Peru, for a moment

I just wrapped up a quick jaunt to Lima. I was there to participate in a flagship activity of one of my grantees: a global expert workshop on hate crime against LGBTI people. The gathering was impressive. From Lithuania to Argentina to India to South Africa and in between, we brought together civil society, police and prosecutors to discuss possible common approaches and best practices.

Much of my time in Lima was in a typical conference room at the Melia Lima Hotel. “72 and fluorescent” one of my taxi drivers called it. But I did have a moment or two in Lima.

Lima, I was warned, isn’t great. The traffic is truly maddening and limits one to just one or two excursions in a day. Knowing that I had only the day I arrived off of the red eye for tourism, I didn’t dally but headed straight to a 5-star lunch at Astrid & Gaston, as one does. It was a lovely entry point, had all the fanfare of fine Peruvian dining and was, indeed, an oasis in the hectic city. I ubered there “all by myself” as Austin says, and then ubered to the historic city center. I meandered without agenda through what I imagined was the typical South American architecture streets. Many of the old buildings were yellow, which of course I loved. I stumbled upon a man singing earnest Peruvian love ballads (while I cannot confirm this due to the Spanish, I could tell by his passionate expressions and the appreciative crowd around him). This spontaneous concert took place in the courtyard of the cathedral along the banks of the river whose name I don’t know.

I decide to walk a long distance to the Incan market, because with one day free I had to hit the shops. It was a brutal walk. There was a pedestrian walkway for a while, but that gave wat to a deadly, decidedly un-pedestrian highway where one played “Frogger” to cross the street. Adding insult to injury, somehow TripAdvisor got it really wrong – the Incan Market was not where it was supposed to be! Dejected and dusty, I ubered back to the hotel to re-group.

The next evening the group attending the workshop headed up the street to a mall for dinner – Lima loves malls! As chance would have it, this turned into a great night of Pisco Sours and soccer. Peru qualified for the World Cup for the first time in 36 years! The town went bananas!! Motorcyclists were riding on their handlebars (true!) and cars honked with jubilation into the wee hours. In the morning a sweet young waiter in the hotel restaurant served my eggs and couldn’t hold back another second:

“You know,” he said, “Peru had a soccer game last night.”

“Yes, I know,” I said.

His smile was a mile wide.

I made it to the seaside cliffs of Miraflores on the second night. We were invited to the Swedish Ambassador’s residence for a reception. It was delightful and the views were breathtaking as the sun went down over the water.

Hardly enough time to judge a place, but Lima (save the traffic) is lovely. The people and culture are warm and vibrant. Next time, the Andes, Macchu Piccu and the Amazon call…

Diplomatic Love in Warsaw

For two days during our LGBTI meeting in cold and rainy Warsaw, I was trying to figure out why the Chilean ambassador was in attendance. He rsvp’d a week before and Kerry (my colleague) and I were confused because it was a “working level” government meeting. We quickly scrambled to add him to the opening ceremony.

He arrived with a member of his staff and his teenage son, who appeared to be around 15. The ambassador gave his brief opening remarks, which were rather unremarkable. I had expected a fiery and dynamic human rights speech from a forceful character. Instead, a diminutive man with silver hair and a dapper mustache quietly said all the right things in a more stilted than eloquent speech.

We did not hear from him again until the end of the second day. But he sat through the entire session. He was not on his phone and took only one phone call, which is unheard of for an ambassador. He did not ask questions and his son had an attentive if slightly bored expression throughout.

At the end of day 2, the ambassador stood up from his chair and thanked us. He issued a call for Poland-based members of the group to continue to convene and dialogue around LGBTI issues. Amazing! We have got this diplomat!

At dinner that night I asked Kerry why he thought the ambassador stayed. He told me it was because his son is transitioning to a boy. The ambassador spent two days deeply engaged in LGBTI foreign policy for the love of his son. Kerry, who is a transgender man, was told this by the ambassador during a coffee break. There was visible relief and joy on his face when Kerry told him he was trans. Kerry and the boy had a long and hopeful chat. Kerry offered advice he wished he had when he was this boy’s age: take your time, reach out any time, you are not alone, it gets better.

The ambassador confided that his wife was not handling the news well. She refused to spend much time in Poland and instead stayed mostly in Chile. And so, this quiet, dignified diplomat who has an official role sitting atop a known machismo culture had taken the lead in loving his son for who he is. He is using his power to edify this love and support.

As Kerry retold this backstory, tears sprung to my eyes. I realized I had been witness to a parent’s purest and most unconditional love for his child through the quiet diplomacy of this wonderful man.