Viva La Colombia

Shudra Revolution

In India now . . .

Okay, so I finally got a chance to wander outside of the hotel and the office on Saturday!  I tried to upload some photographs, but was only partially successful because the bandwidth here is quite limited.  I promise to upload more as soon as I return home Monday.

I should first explain that our hotel is the a "good" part of Bombay.  The suburb name is Powaii and is only recently been built up as a part of office complex development and high rise development.  Good is a relative word here, since the poverty right outside my hotel is painfully clear.  The hotel complex is heavily guarded; no one guests in who is not a guest and guests NEVER leave the hotel on foot.  There isn't even a path to leave the hotel on foot -- only by car. 

Well, yesterday I left t he hotel on foot to explore the surrounding neighborhood.  I consider myself fairly well-traveled and not easily rattled; but, I have to say that I have never been more shocked than I was by my little excursion outside of the hotel.  I may as well have been from Mars -- the neighborhood occupants stared at me as though I were some sort of crazy person venturing into their neighborhood.  The women were friendly and smiled very sweetly.  I was even able to photograph a few  of them.  The children were hilarious!  They followed me around, whispering to themselves, I suspect, about my possible origin and clearly questionable mental state.  The men, well, they were just as shocked as anybody else and stared, too.  Although they appeared to be more offended than anything.

Although I'm sure that most of them have seen Americans before, perhaps they haven't seen one that glows in the dark, like I do. 

Yesterday, some of my co-workers took me to an orphanage outside of Mumbai that takes in street children.  There were approximately 20 boys who range in ages 5-17 there.  I got photographs of them and they were incredible.  One of the boys is 17 and is so smart!  He desperately wants to be an engineer.  Presently, our company sponsors this orphanage to ensure that the children are well-fed and clothed.  However, the orphanage does not have the financial resources to send all the children to school.  It's still unclear whether the young man will be able to go to University or will be turned out into the street when he reaches 18. 

The orphanage was extremely emotional for me.  I did lose it for a few minutes and started crying.  If even for a second I think about my own boys growing up in similar circumstances, my heart breaks.  The young man who wants to be an engineer stood up as we were leaving and in perfect English said an amazing "thank you" from the children.  I asked the boys what I could bring them next time:  candy? chocolate? clothes?  They all looked at me blankly and said, "nothing, we have everything here."  They have none of the material advantages in life, and yet, they are very happy with their circumstance. 

At the end, one boy relented after I pushed some more and finally asked if I could bring a few notebooks so that he could study more.  If that doesn't break your heart, then nothing will.  These boys now have a very special place in my heart.  Every trip that I make to Bombay, I have promised them that I will visit.  Despite the fact that they didn't ask for anything, I plan to bring some notebooks, pens and tennis shoes the next time I visit.  Perhaps even a DVD or two.  They bestowed upon me a card which said, "thank you, didi Earin." They did their best to spell my name right, but the meaningful part of the card is "didi", which means "sister" in Hindi. 

The orphanage visit has humbled me beyond belief.  Out of dire circumstances these children have forged a brotherhood among each other.  They have made the best out of their meager circumstances and created a family.  They have genuine affection for one another and all of them interestingly aspire to be professional cricket players! 

It's difficult to find a way to end this post, Bombay is beautiful city with much to offer, but I have seen and experienced things in this short visit that have changed me forever.

Okay, so I finally got a chance to wander outside of the hotel and the office on Saturday!  I tried to upload some photographs, but was only partially successful because the bandwidth here is quite limited.  I promise to upload more as soon as I return home Monday.

I should first explain that our hotel is the a "good" part of Bombay.  The suburb name is Powaii and is only recently been built up as a part of office complex development and high rise development.  Good is a relative word here, since the poverty right outside my hotel is painfully clear.  The hotel complex is heavily guarded; no one guests in who is not a guest and guests NEVER leave the hotel on foot.  There isn't even a path to leave the hotel on foot -- only by car. 

Well, yesterday I left t he hotel on foot to explore the surrounding neighborhood.  I consider myself fairly well-traveled and not easily rattled; but, I have to say that I have never been more shocked than I was by my little excursion outside of the hotel.  I may as well have been from Mars -- the neighborhood occupants stared at me as though I were some sort of crazy person venturing into their neighborhood.  The women were friendly and smiled very sweetly.  I was even able to photograph a few  of them.  The children were hilarious!  They followed me around, whispering to themselves, I suspect, about my possible origin and clearly questionable mental state.  The men, well, they were just as shocked as anybody else and stared, too.  Although they appeared to be more offended than anything.

