We got our sentencia on Wednesday (finally, yay!) and were able to go and get Vicky’s TB test done.
We still needed to get her birth certificate which had to be picked up by hand in a small town in a different department- Boyaca. The driver was planning to leave Wednesday night, pick the new birth certificate up on Thursday morning at 8am when they opened and then return around 1 or 2 in the afternoon. Well, our agency person called Wednesday evening and said the driver offerred to take us with him if we wanted. I was on the fence, but leaning towards no (3am departure time, 10 hours + in a car, etc) but decided to ask Vicky what she wanted to do. She was beyond excited about the opportunity, so we decided to go.
Well, after night 3 of almost no sleep for me and a delayed driver, we finally left around 4:30am. After a few detours because the driver got lost, we made it to the outskirts of the town at 8:30 am. The drive was long but beautiful:
We quickly found out that the only way to reach the town was a 30 minute drive down a dirt/mud road. The driver, who clearly loves his car a LOT was not so amused. Suffice it to say by the time we left that afternoon, his white car was no longer white.
See this itty-bitty building? That’s the town’s registrar office. It holds the records of everything that’s happened in the town from at least 1940 in little binders, including her original birth certificate.
After spending 30 minutes waiting for the only person that works there to return (from what, I don’t know) we got started. He reviewed our documents, typed up the new birth certificate, and we reviewed to make sure it was correct. Every time a mistake is found, the whole document is recreated from scratch and after hearing horror stories of how one item would be corrected only to have a new one crop up that was missed, I was feeling particularly “detail oriented”. So we went through the process, and again, and again, FIVE times he had to re-do the birth certificate because each time he corrected one mistake, he made another. Finally on round six, it was all correct. As an aside, the whole process is a bit odd to me– completely replacing her true birth certificate with one that lists us as her birth parents. Apparently, instead of enjoying Spring Break my sophomore year of high school, I was giving birth to a daughter in Colombia 😉
Anyways, we then had to go to the bank to make 8 deposits (one for each copy of the new birth certificate), walk around the town and try to find someone who could take her photo for the new Colombian ID, return to the bank to pick up the receipts, and then return to the registrar to spend another 45 minutes reviewing and finalizing everything and getting her new ID card with her new last name. Finally we left at about 10 till noon. After calling the agency representative and there being some issue with the fact that I no longer use my maiden name and it isn’t on any of my documents (but Colombia insists that Vicky include it in her name) we went back to the registrar. I’m not sure what happened, but it was resolved and we were on the road after about 10 minutes.
The first two hours of our trip back were fine (though I was miserably car sick the entire day since we were driving through the mountains and on roads that badly needed maintenance. After stopping at half a dozen places so he could buy various things (fruit, cheese arepas) and a half a dozen places that didn’t have what he was looking for, plus taking phone call after phone call, it was getting late and I was getting sicker and more anxious to be home. Finally at about 5 he stops at a place in a city about half an hour from Bogota to try and mail the birth certificate. But, they wouldn’t transport things to Santander, so he says, not to worry, we’ll find a place in Bogota. So, we’re off to Bogota.
Suddenly, at 5:30 he pulls to the side of the road, stops the car and start talking rapidly in spanish to Vicky. All I hear is the word “policia” over and over, so I’m getting worried since he’s clearly freaking out. He hastily whips the car into an empty makeshift parking lot of rocks jumps out and tries to flag down someone on the freeway to give us a ride. Again, I’m horribly confused about what’s going on, and he’s definitely not in a state of mind to explain. Finally after about 5 minutes, a bus filled to the rim with people pulls over and lets us on board. It’s standing room only and makes riding our metro in rush hour look like an evening stroll. Lurching every which way with people pushing, we finally arrive at a mall (??) and he takes off running, telling us to follow. Feeling even worse after the bus ride, and carrying a back-pack, portfolio, purse, and Vicky’s hand, we take off after him. He briefly stops to ask directions (again, I have NO idea where we’re going or why at this point) we take off sprinting across the huge three story mall. We finally catch our breath at the escalators (and he’s relieved when I tell him that it’s only 5:50) and he says he has to mail out the birth certificate tonight and it needs to be overnighted and they close at 6. He stands in line getting it mailed for about half an hour, and then we’re off to find a ride back to his car. He starts talking to taxis and finally finds one he likes, and we cram inside the backseat. The driver drops us off on the side of the highway (it’s dark of course at this point and no street lights) and the driver says “okay now we walk back to the car”. So we walk the 3 blocks or so along the dirt shoulder of the highway in the dark, finally arriving at his car. By now it is seven and we can’t drive on the road until 7:30. (I finally am able to figure out this is why he was so worried – only certain cars can drive on the busy road during rush hour, and his wasn’t one of them) So, we join the line of cars stopped along the shoulder and wait half an hour until the restrictions are lifted.
Finally, we arrive back at the hotel a little after 8. After being gone for 16 hours and still feeling miserable, exhausted and hungry, we get ready for bed and have a delicious dinner of carne asada, salad, beans, rice and plantains delivered in our room. Although I think staying in an apartment was the best decision for us in Santander, staying here and having food included has been worth it for our time in Bogota.
Overall, I think the experience was good in many ways for Vicky. She hasn’t been back in several years and I know it brought up a lot of feelings of missing her family and I think highlighted what a huge transition this is going to be. I don’t think she’s fully processed the permanence of this transition, but I do think this trip helped.
I’ll do another post with pictures and today’s festivities later…….
Once Upon a December 