelts. Yay for seatbelts! Luisa and I sit together in the back. Luisa's mom sits in the front.
Luisa and I talk a lot. I practice speaking Spanish with her. She practices her English. Luisa smiles as lot. She is very beautiful when she smiles. Luisa tells me we will soon pass houses built on the mountain side. Sure enough, the roads get quickly steeper and the houses rise above us, looking like dollhouses on display. it reminds me a little of San Francisco, but without all the tall apartment buildings and skyscrapers to impede the view.
Through the whole ride, I have my camera out. As we speed up the mountain, Luisa and I take turns taking pictures out our windows. Most of them turn out blurry, but I do not stop to erase them. I don't want to miss anything. These mountains are spectacular. They remind me enough of home to make me comfortable and happy, but they are different enough to keep my head spinning back and forth trying to speak in every detail. These mountains are less rocky than ours back home, and much more green. At home, the mountains are covered with evergreens and aspens. Here there are a million different kinds of palms, and banana trees, and mango trees, and countless other trees I have never heard of. All the trees and plants are rich green, and bright flowers stand out in all colors, especially reds and yellows. There is no sign of the sandy oranges and reds so commonly found in Utah.
The houses have thinned, but we still pass the occasional home built into the mountain. We even pass a couple small groups of houses, like villages. The houses are painted beautiful colors. One has as spray painted mural of a guacamaya. I take some pictures as we pass. Only one turns out well, but one is all I need.
I have no idea how long the drive is, but I wish it could last forever. If course it doesn't, and we finally reach a dirt and gravel road, which takes us to the top of a mountain. It is not the highest mountain around us, but the view is gorgeous. Low clouds creep up the mountain and cover us with light fog.
Our destination is a small group of buildings on the top of the mountain. Luisa tells me this place is called Eighteen Kilometer. There is a building that looks like it could be a hotel. It has several floors and open air wooden stairs leading to the upper floors. I climb the stairs to the top. Luisa takes some pictures. A sign on the building says "California". I come down and we take more pictures around the buildings. There are many beautiful flowers up here. My camera takes great close up shots.
We walk past several open air shops. They look like they are closed. So far, I have seen no other people since our arrival. There is a life-size statue of a black boy squatting, like he's on the toilet. He has wide white eyes that make me think of Cynthia. This statute's eyes would freak her out. I take a picture with mischievous intentions.
At last, we come to a shop with people, only a few, but they take our order. We sit at a table inside a restraint. We are the only customers. The table we choose is round and made of heavy wood, like the tables in old fashioned taverns in movies. Our table is closest to the window. Well, I suppose I can't call it a window because there is no glass. It just opens up to the air with a view of the road and valley below. I watch several dogs pass. I think of Nathan again and his comments about the dogs in Chile. I also see a chiva. Osaias gave me a clay chiva when he was in Utah. I am glad I get to see a tall one. Luisa explains that farmers use chiva to carry their produce in to town to be sold. To me, they look a bit like circus trucks. They have slightly pointed roofs with a guard around the edge to keep produce secured on top. The rest looks a bit like a bus, wide with a lot of seats inside and long windows. This chiva is painted bright blue. I am told they can be many colors.
