Seattle to Merida; 19-22 July 2011 --
It all began with considerable anxiety, about the willingness of a six-year old girl who spoke only Spanish, to leave her familiar surroundings in Mexico and travel with that gray-haired Abuelito ("little Grandpa") whom she had remembered mostly from his visit two years ago and who spoke only English. But the trials and tribulations -- yes, and the joys, too! -- were greater than Grumpy could have anticipated.
The flight from Seattle to Merida, and our joint return flight from Merida back to Seattle, had been booked well in advance. Continental Airlines (in the process of merging with United) ticketing personnel even found side-by-side seating on the return flight! The U.S. Passport for Olivia, together with the Limited Parental Delegation of Authority and other legal papers, which might be required by Mexican or U.S. immigration personnel, were readily available.
Son Jim provided my early-morning transportation to SeaTac for the 6 am departure to Houston; how much I appreciate his help on this aspect cannot be put into words.
Arrival in Houston (for a seven hour wait) saw a rainy day (Seattle weather?). The long wait was made tolerable by making friends with a group of Baptists who were also going to Merida, on a mission similar to Habitat for Humanity. We were able to share some good, Christian fellowship, although one woman apparently questioned the status of my salvation; perhaps it was as a result of my identifying my background as a former Episcopalian!
Arrival in Houston (for a seven hour wait) saw a rainy day (Seattle weather?). The long wait was made tolerable by making friends with a group of Baptists who were also going to Merida, on a mission similar to Habitat for Humanity. We were able to share some good, Christian fellowship, although one woman apparently questioned the status of my salvation; perhaps it was as a result of my identifying my background as a former Episcopalian!
The flight over the Caribbean saw the sun fade from early evening to the "darkest dark" that is typical of tropical sunsets. I captured this time exposure of the twilight glow in the Western sky (the reddish tinge on the flap "canoe" is from the red strobe light used to insure night-time visibility to other aircraft).
Abuela Maria met me at 9:30 pm, when the 737 airplane landed at the Merida airport, and Olivia welcomed me when we arrived later at El Casa de Maria.
Sleeping in a hammock is not as uncomfortable as some might think (including me, once). Actually, I found this night rather restful -- after about three hours of steady Spanish chatter from the little girl who slept in the hammock beside mine. She immediately found that her Abuelito did not comprehend much of anything she said (all very rapidly and with much animation!). I think she spent the next three or so hours trying to teach me the entire Spanish language!! [I enjoyed every minute -- until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.] Later when I awoke with the need to go to the bano, I discovered I had a little girl fast asleep laying across my body! I slid out from under her without waking her. Then when I came back to go to bed, I crawled [ -- what's the right word for getting into a hammock?] into what had earlier been her hammock.
After a full-day's stay, during which Olivia took Abuelito to the playground we had enjoyed on my previous visit two years ago as well as downtown Merida to an Internet Cafe where I hoped to transmit to my e-mail address the photos (taken on a Sony camera to be left for Adolfo's younger sister, Tania). Ultimately, because the laptop I borrowed for this purpose would not allow me to get on the Internet without the owner's password -- which was not recognized. So we went around the corner to a for-pay Internet access shop where the operator copied my photos onto a CD-ROM.
Thursday morning Maria took us to the airport at 4:30 am in time for check-in for the scheduled flight reservations for a 7:15 am departure. The tribulations began. I was advised by the Continental agent that we might be denied boarding because of Olivia's expired visa. My confidence remained that things would somehow work out and so, without revealing to Maria of any potential problems, we bid goodbye and Olivia and I proceeded upstairs to the concourse and the exit immigration check point.
My confidence was soon shattered and my concerns elevated when, as best I could comprehend, "there is no way that le Nina can leave Mexico ... ". An alert Continental boarding gate person came to my rescue and comforted Olivia who, already comprehending the gravity of the situation began to cry. This person also helped me to understand what needed to be done: wait until the bank (in the terminal building) opened at 9 am, have an immigration official calculate the penalty fee I would have to pay via the bank, and rebook with Continental for the next day. After much confusion, frustration and trudging from one place in the terminal building to another, the process with the immigration official was finally accomplished and we were rebooked for departure at the same time Friday morning.
Now a new problem arose. How to get back to Maria's! I did not have her telephone number nor her address, although I was confident I could find my way there. As it turned out (all I could remember of her address was "Colonia Sambula", a district within the metropolis of Merida), I did not correctly remember the branch of the main highway and steered the taxi driver into an area of dead-end streets and unfamiliar territory. However, Olivia calmly took over the instructions to the driver and very quickly had us redirected into the proper neighborhood and, before you know it, arrived right in front of El Casa de Maria! I tipped the driver handsomely (I hope!).
Again being awakened (this time by Maria!) at an ungodly hour to get to the airport to check in, and go through immigration for our 7:15 departure, we found the terminal doors closed and locked. [No need to have it open until nearer the time for check-in and ticketing for the earliest departure (ours!).] This time, though, things went more smoothly (although the immigration official on duty was momentarily confused by that special piece of paper that I presented to him in lieu of a visa that he normally saw). As we boarded our flight to Houston, we again saw the lady who had stepped in the day before to interpret to me what I needed to do, and to comfort Olivia. [No longer having a camera and forgetting the camera in my cellphone, I do not have a photo of her.] Coincidentally, this lady's mother was seated next to me on the flight to Houston! I hope she passes on to her daughter how much I appreciated her help in my hour(s) of concern the day before.
