6/28/07
Sleep came surprising easy that night considering the content of the day ahead. I don’t think that the reality had really set in. Yes, we were excited to see Ana, but the reality of flying (for the first time) to a foreign country, and the logistics involved with that had somewhat stolen the spotlight. Feeling fairly proud of ourselves we emptied our bags of zip locked clothing, and fell asleep. With Abel picking us up at 8:30, Jen and I had several things to accomplish before we went to the orphanage. Job one, breakfast. Our stay came with a free breakfast buffet at the hotels “Las Vistas” restaurant. The food looked fabulous, but was it SAFE? Jen ate very little that morning. Was it wisdom/caution, or the first sign of nerves about what the day held? She did manage to snag two boxes of “Azucaritas” (Spanish Frosted Flakes) for the kids, not much for herself. I, on the other hand decided to “embrace” the culture and show my acceptance through consumption. Spanish-style eggs, sweet breads, and fresh cut fruit…it was all good. I do think, however, that we were both holding our breath to see how my innards would accept the foreign made items. Even if the food was going to tear-up my insides, we did have a gorgeous place to dine. The hostess seated us on the veranda overlooking the pool area. The cool thing about Guatemala was that most of the buildings were open to the weather this time of year…it is so mild, and we didn’t notice any insects about. After breakfast, we tried to get a phone card to call Holland and check in, but the store was temporarily out. We exchanged $100 of U.S. currency for a whopping 750 Quetzals of Guatemalan currency. This would be used for lunches and other local shopping. We used the extra time before 8:30 to discover a baby lounge on the 3rd floor and drag the donations back down to be loaded up.
Abel was early, as is customary… We loaded up the back of the van and headed to the Westin, a half mile away to pick-up another family on their first visit. From the Westin came a couple, their 2 ½ year old adopted son, and an elderly couple (presumed grandparents). Alan and Leanne from Virginia were here to see their new son, Alex, and had brought Alan’s parents and their little boy, Daniel along for the trip. We then shoved off and began a short but twisting drive through Guatemala City. It was then that I noticed that cross streets were not always built at the same level as intersecting streets and that speed bump could show up anywhere. There was also a distinct absence of street sign other than a rare traffic signal. The traffic on the way to the orphanage was nothing particularly noteworthy, but the return trip was another story.
Our arrival at Hannah’s Hope was greeted by the guards standing outside of the gated villas (6 or 7 houses), which took me by surprise. It was then that I notice the razor wire coiled along the rooftops and fence tops. Everyone began to walk through the gate to the main office. I hurriedly tried to get the boxes out of the van and inside the gates. I was still under the impression that anything left unattended would immediately disappear into a dark alley of Guatemala…I would soon loose that sense of mistrust. It must have been quite a sight to see me sprinting to get the boxes up to the house, one at a time since they were too heavy to carry in multiples. We were set in a family room with two couches and a coffee table. We were then greeted by Gaby who manages the office there in some capacity. She shared with us the basics of our schedule for the day and then was ready to lead us to the houses that our children were in, but there was one more thing. Dr. Castro, the great defender of those little babies wanted to speak with each family for a brief moment regarding health precautions before we got to pick up the baby. He had greater concerns for the Prothe’s baby, because he was only a week or so old, and was born several week premature. He sent them on their way to pick-up Alex…wearing surgical masks! Was he going to ask us to meet our long-awaited child with a mask on? He brought us in to his office and began to share his frustration with Oregon for sending families down to see children that were so young and susceptible. He then assured us that Ana was perfectly healthy, in fact, unusually strong for the age and circumstances. He then ordered us to remove all rings and watches and monitored our hand washing efforts, of which Jenifer received additional coaching from the good doctor.
