The Rainbow Connection

It's impossible to walk around Colombia and not see the bright splashes of color around every corner. When Americans first step foot in Cartagena, one of their first comments is that they love how colorful this city is. The colors of the houses, apartments, administration buildings, busses, and schools span the entire rainbow spectrum. I agree- I wish cities in the States had half the amount of colors Colombian cities have, but this blog is not about the colors of buildings. This blog is about the color diversity of the people living here in Cartagena.

I immediately felt more comfortable in my skin living here in Cartagena. Growing up, I always looked different- not just in the classroom or on the swim team, but also in my family. Our family lived in a white neighborhood. I stood out in everything I did...in school, on the soccer team, taking music lessons, in girl scouts, or just walking around with my family. You get used to looking different, but i loved when my family or friends would go somewhere and they would be in the minority. I didn't feel so different when there were people around who looked like me.

The first time I came to Colombia, I couldn't explain why I felt so comfortable. I felt like it was a 2nd home. Now I understand why I felt that way. I felt comfortable in my skin- it's a hard feeling to explain, but I know most of you have felt the same at one point in your life. I fit in here...at least when it comes to appearance. I love how Colombian's skin color ranges from every color in between white and black- it's beautiful. The lighter colors are a result of the Europeans and Spanish who were here during colonial times (beginning in 1533). There are tons of international ex pats who have moved from all over the world to live in this beautiful country, which just adds to the diversity found here.

Colors make a city beautiful, in my opinion. But it's important how the people who represent those colors are treated. Many who visit may not realize that there is a strict social stratum here, which is assigned via neighborhood. The lower your stratum number - 0, 1- the lower your social status and income. Most of my friends from Colombia fall into stratum 1. Now, stratums don't necessarily denote color, but more often than not, people tend to subconsciously assign your stratum number based on your color. This holds true in many countries, unfortunately, and Colombia is not so different. I feel that the social stratum that the government places on neighborhoods in Colombia works against social integration. While I do feel less racism here than say...a small town in Texas, I still do feel it.

I am clearly not white, but I'm a darker shade of brown (at least while here since I'm constantly getting tons of sun). There have been many times that I have been treated poorly, overlooked, ignored, frowned upon, etc, just because of the stigma attached to my color (here and in the States). It usually occurs when I walk around a fancy hotel, nice restaurant, or upscale store. I hate to admit that while here in Colombia, I have learned to use my background as a weapon against racism toward my skin color. All I have to do to change their opinion on me is speak in English. Immediately, I am brought back up to at least stratum 5 (there are only 6 stratums). It's almost sickening how quickly I'm re-classified. Really, who says it's fair to be treated like an insignificant human being just because of one's color or income (or language for that matter)? In the States, it's sometimes harder for me to distinguish this discrimination because people won't treat me any differently if I speak English or not- that's expected. Being able to speak English here is a mark of wealth.

While I was aware that racial discrimination is a world-wide issue, I had hoped that the wide array of colors represented in Cartagena would lessen the occurrence of such a superficial concept. Though it may be less prominent in other cities within Colombia, in Cartagena, where store employees and hotel staff are constantly trying to rope in their preferred clients (stratum 3-6), racism is alive and painful. Even though I'm disappointed in the way I'm treated by certain people, I feel comfortable in my skin here as I'm not in the minority anymore. It is nice to see so many colors represented in Colombia.

Which Path Are You Following?

I don't have much time to jot down my feelings, but I felt the need to write a quick blog this morning. I know its been awhile since I've written; I've had a lot of feelings to deal with that I'm still not sure I'm ready to share on this blog. It's hard exposing myself to everyone as I go through emotion after emotion. That being said, I hope those who still read my blog aren't disappointed by my recent lack of exposure.

I have to say, I never believed in fate more than I do now. In Colombia, every time I follow my gut, follow my real feelings and desires, I end up exactly where I feel I should be. The past few days I decided to follow a new path, conquer new fears, and do things I've never done before but have always wondered about. My path lead me to a few people and experiences I will not soon forget. While I don't have time to retell everything, I thought one meeting in particular might be interesting to a few (especially those who know my entire adoption search story). 

