... Continued... Start with the previous post if you don't know what I am talking about.
We woke up the next morning, with shivering blue lips, in the Gran Sabana (Great Savannah). This part of the country is somewhat legendary around the country. It seems like everyone in Valera has something to say about it, though hardly anyone has actually visited it. People told me stories about insects the size of birds, overgrown toads that eat rats and cabybaras, and mosquitoes the length of your arm that swarm the entire area. They also believe it is the most beautiful and oldest place in the world. While I feel like I can say fairly safely that few Venezuelans have an accurate impression of the Gran Sabana, I definitely think that all the hype it attracts is deserved. It is really a very stunning place. There are enormous, ancient Tepuis (tabletop mountains) that tower above the clouds in every direction. These tepuis are remnants of the Guyana Shield, some of the oldest rock formations in the world (they were formed during the time when the supercontinent Gondwana existed). To give some perspective, these rocks are so old that although they once formed the seabed (you can still see the ripples in the rocks), there are no fossils in them because they were formed BEFORE any organisms that would leave fossils had evolved. Now that’s old.
In the Gran Sabana, we arrived to a little touristy city called Santa Elena de Uraien. We got our tour for the next day figured out— a 7 day backpacking trek up and down Roraima (see photo), one of the most spectacular tepuis. While we thought this might take all day, we ended up having everything figured out by about 9 AM. The tour guide mentioned that he was going across the border into Brazil for the day, and did we want to come with?? So we said, “duh!” and hopped in the taxi with him. It was strange how different everything was so suddenly. One minute you understand the language, recognize the food, are familiar with fashion and customs, and the next moment everything is new and foreign. Very strange. We ate a lot of meat, walked around a bit, and bought a few souvenirs, including some really ridiculous cowboy hats for our trek up the big hill. We excitedly spent the night in Santa Elena cooking a spaghetti dinner, playing cards and drinking beer on the second floor patio in the fresh night breeze.
The next morning we woke up early and went to meet the other hikers: a Dutch girl we had shared a room with the night before, a very friendly Polish girl, and two very personable Australian scientists. After a long, dizzying car ride and a quick lunch we were off on our big trip.
The hike was nothing short of spectacular. It was by far the longest, most ambitious backpacking trip that I have been on to date, and while it was hard and I came off the mountain shivering with blisters, soaking wet clothes, and smelly boots, I enjoyed almost every minute of the trek. The biologist in me was way overstimulated by the unbelievable ecosystem that exists on top of the mountain—the numerous endemic plants and animals, the carnivorous plants everywhere, brilliantly colored flowers growing in an unbelievably harsh environment, the strange animals that have evolved really bizarre characteristics (my personal favorite—the frogs that cannot jump. They walk/waddle instead of jumping. Super hilarious)… it was all like a dream.
We walked for two days to the base of the mountain, one day up, one day across, one day around and back (like 30 km + with packs!!), and for two days to come back. The top of the tepui was like a moonscape, with strange rock formations in every direction. I use the words walking or hiking, but really what we were doing was a lot of jumping from rock to rock, climbing up and down cool rock formations, and fording rivers in socks. We followed faint paths on the rocks, stones worn to a lighter color from all the people passing back and forth down the trails. It made it clear that so much of this enormous structure was left untouched, because if you left the trail you would surely get lost. We started to recognize the other hikers on the mountain, even at a distance, the French crew, the Brazilian women, the Germans…
During the day we explored some of the magnificent sites on top of the mountain—Crystal Valley, an unbelievable strip of perfect quartz crystals, El Foso, a huge cavern eroded by converging water sources, where you can swim and stand under a freezing waterfall, we went to the triple point, where Venezuela, Guyana and Brazilian territories converge in a single point, to Lake Gladys and to the site of a helicopter crash where you see only the remains of the aircraft. At night, we stayed in caves and ate dinner and played cards in good company, talking about the differences in politics, health care and economics between our countries.
Most of the time on top of Roraima it was really misty and wet. The clouds would pass by, above and below and on every side of you, drenching you although it never really rained. Leaving things out to dry often left them wetter than they started. When the sun came out it shined brilliantly, creating full rainbows that you could follow all the way to the ground on both sides. From the cliff at the edge of Roraima, when the sun shone momentarily through the clouds you could see forever, giving you butterflies and making you feel faint only for a moment, until it all disappeared behind the clouds again.
At the end of our trek, they greeted us with lunch, watermelon, coke, and beer. We hopped back in the car for our trip back to the city, exhausted and feeling much more comfortable with each other than the previous time that we were all in a car together. For me, the drive was terrifying. The driver drove like an absolute maniac down these sketchy dirt roads, with cars approaching in an equally crazy manner in the other direction. It was clear how nervous we all were, when suddenly as we drove head on past another vehicle the glass on the side window of our car shattered violently. The driver stopped the car immediately, started swearing and sweeping glass out of the car. We all waited silently, unsure of what to say. Turns out the cars were passing each other so closely that their side view mirrors collided and swung around to smash the window in an impressive explosion. As many of you know, moving vehicles of any sort are my biggest fear in life right now… this did not help. The driver continued on, driving just as crazily until, on behalf of all of the hikers in the car, I said in my politest Spanish, “Excuse me sir, we are all very, very uncomfortable back here, do you think you could slow down just a little bit???” It worked. The power of manners.
Part 3 will be on its way soon enough. I must go eat lunch! If you have facebook I posted a bunh of picture from the trip. If not, I will put a link up here soon so that you can all see them.
OH YEAH!! And Merry Christmas! I almost forgot given the lack of anything I associate with Christmas here… Except I did see a man dressed like Santa driving like a psycho down the street today in a car with only one door and no glass in the windows. A little reminder. Love you all and I really wish I could be there to celebrate with you!
24 December 2009
22 December 2009
La Gran Aventura, Part 1
I find the task of trying to share the details of the last several weeks with everyone somewhat overwhelming, and perhaps that’s why I haven’t done it yet. So let me just start by saying that trip I just came back from was absolutely amazing and I think that it merits more than a single blog post, but I’ll try to keep it a reasonable reading length.
So on my last day of work about 3 weeks ago, I told my classes that we were going to have parties with snacks, games, movies, etc. to celebrate. The previous day, I had told everyone that an amigo of mine was coming and we were about to embark on a grand adventure, to which they all just responded, “ooooooh profe es su novio!!!!! (your boyfriend).” I said no, that in the US it is somewhat normal to have friends of the opposite gender, and to hang out with them platonically. So when Zach arrived about a half hour before the classes started, I decided that the best thing to do would be to just bring him, and entertain the classes by letting everyone ask him whatever they wanted, given that they were already somewhat fascinated by him.
Well it turns out that Venezuelans are unbelievably gullible. When the students arrived, they had apparently forgotten about the “boyfriend” and started asking me who he was, so naturally, the answer was, “my BROTHER, of course!” Now I was shocked that they believed me for several reasons, 1) I had TOLD them the day before who he was, 2) they have seen multiple pictures of my brother and he clearly was not the same person, 3) Zach told them that he LIVES in Merida, and 4) did they really think I wouldn’t say anything beforehand if my brother was coming? Anyways, through this lie I think we both created and averted a great deal of confused chaos regarding the identity of this strange American boy, but it’s kind of sweet that they all now think that they know my brother (sorry Luke, I really wish you were here).
