I have so few photos of our family–all 4 of us–that I feel compelled to share this one, at Cabrillo National Monument in San Diego. (Mateo figured out how to use the camera timer.) I’m (over)dressed for the Arctic, while Olivia’s in shorts. The other photo is of us with my youngest sister, Deanna, in front of the fountain in Balboa Park.
And Olivia and Mateo.
Happy 2018!
We met Kallie and her daughter Maya in 2003, as we like to say “on the calle” in Antigua, when Maya and my daughter Olivia were babies in arms and Kallie and I each had moved to Guatemala to finish their adoptions.
Now teenagers, Maya and Olivia remain close friends–“oldest” friends, in fact–and Kallie and I share a bond that’s forever. Our families met up this weekend and remembered those days, and our other dear friends who fostered. xoxo
The Friday after Thanksgiving we drove up the California coast from San Diego, destination Santa Barbara. We planned to see the exhibition Guatemala from 33,000 km: Contemporary Art, 1960-Present. I had checked the SB Museum of Contemporary Art website to confirm the museum was closed Thanksgiving Day; however, in my enthusiasm, I may have missed it was closed the Friday after, as well.
The photo above shows us standing outside the locked doors.
But the day was not lost. Santa Barbara is a gorgeous city and the kids loved shopping in the Black Friday mix. We also toured the Santa Barbara County Courthouse, a National Historic Landmark, and surely one of the most beautiful public buildings in the U.S. Meanwhile, we continued up the coast as planned, through Solvang and to Cambria. Today, we toured Hearst Castle.
Thankful. ~
We got a dog. A three-year-old Wheaten terrier mix, from a shelter in San Diego. Charlie has been with us three weeks, and we cannot imagine life without him. The kids adore him. Tim and I adore him. We’re outside more; we’re laughing more. Charlie brings out the best in all of us.
Why didn’t I agree to this sooner? Mateo has begged for a dog for five years! Here’s a post from August 2014 with a letter he wrote in 2012.
My post from August 2014:
One of the benefits of clearing out clutter is that stuff you forgot resurfaces, including this letter my son Mateo wrote me in January 2012. In it, he addresses a theme that remains ongoing: his pining for a dog. Reading Mateo’s letter helped me realize he’s wanted a dog for at least two years, a very long time in the life of a nine-year-old. Not that I’m planning to relent and get a dog. Just that Mateo’s desire is not new.
My son’s writing feels so energetic. His spelling and punctuation could use a copy-editor, but I love his voice.
Mateo’s letter, 2012:
Dear Mom,
I think Olivia an me shood get a DOG!!!!!!!!!!!
BECAUSE it will giv us xrsize.
If she didn’t want to do it I would do it for her.
Il give them a bath evry day.
If it’s a school day il do it after school.
If it’s a weekend il do it after brakefast in the morning.I’l take rely good car of the pupy.
“I promis promis promis”
Please Mommy i beg you.
yours Truly
Mateo
— What can I say? We had a lot going on. But I’m a passionate convert: If you don’t have dog, think about getting one. Yes, a dog requires work, and yes a dog will be another job for you. But a dog will likely give you this as well: sweetness, loyalty, and unconditional love. That counts for something. xoxo
I wrote this a few weeks ago, when we were in Guatemala:
We caught the shuttle from Casa Santo Domingo to the restaurant on the hill, El Tenador. (the Fork.) Admired the Quetzal and VW sculptures of Efrain Recinos and the Jaguar mosaic of Roberto Gonzalez Goyri. Toured museums dedicated to Guatemala’s 1967 Nobel Laureate for Literature, Miguel Angel Asturias, and Pope John Paul II, also ran around the grounds and aviary. The view from the restaurant is spectacular. We recommend the tacos. (Today was our third visit. We love this place.) (They also have a zipline: Not as dramatic as in Panajachel, a bit pricey, fun.)
Sunday we celebrated the Quinceaneras of three girls in our group of adoptive families in the San Francisco Bay Area. Glorious! Quinceanera is a celebration of a young Latina woman’s 15th birthday, acknowledging her transition from girl to womanhood. Customs to celebrate Quinces vary from family to family and may include a Catholic Mass, Courts and Groomsmen, mariachis and dancing. The parents in our three families incorporated traditions that resonated for us:
I’m grateful to my co-Quinceanera parents, Marie + Ralph and Miriam+ Allen, for contributing ideas, balloons, decorations, cake, and, above all, joyful spirits.
Thanks, too, to adoptive mom Ginny Curtin, for her fabulous photos to record the event, and to everyone in our community–parents, kids, significant others, friends–for sharing this special day. And always, to my husband Tim. xo
Below is the speech I wrote for Olivia.