The end of the new path I took two nights ago, lead me to a bar last night that I had not been to in several months. It was 3am and the group I was with wanted to hear salsa music. I wanted to show my new friend the view from this bar's window on the 2nd floor. I had taken a picture from that same window exactly a year ago when I came to Cartagena for the first time and that view has always been magical to me. There's just something about the smokey lighting that permeates through the Passageway of the Martyrs and finds its way to the Clock Tower entrance to the Old City that gives me a feeling of peace and happiness. I glanced at a woman sitting right where I was hoping to sit. She yelled something to her mate who was inside the bar and caught my eye. I did a double-take. "No, it couldn't be," I thought. "But maybe...?" I immediately turned to this new friend of mine who already knows more about me than you could imagine, and began to tell him that she looked exactly like this woman I had been communicating with about my adoption last year. I didn't get the whole sentence out though before something within me kicked me forward to just say something to this woman. 

She looked at me, noticing that I had been staring at her, and apologized, asking if I wanted to stand in the area she was in. I shook my head, and bent down to where she was sitting. I said, "No, no...it's just that I thought you were this woman named Alina." Her eyes lit up and said, "I AM Alina!!" I couldn't hold back. The same feelings that I had experienced for the first time last month came rushing back and I couldn't help but cry. For those of you who don't know, Alina is who I am named after. My first name, before I was adopted, was Alina Marin. I got Marin from my birth mother and Alina from a woman who worked at Chiquitines, the orphanage I lived in for 3 months of my life. Alina was around 20 years old when I was born and her position was similar to that of an Office Manager. She was the owner's daughter and spoke the most English of anyone at Chiquitines. Alina communicated with my parents via snail mail about me. 

As I've said in previous posts, my mom saved almost every single letter and piece of information she could from my adoption. Last year at Christmas she gave me a booklet of everything she had saved- pictures, letters, documents, case statements, etc. It was one of the best Christmas gifts I'd ever gotten. :) I started picking through the details and decided to try to find Alina Hleap by Googling her. I found out through Google that she is a movie producer and I even found her email address. I emailed her, hoping it was the same Alina Hleap, and I lucked out. We almost met a year ago because she was in Cartagena for the International Film Festival (an annual Festival that's in Cartagena now) while I was visiting for the first time. We never did find a moment to meet, which was disappointing at the time, but maybe it was for a reason. 

Alina, as she herself told me last night, held me in her arms the first 3 months of my life. She explained to my friend that she felt like she had been my mother those 3 months. Finding her meant a lot to me. I couldn't stop thanking her for all that she did for me as a baby. Without a place like Chiquitines, I don't know where I'd be or if I'd even be alive. Meeting her was like meeting my birth mom again. It was very emotional for both of us. She kept asking how I knew it was her. While I've seen her main Facebook photo, I really didn't know her face well. I don't know how to explain it, but it was the same feeling I got when I saw my birth mother for the first time- I just knew. 

The night couldn't have ended any better. Things just keep coming in full circles. I don't know where this path started or where it might end, but I'm fully enjoying this journey and I hope I continue to really listen to myself since it seems that I'm finding my way.
(Pic above of yellow brick road from Wizard of Oz) 

Together Again

As soon as we heard that they had found my birth mom, I rushed to Raul's wife to thank and hug her for all her help. George, the taxi driver, had already started the car, and Monica and I hopped in before we realized we hadn't paid our internet bill. We jumped out to pay them the $3,000 COP ($1.50 US), which I don't think they were expecting, and piled back in the car. Raul and another man, who seemed to come out of nowhere, hopped on a motorcycle to lead us up the insanely steep hill to my mom. Within the first few minutes, their motorcycle stopped and Raul talked briefly to a woman who had been walking briskly down the hill in our direction. The motorcycle continued up the hill, but this lady waved us to stop. George, again, asked the question of the day, "Do you know Teodora Marin Cabezas?" And for the first time, we received a positive response. "Yeah, she lives up the street...but who's looking," she asked as she peered in our cab? She was holding a cell phone, and I had a strong feeling she had my birth mom on the phone at that moment. Monica was sitting in the seat nearest her, so she quickly replied, "a family member."


As we continued our ascent up the rocky, dirt road, my heart was racing, and I was trying every means possible to calm myself down. I fought the fear and I fought the urge to cry, but I welcomed the excitement. For those 5 minutes it took the climb the hill, our cab's wheels worked as hard as they could to grip the road below, and I worked as hard as I could to remember what I was going to say to her. It seemed as if everything I had thought of before had slipped out of my memory; I couldn't remember anything. I decided to focus on the first sentence I'd say to her and how to say it without crying.