So 4 hours of moderately controlled chaos later, I was released from my duties at the University for 6 weeks! Zach and I got down to business organizing things for our pending departure. Several simple tasks: transfer some money, buy some bus tickets, pack, and make sure we informed the right people about where we would be when. Easy, right? Mas o menos.
Purchasing tickets for traveling here is really ridiculous for two reasons. First, people wait until the absolute last second to buy tickets, and then everyone makes a frantic, mad dash to get tickets ALL AT THE SAME TIME. This results in massive, totally unnecessary lines. Second, when you say I want a ticket to such place from such place, the person selling the tickets might say, “Ok, here’s a ticket for 10 o’clock,” and not until later do you realize that there were actually 4 or 5 different choices of tickets for different times which they most certainly never mentioned.
So we went to the bus terminal the day before our trip to buy bus tickets to Caracas, waited in line an hour or so (in the dark because the electricity went out), only to discover that we could not buy tickets until the next morning. So in the morning, Zach and I split up, I braved the line in the bank (where some crazy man sang happy birthday to the bank tellers for at least 1 hour while I was waiting) while Zach braved the one in the bus terminal. When he returned, he told me that actually we were not able to buy tickets until the bus actually arrived later that afternoon. So we went to my house to pack, to the university to put up grades, etc. etc., and returned a few hours before the bus was to leave only to discover that we were actually not allowed to buy tickets at all because there was no bus. So, royally fed up, we found some other tickets on another bus line (which were of course never mentioned by the lady we had talked to 3 times previously). Tickets in hand, we went home to get everything together and embark on our journey. To our grand surprise, when we arrived back at the terminal with our bags packed, right alongside our bus was the bus that we had planned to take. The nonexistent bus. Feeling puzzled and indifferent towards the sight, we got on the new bus and continued on our way.
The buses here are really pretty awesome. They are called “Buscamas,” Bus meaning bus and cama meaning bed. So, though these buses tend to be anywhere from about 10-14 C (aka FREEZING), they are super comfortable, with footrests and seats that recline almost horizontally. Very posh. I was somewhat puzzled when I saw people entering the bus with thick blankets and wool sweaters, beanies, scarves, maybe some mittens… but when the temperature gauge read -12 C on the last bus we were on, I felt much more envious than confused towards the people bundled up in their winter gear (this temperature reading is not a lie, though I am fairly certain that the thermometer was poorly calibrated). On the buscamas, they also tend to play either very vulgar or violent movies for your enjoyment until maybe 1 AM and then again starting at about 5 or 6 AM, but in general, the trips are quite pleasant. So we rode the night away, the first bus of many to come, and arrived in Caracas at around 6 AM.
Caracas is one of those places that is just so notoriously dangerous that I have made a point to just avoid it altogether when at all possible (note: creepy recent NYT article about grave robbers in Caracas). On our short taxi drive from the bus terminal we saw a body under a tarp, someone apparently killed in a recent car accident. The danger and political turmoil noted, I also think that it is a very dynamic, interesting city with a LOT of culture and complicated politics. In Caracas, we were fortunate to receive wonderful hospitality from a couple that works for the embassy. We rode the Teleferico, a really awesome cable car that takes you to the top of the tallest nearby mountain. At the top of the mountain you find many strange things, like people dressed as fairies, strange candies, LOTS of fruit and whipped cream, chocolate, and most importantly some stunning views of the city.
Caracas is a hugely populated city crammed into a single mountain valley, the city “planning” is absolutely horrendous, and from way up high you can just see the chaos manifested in the architecture. Buildings apparently stacked one on top of the other on top of taller buildings next to skyscrapers behind abandoned warehouses in front of mud shacks stacked 6 tall surrounded by ghettos of tin roofs. Complete disorder and poorly constructed buildings. The city is really quite a sight, the poverty is inescapably apparent, as is the fear people feel towards authorities there. On our way home, as Zach and I sat in a little restaurant on the side of the street eating bland bowls of chicken soup, every so often, someone would shout something about the police and everyone would go running behind cars, looking for shelter, or at least back up against some sort of building. A moment later, 5 or 6 motorcycles with cops on them would come zooming through the neighborhood, and once they passed everything would return to normal. Very different from the world that I am used to.
Anyways, we had a lovely night of good company, Lebanese food, and belly dancing in Caracas, and our friends very graciously took us to the airport the next morning to send us off on our next leg of the trip. We flew to Puerto Ordaz, the city where the two biggest rivers in Venezuela come together, the Orinoco River and the Caroni River. There were some spectacular waterfalls, unbelievable parks, and we had our first sighting of an animal that we had never seen before. We are still not entirely sure what it is, but definitely some sort of huge rodent capybara like thing. See for yourself…
After spending the day lounging in parks, we established with our taxi driver as a meeting place the largest centro commercial (read: mall) that I have seen to date in Venezuela. The first reason why this was a mistake: there were SO MANY PEOPLE! How does one go about finding a solitary taxi driver? The second reason: Malls are mostly just overwhelming for me, and Latin American malls even worse…. Anyways, we entertained ourselves by watching the signs that rolled independently down the hallways and people watching. After hours of entertaining ourselves, tracking down missing taxi drivers, and running around the city, we arrived at our next Buscama, where we kicked back, relaxed, and enjoyed the ride.
… Part 2, plus pictures, to come… I post this now only to satisfy my most demanding readers. Watch for the rest. I’ll try to put it up asap.
So on my last day of work about 3 weeks ago, I told my classes that we were going to have parties with snacks, games, movies, etc. to celebrate. The previous day, I had told everyone that an amigo of mine was coming and we were about to embark on a grand adventure, to which they all just responded, “ooooooh profe es su novio!!!!! (your boyfriend).” I said no, that in the US it is somewhat normal to have friends of the opposite gender, and to hang out with them platonically. So when Zach arrived about a half hour before the classes started, I decided that the best thing to do would be to just bring him, and entertain the classes by letting everyone ask him whatever they wanted, given that they were already somewhat fascinated by him.
Well it turns out that Venezuelans are unbelievably gullible. When the students arrived, they had apparently forgotten about the “boyfriend” and started asking me who he was, so naturally, the answer was, “my BROTHER, of course!” Now I was shocked that they believed me for several reasons, 1) I had TOLD them the day before who he was, 2) they have seen multiple pictures of my brother and he clearly was not the same person, 3) Zach told them that he LIVES in Merida, and 4) did they really think I wouldn’t say anything beforehand if my brother was coming? Anyways, through this lie I think we both created and averted a great deal of confused chaos regarding the identity of this strange American boy, but it’s kind of sweet that they all now think that they know my brother (sorry Luke, I really wish you were here).
So 4 hours of moderately controlled chaos later, I was released from my duties at the University for 6 weeks! Zach and I got down to business organizing things for our pending departure. Several simple tasks: transfer some money, buy some bus tickets, pack, and make sure we informed the right people about where we would be when. Easy, right? Mas o menos.
Purchasing tickets for traveling here is really ridiculous for two reasons. First, people wait until the absolute last second to buy tickets, and then everyone makes a frantic, mad dash to get tickets ALL AT THE SAME TIME. This results in massive, totally unnecessary lines. Second, when you say I want a ticket to such place from such place, the person selling the tickets might say, “Ok, here’s a ticket for 10 o’clock,” and not until later do you realize that there were actually 4 or 5 different choices of tickets for different times which they most certainly never mentioned.
