arden lane

There really, truly isn’t that much to blog about. The days are very slow. Diego is very easy to parent. There’s nothing to do in Neiva. I know my brother keeps bugging us to post more, but we don’t have a whole lot to say. However, I’ll try to pull out some interesting happenings from the last few days and post some pictures.

5 days ago, while we were snacking at a Panderia, a very dirty man, with one arm and a kind smile, put 2 bracelets on the table. I said, “No gracias.” He insisted. I said no thank you again. He insisted again. Then he walked away. This is how it works. It gives you time to see if you want to, or have enough money to buy a trinket. When he came back, we politely asked how much they were. We only had enough change for one of them. It was 50 cents. I said, “Gracias” and he said, in wonderful English, “You’re welcome.”

About 4 days ago there was a bombing in Neiva at a military check point. Two civilians on a motorcycle were injured, one of them a 3 year old girl. The bombing was suspected to be organized by the FARC although I don’t think that has officially been determined.

3 days ago there was an earthquake in the morning. Zach and I were sitting on the couch drinking coffee and reading when the apartment started to roll. If you’ve never been in an earthquake, it feels like you are sitting or standing on jello. Everything was rolling like a wave and all the hanging lights were swinging back and forth. It turns out that it was a 7.0 magnitude earthquake about 5 hours south of Neiva, 77 miles below the surface. It lasted 30 seconds.

2 nights ago I got food poisoning. I’m pretty sure it was from the chicken I ate for lunch at a really cute “fast food” restaurant on the main strip. It was delicious. Then it wasn’t. I’ve never been that sick in my life. I am very thankful that it lasted less than 24 hours.

While we were on our walk to the fast food chicken joint, waiting on a corner, I noticed a family zooming by on their motorcycle. My first thought was, “Geesh, that woman is really not wearing much on top.” My second thought was, “Wow, she is actually breast feeding her baby at 25 miles per hour while her husband drives around the corner.”

You see a lot of that in Neiva. Women in 4 inch bright blue heels flying by on their motorcycle, a toddler perched on the handle bars holding their lunch box. Texting while motorcycling? It’s ok here. Packing mom, dad and baby onto one bike? No problem.

Sorany was telling us this week that theft has been a real problem here because of the motorcycles. All the women wear their purses slung over their necks. I take my cues from them. Apparently, it is common that two people on a motorcycle will drive on the sidewalk (everyone drives their motorcycles on the sidewalk so you have to be all ears) and snatch a bag as they pass you by. As a result, the mayor has tried to pass a new regulation that in the main downtown area, only one person can be on a bike. Needless to say, this has caused a lot of protests because bikes are how families get around.

I love Colombian fresh bread pastries. They are like huge rolls, with sugar on top, and warm cheese and fruit inside. I could live off them. In fact, I think that’s what I’m going to do. Having food poisoning has strengthened my resolve to become a vegetarian. Although Colombians really don’t eat veggies. But they eat a lot of fresh fruit, bread, and cheese and that’s yummy.

I also love the graffiti and art that I see on the side of many buildings. There are some pics below. The one with Diego standing next to it is actually a map of Huila, the department (state) that Neiva is in. It is filled with words that describe the beauty of Huila.

Today it’s storming.

I’ve gotten used to cold showers and the teeny tiny ants in the apartment. They are like my pets.

I miss my dogs. And my daughters.

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This is all the Lonely Planet says about Neiva:

You’ll have to pass through Neiva, the hot sleepy capital of the Huila department and a port on the Rio Magdalena. There’s nothing in Nieva of interest.

Me thinks it might be a bit harsh – but as we chug through our 2nd week in this city, I can’t help but wish (in a little way) that our kidoes were from some nice Caribbean beach.

As Ren mentioned, the rules are different this time around. The whole adoption process went through an evaluation process some months back and one of the upshots/downshots is that judges are more careful and diligent with pouring over the paperwork. We were spoiled with the girl’s adoption, as their paper work barely spent 36 hours in the courts. You constantly had the feeling of the ball moving forward.

In short, we’re very bored. We walk (a lot) and swim (often), but there’s just not a whole heck of a lot to do. We plan to spend a day at an aquatic park (probably Sunday or Monday), and there’s the Disney channel (which Diego loves…indeed, he’s happy to play with games and watch TV most of the day), but it’s still slow. I am able to get some work done (so at least I feel like I’m completing bits and pieces), but it’s not quite the same as 1) Having decent internet speeds to complete work and 2) Face to Face time.

I keep trying to think of this as the job. The job is to wait. You do the job and soon the job will be over.

We got into court 5 which is good because it’s a fast court. However, we are told that the rules are different from the last time we were here, so now the Judge will require an interview with the child. He/she will ask Diego if he is happy with us and if he wants to be adopted. Our lawyer doesn’t know when this interview will happen but it could be sometime next week.

So, we stay in beautiful, sweltering Neiva and get more creative about how to kill time . . .

I love traveling and experiencing new cultures. For sure, traveling for the purpose of adoption is a totally different experience than traveling for pleasure and exploration (your focus is completely different), but you still get to experience new and very odd moments of being a fish out of water. Anyway, I wanted to jot down some observation about Colombia. Actually, I’m not really sure these observations can apply to Colombia at large as my experience is limited to Bogota and Neiva. Take them for what it’s worth.