The motorcycle finally parked on the curve of the road at what seemed to be the top of the hill. I looked out the window and saw a woman walking down stone stairs. Even though she was quite far away, I knew it was my birth mom. I didn't have a clear view of her face, but I could just sense it. I felt the tears pushing their hardest, trying to be set free, but I wouldn't let them out. I kept repeating the first sentence in my head, but it was getting harder and harder to concentrate.


Finally, my birth mom was right in front of me and without a second's delay, I blurted out (while crying-doh!), "Hi,myname'sAlicia,Iwasborn28yearsagoandwasadoptedfromanorphanagenamedChiquitines.IthinkI'myyourdaughter!" She looked at me with a bewildered expression, but placed her hand on my arm me as if trying to comfort a stranger. Soooo...didn't go quite the way I had imagined. Trying to stop from crying seemed impossible, so I turned to Monica, who only had a few tears in her eyes, for help. Monica asked her, "Did you give a child up for adoption 28 years ago?" Looking around at the people who were with me, she immediately replied, "Come up to my house so I can tell you my story, and you can tell me yours." Monica mumbled that maybe we had the wrong person, but I was certain that we didn't. My birth mom, Monica, and I walked up several stone steps, out of sight from the others, and she turned around and asked, "Now, tell me again what you said?" This time I was able to get it all out clearly. She hesitated, and Monica asked her again if she had given up a child 28 years ago. She finally nodded that yes, she had and turned to look me in the eyes. Then, as if it suddenly hit her, she grabbed me and hugged me saying something like, "Oh, my dear child..." I felt like I didn't want to let go. I really couldn't believe that I had finally found her. She asked me to come up to her house so she could explain her side of the story and tell me about my family.


My mom lives on a steep mountain-side in San Agustín, a neighborhood next to La Sirena. She owns a good chunk of land, but says her health has kept her from taking good care of it. I invited George to come up with us as I knew we might be there for awhile. George had to catch his breath from the walk up to her house. It's quite steep and my mom is 63, yet had no problem striding up the steps. She's living quite poorly, but is surrounded by beautiful scenery. Her yard is full of fruit trees and tropical and exotic plants. She has plátano, coffee, and guanábana trees (an exotic fruit- one of my personal favorites), and there were several chickens and two dogs around the side of her house. There are only three rooms- she has a large bedroom with two beds, a cozy kitchen, and a storage area along back of the house. My brother, apparently, built half of her house.

While filling me in on why she gave me up for adoption (will have to save most of these conversations for another blog...or maybe, the book??), she began telling me about the other children she already had at the time of my birth- my brothers and sisters. Turns out, I still have 5 half-brothers and sisters. Last year during my visit to the orphanage, the director had told my mom and I that as of 28 years ago, I had 5 half-brothers and sisters, but I didn't know if they were still alive. My birth mom confirmed that they were all alive. Three live in Cali (2 brothers and 1 sister), one sister lives in the Canary Islands, and my other brother lives in Tolima.

Within the first 10 minutes of being at my mom's place, my sister just happened to call from the Canary Islands. While on the phone, my mom interrupted her and said, "I have a huge surprise to tell you. Do you remember the daughter I told you about who i had to give up for adoption?" She broke down in tears and added, "Well, she's here at my side." I was able to talk to my sister for the first time and we were both so excited that we kept interrupting each other with questions. After I got off the phone with her, my mom pulled out a bunch photos of all my brothers and sisters. One of my sisters and I look a lot alike (see girl on left side of pic)- it's so crazy seeing people who have similar body types and facial features. I had a hard time focusing on everything that was being said because I felt like I was absorbing everything around me, so it was hard to keep up. I was super lucky to have George with us because he speaks English fluently. He was able to translate if I got lost, and trust me, it happened a lot.