So we went to the bus terminal the day before our trip to buy bus tickets to Caracas, waited in line an hour or so (in the dark because the electricity went out), only to discover that we could not buy tickets until the next morning. So in the morning, Zach and I split up, I braved the line in the bank (where some crazy man sang happy birthday to the bank tellers for at least 1 hour while I was waiting) while Zach braved the one in the bus terminal. When he returned, he told me that actually we were not able to buy tickets until the bus actually arrived later that afternoon. So we went to my house to pack, to the university to put up grades, etc. etc., and returned a few hours before the bus was to leave only to discover that we were actually not allowed to buy tickets at all because there was no bus. So, royally fed up, we found some other tickets on another bus line (which were of course never mentioned by the lady we had talked to 3 times previously). Tickets in hand, we went home to get everything together and embark on our journey. To our grand surprise, when we arrived back at the terminal with our bags packed, right alongside our bus was the bus that we had planned to take. The nonexistent bus. Feeling puzzled and indifferent towards the sight, we got on the new bus and continued on our way.
The buses here are really pretty awesome. They are called “Buscamas,” Bus meaning bus and cama meaning bed. So, though these buses tend to be anywhere from about 10-14 C (aka FREEZING), they are super comfortable, with footrests and seats that recline almost horizontally. Very posh. I was somewhat puzzled when I saw people entering the bus with thick blankets and wool sweaters, beanies, scarves, maybe some mittens… but when the temperature gauge read -12 C on the last bus we were on, I felt much more envious than confused towards the people bundled up in their winter gear (this temperature reading is not a lie, though I am fairly certain that the thermometer was poorly calibrated). On the buscamas, they also tend to play either very vulgar or violent movies for your enjoyment until maybe 1 AM and then again starting at about 5 or 6 AM, but in general, the trips are quite pleasant. So we rode the night away, the first bus of many to come, and arrived in Caracas at around 6 AM.
Caracas is one of those places that is just so notoriously dangerous that I have made a point to just avoid it altogether when at all possible (note: creepy recent NYT article about grave robbers in Caracas). On our short taxi drive from the bus terminal we saw a body under a tarp, someone apparently killed in a recent car accident. The danger and political turmoil noted, I also think that it is a very dynamic, interesting city with a LOT of culture and complicated politics. In Caracas, we were fortunate to receive wonderful hospitality from a couple that works for the embassy. We rode the Teleferico, a really awesome cable car that takes you to the top of the tallest nearby mountain. At the top of the mountain you find many strange things, like people dressed as fairies, strange candies, LOTS of fruit and whipped cream, chocolate, and most importantly some stunning views of the city.
Caracas is a hugely populated city crammed into a single mountain valley, the city “planning” is absolutely horrendous, and from way up high you can just see the chaos manifested in the architecture. Buildings apparently stacked one on top of the other on top of taller buildings next to skyscrapers behind abandoned warehouses in front of mud shacks stacked 6 tall surrounded by ghettos of tin roofs. Complete disorder and poorly constructed buildings. The city is really quite a sight, the poverty is inescapably apparent, as is the fear people feel towards authorities there. On our way home, as Zach and I sat in a little restaurant on the side of the street eating bland bowls of chicken soup, every so often, someone would shout something about the police and everyone would go running behind cars, looking for shelter, or at least back up against some sort of building. A moment later, 5 or 6 motorcycles with cops on them would come zooming through the neighborhood, and once they passed everything would return to normal. Very different from the world that I am used to.
Anyways, we had a lovely night of good company, Lebanese food, and belly dancing in Caracas, and our friends very graciously took us to the airport the next morning to send us off on our next leg of the trip. We flew to Puerto Ordaz, the city where the two biggest rivers in Venezuela come together, the Orinoco River and the Caroni River. There were some spectacular waterfalls, unbelievable parks, and we had our first sighting of an animal that we had never seen before. We are still not entirely sure what it is, but definitely some sort of huge rodent capybara like thing. See for yourself…
After spending the day lounging in parks, we established with our taxi driver as a meeting place the largest centro commercial (read: mall) that I have seen to date in Venezuela. The first reason why this was a mistake: there were SO MANY PEOPLE! How does one go about finding a solitary taxi driver? The second reason: Malls are mostly just overwhelming for me, and Latin American malls even worse…. Anyways, we entertained ourselves by watching the signs that rolled independently down the hallways and people watching. After hours of entertaining ourselves, tracking down missing taxi drivers, and running around the city, we arrived at our next Buscama, where we kicked back, relaxed, and enjoyed the ride.
… Part 2, plus pictures, to come… I post this now only to satisfy my most demanding readers. Watch for the rest. I’ll try to put it up asap.
15 December 2009
We made it!
Many days, bus rides, bug bites, beautiful views, and sore muscles later, I am thrilled to say that we made it through Caracas, through Puerto Ordaz, Santa Elena, and to the top and back to the bottom of Roraima. The group we were with was fantastic- two Australians, a Dutch girl and a Polish girl, along with several guides and porters. It was absolutely spectacular, and you will soon be getting many stories and pìctures.
We are now in Ciudad Bolivar, where we will be catching a five person plane to Angel Falls tomorrow. In the meantime, there are 10 meter tall statues of Simon Bolivar, the Orinoco River, and botanical gardens that must be explored in this city before our pending departure.
I just have a moment on the internet right now, but I just thought I would let you all know that we are safe, having a fabulous time, and I wish I could just stick you all in my giant backpack and hike you to the top of the falls.
Hasta luego, espero que sepan que los extraño mucho. Cuidense y escribire mas tarde.
We are now in Ciudad Bolivar, where we will be catching a five person plane to Angel Falls tomorrow. In the meantime, there are 10 meter tall statues of Simon Bolivar, the Orinoco River, and botanical gardens that must be explored in this city before our pending departure.
I just have a moment on the internet right now, but I just thought I would let you all know that we are safe, having a fabulous time, and I wish I could just stick you all in my giant backpack and hike you to the top of the falls.
Hasta luego, espero que sepan que los extraño mucho. Cuidense y escribire mas tarde.
04 December 2009
Yes yes yes!
Well, I am thrilled to say that I am finally writing to you all on my very own brand spankin’ new computer sent all the way from the US of A. That’s right, about a month after the tragic theft of my computer and camera, I have both again and I am so excited to share all of my tales with you!!!
First of all, let me update you on the thief drama in Valera. After thinking through the whole facebook friendship with man who stole my electronics from my bedroom, I decided it would be prudent to delete him from my facebook friends. So I did just that about 3 days ago, hoping that I could just put the whole event behind me. With my new computer, new camera and new attitude, I felt that it was a bad idea to have e-friends that I knew were capable of robbing me. So with a click of a button, I thought I was erasing all contact that I might have with the maldito, forgetting about him by intentionally eliminating him from my life. Well, to my EXTREME surprise, within 24 hours, the TIPO noticed that I had unfriended him and he RE-FRIENDED me… UNBELIEVABLE! So not only did he rob me AND friend me on facebook, he re-friended me when I insisted that we were, in fact, NOT FRIENDS, but rather something like enemies. I am considering writing him a long message full of all of the Spanish and English curse words that I can think of. Good idea or bad idea, what do you all think???? I am torn. It just sounds so, so , so… satisfying. And yet, I usually try to avoid offending dangerous drug addicts with knife scars and tattoos all over their bodies… especially ones that have previously robbed me of all my valuables. He did bring me pizzas and fish when he was still courting me though, so I guess it was more like a trade. A camera and a computer for a couple of cheap dinners… I definitely lost. One point for the dangerous drug addict. Zero for me.