THOUGHTS ON QUINCEANERA
A couple friends asked me to explain “foolish pie.” My grandmother was a fantastic cook of Southern dishes–fried chicken and dumplings, green beans with pork with a streak of lean, baked beans, sweet iced tea–and foolish pie was one of her specialties. The pie’s main ingredients are pineapple, whipped cream, and sugar. Served chilled, it was cool and simple on a hot summer night. I thought the recipe was unique to my grandmother, or maybe to Tidewater, Virginia. But I looked it up and here it is on Cooks: Foolish Pie.
My sister Deanna clarified for me why the name: “Foolish” because it’s so easy, anyone can make it. Not, as I assumed, because you’re foolish if you eat too much of it.
Maybe that, too.
Last night while standing in line at Barnes and Noble, Mateo noticed the woman waiting behind us carried a purse made of fabric from Guatemala.
“Ask her where she got it,” he said.
“Do you want me to tell her you’re from Guatemala?”
“Just ask,” he said.
The woman finished her purchase and walked toward us. “Excuse me,” I said. “We’re admiring your handbag.”
She looked down at her purse and then at me and then at Mateo. “This? I got it at a county fair, years ago.”
Mateo nudged me, staying quiet.
“It’s from Guatemala,” I said. I pointed out the two different fabrics, cut from the embroidered blouse and woven skirt. “This part is from the blouse called a huipil. This part is the corte. The designs are specific to regions in the country.”
“Wow, I didn’t know,” the woman said. “I always get compliments on it. Now I can tell people it’s from Guatemala.”
Mateo took my hand and smiled. ~
When Olivia was a toddler, I moved to Antigua and rented a small house where we lived together while her adoption paperwork was being finalized. I studied Spanish a few afternoons a week, leaving Olivia in the loving and capable hands of nanny (and friend) Yoli Rodríguez. Yoli had children of her own, including her then-young son, known as Junior, who was a good “big brother” to Olivia, as well as to Maya, the daughter of another adoptive mom, Kallie K.
This summer in Guatemala, Yoli invited us to lunch at her home near Antigua, where we discovered photos of Olivia and me, and Kallie and Maya, displayed on Yoli’s living room wall, among Yoli’s other family pictures. Seeing the photos reminded me that our children remain in the hearts of their early caregivers, as their caregivers remain in ours.
Everyone I know who visits Tikal flies via Guatemala City, but we decided to drive. On the way, we visited parts of Guatemala we’d read and heard about–Rio Dulce, Lake Izabel, and Livingston—and saw miles of near-desert and dense jungle vastly different from the familiar mountains and valleys of the country’s west and center.
Our group consisted of my children, fourteen-year-old Olivia, eleven-year-old Mateo, and I, along with good friends from our Bay Area adoption group, Michele S. and her ten-year-old daughter, Sofia. We hired a driver, Helmuth Leal, who owns the Antigua travel company, Caminos del Quetzal. Literally dozens of tour companies and shuttles run trips to Tikal. We chose Helmuth based on recommendations of others in our adoption community. The service he provided was terrific.
Guatemala is divided into twenty-two regions called departments, similar to our States, and enroute to Tikal we passed through nine of them: Solola, Sacatepequez, Chimaltenango, Guatemala, Progresso, Zacapa, Izabel, and Peten. Tkal is located in the middle of Peten, the largest and most northwestern department, bordering Mexico to the north and west and Belize to the East. The distance from Guatemala City is about three hundred thirty miles. We started our trip in Panajachel, which added another hundred.
The trip took six days, with two days dedicated to driving. The cost was about twice as much as the price of five people flying round trip from Guatemala City to Flores, Tikal’s nearest airport. Bear in mind, the price included hotels, transport, and Tikal Park admission.
Before leaving for Tikal, our families had spent a week at Lake Atitlan, and Helmuth picked us up there on Sunday at 6 AM. If I were to do it again, to save travel time, I would start in Antigua. Lesson learned. We stopped for breakfast at the restaurant Chichoy, between Lake Atitlan and Antigua, and snacked in the van until we arrived almost at Rio Dulce. I say almost, because it was while on the road that we learned the meaning of the word pinchazo—flat tire. The incident added to the adventure.
Once in Rio Dulce, we unloaded our luggage onto a riverboat and cruised over to the rustic and charming Hotel Catamaran. The cabins were simple and clean, with ceiling fans we grew to cherish—that part of the country is hot! and humid!–and no internet access. The no-internet theme was repeated for the rest of the week, and for the first time I could remember, I truly felt off the grid. (more…)
I am an adoptive mother to two children born in Guatemala.
My book, Mamalita: An Adoption Memoir (Seal Press, 2010) is available on Amazon.
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