About 30 minutes after being there, I heard children's voices coming from down the hill. I looked up to catch the eyes of a male version of me! It was my brother, Medardo, and his children. Turns out my sister from the Canary Islands had called all of my brothers and my sister and told them that I was at our mom's house. I had an instant connection with Medardo and he was all smiles my entire stay. He introduced me to his children and it quickly dawned on me that I'm an aunt!  ...To ELEVEN nephews and nieces! And you thought you had a lot of Christmas presents to buy! ha! ;) I'm the youngest of 6, and I make our family even- 3 boys and now 3 girls. Medardo is 40 now and was 12 years old when I was born. He remembers my mom being pregnant and has always held a little resentment toward her for giving me up (will talk more about this in another blog). Needless to say, he was extremely happy to see me last weekend and has called several times since I've left. His children are adorable and so beautiful.

A little while later, my youngest brother Jorge came to my mom's house with his son and daughters. He's taller, like me, but has a different father than the rest of our siblings. He and I may have the same father (again, will need to save details for another blog), but that's up for debate right now. Unfortunately, my mom could not give me much information on my father. I'm not sure how upset I am about that. From what I know, it seems that he left my mom after hearing she got pregnant in the first 3 months of their dating. I'm lucky to have a fantastic, loving dad already who has been there for me since day 1. Jorge and I also got along really well. His ex-girlfriend, believe it or not, was the one who heard the loudspeaker message in San Agustín and pointed us up the hill to my mom. There's a connection between my brothers and I that I can honestly say I've never felt before with a complete stranger. I can't wait to learn more about them and their girlfriends/wives. That night, even though I was feeling extremely sick, Monica and I went out to celebrate in Cali. I felt like I was walking on air.

The next day, we went to Medardo's house for lunch and I got to hang out with 5 of my nephews and nieces. I'll spare you the details on how I threw up over their balcony- I was pretty sick by then even though I worked as hard as I could to fight it. There, I also got to meet Medardo's wife and his youngest son who I hadn't met the day before. I really enjoyed getting to know a little bit about everyone and I can't wait for another family reunion! My oldest niece, Daniela, is turning 15 on May 13th, 5 days before my b-day, so I may try to come back to Cali for her quinceañera (we also look alike! hehe). 

My new family has welcomed me with open arms and hearts. Every one of them has called me since I left Cali last Monday...several times.  I've been so happy and stress-free since I found them. I can't wait to share more about my family, but I know the last few blogs have been extremely long. I'm seriously contemplating writing a book about this journey because one of my favorite things to do now is convince other adoptees to search for their families. I can't tell you how blessed I feel to have two loving families now. This may just be the beginning of what I see as a happy ending. :o) 
{Below, i've posted more pics from Cali of my brother's ex girlfriend who heard the loudspeaker message in San Agustín, my brothers Jorge and Medardo, Medardo's wife, and my new nieces and nephews. I also posted a pic of me at the ER just for fun- 1st IV I've ever had! wahoo...}

Lost and Found in Thought

Time has passed quickly since I've been back in Cartagena. We had a busy, full house for several days and I've been unable to pass thoughts onto paper. As the weeks roll by, so do my emotions. I'm only now slowly becoming able to wrap my head around what exactly is about to take place.

I'm going to Cali January 22nd for three and a half days with my good friend, Monica, from Casa Sweety. We're both excited to have a mini-vacation in a big city. We've got our hotel booked (Jardín Azul Casa) and we've looked up lots of things to do in the area such as hand gliding, museum-wandering, restaurant-hopping, and salsa dancing at the hottest clubs (it is the Salsa capital of the world). I'm filling up the days and nights surrounding the visit with my birth mom because if things go badly (she's not there, she doesn't want to see me, etc), I'll have other things to occupy my mind and body with.

The logistics are set-up: got the plane ticket, the hotel reservation, a friend for support, a taxi driver who I can trust to take me to Teodora's house, and a few pictures of me growing up to bring along. I also sent a letter to let her know I was coming (although I didn't mention when out of fear she might leave) and it should have arrived last week. Never knew that I could feel jealousy toward a letter! My letter, while full of emotion and feeling, experienced no fear nor doubt and has probably made it into the hands of my birth mom before me. :/ Now that the logistics are set, all I need to focus on is me. If I could just prepare my soul, I'd be all set.... But how do you prepare for something like this?

The past few weeks, people have asked me how I'm feeling about finally going to Cali, but I've had a hard time replying. I say that I'm a little of everything- a little nervous, a little excited, a little scared, a little apprehensive, a little emotional, a little stressed, a little skeptical, a little optimistic, and a little unsure. I tell them that I have no idea how it'll go, so I don't want to expect too much, nor too little.