The other most recent thief news is fresh chisme (gossip). Another laptop was stolen from the University last night, except this time it was a somewhat impressive, though offensive act of thievery. The thief scaled the side of the university building, managed to remove the second story window, enter the university building and steal a laptop that a faculty member had left there overnight. Pretty ballsy, huh? So just to clarify what this means-- we are dealing with creative, agile, and fearless thieves here…
But enough about robbery, let’s talk about something else… I leave tonight for a FABULOUS two week long trip! Zach (from Merida) arrived yesterday afternoon in Valera, and tonight marks the first leg of our adventure to the other side of the country. We will be visiting such spectacular places as, Angel Falls, Roraima, Caracas, Puerto Ordaz, Ciudad Bolivar, and WHO KNOWS where else!! Actually, we have everything planned out, so we do know exactly where we are going… generally a good idea not to wander aimlessly in dangerous countries. Here´s our plan, follow us on a map!:
December 4th: Leave Valera. Night bus to Caracas
December 5th: Arrive in Caracas. Stay with a very gracious Embassy employee. Prepare for Sunday morning flight.
December 6th: Fly from Caracas to Puerto Ordaz at 10 am. Visit crazy waterfalls in Puerto Ordaz. Take night bus to Santa Elena de Uairen.
December 7th: Rest in Santa Elena de Uairen
December 8th-14th: 7 day long Roraima TREK with Kamadac Tours (It sounds pretty hard core)
December 14th: Night bus to Ciudad Bolivar OR Fly to Canaima (Details pending)
December 15th or 16th - December 18th or 19th: Boat tour of Angel Falls, sleep in bush camp right in front of the world´s tallest waterfall
December 19th: Fly from Ciudad Bolivar to Caracas.
Back to Valera??? I´ll probably take a bus by myself back from Caracas, since Zach is headed back to the USA to visit his family for Christmas!
So that´s the latest. I won´t be around for about two weeks, but if there is an internet café I will try to sneak in a blog post. Love you all and happy trails!
First of all, let me update you on the thief drama in Valera. After thinking through the whole facebook friendship with man who stole my electronics from my bedroom, I decided it would be prudent to delete him from my facebook friends. So I did just that about 3 days ago, hoping that I could just put the whole event behind me. With my new computer, new camera and new attitude, I felt that it was a bad idea to have e-friends that I knew were capable of robbing me. So with a click of a button, I thought I was erasing all contact that I might have with the maldito, forgetting about him by intentionally eliminating him from my life. Well, to my EXTREME surprise, within 24 hours, the TIPO noticed that I had unfriended him and he RE-FRIENDED me… UNBELIEVABLE! So not only did he rob me AND friend me on facebook, he re-friended me when I insisted that we were, in fact, NOT FRIENDS, but rather something like enemies. I am considering writing him a long message full of all of the Spanish and English curse words that I can think of. Good idea or bad idea, what do you all think???? I am torn. It just sounds so, so , so… satisfying. And yet, I usually try to avoid offending dangerous drug addicts with knife scars and tattoos all over their bodies… especially ones that have previously robbed me of all my valuables. He did bring me pizzas and fish when he was still courting me though, so I guess it was more like a trade. A camera and a computer for a couple of cheap dinners… I definitely lost. One point for the dangerous drug addict. Zero for me.
The other most recent thief news is fresh chisme (gossip). Another laptop was stolen from the University last night, except this time it was a somewhat impressive, though offensive act of thievery. The thief scaled the side of the university building, managed to remove the second story window, enter the university building and steal a laptop that a faculty member had left there overnight. Pretty ballsy, huh? So just to clarify what this means-- we are dealing with creative, agile, and fearless thieves here…
But enough about robbery, let’s talk about something else… I leave tonight for a FABULOUS two week long trip! Zach (from Merida) arrived yesterday afternoon in Valera, and tonight marks the first leg of our adventure to the other side of the country. We will be visiting such spectacular places as, Angel Falls, Roraima, Caracas, Puerto Ordaz, Ciudad Bolivar, and WHO KNOWS where else!! Actually, we have everything planned out, so we do know exactly where we are going… generally a good idea not to wander aimlessly in dangerous countries. Here´s our plan, follow us on a map!:
December 4th: Leave Valera. Night bus to Caracas
December 5th: Arrive in Caracas. Stay with a very gracious Embassy employee. Prepare for Sunday morning flight.
December 6th: Fly from Caracas to Puerto Ordaz at 10 am. Visit crazy waterfalls in Puerto Ordaz. Take night bus to Santa Elena de Uairen.
December 7th: Rest in Santa Elena de Uairen
December 8th-14th: 7 day long Roraima TREK with Kamadac Tours (It sounds pretty hard core)
December 14th: Night bus to Ciudad Bolivar OR Fly to Canaima (Details pending)
December 15th or 16th - December 18th or 19th: Boat tour of Angel Falls, sleep in bush camp right in front of the world´s tallest waterfall
December 19th: Fly from Ciudad Bolivar to Caracas.
Back to Valera??? I´ll probably take a bus by myself back from Caracas, since Zach is headed back to the USA to visit his family for Christmas!
So that´s the latest. I won´t be around for about two weeks, but if there is an internet café I will try to sneak in a blog post. Love you all and happy trails!
27 November 2009
"...What kind of animal is it from...?"
I can`t believe how long it has been since I have written on here. There is so much to catch up on that I don`t even know where to start!
First things first… Probably the most dramatic thing that has happened to me in the last two weeks was a recent occurrence related to food— it happened only two days ago. I was Skyping on Monday evening with my Dad and Donna, happily chatting away when I was told that the dinner someone had made me was getting cold. In Venezuela, the biggest meal of the day is lunch. People eat a big bowl of soup and a heaping plate of food for lunch, and for dinner they often just eat a piece of bread with cheese, nothing, a piece of fruit, or more typically, an arepa (basically a thick corn tortilla) with meat, eggs, cheese or something else. I often prepare my own dinner, and sometimes dinner for the whole family, but lately Tarary who has proven to be among the sweetest men in the world, has been making us delicious dinners of fried empanadas, arepas with avocado and cheese, elaborate sandwiches, and many other fried delicacies that I don`t know how to explain. So I was not surprised by the news that someone had made me dinner.
In the kitchen, everyone was standing around, some eating, others already finished, some choosing not to eat dinner, when they gave me a plate. On the plate was an arepa with little chunks of some sort of meat in some sort of red sauce. I eat a lot of things that I don`t recognize here, sometimes eventually figuring out what they are…. OH! It`s sardines! Or OH! It`s spam! Or OH! This chicken noodle soup has oatmeal in it! Or OH! It`s that weird hairy vegetable that I saw in the market the other day… or OH! That potato is purple and I guess I just have NO IDEA WHY! So I asked what it was, and they said it was chicken. Ok, likely story given that it looks NOTHING LIKE CHICKEN.
So I started eating it, everyone watching a little too closely. It was sort of the texture of squid… a little spongy, with a little bit of gristle on it. Too spongy for chicken, too tough for poultry. I kind of stopped eating the meat and just ate the arepa… “This does not taste like chicken,” I said, “What is it??” I already had an idea of what it might be. I suspected that it was something that I had seen in the supermarket, something that I hoped I would never, ever be served, but I didn`t want to accuse anyone of lying to me so I kept with the questions.
