What a weekend! Saturday morning was rudely interrupted at our usual get-up-and-go time of 5:30am because I had parent conferences at school. I really don’t mind chatting to the padres, as a lot of good can come from the talks, but Saturdays in Bogota are horrific as it’s the only day of the week all cars are allowed to drive. Getting anywhere on 4 wheels takes at least a couple of hours more than any other day. And so, my usual 2 hour bumpy, dusty journey to and from Guaymaral did again take 4 hours in total. At one point on the way home, I got myself into a little state as I was so car sick, hot and lacking air. My ears blocked up and I was so afraid I was going to pass out right then and there, mostly because that would make the bus pull over (if anyone even noticed) and we would be further delayed, but luckily my hubby called me at just the right time and talked me back to composure.
Getting home, I was ready to collapse after such a long day, but the evening turned a little crazy from then on. As soon as I walked in, Steve asked me if I could smell something. Without a doubt there was a toxic odor oozing out of our walls. He already had a headache and a bad taste in his mouth but we had no idea what was causing it. We let the guards know, and then went out to our local coffee shop where we enjoyed the fresh air (which usually seems so disgusting as you sit out there on the main street) for a couple of hours. Around 6 we returned home, only to find, despite all the windows being open, the smell was only more intense. We called the gas company, but they said they couldn’t come for 24 hours, despite the fact that I warned them we might all die. We called the building administrator, but they were far less than helpful. We asked our neighbors what repairs they’d been doing that afternoon, but they considered us petty and annoying foreigners. I was in tears as no one would care, trying not to breathe, knowing we had to fix this problem, but so scared for our little baby. I just read an American Scientist article last week about the chemicals and toxins they found in the first ever study of its sort on umbilical cords, and what damage they do. With every half breath, I could feel my lungs trying so hard to not let the poison in. After all of these phone calls and complaints, we took to the streets again. Roaming around Cedritos, getting some dinner at McDonalds and wondering where we’d sleep that night. It was a strange feeling, homeless in a city that wasn’t even really home. It was 9:00pm already and we just didn’t feel comfortable calling one of our new friends to impose. We tried some local hotels but they were all full. We tried sleeping on the floor of the apartment lobby, but the guards made us leave. Our options were few, I was so exhausted and emotional and Steve’s new verse of Alanis Morisette’s “Ironic,” stating how inappropriately unfair it was that our condo in Swampscott sits empty, with a bed and everything, while we take to the streets in Colombia, was not too welcome. Around 10:30, we decided to be brave and imposing at once and call my good friend Beatriz. In an instant she welcomed us in. With our noses pinched, we ran up to our 7th floor apartment, grabbed a bag for our toothbrushes and pajamas and caught a bus to her place. We passed intoxicated masses on the way, bumping into my bump as they stumbled onto the bus or unsuccessfully trying to avoid potholes on the streets. At last though, we arrived and Beatriz’s smile and good humor instantly made us laugh. It ended up being a fun sleepover and she was gracious enough to let us get to bed before long, and I am so grateful to her, my one great, natural and instant friend here. As explained last night, we left dark and early this morning, before she woke, as we had to try to sort out the gas and the inspectors were coming at 7. We returned home and the toxic vapor was now concentrated near our bedroom and bathroom, but here, where I sit now, in the living room, it was mostly gone. We have spent much of today, again, trying to figure it out, but it seems like a very pungent chemical was applied to the walls and windows of our neighbors and because of our countless holes and terrible insulation, we are soaking it all up. We are sleeping here tonight, in the living room (but that’s nothing new) and with the windows wide open. We are confident the toxins are gone from where we are, glad to be back and okay, but to be honest, more anxious than ever to return to Boston, where we have family we could stay with in any emergency, where a gas leak and chemical outbreak are taken seriously, where drugs and drunks, corruption and crime are present but perhaps less obvious. We are half way through April already and the time is flying, but I long to keep this little one in my tummy safe and healthy and sometimes, it seems so much harder here. I’m trying my best… your prayers are so important to us.
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