The Waiting City
I woke up at about seven o’clock that morning not feeling so great. Then it hit me, “Why did you only eat three spoonfuls of peanut butter yesterday, Collette?” Idiot.
Anyway, we took the morning slow. Yali, recovered from his brief 1:45AM terror of not remembering where he was and tugging on Oxbear’s beard for reassurance, spent a very long time eating breakfast and fully examining the picture book Gloria had passed along to him. Meanwhile, Oxbear played some Minecraft with Puck, long-distance, a surprise bonus he had cooked up for him.
Then our interpreter arrived at eleven to discuss our first 21 hours with Yali and some questions about his medical appointments, his past convulsions I learned about for the first time yesterday – unpleasant surprise, etc.
At this point, it felt like we had been gone for weeks. If only the court system didn’t take forever, we would know our return date. There are few things more disconcerting than explaining to the customs officer in a foreign airport that, “No, we don’t know when we’re going home yet.”
Our interpreter concluded the conversation with, “I am free to help you any day this week, but not after Saturday morning. Colombia is playing Argentina. Football is big here, you know?”
After our conversation, we shopped a little. Our interpreter informed us it would be safe if we didn’t talk to anyone on the streets.
Two shirts and a pair of shorts for Joe in the shopping center. Not cheap, but he needed something besides the clothes on his back. Then a few groceries: granola bars, milk, apple juice, and laundry detergent for about twelve dollars. Food is, at least, mostly inexpensive.
We caved and ate lunch at the hotel restaurant. Yali and I split a toasted ham and cheese, some fries, and passionfruit juice. The kid’s got an appetite; he’s got nothing on his big brother, but that’s like comparing the appetite of a mouse with the appetite of a panda bear at this point.
While the boys napped – somehow; not sure I could last through paper-thin windows of endless traffic, car horns, sirens, and loud Spanish music – I took advantage of the reduction in activity to do a little research for Friday morning’s podcast. Yes, Carrie-Bri and I decided to try it via some Skype patch job.
Oxbear ordered room service for dinner. Yali went to town on the sandwich cut into triangles, and fries. But in the middle of devouring the pieces I passed to him, he realized someone else hadn’t eaten yet. Picking up one of the triangles in his little hand, he gave it to Oxbear.
No tears tonight at bedtime for Yali. He was feeling safe.