“What part of the animal is it from??” … We don`t know what it is called in English. “What kind of animal is it from?” … A vaca, okay, a cow. “What is it called?” “Mondongo.” AHHHHH! My suspicions were confirmed. I was, in fact, eating a big plate of COW INTESTINES. Awesome. Four years of vegetarianism, and now I am sitting here with a plate of COW INTESTINES that I am expected to eat. I decided to draw the line. I said I couldn`t eat anymore, that this would be REALLY weird and considered really disgusting in my country, and I just couldn`t get past it. They were like, “But WHY? It isn`t like it`s a weird thing to eat or anything…”
“In my country, it would be just as weird to eat cow intestines as it would be to eat crickets, or to eat a snake…” I told them. “EW! I would NEVER EAT THOSE, THAT IS SO WEIRD!!!!” they responded. And so they took my cow intestines, and told me that they would eat them for breakfast because they were too full from the huge plates of intestines they had already eaten to eat them now. And we laughed… and I felt a little gross…
In other news, I feel REALLY busy lately. My typical week has been to wake up around 6:30, leave at around 7:30 for work (either teaching English classes to elementary aged kids in rural schools with Bibliomulas or tutoring at the American Corner). I am there from about 8 until 12, when we face the horrible colas (translated: traffic jams) to go home for lunch. Susana, my host mom, makes us lunch, which is typically very good, though there are always some slightly different things. Want some ketchup on your rice? Mayonnaise on your pasta? Lime on your green beans?
I then come back to the university for my level two English class, from 2-4, and my children`s class from 4-6. I absolutely love my level 2 class. It is so fun, we always laugh, and it is really great to see how much they have learned in 11 weeks (most of my level 2 students are from my level 1 class)! My little kids class is challenging, and I will be relieved when it is over. Afterwards, I sometimes stay in the University until around 8 correcting exams and homework and planning classes, or else I do it in my house. I make dinner, hang out with the family, sometimes skype a little, and go to bed pretty late. Add in hand-washing all my clothes and trying to keep up with foreign correspondence and HAVING FRIENDS. It`s a lot.
The good news is that without a computer, I have certainly had lots of time to hang out with friends, travel, and experience many, many different (cough) cultural activites. I went to Maracaibo last weekend, where I found myself at a professional baseball game, drinking watery beer with a whole bunch of ex-professional baseball players (as in they played in the US) in our own VIP box. Below us, we could see people throwing beers through the stadiums, mascots dancing salsa and merengue out on the field, people shouting unfamiliar chants in Spanish. The vendors brought us fried plantains, churros, whiskey and other foods that I wouldn`t expect at a baseball game, but that were fabulously delicious. After the game, I went out to a gay club with friends. I would leave out the detail that it was a gay club, except that it meant that I was in the unique situation of feeling comfortable in front of nearly all the men I saw. We danced the night away, until the sun rose and the lights were turned on. We ate a breakfast of pastelitos (essentially mozzarella sticks in circular form) before we went to bed, finally collapsing in our beds at about 8 in the morning.
I have also had the opportunity to attend some musical and dance performances. I`m sure it will come as a surprise to many of you that Venezuela has one of the most progressive music education programs in the world. In Venezuela, there is a program called El Sistema, which essentially funds music education for poor children nationwide. There are youth orchestras in every city, including Valera, and they are incredibly talented. Many conductors for some of the most famous orchestras in the US are Venezuelan-born and participated in El Sistema. SO, needless to say, there are many very talented musicians here. About a week ago, I went to an event which was essentially American Idol for the university where I teach. University students and professors competed for the title of best voice in the university. Every single person who participated was very talented, though some were truly incredible. The most impressive group was a vocal quintet at the end which sang some of the most interesting and tight harmonies I have ever heard in a small ensemble. There was also a mediocre, somewhat strange dance performance at the end. It involved a lot of girls, some Shakira songs, and some sparkly scarves. A strange way to finish off the night, but nonetheless entertaining.
I also attended a showcase of Flamenco dancing about two weeks ago. The dancing was really entertaining. I could barely sit still in my seat on the stairs while watching the women dance. It made me want to wear a flowing skirt and stomp my feet… the awkward part of the night, though, was that the friend of mine who invited me to the event was a participant in the dance. You know how in every dance performance, there`s always that one person who is spinning the wrong direction, and gives an extra three stomps after everyone is stopped… well that was my friend. Painful to watch, but definitely a really fun event!!! It made me want to take Flamenco classes.
So that about brings us up to date. My classes end next Thursday and I have planned a fantastic trip to Angel Falls, the tallest waterfall in the world (and one of the natural wonders!!), and to several other places in the Amazon/Orinoco River delta on the other side of the country. I am also planning to spend a week on the beach after Christmas! So I am peachy as can be, awaiting the delivery of a new computer that my Dad and Donna so graciously and generously sent to me this week, correcting homework and learning new Spanish slang every day. I hope you had wonderful Thanksgivings! Hasta luego!
First things first… Probably the most dramatic thing that has happened to me in the last two weeks was a recent occurrence related to food— it happened only two days ago. I was Skyping on Monday evening with my Dad and Donna, happily chatting away when I was told that the dinner someone had made me was getting cold. In Venezuela, the biggest meal of the day is lunch. People eat a big bowl of soup and a heaping plate of food for lunch, and for dinner they often just eat a piece of bread with cheese, nothing, a piece of fruit, or more typically, an arepa (basically a thick corn tortilla) with meat, eggs, cheese or something else. I often prepare my own dinner, and sometimes dinner for the whole family, but lately Tarary who has proven to be among the sweetest men in the world, has been making us delicious dinners of fried empanadas, arepas with avocado and cheese, elaborate sandwiches, and many other fried delicacies that I don`t know how to explain. So I was not surprised by the news that someone had made me dinner.
In the kitchen, everyone was standing around, some eating, others already finished, some choosing not to eat dinner, when they gave me a plate. On the plate was an arepa with little chunks of some sort of meat in some sort of red sauce. I eat a lot of things that I don`t recognize here, sometimes eventually figuring out what they are…. OH! It`s sardines! Or OH! It`s spam! Or OH! This chicken noodle soup has oatmeal in it! Or OH! It`s that weird hairy vegetable that I saw in the market the other day… or OH! That potato is purple and I guess I just have NO IDEA WHY! So I asked what it was, and they said it was chicken. Ok, likely story given that it looks NOTHING LIKE CHICKEN.
So I started eating it, everyone watching a little too closely. It was sort of the texture of squid… a little spongy, with a little bit of gristle on it. Too spongy for chicken, too tough for poultry. I kind of stopped eating the meat and just ate the arepa… “This does not taste like chicken,” I said, “What is it??” I already had an idea of what it might be. I suspected that it was something that I had seen in the supermarket, something that I hoped I would never, ever be served, but I didn`t want to accuse anyone of lying to me so I kept with the questions.