Ana was in “Casa #5 para Bebes”. I don’t remember if Gabi walked with us into the house or not, but I remember that we had no problem finding Ana. The next few minutes were even hazier than all that had come before them. We stayed and hugged, kissed, and wept on the little girl for several minutes. I then noticed the 3-4 special mothers in the house watching and smiling over our special moment. We were then expected to bring Ana back to the main office for more meetings. Upon our return Gabi continued to talk with us about the details of the daily schedule for the children as well as what we could and could not expect in the coming months from the orphanage. Honestly, Gabi could have said about anything without our notice. How were we supposed to pay attention to information we could have just read when we have our new baby in our lap?!? As she spoke with us, a blonde-haired woman in jeans and a tank top waltzed in and interrupted to introduce herself. I didn’t need to listen to her at all…Jen was elbowing me and whispering “That’s Jan Beazley, oh my gosh…”. The founder of AGCI was stopping in to do some “decorating” in one of the orphan homes. As long as her daughter, Heather, was state-side, she thought it good timing to make a trip down and take care of some of the work she obviously had fun doing. She also introduced and older friend, Dory, well in her seventies, who had come down to “hang out” with Jan and provide another eye in the decorating process. Meeting the baby of our prayers and the author of the book which inspired this adoption all in a matter of a few minutes…Wow!
By 11 o’clock we had “returned to Earth”, and it was a good thing. We were introduced to the legal team. They had us sign our power of attorney, after a reprint to correct Jen’s middle name which they had down as “Kristina”. Once that was done, we had time just to focus on Ana. A bottle had come and diapers needed to be changed.
Eventually, Ashley asked us if we wanted lunch. My answer was a definitive YES! When I am stressed I burn the calories a little bit quicker. When given options by Ashley, the Prothes jumped at the option of Dominos (of all things!). Thirty minutos o Gratis! So to keep things simple, we went along with the idea…Jen was still too delirious with joy to notice any hunger pangs. It was crazy how quick it came, delivered by a man on a motorcycle! One hundred and forty quetzals later, I had made my first transaction in local money, and secured nourishment for two families. I must admit, Dominos had never tasted that good stateside.
After a team of four other women came to see us in the living room. They were responsible for working with the mothers in the Promise of Life program. They were all sweet and loving mom-types. In particular, a woman named Lily stood out. Her job was to translate during the meetings of the birthmothers, but it seemed her relationship with the mothers was a close one. She indicated that she knew “Vicky” (Ana Victoria, Ana’s birth mother) very well. She warned us- “She is a crier”, but also assured us that she made it to all of here prenatal appointments.
After the POL crew moved out, cabin fever set in. Jen and I could not wait for Ashley’s tour any longer. We wanted to explore the orphanage. We walked down the ramp toward the children’s homes and down an alley of stairs to reach the “back yard” where the orphanage children (ages 3-6) played. They were playing kickball with a basketball and having a great time. In broken Spanish, I asked one of the 4-5 special mothers if we could bring some things down for the kids. They were enthusiastic. Since I was holding Ana, Jen quickly ran back to the office, where the toys were stashed. She nearly tripped over Sam, the orphanage’s golden retriever. The kids began to sing songs to show appreciation. We brought beach balls, suckers, small bags of candy for each kid, bible story books (in Spanish), jump ropes, and some recorder flutes. They were all a hit! I got it all on video. What a treat that was for us to witness and be a part of. Next time will be even grander. I think that Jen and I enjoyed that moment even more than the kids. For the rest of the afternoon, we alternated between sitting in the living room, and walking out in the grey, hazy afternoon breezes.