Our drinks arrive, chocolate con queso, hot chocolate with cheese. The hot chocolate is in a huge mug the size of a cereal bowl. The cheese sits on the plate next to the mug. It's white and rubbery. Luisa demonstrates how to cut the cheese into small pieces and drop them into the chocolate. The chocolate melts the cheese, making it stringy. It was quite delicious, but certainly unusual. I'm not sure cheese and chocolate were meant to go together.
As we eat out chocolate, I snap some pictures. A soft fog has settled on the mountain, obscuring the view of the valley below. I wish my camera would take good pictures of the fog. It's so beautiful. My friends say that the fog is cold. That amuses me. It's warm to me. I even take my jacket off after a while.
We take our time leaving. We look at paintings on the walls of the restaurant. One is a painting of fruit. Luisa's cousin points to the fruits and recites the Spanish names for each one. I repeat after her and then translate into English. She copies my English. I tell her in Spanish that my favorite fruit is watermelon.
We take more pictures, then load back into the car. It's getting to be evening time. Luisa tells me to keep my window rolled up. I don't really understand why, but I trust her anyway.
We don't get far down the road before we notice a problem. We have a flat tire. Luisa's cousin and mom get out. They talk a while and start getting things out of the trunk, but that's as far as they get. I realize they don't know how to change a tire. I ask Luisa if they need help. She confirms my assumption, and sounds surprised that I do know how to change a tire. I laugh inside, remembering the many times I have refused the help of a man because I feel all women should know how to change their own tires. I get out of the car, but before I have a chance to help, a man on a motorcycle arrives and offers his assistance. At home, with my own car, I would have declined the help, but now, I step aside and watch with Luisa. She sits on the spare tire as we wait. I snap some pictures, but they don't turn out well. I don't understand why at first, then I notice spots of light reflected off the camera's flash. It has started to rain, but the drops are so small, and the air so naturally wet, that I had not realized it. Luisa gives up her tire chair and together we put the flat one into the trunk. Soon, the tire is on, Luisa's cousin pays the man for his help, and we are on our way again.
I am tired. The drive back to the city is uneventful. I can see little through the heavily tinted windows. Once we’re back in the city, we stop at a museum. It’s closed, but Luisa takes some pictures of me in front of it, then we run back to the car. We stop again and get out of the car. There is not space to park, so Luisa’s cousin drives on. Luisa explains she will drive around and find a place to wait for us.
Luisa takes me to a statue in a park, of sorts, between two roads. The statue is a cat. I have seen pictures of this cat before. Apparently it’s quite famous. There are people doing strange exercizes on a cement area in front of the cat. I wonder if I look that strange doing zumba with Nina. I probably do.
Luisa takes some pictures of me with the cat. There is a little boy climbing around the base of the statue. He gets in most of the pictures. He’s cute.
Behind the cat, there are more, smaller cat statues. Luisa tells me that they are all decorated by different artists. I don’t count, but I think there are at least a dozon of them, each set fifteen or twenty feet apart along a gravel path. I take pictures of the strange cats. The style of each cat is so unique, I am grateful for my camera. To describe each one would be difficult and leave the reader confused, for not even the most eloquent author can describe the impact of art.
Luisa’s cousin waits for us us at the end of the park. We have to cross the street to reach her car, which is quite a thrilling challenge in Colombian traffic. We make it safely enough, and soon, we arrive home.

