Friday Morning, Florencia

[From Michael] If everything comes off without a hitch in our two meetings today, this will be our second-to-last morning in this vibrant equatorial town. I have to say, I think I will miss it. We stand out like proverbial sore thumbs, and interesting (read: odd, scary) things happen, but it is a city full of big-hearted people who are surprisingly kind. I say this not because I expect them to be UN-kind, but because they appear so stern on the outside. Two examples:

The nighttime hotel/bar manager is a slender, middle-aged guy that looks like he stepped out of a Godfather movie. Slick black hair, very stern expression, penetrating eyes when I try to communicate our desires. Explaining that we wanted to have dinners sent to our room was a major negotiation, as I only knew “cena” and “piso de arriba,” or “dinner” and “upstairs.” But he has become a great caretaker for us. Our two oldest left their watches at the pool, as pre-teens are wont to do. The next morning they were gone. Yesterday, he called me over to the bar and gestured at his wrist and said, “Perdia?” Surprised, I said “Si. Dos relojs, gris y rosada.” (Two watches, gray and pink.) He reached above the bar and pulled them out of a Chivas box! Now when he sees Georgia running around he grins broadly, and it completely transforms his stern expression.

Second example: We have two cleaning ladies, and while one has been very friendly, the second is usually very stern. She has an almost perpetual scowl. In discussing the contents of the fridge with her (yes, I admitted to drinking the two missing cans of Heineken) I discovered she was deaf. Later, Joie had an interesting conversation with her with the aid of the translator and pencil and paper. She wondered could she have one of Georgia’s disposable diapers (we still don’t know why), and where we were from, and what we were doing. Since then she has been very animated and has even smiled—twice—at me. Yesterday she and the other cleaning lady came into our room and watched Georgia as she watched “Finding Nemo” on the computer’s DVD player—they were amazed.

[Now in the afternoon…] It’s siesta time. Georgia, Braden, and Kelly Johanna are napping or about to nap. We had a brief meeting at the magistrate’s office. With four signatures apiece from Joie and I the judge informed us that Kelly Johanna was now officially our daughter. Very simple: five people in a small, air-conditioned room, a few signatures, and we went from four to five. It was a very potent moment for me, as the judge, our lawyer Oscar, Carlos, and the rest of us shook hands and said congratulations. Kelly was mostly unmoved. I think the transition happened, for her, the afternoon she said goodbye to her foster mother, Mrs. Ramos, and now the rest of us were catching up with the change in her life.

For lunch we took Carlos to his favorite restaurant, where we had piles of chicken, chorizos, plantanos, and beans and rice. Carlos, Kelly, and I all ate like pigs. The heat is too much for Braden, Georgia needed her nap, and Joie has a bit of an upset stomach, so they couldn’t quite keep up.

We have one more meeting this afternoon—the “registration meeting”—and then everything is official, as far as the Colombian government is concerned. After that, Oscar the lawyer is taking everyone to dinner, including 2-3 of the ladies from ICBF. Oscar seems to know everyone, has a great reputation, and no qualms about pushing a little of his weight around to get things done. We were told three times that we would not be able to leave until next Wednesday, but it looks like we’ll catch our flight tomorrow AM, Saturday, back to Bogota. Thanks to Oscar. He has a very gregarious and hearty personality, and does this work (adoption) because he likes the outcome rather than for the money.

Signing off for now--