Interestingly enough, the young, friendly, easy-going woman who has been staying at Casa Sweety the past few days, and will continue to for the next 3 weeks, is a psychologist. Things have had a weird way of just falling into place for me the last few months. Anyway, this woman has been helpful in provoking me to delve into my thoughts more deeply. This past month, I've only allowed myself to explore my shallow feelings and emotions because if I stay afloat, barely skimming the surface, then I don't feel too scared, too excited, too emotional, too stressed, etc.... This, however, has prevented me from getting to my heart and soul...and is probably why I've been unable to explain just how I'm feeling at the moment.

Now that I've found my problem, I can begin to work toward solving it. I hope to be as prepared as possible for all outcomes, positive, neutral, and negative by listening to what the whispers lost deep inside my core have to say.

"Reasons...The Reasons That We Hear, The Reasons That We Fear..."

I am extremely grateful for all the responses I received regarding my last post. After much thought and discussion, I have decided to wait until January to go look for my biological mom. I wanted to go as soon as possible, but there are several relatively important reasons to wait- the most important being that I need more information.
I need to know that my birth mom is still living in the same house in Cali. I have contacted the few people I know in Cali and am waiting to hear what they can find out. One contact I had (who shall remain nameless) offered to connect me to a man she knows who would search for $200.... The listed reasons for the amount of money owed were "Transportation, etc." While I realize all of these people don't know me well, I thought this a bit ridiculous since this neighborhood is in Cali and can't be that far out of the city. With $200, I could buy a plane ticket from Cartagena to look myself next month!

I've been lucky, though, to meet so many people in Colombia in such a short time. Here, I've learned time and time again that sharing why I'm in Cartagena can be of great help. I used to hate using 'connections.' Acquaintances would always tell me to use my dad's connections in the non-profit world to get a good job in DC. Instead of taking their advice, I rebelled and moved to California to do it myself...to start from scratch. Living in Colombia, however, I have come to learn the true beauty of connections. My new tour business depends on it and if I hadn't met the right people, it'd be sinking right now. Some of the most important connections I've made I met in the most random of places. Who would've known that this guy I met at a couch-surfer fiesta may just be the crucial link to another person in Cali who can find the one woman I've been wondering about all of my life? Waiting on this lead, I continue to pursue other possible connections who may be able to give me more answers before I leave.
If I only had to buy one ticket, I could go now. I think I would feel stronger, emotionally, if I had a friend to listen to me and support me...and force me to knock on Teodora's door. For this reason, I've decided to bring Monica to Cali with me. She's a good friend, an awesome supporter, and she has the ability to make me smile no matter what's going on in my life. She's never been on a plane before and has never ventured far from Cartagena; I know she'll have a fantastic time- she always does. Ontop of the trip for two, Colombia is just starting to implement their high season prices (Dec. 15th until Jan. 15), so plane tickets and hotel rates have sky-rocketed. I'd rather not spend a fortune on a whim.
Last, but certainly not least, I am scared out of my mind. I've tried to "prepare" for what I could say to her when she answers the door, but everything I think of looks ridiculous on paper. People keep saying it'll just come to me, but I'm worried it won't. Of course it's frustrating not being fluent yet, but I'm just hoping I can remember enough vocabulary to be able to express myself the way I would like.
I need to be prepared. I'm battling a lot of fear and doubts, and I'm planning for the worst. I heard this neighborhood is very dangerous, so I'm scared of the pain I might feel when I see how she's living. There is a lot of poverty out here and if she's living in a dangerous neighborhood in Cali, chances are she's still suffering from a bad financial position.
Needless to say, it feels like there's a storm brewing inside me and I have no doubt that being home, near those I love and who love me, will help calm my fears, anxiety, pain, and stress. Christmas and New Year's are a great time to refresh and reflect...and prepare for the future. While these reasons could have been tossed to the side and I could've taken the plunge to find my biological mom, I think that waiting until January may be best for me (as much as I denied it at first). 2010 is right around the corner, and I'm right down the street from my past...and my future. 

'Tis the Season...