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.

A Trip to Paradise: Part V

Day two, Madeleyn makes me fruit for breakfast. It’s delicious! I have no idea what it’s called, but I’m quite positive I’ve never had it before. Emerson is supposed to pick me up and take me to lunch at Germon’s house. Germon is cooking for me. Emerson is late, as usual. When he arrives, Juan Pablo is with him. I didn’t know JP was even in Cali. He told me before I came that he and Manuel had moved to Bogotá. It is a wonderful surprise.
My suitcase looks way too big for Emerson’s tiny green car. Now that I think about it, my suitcase looks too big for all the cars in this city. Emerson manages to get it in anyway. Now it’s time for my first goodbyes. I hug and kiss Davis’s family. I tell them I will see them again. I get in the car and as we drive away, I look back at the family waving. Goodbyes are hard.
We talk as we drive through the city, JP, Emerson, and I. I ask about the shoes. All over the city I have seen shoes thrown up on telephone wires. JP says that they are from sports fans. After soccer games, they will take off their shoes, tie the laces together, and throw them on the line. It seems like a strange and expensive way to celebrate a victory to me. I take pictures out my window. I learn fast to get over my dislike of driving with the windows down. Cars in Colombia don’t have AC.
Germon’s house looks, from the outside, like a barred, black door in a white brick wall. Inside, however, is quite normal. Germon is still cooking when we arrive, so we sit down and chat. Emerson talks a lot with Germon’s roommate. Apparently, the roommate is the graphic designer for Carmen Lopez. He was really nice, but I can’t remember his name. Hum. Sad. Anyway, they show me the designs for their upcoming show. They are beautiful. They have some pictures from their time in Utah. Jody and David Reid are in one of the pictures. I’m in another one. Those are such great memories.
More friends arrive, Francisco with his wife and daughter, and Ivan, another one of my boys. I pass out more presents, then Germon announces that lunch is ready. His food is perfect. I love it so much, but again, there is more than I can eat on my plate. While we eat, Francisco speaks better English than anyone, but he still asks me to speak Spanish. I am very embarrassed. I am still not very confident with my Spanish. I cannot think of anything to say. Francisco’s daughter saves me by being cute and distracting. She likes my camera. Back home, she could be a child model, she is so beautiful with giant dark eyes and perfect curly black hair. She’s also very intelligent for her age. She is barely learning to talk, but already she can say some things in English and Spanish. Amazing.
After lunch, Germon offers to put my leftover food in a bag for me to take with me. I still have the arepa from the day before in my bag, but I accept anyway thinking I might get hungry eventually. My friends begin to leave. Francisco explains that he and his family will go with me to the zoo where I am to meet with Ana and Luisa. Francisco says he has been wanting to take his family to the zoo and is glad to have a reason to go now. I say goodbye to Germon. I am pretty sure I will see him again before I go home. I say goodbye to JP. I know I will not see him again. He is going home to Bogotá tomorrow. He will be taking a bus. It is a very long drive, longer, perhaps, than the drive to California from home.
Francisco’s car is nice. It has seatbelts! I’m very excited to wear a seatbelt again. None of the other cars I have been in since I arrived have had them. That explains why I had to remind my Colombians over and over to put their seatbelts on when they were in Utah. Francisco talks a lot. He asks about his host family, the Woolfs. I don’t have anything to report, unfortunately. The Woolfs are nice people, but I only see them during the Folkfestival since they are regular hosts. I didn’t even actually see them to pick up the gifts from them to the Colombians because I was too busy and had to ask my mom to do it for me.
Francisco has to stop at a bank. They cannot help him, so we must go to another bank. The other bank is in yet another mini mall. I wait in the car with his wife and daughter. I don’t think his wife speaks English. She doesn’t say anything to me. Francisco returns successful and we head to the zoo.
When we arrive, Francisco accidentally locks his keys inside his car. I feel really bad for him. I haven’t locked my keys in my car since I bought my Stratus which has a magic clicky button, but with my last two cars locking my keys inside was a pretty regular happening. Francisco had to take a cab home to get a spare. I waited with his wife and daughter at the zoo.
While we waited, I realize I am really tired. I sit against a wall. The wall has “Zoologico de Cali” on it in big white letters. Many people stop to take pictures in front of it. I am sitting too close. I quickly feel bad. I am sure I’m in all of those pictures. I am too tired to move.
I try a couple times to call Ana with the phone Davis gave me. The phone is in Spanish. I can’t even figure out how to get it unlocked. I ask Francisco’s wife to unlock it for me. She does, but I am still unsuccessful. The phone won’t call Ana. I don’t know why. I will have to ask Davis about it later. I just wait some more and spray myself with my cool new spraybottle/waterbottle I bought at Walmart in Florida. The spray doesn’t have the same effect here as it would in Utah. Colombia is already humid, so the spray does nothing to cool me down.
Finally, Ana arrives. She says she didn’t know I was going to be here. She says that we came earlier than she expected. I am glad to see her. She tells me that we will go in and get started. Luisa and Francisco will meet us inside when they arrive. She buys me a ticket. I keep it with me to scrapbook when I get home.
The first animals I see are flamingos. I don’t think I’ve ever seen flamingos before, well, maybe a long time ago at Hogle Zoo, but I don’t remember. It’s been many years since I’ve been there. They are beautiful and so much less pink than they are in the movies. That’s good. Pink is gross.