“What part of the animal is it from??” … We don`t know what it is called in English. “What kind of animal is it from?” … A vaca, okay, a cow. “What is it called?” “Mondongo.” AHHHHH! My suspicions were confirmed. I was, in fact, eating a big plate of COW INTESTINES. Awesome. Four years of vegetarianism, and now I am sitting here with a plate of COW INTESTINES that I am expected to eat. I decided to draw the line. I said I couldn`t eat anymore, that this would be REALLY weird and considered really disgusting in my country, and I just couldn`t get past it. They were like, “But WHY? It isn`t like it`s a weird thing to eat or anything…”
“In my country, it would be just as weird to eat cow intestines as it would be to eat crickets, or to eat a snake…” I told them. “EW! I would NEVER EAT THOSE, THAT IS SO WEIRD!!!!” they responded. And so they took my cow intestines, and told me that they would eat them for breakfast because they were too full from the huge plates of intestines they had already eaten to eat them now. And we laughed… and I felt a little gross…
In other news, I feel REALLY busy lately. My typical week has been to wake up around 6:30, leave at around 7:30 for work (either teaching English classes to elementary aged kids in rural schools with Bibliomulas or tutoring at the American Corner). I am there from about 8 until 12, when we face the horrible colas (translated: traffic jams) to go home for lunch. Susana, my host mom, makes us lunch, which is typically very good, though there are always some slightly different things. Want some ketchup on your rice? Mayonnaise on your pasta? Lime on your green beans?
I then come back to the university for my level two English class, from 2-4, and my children`s class from 4-6. I absolutely love my level 2 class. It is so fun, we always laugh, and it is really great to see how much they have learned in 11 weeks (most of my level 2 students are from my level 1 class)! My little kids class is challenging, and I will be relieved when it is over. Afterwards, I sometimes stay in the University until around 8 correcting exams and homework and planning classes, or else I do it in my house. I make dinner, hang out with the family, sometimes skype a little, and go to bed pretty late. Add in hand-washing all my clothes and trying to keep up with foreign correspondence and HAVING FRIENDS. It`s a lot.
The good news is that without a computer, I have certainly had lots of time to hang out with friends, travel, and experience many, many different (cough) cultural activites. I went to Maracaibo last weekend, where I found myself at a professional baseball game, drinking watery beer with a whole bunch of ex-professional baseball players (as in they played in the US) in our own VIP box. Below us, we could see people throwing beers through the stadiums, mascots dancing salsa and merengue out on the field, people shouting unfamiliar chants in Spanish. The vendors brought us fried plantains, churros, whiskey and other foods that I wouldn`t expect at a baseball game, but that were fabulously delicious. After the game, I went out to a gay club with friends. I would leave out the detail that it was a gay club, except that it meant that I was in the unique situation of feeling comfortable in front of nearly all the men I saw. We danced the night away, until the sun rose and the lights were turned on. We ate a breakfast of pastelitos (essentially mozzarella sticks in circular form) before we went to bed, finally collapsing in our beds at about 8 in the morning.
I have also had the opportunity to attend some musical and dance performances. I`m sure it will come as a surprise to many of you that Venezuela has one of the most progressive music education programs in the world. In Venezuela, there is a program called El Sistema, which essentially funds music education for poor children nationwide. There are youth orchestras in every city, including Valera, and they are incredibly talented. Many conductors for some of the most famous orchestras in the US are Venezuelan-born and participated in El Sistema. SO, needless to say, there are many very talented musicians here. About a week ago, I went to an event which was essentially American Idol for the university where I teach. University students and professors competed for the title of best voice in the university. Every single person who participated was very talented, though some were truly incredible. The most impressive group was a vocal quintet at the end which sang some of the most interesting and tight harmonies I have ever heard in a small ensemble. There was also a mediocre, somewhat strange dance performance at the end. It involved a lot of girls, some Shakira songs, and some sparkly scarves. A strange way to finish off the night, but nonetheless entertaining.
I also attended a showcase of Flamenco dancing about two weeks ago. The dancing was really entertaining. I could barely sit still in my seat on the stairs while watching the women dance. It made me want to wear a flowing skirt and stomp my feet… the awkward part of the night, though, was that the friend of mine who invited me to the event was a participant in the dance. You know how in every dance performance, there`s always that one person who is spinning the wrong direction, and gives an extra three stomps after everyone is stopped… well that was my friend. Painful to watch, but definitely a really fun event!!! It made me want to take Flamenco classes.
So that about brings us up to date. My classes end next Thursday and I have planned a fantastic trip to Angel Falls, the tallest waterfall in the world (and one of the natural wonders!!), and to several other places in the Amazon/Orinoco River delta on the other side of the country. I am also planning to spend a week on the beach after Christmas! So I am peachy as can be, awaiting the delivery of a new computer that my Dad and Donna so graciously and generously sent to me this week, correcting homework and learning new Spanish slang every day. I hope you had wonderful Thanksgivings! Hasta luego!
13 November 2009
What´s a girl to do???
I would like to think that if I ever saw someone stealing a car, I would interfere in some way, shape, or form… But I now know from experience that when witness to car theft, I don´t do anything. I just stare in disbelief as I watch someone wheel away a car that is not theirs.
You see, last Saturday, I watched someone get their car stolen. How strange, huh? At about 5 in the morning, when we were standing outside our house, we watched a group of about 4 or 5 boys pushing a car that was clearly not theirs down the street... But in retrospect, I really have no idea what we could have done. I sure wasn´t about to intervene physically in their sketchy nighttime activities, I have no idea how I would call the police even if I wanted to, chances are the license plates would be useless, … what else is a girl to do when witness to grand theft auto? Keep her mouth shut and stay away from the dangerous people, right? Maybe that´s a cop out, but it is what I chose to do…
I was talking with a friend here about theft, a common theme in this country. I told him that I felt confused because I felt like the time I spent in Africa made me aware of how to hold my possessions so they won´t get stolen, how to behave so that I won´t get robbed, and how to exist in a city where thefts are common. And yet, everything that I have is being stolen repeatedly. In the airport, from my bedroom, when I go out… He said something that really left an impression, ¨The difference is that in Africa, people steal for necessity, while here, people steal for pleasure…¨ It´s a game. It´s an addiction. Ain´t that the truth.
In other bizarre theft news, the guy who stole my computer and camera and skipped town recently friended me on facebook. There is no rational explanation for this behavior, in my mind. I have concluded that he is totally out of his mind… He won´t respond to my emails or texts, but he wants to be friends on facebook?? MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE CONSIDERED THAT BEFORE YOU STOLE MY STUFF YOU CRAZY PSYCHO! Whew, glad I let that out publicly. But seriously, wtf, right?
In other news, there has been a recent breakout of tropical diseases among my acquaintances here. Some of the diseases have been identified, others of have not. A student of mine has dengue, the boy who was helping me with my class of devil children has hepatitis A, the director of the language center has something really fierce, Yervio has a sinus infection, … I am just waiting to see which one of my at least 12-15 vaccinations fails me. Haha, it wouldn´t be traveling if you didn´t get sick at least once, or so I tell myself. We´ll see.