Although I'm sure that most of them have seen Americans before, perhaps they haven't seen one that glows in the dark, like I do. 

Yesterday, some of my co-workers took me to an orphanage outside of Mumbai that takes in street children.  There were approximately 20 boys who range in ages 5-17 there.  I got photographs of them and they were incredible.  One of the boys is 17 and is so smart!  He desperately wants to be an engineer.  Presently, our company sponsors this orphanage to ensure that the children are well-fed and clothed.  However, the orphanage does not have the financial resources to send all the children to school.  It's still unclear whether the young man will be able to go to University or will be turned out into the street when he reaches 18. 

The orphanage was extremely emotional for me.  I did lose it for a few minutes and started crying.  If even for a second I think about my own boys growing up in similar circumstances, my heart breaks.  The young man who wants to be an engineer stood up as we were leaving and in perfect English said an amazing "thank you" from the children.  I asked the boys what I could bring them next time:  candy? chocolate? clothes?  They all looked at me blankly and said, "nothing, we have everything here."  They have none of the material advantages in life, and yet, they are very happy with their circumstance. 

At the end, one boy relented after I pushed some more and finally asked if I could bring a few notebooks so that he could study more.  If that doesn't break your heart, then nothing will.  These boys now have a very special place in my heart.  Every trip that I make to Bombay, I have promised them that I will visit.  Despite the fact that they didn't ask for anything, I plan to bring some notebooks, pens and tennis shoes the next time I visit.  Perhaps even a DVD or two.  They bestowed upon me a card which said, "thank you, didi Earin." They did their best to spell my name right, but the meaningful part of the card is "didi", which means "sister" in Hindi. 

The orphanage visit has humbled me beyond belief.  Out of dire circumstances these children have forged a brotherhood among each other.  They have made the best out of their meager circumstances and created a family.  They have genuine affection for one another and all of them interestingly aspire to be professional cricket players! 

It's difficult to find a way to end this post, Bombay is beautiful city with much to offer, but I have seen and experienced things in this short visit that have changed me forever.

Two can be as bad as One

Erin from PCOS Baby made a special request that I talk about the last leg of our trip and I'm happy to oblige . . .

Well, the last week of our time in Bogota was really tough.  There were several things that delayed the process of our paperwork including a court strike the first week, elections held the second week and a lazy lawyer.  Starting late in the fourth week, we were told we would have the final papers "tomorrow."  And everyday our rep would call and say, "not today, but maybe tomorrow." 

Constantly hearing a refrain of "tomorrow" can wear on gal and I started to get paranoid.  All sorts of crazy thoughts ran through my head, including the idea that maybe our paperwork wouldn't be processed at all and we would have to leave sans baby.  I know, crazy talk. 

Our original (and super cheap) tickets were booked for Friday, March 31.  Of course, we didn't get Sentencia until Thursday morning, which meant that I could not fly back with Michael on the original ticket.  Since this week is Holy Week in Colombia, every Colombian and his cousin takes the opportunity to leave the country on holiday.  This meant there were No. Tickets. Out. Of. Bogota.  In an act of utter desperation, I called another airline and booked a first class one-way ticket.  I'm not exaggerating when I say this was the last ticket out of the country for weeks.  It cost me a week's salary and it was worth every credit-wrecking penny. 

The flights were uneventful.  Michael slept and ate and slept and ate.  I sat next to some very interesting people, which is always helpful on long flights.  We arrived home on Saturday night to a hearty greeting at the airport with family.  We spent the night in a hotel and made the four-hour trek home in a very crowded van. 

Monday, I was back at work.  Now, I've received a lot of guffaws from this, but in my defense -- I was alone with two children in ONE ROOM for six weeks.  I'm more than happy to be back at work with a purpose and with a little time to focus on the things at which I am good. 

Will we go for a third?  Probably.  I know I said just one short week ago that we were never going to do this again; I'm already starting with the amnesia.  Our rep really pulled through for us at the last minute and she pleasantly surprised us with how hard she worked to get me and M out of Bogota before the weekend. 

M has adjusted beautifully and in true American fashion, is gaining weight like Incredible Growing Boy.  I don't even know what to say about Nicolas -- he is an extraordinary child.  At each new curve we throw him, I expect certain set-backs.  He's having none of that.  Nicolas has transitioned like a champ.  This morning, I asked him to grab his nukie and blankie for daycare and he looked at me and said, "No. I no need it. I leave it here. Okay?" 