The zoo is spectacular. The plants and trees are so green and thick and the animals are amazing, most of them I’ve never seen before. Ana teaches me about the plants and animals. She tells me that this is her first time giving the tour in English. She does a really good job for her first time. She teaches me how to recognize mango trees. She shows me many plants, like one that has a bad smell to protect itself and the plants around it from predators, and another plant that curls up in the sun, and a whole bunch more.
Luisa joins us. I am so happy to see her. We hug for a while, then we realize that we’re blocking the path and people are trying to get around us. Oops. We continue our tour. I take a lot of pictures. Later in the afternoon there is a show they want me to see. We take an employee’s only shortcut to get there faster. I get distracted by some really pretty flowers along the shortcut path. I stop to take pictures. One of the flowers is an orchid, Colombia’s national flower, well, it was a baby orchid. Also on the shortcut path we find a fruit tree. Ana lets me try a star fruit that has fallen from a tree. I don’t really like it very much. It’s really sticky and I have nothing but my water bottle to clean my hands with.
We make it to the show in time. The performers are friends of Ana and Luisa. They introduce themselves to me. One of them puts his hat on me and takes a picture. I remember my Colombians doing that a lot when they were in Utah. I don’t know why it’s so amusing to them to share their hats. I don’t mind, though. I like hats.
The show is fabulous! It is a cute story about a monkey who gets lost and meets a bunch of different animals. Most of the show is just music and dancing so I don’t need a translator. I record as much of it as I can so I can watch it again at home and show my family. The monkey meets a snake. The snake tries to eat the monkey, but the monkey pulls a little girl from the audience and hides behind her. The snake eats the little girl instead. It’s cute. Now the snake comes out to the audience and eats people at random. He eats me too. The snake’s mouth is just red cloth that opens and closes, so it doesn’t actually hurt. Eventually, the monkey finds his parents. It is a very fun show. My camera runs out of memory before the end. The battery is getting low, too.
After the show, Luisa and Ana take me backstage to see all the costumes and props. They let me choose one. I choose a butterfly. We take pictures with the costumes and the cast.
By now, it’s getting late in the afternoon. We take the employee shortcut back to where we left off the tour. We see more animals. The baby lions are very cute. The daddy lion talks to us. He roars every fifteen minutes. We can hear him everywhere we go until we leave the zoo. We see a white tiger too. It’s so beautiful! She comes to say hello. I have never seen one so close before. I love it! Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! They show me the “glasses bears” that are native only to South America. The markings around their eyes make them look like they have glasses.
My camera dies. We see a few more animals. The owls are really neat and remind me of Bryanne Colver, Cynthia’s best friend at home. She loves owls. We also see anteaters and giant rodents. The animals are starting to go to sleep now. The lights on the aquarium are turned off so we can’t go there at all. We decide it’s probably time to go home.
We leave the zoo and cross the street to a bus stop. There is a line of people waiting for the bus. A lot of them are employees of the zoo. Ana and Luisa know some of them. One girl is a good friend of theirs. We talk with her until the bus comes, then she sits with us on the bus and we talk some more. Eventually, we part ways. Luisa goes one way, Ana and I take another bus to her house.
Emerson brought my luggage to Luisa’s house earlier. I’m glad that it’s waiting for me. Luisa’s house is beautiful. It’s very clean and white. It’s also on the ground floor. Her parents are very kind, but I cannot talk to them much because I am very tired and my brain isn’t thinking Spanish right now. We eat dinner. Ana was going to cook for me, but we took too long getting home. Her mom cooked for us instead. I try fried plantains. I do not like them either. I don’t really like banana’s much, and plantains are like bananas on steroids. I do like the rest of the food they make for me, which is rice and meat. Still, I cannot eat everything. I’m so full! I think about the extra food Germon sent home with me. I realize, I’m probably never going to get the chance to eat it or my leftover arepa. Everywhere I go, people give me more delicious food. I really doubt I’ll ever be hungry enough to eat leftovers.
I take a shower. The cold water feels awesome after such a long, hot day. After my shower, I start on homework. I don’t get very far because I have a headache and school seems so far away and insignificant here in Colombia. I meet Ana’s brother. He is very kind. He tells me that if I need anything, I only need to ask him. Ana tells me he just found out his girlfriend is having a baby. That’s really exciting for them. Ana is going to be an aunt. Being an aunt is awesome.
I try again to work on homework. Ana tells me Davis is coming over. I think it’s a little weird for him to visit so late at night, but I don’t mind so much. I do wish, though, that I wasn't wearing my pajamas. I’m a bit self-conscious. Madeleyn comes too. Davis tells me that Madeleyn is leaving to go to a different city. She wanted to see me one last time and bring me a gift. That explains the late-night visit. Her gift is very sweet, a Colombia box with a note and a ring inside. I love it. I read the note. I am surprised that I can understand it, even though it’s in Spanish. I love Madeleyn a lot. I will miss her.
We talk for a while, then Davis and Madeleyn have to leave. I hug them both. When they’re gone, I give up on homework. I am too tired to think. The family is watching TV in the living room next to Ana’s bedroom. There is a window between the two rooms. I shut the window and sleep like the dead. I’m very glad that I can sleep through noise so well.