Three days ago, I finally (after a month and a half) had a confirmed appointment with my lawyer to meet a woman who, I was told, could look up my birth mother's address. Although my lawyer called that morning to say she'd be earlier than she had originally proposed (2:30pm), we didn't end up leaving until 3:30pm. We met this woman at Instituto Colombiano de Bienestar Familiar (ICBF aka Colombian Institute of Family Welfare). ICBF organizes most adoptions out of Colombia, but not mine. My parents got me directly from Chiquitines, my orphanage. My lawyer never told me that Bienestar couldn't look for adopted children who didn't go through them directly. So after explaining my situation to this woman at Bienestar who didn't seem to know we had an appointment that day, we realized they weren't going to help us and left empty-handed. 

Back in her office, my lawyer said she knows someone who knows someone who can search for people for a fee. I have been warned not to search that way because often these people will hook you up with a random family who lies about being your birth family in order to receive monetary help. My lawyer also said she would contact my orphanage to request information on my mom. I told her (again) that I had already gone to the orphanage and had gotten everything they had on my birth mom- they didn't have up-to-date info on her. My lawyer insisted on it though, so I finally gave in. Sigh...another block in the road. 
I went home with a tummy ache from the stress. My co-worker Yuberleidys gave me some Panela tea to settle my stomach. Strange, but a block of Panela melted down in a pan with water tastes like a brown sugar molasses tea and has actually made me feel better several times while sick with a cold. Different people have told me a range of its many benefits- it helps cure stomach ulcers,  prevent tooth decay & amenia, and cures colds. I'm sure it does more. They sell Panela in blocks at the grocery store...unwrapped. 
This feeling of hopelessness began to take over. I realized, though, that there are people who have searched their entire lives for their families. I really shouldn't get discouraged so easily, but it's hard not to. I thought once you had someone's ID number and name, it wouldn't be too difficult. 
Yesterday, I was walking out our front door about to go to the market when my co-worker Lizety stepped out of the passenger side of a parked car. Not many families have cars, but as I said before, her brother is a pretty high ranking police officer. My heart jumped, i hadn't seen him for a month and I realized he may be here to give me good or bad news. I backed up a few steps, searching for some sort of answer in Lizety's eyes. Then her brother got out, looking serious as ever. I kept looking into Lizety's eyes for her to give me an answer, but all she did was half-smile and tell me to follow her. A sudden wave of fear came over me- she's going to give me bad news. She's dead, I can't believe I missed her. I came all the way to Colombia to find out that the only link I have to my family has passed away. Lizety reached into her purse and pulled out a small piece of paper. She handed it to me and smiled.... 


They had found my birth mother. She's still in Cali. I smiled, laughed, and said thank you about 5 times before I walked to a corner away from her and her brother. I couldn't hold it in anymore- I cried. My breathing slowed down, and I felt a small, yet noticeable release of stress and worry. Lizety came to check on me and gave me a big hug, which didn't help me to stop crying. Her brother walked by, saw tears rolling down my face, and I knew he knew how much it meant to me. He smiled, but walked to the bathroom out of sight. All of my co-workers at Casa Sweety...i mean friends...no, i mean family...know what this meant to me. I walked up to my friend Monica and placed the paper with my birth mother's address in front of her while she was typing. She stared at it then suddenly jerked her head up to look at me...she saw me crying and tears formed in her eyes. Monica has tried everything in her power to help me look online. We just kept hitting dead-ends and webpages that weren't working anymore. She instantly said she wanted to come to Cali with me to find her. Right..., the next step....I hadn't thought of that yet.