This time, instead of only a two-and-a-half hour layover in Houston, we had to wait from 9:30 am until 5:30 pm to board our final flight to Seattle. I bought two Stromboli for our mid-morning breakfast [Olivia ate some, but didn't like the taste -- neither did I!]. For a late lunch she had a Wendy burger and I had a salad. [Meals were for sale on the flight, but not even complementary peanuts or pretzels!]
Meanwhile, as we waited, Olivia "relaxed" to the entertainment of nearby older passengers, some of whom took pity on the Grandpa who was "in charge" of this bundle of energy; she soon became close friends with this couple from New Orleans who told me they had 10 kids, but only 4 or 5 grandchildren whom they didn't get to see as often as they liked. The lady, apparently convinced that Grumpy could not adequately spoil this charming little girl all be himself, purchased a soft, cuddly "beanie baby" kitten and gave to Olivia.
Olivia was not as curious as I had anticipated about what could be seen out the window; only the impressive cumulus clouds, including some developing thunderstorms (which our flight neatly avoided!), got her to call for my attention. During the majority of the five and a half hour flight to Seattle, Olivia curled up asleep in her seat (sometimes with her head on my lap), just as she had done during the two-hour flight from Merida to Houston.
Olivia's Papa and brother Ramiro met us at SeaTac. At home, Abuelita welcomed us home and soon the brother/sister pair, who had been separated for nearly five years, were engaged in a typical riot. Starting with a playful jab in the ribs by the little Sister and followed by the big Brother pursuit to a hopeless situation with Sister in the protective environment of Papa or Abuelita, then the Brother hiding and the curious little Sister seeking him out; a loud "BOO!!" from Brother as she passed by his concealment, screams and giggles as she ran and he again pursued! Such happiness!
It was pure joy on the part of we old folks to hear these sounds of contentment.
Sleeping in a hammock is not as uncomfortable as some might think (including me, once). Actually, I found this night rather restful -- after about three hours of steady Spanish chatter from the little girl who slept in the hammock beside mine. She immediately found that her Abuelito did not comprehend much of anything she said (all very rapidly and with much animation!). I think she spent the next three or so hours trying to teach me the entire Spanish language!! [I enjoyed every minute -- until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.] Later when I awoke with the need to go to the bano, I discovered I had a little girl fast asleep laying across my body! I slid out from under her without waking her. Then when I came back to go to bed, I crawled [ -- what's the right word for getting into a hammock?] into what had earlier been her hammock.
My confidence was soon shattered and my concerns elevated when, as best I could comprehend, "there is no way that le Nina can leave Mexico ... ". An alert Continental boarding gate person came to my rescue and comforted Olivia who, already comprehending the gravity of the situation began to cry. This person also helped me to understand what needed to be done: wait until the bank (in the terminal building) opened at 9 am, have an immigration official calculate the penalty fee I would have to pay via the bank, and rebook with Continental for the next day. After much confusion, frustration and trudging from one place in the terminal building to another, the process with the immigration official was finally accomplished and we were rebooked for departure at the same time Friday morning.
Now a new problem arose. How to get back to Maria's! I did not have her telephone number nor her address, although I was confident I could find my way there. As it turned out (all I could remember of her address was "Colonia Sambula", a district within the metropolis of Merida), I did not correctly remember the branch of the main highway and steered the taxi driver into an area of dead-end streets and unfamiliar territory. However, Olivia calmly took over the instructions to the driver and very quickly had us redirected into the proper neighborhood and, before you know it, arrived right in front of El Casa de Maria! I tipped the driver handsomely (I hope!).
Again being awakened (this time by Maria!) at an ungodly hour to get to the airport to check in, and go through immigration for our 7:15 departure, we found the terminal doors closed and locked. [No need to have it open until nearer the time for check-in and ticketing for the earliest departure (ours!).] This time, though, things went more smoothly (although the immigration official on duty was momentarily confused by that special piece of paper that I presented to him in lieu of a visa that he normally saw). As we boarded our flight to Houston, we again saw the lady who had stepped in the day before to interpret to me what I needed to do, and to comfort Olivia. [No longer having a camera and forgetting the camera in my cellphone, I do not have a photo of her.] Coincidentally, this lady's mother was seated next to me on the flight to Houston! I hope she passes on to her daughter how much I appreciated her help in my hour(s) of concern the day before.
Meanwhile, as we waited, Olivia "relaxed" to the entertainment of nearby older passengers, some of whom took pity on the Grandpa who was "in charge" of this bundle of energy; she soon became close friends with this couple from New Orleans who told me they had 10 kids, but only 4 or 5 grandchildren whom they didn't get to see as often as they liked. The lady, apparently convinced that Grumpy could not adequately spoil this charming little girl all be himself, purchased a soft, cuddly "beanie baby" kitten and gave to Olivia.
Olivia was not as curious as I had anticipated about what could be seen out the window; only the impressive cumulus clouds, including some developing thunderstorms (which our flight neatly avoided!), got her to call for my attention. During the majority of the five and a half hour flight to Seattle, Olivia curled up asleep in her seat (sometimes with her head on my lap), just as she had done during the two-hour flight from Merida to Houston.Olivia's Papa and brother Ramiro met us at SeaTac. At home, Abuelita welcomed us home and soon the brother/sister pair, who had been separated for nearly five years, were engaged in a typical riot. Starting with a playful jab in the ribs by the little Sister and followed by the big Brother pursuit to a hopeless situation with Sister in the protective environment of Papa or Abuelita, then the Brother hiding and the curious little Sister seeking him out; a loud "BOO!!" from Brother as she passed by his concealment, screams and giggles as she ran and he again pursued! Such happiness!
It was pure joy on the part of we old folks to hear these sounds of contentment.