Umm, okay.

For the long-term readers out there, you'll be happy to know that you can take the Swiffer away from the boy, but you can't take the love of Swiffering out of the boy -- Monday morning, Nicolas resumed his Swiffering duties forthwith.  Photos soon. 

And there was much drunken revelry!

The great Infertile Midwestern Blogfest was held this past weekend at the fantastically hip abode of Alexa.  A good time was had by all, except Julia, because some sort of awful virus/bacterial badness plagued her hearth and home.

Alexa did an amazing post that sums up some of my thoughts on the fabulouso evening.  Mostly we talked about our cooters and the various RE's we have in common.  I was humored into tears no less than six times.  Bloggers in person are COOL.  Oh, and the drinks. . . !  Molly makes an amazing Mojito, complete with fresh mint.  I highly recommend her bar tending services for all your blogging festivities.  She is a veritable liquor-pouring virtuoso. 

I was forced to prematurely break open the hostess's gift bottle due to my embarrassing mix-up on the days.  One simply must drink after such an incident.   To Alexa:  I.O.U. one bottle of fancy Amaretto. 

Dooneybug and Mr. Dooneybug have a truly romantic story.  Of course, everyone else's story seems romantic when you met your husband in a country bar.  Dooney was unfortunately unable to indulge in libations, but did manage to contribute some amazingly funny stories about being subjected to Midwestern "politeness."  I [heart] Southern hospitality. 

MsPrufrock was there in spirit, as we eagerly consumed the luscious pear drops from Marks and Spencer.  Let me just say: YUM.  While the British aren't exactly known for their culinary delights, they make some wicked-good candy. 

I tried to remember some great quotes from the evening; however, my mojito-memory fails me.  I do, however, remember this particularly interesting one:

When I was thirteen I read far too much existentialist philosophy.  -- Alexa, while reflecting upon her impressively misspent youth.  Some girls have all the fun.

Sad news

I learned last night that one of my college roommates (and a dear friend!) lost everything, including the house, in a tornado that struck our area this week.  They will have to rebuild.  In the meantime, winter is approaching and they are staying with her husband's parents. 

Doctor's Orders

My Dad is a feisty Scottish kinda guy.  He doesn't like to follow rules.  Especially doctor's rules. 

On Wednesday, my Dad had surgery to remove a growth from his eye.  Because I am a dutiful and caring daughter (and I had court in a nearby town, so my client paid the mileage,) I rushed to be by my Dad's bedside in his time of need.  Or not. 

Following the surgery, my Dad was supposed to wear a patch on his eye.  He was also instructed not to drive, golf or generally move about. 

Imagine my surprise when my Dad calls me from the doctor's office on Thursday to tell me he's been out golfing with Cousin Jimmy.  Cousin Jimmy is a bit slow because of a childhood illness.  Dad let Cousin Jimmy drive the golf cart.  Cousin Jimmy doesn't even have a driver's license.  Does anyone see where this is going?

Cousin Jimmy drove the cart into a pine tree.  And Dad broke his nose.  And scratch his cornea.  In the bad eye. 

Guess what my Dad is doing today? 

Golfing. 

London

I have been following the news the last couple of days, lest everyone think that I never watch current events. 

It just came to my attention that one of the tube stations that was bombed was the Russell Square station.  The Russel Square stop is very non-descript.  You have to use an elevator to get to the platform.  Everyone sort of bustles into the industrial-looking elevator and it descends into the London underground. 

Outside the Russell Square tube stop is a great little antique shop -- my first experience with London merchants.  On the main avenue outside the stop is Russell Square, name for Lord Russell.  His son, Bertrand Russell, the famous mathematician and philosopher authored Principia Mathematica, Why I am not a Christian and the History of Western Philosophy.  Russell was also a part of the Bloomsbury group, also host to famous personalities including Virginia Woolf, Vanessa Bell and John Maynard Keynes.

If you walk a bit further down the street, there is my favorite pub, the Falkland Arms.  I can't estimate how many times I walked in and out of the Russell Square tube stop.  As a student, I stood next to folks on there way to work, maybe they were shopping, maybe they were on their way home.  And now, some of them are gone. 

London, I hope you recover quickly and gracefully from this crisis, as you always do.