Abel then arrived to take us back to the Marriot. We took Ana back to her bedroom wearing one of the many outfits that Jen brought to play “dress-up” with her. On the return trip to the Marriot, I became more aware of everything in the landscape. The trip there was too clouded with anticipation to have paid too much attention to the directions or surroundings. For the first time I recognized that Hannah’s Hope was built on the side of a huge hill. I had realized that the HH was terraced into a hill, but the streets that lead to the cul-de-sac of the compound was a LONG and very STEEP road, including a speed bump that Abel’s van needed to immediately hop while turning out of the cul-de-sac and heading UP the hill. Once out of the neighborhood setting and through the run-down former commercial district, we got on to the major thoroughfare into the city. This was bumper to bumper. Jen was amazed by the density of the vehicles on the street. Then she became startled by the motorcyclists that made their own lane on the white lines between the cars! Abel was not an aggressive driver, but he was not shy or afraid to communicate with his horn either. Being passive would have not gotten us anywhere. I also recognized that the car could communicate a variety of messages, and Abel was the master of making the horn express his sentiments. While waiting in the traffic jam to get through one of two tunnels, Abel and the other family we were with gave us the needed encouragement to explore some the artisans and shops near the hotel for some souvenirs for back home. We pulled in to the circle drive at the Marriot and decided to get our room changed to the king-size bedroom that we had originally reserved (They had to put us in a room with two double beds the first night). After making the switch, we shed all unneeded bags and such and decided that we would venture out into the city in search of gifts for Michigan. We had been endlessly warned about pick-pockets and panhandlers, so we went with a healthy dose of apprehension. Additionally, once outside the fenced in circle drive of the Marriot, it was strikingly obvious that WE WEREN’T FROM AROUND HERE. With many bus stops on the first block, many locals looked us over casually. It was also obvious that Jen was feeling uncomfortable due to her deliberate and lightening-like pace she moved at. Before getting to the McDonalds at the corner we decided that practically running down the sidewalk would only make us look like easy targets and that a casual walk involving light conversation would appear more confident (and less afraid).
We walked in to the first local gift shop that we came across. It was a red adobe-style building with open doorways. The walls were covered with blankets, paintings, and shelves of clothing items. The floor was packed with long table stacked high with t-shirts and many other handmade items. The man inside the store was a large, friendly fellow with a thick mustache and a heavy shadow of a beard. In my best Spanish I asked him if he preferred dollars or quetzals. He responded with a hearty “yes”. From then on, he always gave us prices in dollars because we noticed that NOTHING in the store had a price tag on it! From the very start, we recognized that prices here were significantly cheaper than in the hotel store. “Camisas para los ninos son 5 dollar.”(T-shirts for kids are 5 dollars.) Wow, that was about a third of what they were asking in the hotel. These Dutch folk had found their source of souvenirs. We began more actively searching through all of the various “displays”. We first hit the t-shirt table and looked for shirts for Joel and Grace. We began sifting through the piles, with the kind store owner always nearby wanting to facilitate our buying. We found shirts for them and Caden too. Finding one for Greg was tough for Jen and so we decided to move on. Next were the handmade clothes. We had decided that we wanted to get a dress for both Ana and Grace, so that was the next pile to sort through. The colors and embroidery were all so beautiful. In the end we bought two dresses for Ana and a dress and sleeveless blouse for Grace….all hand embroidered for only “12 dollar” each. One was a beautiful blue dress with the embroidery of the traffic spectacle known as a “chicken bus” that hauls many locals (and occasionally livestock) into the city for a days work. Long before we made the trip we thought that it would be special to have Ana baptized in clothing from her native country. Amazingly enough, there was still more of this tiny store that we hadn’t explored yet. We discovered some miniature replicas of the Guatemalan flag. A pile began to develop on the counter…we had found a store safely, that we were comfortable in (being the only customers), and the prices seemed to be good, a good combination for these foreigners (and the store owner). We then picked up some Guatemalan coffee beans for the moms back home as well as the Garls. We then took one last stroll through the three aisles and I went to pay. While I began the check-out process, Jen became engaged with another store clerk (who appeared, undetected) over a large hand bag. The gal began the dealing process by saying: “Today you have it 20 dollar, tomorrow 40!”. Jen graciously begged off, but the clerk persisted a few more times in a valiant attempt to tack on to our bill. Five t-shirts, four dresses, three pounds of coffee, one Guatemalan flag (made of silk, no less), and oh yes, a change purse for Gracie…all for 89 bucks (I think). After all of that was packaged up, the man took a 3”x5” oil painting off of the wall and asked “You like?”. I nodded, as I gave Jen “the eye”. What was he doing? Is he trying to sell me one more thing? Or is he trying to GIVE us something? He began shuffling around behind the counter to look for a piece of brown paper. He carefully wrapped the canvas painting, “Its Antigua” he said. He had shown us a great appreciation for our business…a jester that means more now, than it did at the time. Though the little paintings were not on our shopping list at the time, it has already found a nice place within our home. A great memory of all the kindness we experienced while in the foreign land.