All the girls got together and brainstormed. First thought- call 411. Nope, she doesn't have a landline. Next, look online again for any leads. Turns out she is in need of a new cedula card. We then discovered she had renewed it. We even found out when and where she needs to pick it up! The internet is amazing.  More evidence that she is still alive. 
I'm thinking about bringing a friend from Cartagena to Cali. I feel like I need someone there with me to keep me sane. I have NO idea what to expect. Right now, I'm looking at my options. My mom brought up the idea to call the taxi driver who took us around the city 9 months ago. He was super friendly and knew my story. He may even be able to check out the neighborhood and see if she's still living in the house I have an address for. I only have 3 connections in Cali right now, so I'm contacting all of them (orphanage, taxi driver, & Medellin woman whose husband's family lives there) to get a feel of this neighborhood and maybe see if she's still around. Lizety's brother even said he may know a cop or two in Cali who can ask around. 
The last piece I'm considering right now is WHEN I will go to Cali. Part of me wanted to go as soon as I had her address in my hand. My heart says to go now so I don't miss my chance. My head says to wait until I return to Colombia after Christmas (it's cheaper & I may have more information if i wait). One thing I know for sure is that I couldn't have made it this far without using my heart. I've always wanted to come to Colombia. I didn't really start pressuring my parents to visit with me until the holiday season last year. My mom and I finally decided to make the trip in March. My mom always uses Trip Advisor and found a beautiful, friendly B&B called Casa Sweety. I loved it and ended up keeping in contact with the manager and owner. 7 months later, I decided to offer my services to Casa Sweety and got a job. Casa Sweety introduced me to Lizety, Lizety introduced me to her brother, and her brother found my birth mom. 
I have to make this decision as soon as possible. Any advice is greatly appreciated! Through the help of so many people, I've come this far. I can finally picture myself in front of my birth mother's house- and as scared as I am, it doesn't seem so unlikely anymore. :)

Where Does Your Family Tree Begin?

I had the chance to get to know one of the couples staying in our hotel this afternoon. This couple is extremely nice- the lady is from Michigan and her boyfriend is from England. We talked for nearly an hour this morning, during which they asked me why I was here. As I said in previous posts, I welcome the chance to tell people about my search for my birth mother now, unlike before. I shared my stress, anxiety, and excitement- it's really quite therapeutic for me. I told them how important it was to me to find a blood relative of mine. I've never had that connection before. I've never stared into the eyes of someone who looked like me, who had the same blood running through their veins. It's a hard feeling to describe to someone who has blood relatives, but I know other adoptees feel me. Anyway, after I had gone through what seemed to be my entire story, the woman shared hers.

Turns out, this guest of ours had to give up her new-born when she was 18. I was shocked. I stared at her like she was a gold mine of information. I had so many questions for her, but didn't want to pry into her personal life if she wasn't ready. I did, however, ask the one question that has been on my mind ever since I can remember- do you remember your child's birthday? Her demeanor changed, she looked me straight in the eye and told me the exact date, year, and time that he was born. She told me she NEVER stops thinking about him and that mothers never forget their children, no matter how long its been. Relief...a little piece of my soul healed.

Her situation is a little different than mine, obviously. Firstly, she said hers was an open adoption, so her son can get ahold of her if he wants to. Secondly, he gets access to all medical records, which (trust me) would've been nice to have. Thirdly, they both live in the US. It does make it more difficult for her, though. She still hasn't heard from him, but is thinking about contacting him this year. You see, he just turned 18 so it's completely legal now for her to search for him. She's just not sure if he wants to hear from her. I felt her anxiety through her words because it's such a familiar feeling. Fourthly, she told me she had written him a letter when she was 18 to explain what had happened and how much it hurt her. I would've killed for a letter- any kind of contact...just to see something of my mother's would've given me more confidence in her love for me. I didn't receive any such thing until I went to the orphanage 9 months ago and saw her case statement.

As I've said in past posts, some adoptees harbor hatred and anger toward their birth mother for giving them up. Some just don't understand how a mother could leave them. Others get stuck with adoptive parents that abuse them or never end up with parents at all. I understand adoptees who never want to meet their birth parents (it's a hard and sometimes uncomfortable feeling & what do you do with the relationship once you find out?), but to hear this woman talk about her struggle and what she's gone through, has really helped me understand what it must be like for my birth mother.

I no longer feel forgotten. This conversation brought me confidence. I am somehow on the right path. I feel like I was supposed to have met this guest, talked to her in depth, and shared my story so she could feel comfortable enough to share hers. My words brought her comfort and confidence to go ahead with her plan. She seemed to have made her decision- she was going to contact her son by the end of this year. Her boyfriend looked pleasantly surprised and extremely happy for her. We then went out to explore Cartagena and they treated me to my favorite sushi restaurant (Tabetai!), which brought us all peace and happiness! :o)

Keep trying, keep pushing, keep searching...I'm not going to let fear get in the way this time. I'm already here in Colombia, and I'm so close to finding her...I'm so close to finding my roots.