You see, last Saturday, I watched someone get their car stolen. How strange, huh? At about 5 in the morning, when we were standing outside our house, we watched a group of about 4 or 5 boys pushing a car that was clearly not theirs down the street... But in retrospect, I really have no idea what we could have done. I sure wasn´t about to intervene physically in their sketchy nighttime activities, I have no idea how I would call the police even if I wanted to, chances are the license plates would be useless, … what else is a girl to do when witness to grand theft auto? Keep her mouth shut and stay away from the dangerous people, right? Maybe that´s a cop out, but it is what I chose to do…
I was talking with a friend here about theft, a common theme in this country. I told him that I felt confused because I felt like the time I spent in Africa made me aware of how to hold my possessions so they won´t get stolen, how to behave so that I won´t get robbed, and how to exist in a city where thefts are common. And yet, everything that I have is being stolen repeatedly. In the airport, from my bedroom, when I go out… He said something that really left an impression, ¨The difference is that in Africa, people steal for necessity, while here, people steal for pleasure…¨ It´s a game. It´s an addiction. Ain´t that the truth.
In other bizarre theft news, the guy who stole my computer and camera and skipped town recently friended me on facebook. There is no rational explanation for this behavior, in my mind. I have concluded that he is totally out of his mind… He won´t respond to my emails or texts, but he wants to be friends on facebook?? MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE CONSIDERED THAT BEFORE YOU STOLE MY STUFF YOU CRAZY PSYCHO! Whew, glad I let that out publicly. But seriously, wtf, right?
In other news, there has been a recent breakout of tropical diseases among my acquaintances here. Some of the diseases have been identified, others of have not. A student of mine has dengue, the boy who was helping me with my class of devil children has hepatitis A, the director of the language center has something really fierce, Yervio has a sinus infection, … I am just waiting to see which one of my at least 12-15 vaccinations fails me. Haha, it wouldn´t be traveling if you didn´t get sick at least once, or so I tell myself. We´ll see.
08 November 2009
Alright, so this time it was my fault...
I have been robbed not once, not twice, but now three times. The first two I feel were out of my control. Last night, though, was just foolishness. I brought my little bag, that contained nothing more than about $10, my cheapo cellphone, keys and cough drops to the bathroom when we were out dancing. I left it in the bathroom without realizing it. About 5 minutes later, when I realized and went back, it was gone.
So I have officially lost all contact to the outside world both foreignly and domestically.
The most liberating part, though, was that I really didn´t even care anymore. I no longer have any material attachments, I think. So I just kept bailando until 5 in the morning, like they do here... salsa, merengue, reggaeton, gaita, cumbia, without a care in the world...
So I have officially lost all contact to the outside world both foreignly and domestically.
The most liberating part, though, was that I really didn´t even care anymore. I no longer have any material attachments, I think. So I just kept bailando until 5 in the morning, like they do here... salsa, merengue, reggaeton, gaita, cumbia, without a care in the world...
05 November 2009
Oh no, you killed an alligator!
I noticed a kind of funny smell when I walked through my doorway the other day. There are lots of funny smells in this country, though, so I thought very little of it.
Yesterday, as Yervio walked past my room he said, "Oh no! You killed an alligator!"
"What?" I thought... this is making no sense.
"Or, how do you call that?" he asked.
I walked over to the doorway, and sure enough, squished flat between the door and the doorframe were the remnants of a tiny lizard.
Ooooh... an alligator. I get it. That`s really sad.
Yesterday, as Yervio walked past my room he said, "Oh no! You killed an alligator!"
"What?" I thought... this is making no sense.
"Or, how do you call that?" he asked.
I walked over to the doorway, and sure enough, squished flat between the door and the doorframe were the remnants of a tiny lizard.
Ooooh... an alligator. I get it. That`s really sad.
02 November 2009
"La gente esta mirando yo!!!"
There are so many things I want to say to you all, and yet so little time to say them, given that I work between 10-12 hours a day and I don`t have a computer. So the quality and quantity of these blog posts may decline significantly in the next few weeks/months while I deal with my little computer issue, but I will try my best to keep you all up to date.
About the pictures I just put up— Needless to say, my hiking trip this weekend was absolutely incredible. Late last Thursday night I decided to skip out on an optional Friday morning meeting, opting instead to wake up at 6AM to leave for Merida. The weekend before last Zach went hiking at La Sierra de la Culata National Park to scout out potential hiking trips. He decided this park would make for a lovely hiking trip, and it also happens to be one of the only national parks outside of Merida where you are not required to have a guide to go backcountry camping.
So I rolled out of bed on Friday morning, excited and sleepy, and went solo down to the terminal. I waited a short while, took my somewhat uncomfortable spot in a crowded car that smelled strongly of gasoline and artificial air fresheners, and we were off. Even though I have now experienced the ride between Valera and Merida four times, I still think it is spectacular. It was different this time, though, given that I wasn’t concerned about capturing images to send home. I noticed that the views change each time you travel the route, mostly because different peaks are obscured by clouds each time. A simple hill may be visible on one trip, but on another trip, in the same place you might see enormous craggy mountains dusted with snow directly behind that hill that you thought stood alone.
The trip went quickly, somewhat uneventful. As usual, I was shocked by things I saw, like a sheep dangling from its hind legs along the side of the road, or the man carrying an enormous, bloody cow carcass on his back. I was amused by things, like seeing the acronym F.A.R.T. spray painted in five-foot-tall letters on the side of buildings. As usual, I hung on for dear life throughout the majority of the trip, as we took turns so hard that the dashboard upholstery slid off the dashboard. I stared out the window in awe of the mountains, noticing that in this country houses, like flowers, can be any shade of any color of the rainbow. We stopped for a short break, where a nun appeared out of nowhere and offered me some toilet paper. I was strangely touched by the gesture. Back in the car, I noticed people in the taxi take interest in me. I put on my ipod, thinking that, “today, I just don`t want to be interesting to anyone….”
In Valera, Zach and I immediately got down to business. We had to find me a sleeping bag. The word around town was that a man named Manuel had a business downtown where he rented camping gear. “Cheap rentals, steep deposits,” they had said. While waiting for Manuel, we stumbled upon an enormous graveyard. We walked through it, admiring the large, elevated tombs adorned with nylon flowers. We speculated about the ages of the tombs, how they had been placed together in such a tightly woven maze. The graveyards here are eerily beautiful, seas of catholic symbols and weathered stone crosses. Most graves are elevated at least a few feet above the ground, with headstones no shorter than chest height. There appears to be no order to how graves are placed, nor any clear indication of how old the graves might be.
We finally tracked down Manuel, I rented a sleeping bag for slightly less than $2 a day, and we went to go stock up on supplies. We spoiled ourselves, buying fresh strawberries, avocados, star fruit, dried apricots, almonds, candied peanuts, fresh breads, Chilean wine, fresh cheese and fine Venezuelan chocolate. The next day we woke up early, and took a bus to the entrance of the park. The hike was almost completely straight up, some parts like stairs, others more gradual, but it was absolutely stunning. The first hour or two were nice, but the hike started to become really incredible when we arrived at our first peak, to overlook the deep valleys below.
The majority of the mountainous land in this area is fairly arid, almost desert-like, but here there were verdant valleys interspersed throughout the arid land. The dirt in these river valleys was some of the darkest I think I have ever seen, and the ground blossomed with various flowers, mostly yellow, pink, and purple. The first of these valleys we saw was so impressive that we stopped to take a photo. Suddenly we heard, “La gente esta mirando yo!!!” (The people are looking at me!!!) only to see a naked man frolicking through the stream, attempting to make himself decent. We laughed and continued on.