We then took our small garbage bag of goods back to the hotel. Jen looked at me and smugly said “I’m pretty proud of myself” referring to her braving the city streets. I had to seize the opportunity to remind her that we had only walked two blocks from the security of the Marriot! We both chuckled at ourselves. We were then approached by a man trying to hock some jewelry--- “Mister, its jade!”. “No, gracias.” I said as Jen picked up the pace.
Once back to the hotel we quickly shed our sweaty duds and put on some shorts and a t-shirt for a few minutes of exercise in the exercise room. The humorous part of that experience was that all of the televisions were tuned to a station showing “big time wrestling” from Mexico. Unfortunately, it is not any more mature or believable than its U.S. counterpart, just that the masked men had Spanish names. I just put my head down and pedaled a quick twenty minutes to earn a dip in the pool that waited outside for us. After re-hydrating with a bottle of water from the hotel store, we made our way to the pool deck. The pool area was buzzing with sports fans sitting at the cabana and bar watching the U.S. versus Argentina soccer game. The Guatemalans take their soccer very seriously. We did not trouble with swimming attire (just went in our work-out clothes), it was already dark out, so who would know? Jen walked right in to the pool and then proclaimed “If I am walking right in, you know that it is warm!”. She was right. In fact, it was perhaps too warm for my taste…my showers are typically cooler than that. We did enjoy the therapy and relaxation that came with the floating about. The stars were just showing up now that it was about 7:30. We found it strange how dark it became so early, and how early the sun would rise again (~5:30ish). While floating and chatting, we began talking with a local man, Walter. He had just finished a game of squash at the racquet club there at the hotel. He seemed intrigued with our impressions of Guatemala and where we had come from. He then asked if I played squash...indeed I had to admit that squash was not a common American pastime, but that I had certainly heard of it and that I would liken it to something that we call racquetball. From there, he became nearly insistent that I look him up on Friday and that he would take me through a game of squash. How could I graciously bow out of such an offer? Uh, uh, don’t we have to have a meal with someone from the agency tomorrow? He let it drop by simply saying, “If you want to, just ask someone for Walter, that’s me.”. From his good English, and his final statement, I got the feeling that he may have been a well known employee of the hotel. We did not see Walter the next day, much to my relief.
We toweled off and headed back to our room to shower and prepare for dinner. We stopped by Las Vistas, where we had breakfast earlier in the day to see what they were serving. A buffet! The hostess said that they served until 10 o’clock because Guatemalans like to eat dinner late. I guess the old phrase held true for us, “when in Rome…” A shower and clean clothes felt good. Though not adventurous, eating at the hotel restaurant sounded like a good idea. At this point, it was dark (meaning that taking to the streets in search of a restaurant was ill-advised), and that the food to this point hadn’t made either of us ill, the convenience seemed to out-weigh the higher price we would pay. We had a great meal of fine meats, vegetables, made to order stir fry, and lots of fresh fruit. We had a quiet corner on the veranda, which made it that much more worth it! Adjacent to our table was a beautiful tile fountain with a lions head spitting a stream of water from the wall…it looked like the fountain from the movie “The Terminal”, a movie that came to mind several time during our air travelJ. The breezes were divine, and it was a shear pleasure to wait for the bill. We sat and enjoyed the surroundings as we recounted the day’s events and prepared for the day ahead. Eventually we retired to our room where we collected the things that we wanted to take for Ana Victoria (Vicky) and quickly wrote down notes of questions that we wanted to ask upon returning to the orphanage. We then brushed teeth in shifts, because one of us forgot her toothbrush, and we had to share the responsible party’s instrument of oral hygiene. Jen then found “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” on television with Spanish subtitles. We laughed as we watched the plot unfold. Soon I noticed that Jen was not laughing anymore. She was out---COLD! I set the alarm, took one last look at the city from the vantage point of our balcony, and decided to sleep as well.
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