A Trip to Paradise: Part IV

When I wake up, I can hear the family in another room. I don’t want to bother them. I get out my stuff to take a shower. I have no idea what time it is. The water is cold. I am actually not surprised. Nathan warned me in his emails that water in Chile is cold.

I feel much better now. Davis’s family has made me lunch. It is really good. They eat a lot of rice, fruits and juice. I’ve never tasted fruits like these before. I don’t remember what they said the fruit is called. The juice is amazing. I have two glasses full. I eat as much as I can. It looks like I ate only a little, but my stomach is so full. They are very kind. Davis tells me not to worry about it.

Davis translates as I talk to his sister and mother at the dinner table. His sister teaches dance classes. She is interested in my students. Davis gives me his Ipad so I can show her my students. I don’t have pictures of my students on my Facebook page. It’s illegal for me to post pictures of them. I show Madeleyn pictures of my family instead. She is amazed by how big it is. I am grateful that we just covered families in my Spanish class. Most of the words I remember, so Davis doesn’t have to translate so much. I am glad, too, that I have so many pictures since most of my family got together for Nathan’s farewell only a few weeks ago. Madeleyn especially loves the pictures of the babies. I show her my baby pictures. I was so cute back then.
Davis tells me it is time to leave. We are going to meet up with my other friends. I am very excited. Many people from back home sent gifts with me for their dancers. I put all the gifts in my carry-on bag and take it with me. It’s pretty heavy.

Finally, I get to ride with Davis on his motorcycle. I am in heaven! He is a much better driver than the taxi driver was and he’s certainly a better driver than I am. I have only had my motorcycle license for a few weeks. We drive through the city to a shopping mall. I have to get off while Davis parks his motorcycle. While I wait for him I see motorcycle helmets for sale. I wish I could get one to take home with me. Mine is ugly and falling apart.

Davis and I walk together through the mall. It looks pretty ordinary, though it’s open air, like the Riverwoods mall back home. We are early. Davis buys me some ice cream. He tries to get me to order in Spanish. I order chocolate. It’s pretty much the same in Spanish as it is in English. It is quite delicious. It has a brownie at the bottom and a weird looking cookie thing on top. Yum!



We sit on a low brick wall to eat our ice cream. I watch the people and take pictures. Back at Davis’s house, he gave me a used cell phone. I have it with me. We take it to a store to get it activated. It takes a little while. I look at the store as I wait. I notice that all the cash registers have cashiers. Most of them are not doing anything. There are no lines. This amuses me. I am always annoyed at stores in Utah. They have up to twenty registers and only three or five of them are open so I have to wait in line for ten or twenty minutes.

My phone is ready to use. We try it out, just to make sure it works. It does. We leave the store and walk through the mall some more. Eventually we make it to a food court. We find a table and sit down to wait. There is a movie theater nearby. They are advertising the new Iron Man movie. Davis and I are both excited to see it.

David and Maria are the first of my friends to show up. They hug me enthusiastically. I give them their gifts, earrings for Maria, a Nerf gun for David. More friends arrive; Vivii, Kissy, Jenzer, German, and Ana. My carry-on bag is getting lighter.

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We all walk together through the mall. We are joined by more friends, Diego, Sergio, and Sandra. They take me to a fast food restaurant called La Areperia. I cannot say the name right. They order for me. “No onions, no tomatoes,” I tell them. They think I’m funny. I really really don’t like onions or tomatoes.



I am so happy to be with my friends. We sit at a table with an open view of the parking lot and the trees beyond the mall. I take many pictures. I try to eat my food. It is very good, better by far than a burrito back home. Still, I am already full from lunch at Davis’s house. My friends say that it’s alright for me to take it home with me and eat it later. I wrap it up and put it in my bag.



David declares that I need a new schedule. Someone produces a paper and pen. After much discussion, every moment of my week is planned, with a little bit of time with everyone. Underneath my schedule David writes “The time is too short!!!” I am more than tempted to agree.



We leave the mall together. Outside, there is a train engine. We take some pictures in front of it.