Twiddling

One of the reasons I decided to move to Colombia was to find my birth family. When I came to Colombia for the first time 9 months ago, I had the opportunity to visit Chiquitines, the orphanage I stayed at for the 1st 3 months of my life. While it was the same organization I was adopted from, Chiquitines has changed locations within Cali several times since then, so it wasn't the exact same building. Chiquitines is a wonderful non-profit organization that has about 34 employees (social workers, psychologists, speech therapists, nurses, teachers, etc) and 75 kids (about 34 babies and 41 kids aged 2-12). 
Before arriving, my mom and I had arranged to meet with the director of the orphanage, Agatha. When we arrived, she sat us down and began to go over my file from 28 years ago. Most of the documents I had already seen since my mom saved nearly everything from my adoption, but then Agatha pulled out documents I had never known about. I finally learned my birth mother's name, Teodora (Dora, for short) Marin. I also received her Cedula #, which is more or less a Colombian ID card. Her ID # is important because the government in Colombia uses them when someone registers for work. Agatha recommended that I hire a lawyer to help me look for her. She said that many agencies in Colombia that claim they can help find your birth mother may actually be telling random people to act like your birth parents, and adoptees would never know. 
I also got to read the case worker's summary of Teodora's life cerca 1981 and her statement on why she was giving me up. Growing up, many adopted children fluctuate between anger and love for their birth parents. Many of us never know why our parents gave us up, and some tend to focus on the negative reasons. I can't lie, I often wondered growing up if there really was a good reason- it's hard not to. My birth mother, Dora, had lived with a man in Tolima with whom she had 7 children (apparently I had 7 half brothers and sisters- 2 died before I was born). In the summary, it says he went crazy and left the house never to be heard from again. In order to help sustain her family, she moved to Cali to find work with 3 of her children (i don't know what happened to the other 2). The woman she ended up working for in Cali offered her a room and some money for cleaning her house. For some reason, this lady ended up telling my birth mother she had to leave so Dora was jobless (and possibly homeless). During this time, she became pregnant with me by a guy she saw occassionally. This guy said he would stay and help her, but ended up leaving her on her own (thanks, 'dad'). She ended up giving me up for adoption because she "wanted my life to be full of indispensable love and security and for me to have a good education (translated)." 

I then got a chance to speak with 4 ladies who were about to give birth and were planning on giving their children to Chiquitines for similar reasons. It was a total surprise, and I instantly had butterflies flapping around in my tummy. My words came straight from the heart so i didn't even have to worry about the Spanish. I told them my story and told them that I knew that my mother had been so strong to give me up in order for me to have a good life. I told them that I've had the opportunity to travel, play sports, get a great education, a well-paying job, and most importantly, i told them I had a wonderful family that has loved me since the day they found out I was coming. By that time I was crying while talking. I emphasized that I thought they were all so strong just like my birth mother had been and that they were doing a wonderful thing for their children. I told them that I'd never forget my birth mother and have always thought of her all of my life. I also shared with these women that I would like to find my birth mother one day. Lastly, I told them that I understood why she decided to give me up- and it wasn't b/c she didn't love me, it was the complete opposite. She had given me up out of unconditional, unselfish love. 
During this conversation, almost every single person in the room was crying, including Agatha and my mom who were standing at the door. I knew that it had touched them, but I had hoped that I had gotten my point across- that they were making the right choice for the good of their babies and that their children would one day be thankful and grateful to them for making the toughest decision of their lives.

So here I am, 9 months later, stuck. I've talked to people here who say they can help me find my birth mom and then they never show or take a month to get back to me. It gets frustrating when someone doesn't take something that's extremely important to you as seriously. Seeing my frustration, my friend Lizety said she could help me last week. Her brother works in the Secret Service equivalent here in Colombia. She told me that her brother could find tons of information on my birth mother or just her address. I opted for as much information as he could provide. While I realize this is a HUGE favor, I can't stop asking her if she's found out any info on her. Her brother has been busy investigating murders around the city so I guess i understand why it's taking so long...it's just something i've been wondering about my whole life. 

While i sit here, patiently waiting, pondering what I should do if I do find her home address, my leg shakes anxiously, my tummy does somersaults, and everything I've ever dreamt of happening races through my mind. These are hard emotions to deal with, but I'm lucky to have such loving, supportive friends and family members who don't mind listening to my rambling. Someday soon, I may be lucky enough to have two families to be grateful for- what a blessing! :o)

Happy Thanksgiving!