The People

Colombians are beautiful. Like, all of them. The women are always dressed up (we jean wearing American’s look sloppy) and the men all wear collared shirts. They also really like uniforms. It appears that every job in every field requires a uniform ranging from pastel tacky to slick yet modest. There appears to be two rules to aging: 1) Men get to wear sandals and 2) Women cut their hair short.

As a whole, we’ve found everyone to be exceptionally nice with a conservative curiosity towards us.  People like to strike up a conversation with you once they get a sense of how well you can communicate. Then a flood of Spanish comes flying out of their mouths and I try my best to keep up!

The Cities

I still think Bogota and Neiva are remarkably clean for Latin American cities. It’s not that there isn’t a fair amount of trash (there is), rather, they do a good job of cleaning everything up. Neiva is basically a city of tightly packed homes, occasional high rises, and the scattering of parks and large avenues. In short, it follows the plan of many Latin American countries (there are constant similarities to where I lived in Brazil). Every few homes there’s a little shop – usually a tiny restaurant that specializes in simple lunches of chicken and rice, empenadas and pastels, and beer or juice.

We walk everywhere and traffic is a steady and sometimes precarious stream of buses (hello diesel), taxis, and motorcycles. Colombians LOVE their motorcycles and scooters. Families pack on the; mother’s in high heels, children holding lunch boxes, and weave in and out of traffic. They all wear helmets.

The Food

In general, Ren and I find Colombian food to taste good, if not bland. Typical dishes include lentil soups, chicken in many forms, lots and lots of baked and fried bananas. For that matter, everything is fried. The supermarket has an entire aisle devoted to oil. They’ve two kinds of avocados, the popular one being this huge green fruit 4 times the size of the Haas Avocados we’re used to eating in the states. They’re awesome and I’ve put them on everything I’ve cooked in the apartment.

There are glorious amounts of fruits, many of which I haven’t learned the names of yet. They’re either eaten peeled or turned into juice, typically with a generous helping of sugar.

I’d say we’re fairly adventurous eaters, trying things out in highly questionable (at least from a sanitary standpoint) eating establishments. You can’t be too worried about such things when you live in the country for nearly a month.

The “That Makes Absolutely No Sense”

Traffic lights. In Neiva (and Bogota too), they put the traffic lights before the intersection. Make that a good 30 feet before the intersection. This results in pedestrians having no clue as to what the lights are when trying to cross the street – and crossing streets in Colombia is already a slightly dangerous proposition. This has to be the poorest urban planning design I’ve seen and the only possible reason I can think of for having it is to keep pedestrians on their toes. Not to mention the fact that it is often ok for drivers to disregard the traffic lights altogether and drive whenever they feel they can safely merge into traffic.

Other Fun Observations

When you pay by credit card for anything, you’re asked “how many times”. Stores can basically break up the charge in 12 separate payments charged over the course of the year (with additional interest, of course). Best I can tell, most people do this.

Payphones no longer exist, Instead, street vendors post signs that say “llamados” and chain small, nokia styled cell phones to their stands. You then pay a few pesos to make a call.

The wide array and selection of motorcycles and scooters really is very cool. There seem to be thousands of variations.

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As I fell asleep last night, I wondered again what it would be like to be adopted. What would I be thinking, feeling, wondering if I were them? I’ve been through this twice now, with three different children, and they were each unique in their response to being adopted.

I remember Kelly, the first of our children whom we met. She came into the office with a red bon bon bum in her mouth, a giggle bubbling just below the surface, and an expectant smile on her face. Her eyes were alight as I said, “Hola Kelly. Soy tu mama.” She gave me a big hug and sat on my lap to show me the pictures her foster mom carefully displayed in a scrapbook for all of us.

I remember Monica, whom we met a few minutes later. At first, we only heard her cries from the hallway. Then, she very shyly stood in the doorway, her chin pointed down and her big eyes carefully peeking at us. She was very clearly scared and did not want to be present at that moment. She did not want this to happen to her, whatever it was. I got down on my knees and said hello. I told her I loved her and that I was her mommy. She started crying again and the social worker took back into the hallway.

I remember Diego, just days ago, stepping out of the car, waiting patiently for las doctoras to tell him where to go, what to do. He walked up the steps, not quite sure of himself but going through the motions he had been so well prepared for. Give mama a rose. Give papa a sucker. Give us each a big hug. Then wait for the next instruction. He was not shy, not energetic, just content.

What is it like to be adopted? Adults who have popped in and out of your life in brief moments to check on you, now tell you to go live with two strangers and call them mama and papa. Go live in a hotel with them. Walk around each day looking for a new place to eat lunch. Wear the clothes they brought for you, which are not like the ones from your foster family. Let them help you dress, shower, brush your teeth, hold their hand, sit on their lap, and hear them say they love you. These strangers who you do not know. Do not trust. Do not understand.

Monica and Kelly are amazing. They have both been able to harness their feelings and experiences and start a new life, with a new family, in a new country. They are strong. They are happy. They love us and miss us and care about us. We are a family with them and it feels so right now, three years later. And though I’ve only know Diego for a week, I feel confident that he will fit right into the picture, as he was meant to be. He will rise to the occasion and take his cues from the rest of us, and learn to love us as we will learn to love him.

The process of legally becoming a bigger family begins today. Our Integracion went well. La Doctora was pleased with us as parents, and Diego as our son. She will go back to the office and write up a report of our first week together. Then our lawyer will submit our papers to the courts. While we wait, we’ll help Diego say his new last name, just as we did with the girls, so that in a few days, he can say, “Me llamo Diego Fernando Vander Veen!”