Then we crowd into taxis. The taxis take us to a hill with many people. The street is lined with hundreds of motorcycles, parked as close to each other as possible. I’ve never seen so many in one place. We get out of the taxi and meet up with the rest of the group. They show me a souvenir shop. The gifts inside are beautiful, not like the boring things found in gift shops back home. They have beautifully painted figurines and carved chess sets. They have many bags and hats. I have a little money left, but not enough to buy many things. I find some scarves for Aunt Coral, my cousin Christel, and Stacie. Maria helps negotiate the price with the cashier. Diego sees how much I love the scarves. He buys one for me. It is purple and black. It is beautiful. I also buy gifts for Addy and Maddison, cute little knitted finger puppet animals, and two postcards. I try on a hat for a picture, but I do not buy it.

After paying for my gifts, my friends take me up the hill. There is a stone path going up. There are people everywhere. Some people have blankets covered in items for sale. Sergio buys me a bracelet with my name on it. We continue up the hill. There are performers, dancers and singers. One man is performing with fire. I see only the very end of his show.



At the top of the hill is a catholic church. It is very old and very beautiful. It is the church of San Antonio. It is hundreds of years old. We take many pictures, but they are not so good since it is dark now. I take pictures of the city. The view is magnificent on top of the hill.

David takes me inside the church. The artwork inside is breathtaking. I wish I could stand and study it for a while, but there are too many people. We move to the front of the room. There are candles on the floor. In the corner, there is a stand with rows of smaller candles. David tells me that people put money in a box next to the candles, then they lite a candle, and make a wish. He puts some money in for me. I take an unlit candle and touch the wick to the flames of a lighted one and say a silent prayer. I put my candle in an empty space. I can understand why people use candles in their worship of God. They are majestic.



As we leave the church, David shows me a statue of a man, San Antonio, the saint for which this church was built. Outside, the others are waiting. We take more pictures. Davis is wearing his motorcycle vest. It has reflective strips on it so he can be seen by other drivers in the night. The flash of the cameras light up his vest. Everyone jokes that he is from the movie Tron.

We walk around the church and further up the hill. There are kids riding in wheeled boxes, like wagons, down the hill. David asks if I want to try. It looks fun, but the others say it is too dangerous for me to try now. I don’t mind too much. We continue up the hill to a small stand selling interesting desserts. My friends get some for me. They are like ice cream popsicles. The first one I try is good, but not fabulous. They take it away and give me another. It is wonderful. It is made of cheese and fruit. They give me another one. It is made of fruit, too. The third is my favorite. It is made from a fruit I will find out later is passion fruit. I’ve never had passion fruit before. As delicious as they are, I’m afraid I will be sick if I eat any more. I pass off my snacks to David and it’s time to go home. I hug my friends goodbye and climb back onto Davis’s motorcycle.



The drive home is magical. The city at night is beautiful and warm. Davis and I talk as well as we can through the wind in our ears and our helmet padding. I notice the roads are in pretty sad shape. There are potholes everywhere. I am suddenly grateful for Utah’s constant construction. We make it home and Davis drives the motorcycle right through the front door and into the living room. I am amused. I fairly certain my mother wouldn’t appreciate me parking my bike in the house. Of course mine is a lot bigger and we have a lot more parking space outside.

It’s late, but Madeleyn is waiting for me. Before I left, she promised to do my nails when I came back. Their cousin, aunt, and friend come over and the living room is suddenly a full on spa and I am given the royal treatment. They painted my fingernails and toenails with cute little frogs. Usually, I’m not the kind of person who paints my nails, but something about getting a manicure creates a bond between girls in a really unique way. I guess, it reminded me of the only other time I’ve gotten my nails done. I was with Cynthia. Maybe it made me feel closer to Madeleyn because we did something together that I’ve only done with a sister. I don’t know it’s hard to explain. I am amazed that, after only one day, I feel so close to Madeleyn. We don’t even speak the same language.

A Trip to Paradise: Part III

The first thing I notice as I walk out the doors of the baggage claim is the trees. I have never seen anything like them. They’re so beautiful, and thick, and so green. I need to find a way to call Davis. I see a payphone, but again, I don’t know how to use it and I have no Colombian coins. I go back inside the airport. There are people inside, but not so many; at least, it’s certainly not as crowded as US airports. I find a bench to sit on and pull out my laptop. The internet in the airport is called “Vex”. I find that ironic since it won’t let me connect. I wait a few minutes and try to connect again. A drop of water falls from the ceiling and lands on my laptop screen. I scoot down the bench a little farther. Another drop falls and lands on my shoe. I don’t bother moving again. I don’t mind my shoe getting wet.

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.

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.