We continued upwards. Up, up, and more up. We were exhausted, and it started raining, a gentle, cool rain. Zach loaned me his rain pants, a gesture that will definitely not be forgotten. We arrived at another pass, to look down upon yet another verdant valley, this one filled with cows and clouds, and a refugio (shelter). We walked on, crossed the river, reaching for each others` hands so we didn`t trip on the slippery rocks into the frigid water. As the weather cleared up, we were shocked by the view that was revealed. Behind the beautiful rolling mountains that we could see immediately in front of us were enormous peaks, towering far, far above the hills we had been admiring. The peaks of the mountains were craggy, impossibly vertical.
We went to bed early, after eating spaghetti with our fingers (we forgot forks). The full moon was a mixed blessing, beautiful, but it prevented us from taking full advantage of the star chart that I had brought. Another trip, I thought. Because there will surely be more.
When we woke up the next morning, my body was like an enormous shivering ice cube. I was joking that I wondered if there was frost outside, only to realize about a half an hour later that there really was frost on everything. We were up and gone by about 6:30. Frost… In Venezuela… still weird. We warmed up quickly once we got moving, and were soon down to a single layer. We walked out in about half the time it took us to walk there. The trip back to Valera was quiet again, uneventful, and yet unbelievably stunning at the same time.
On another note, it is odd to imagine all that is happening in the US while I am here. I have been here for almost 2 months now, but it really doesn`t seem like it. I know that it is now starting to be winter in Minnesota, that many things have changed at home in the last few months, and that I am missing important events that pass without me even knowing.
I was particularly peeved about missing Halloween, given that it is one of my favorite holidays. Knowing that I would miss it, I decided to throw Halloween parties in the American Corner for my classes at the university (I have two classes now, a class of level 2 English students, and a class of children that are mostly kids of people who work at the university). I dressed up like a black cat, to the enjoyment of basically the entire university, and everyone brought treats in to share. Some students dressed up, but very few. Most students brought candy, but a lot of them brought tequeños, which are something like mozzarella sticks. Very delicious.
My students read about the history of Halloween (I learned a lot). We listened to scary stories, attempted to watch the Michael Jackson Thriller video…. And then they asked me to rap for them in English. I don`t know why I obliged in this moment, but for some reason the rap from the King Burger YouTube video came to me in full force, and I embraced the moment… rapping for them… eating candy and cheese sticks, dressed like a cat in a room with walls painted like American flags, a life-sized cutout of Obama watching me as I shared the best of American culture with these unsuspecting Venezuelan university students. “Now this is what the Fulbright is really about,” I thought….
About the pictures I just put up— Needless to say, my hiking trip this weekend was absolutely incredible. Late last Thursday night I decided to skip out on an optional Friday morning meeting, opting instead to wake up at 6AM to leave for Merida. The weekend before last Zach went hiking at La Sierra de la Culata National Park to scout out potential hiking trips. He decided this park would make for a lovely hiking trip, and it also happens to be one of the only national parks outside of Merida where you are not required to have a guide to go backcountry camping.
So I rolled out of bed on Friday morning, excited and sleepy, and went solo down to the terminal. I waited a short while, took my somewhat uncomfortable spot in a crowded car that smelled strongly of gasoline and artificial air fresheners, and we were off. Even though I have now experienced the ride between Valera and Merida four times, I still think it is spectacular. It was different this time, though, given that I wasn’t concerned about capturing images to send home. I noticed that the views change each time you travel the route, mostly because different peaks are obscured by clouds each time. A simple hill may be visible on one trip, but on another trip, in the same place you might see enormous craggy mountains dusted with snow directly behind that hill that you thought stood alone.
The trip went quickly, somewhat uneventful. As usual, I was shocked by things I saw, like a sheep dangling from its hind legs along the side of the road, or the man carrying an enormous, bloody cow carcass on his back. I was amused by things, like seeing the acronym F.A.R.T. spray painted in five-foot-tall letters on the side of buildings. As usual, I hung on for dear life throughout the majority of the trip, as we took turns so hard that the dashboard upholstery slid off the dashboard. I stared out the window in awe of the mountains, noticing that in this country houses, like flowers, can be any shade of any color of the rainbow. We stopped for a short break, where a nun appeared out of nowhere and offered me some toilet paper. I was strangely touched by the gesture. Back in the car, I noticed people in the taxi take interest in me. I put on my ipod, thinking that, “today, I just don`t want to be interesting to anyone….”
In Valera, Zach and I immediately got down to business. We had to find me a sleeping bag. The word around town was that a man named Manuel had a business downtown where he rented camping gear. “Cheap rentals, steep deposits,” they had said. While waiting for Manuel, we stumbled upon an enormous graveyard. We walked through it, admiring the large, elevated tombs adorned with nylon flowers. We speculated about the ages of the tombs, how they had been placed together in such a tightly woven maze. The graveyards here are eerily beautiful, seas of catholic symbols and weathered stone crosses. Most graves are elevated at least a few feet above the ground, with headstones no shorter than chest height. There appears to be no order to how graves are placed, nor any clear indication of how old the graves might be.
We finally tracked down Manuel, I rented a sleeping bag for slightly less than $2 a day, and we went to go stock up on supplies. We spoiled ourselves, buying fresh strawberries, avocados, star fruit, dried apricots, almonds, candied peanuts, fresh breads, Chilean wine, fresh cheese and fine Venezuelan chocolate. The next day we woke up early, and took a bus to the entrance of the park. The hike was almost completely straight up, some parts like stairs, others more gradual, but it was absolutely stunning. The first hour or two were nice, but the hike started to become really incredible when we arrived at our first peak, to overlook the deep valleys below.
The majority of the mountainous land in this area is fairly arid, almost desert-like, but here there were verdant valleys interspersed throughout the arid land. The dirt in these river valleys was some of the darkest I think I have ever seen, and the ground blossomed with various flowers, mostly yellow, pink, and purple. The first of these valleys we saw was so impressive that we stopped to take a photo. Suddenly we heard, “La gente esta mirando yo!!!” (The people are looking at me!!!) only to see a naked man frolicking through the stream, attempting to make himself decent. We laughed and continued on.
We continued upwards. Up, up, and more up. We were exhausted, and it started raining, a gentle, cool rain. Zach loaned me his rain pants, a gesture that will definitely not be forgotten. We arrived at another pass, to look down upon yet another verdant valley, this one filled with cows and clouds, and a refugio (shelter). We walked on, crossed the river, reaching for each others` hands so we didn`t trip on the slippery rocks into the frigid water. As the weather cleared up, we were shocked by the view that was revealed. Behind the beautiful rolling mountains that we could see immediately in front of us were enormous peaks, towering far, far above the hills we had been admiring. The peaks of the mountains were craggy, impossibly vertical.
We went to bed early, after eating spaghetti with our fingers (we forgot forks). The full moon was a mixed blessing, beautiful, but it prevented us from taking full advantage of the star chart that I had brought. Another trip, I thought. Because there will surely be more.
When we woke up the next morning, my body was like an enormous shivering ice cube. I was joking that I wondered if there was frost outside, only to realize about a half an hour later that there really was frost on everything. We were up and gone by about 6:30. Frost… In Venezuela… still weird. We warmed up quickly once we got moving, and were soon down to a single layer. We walked out in about half the time it took us to walk there. The trip back to Valera was quiet again, uneventful, and yet unbelievably stunning at the same time.
On another note, it is odd to imagine all that is happening in the US while I am here. I have been here for almost 2 months now, but it really doesn`t seem like it. I know that it is now starting to be winter in Minnesota, that many things have changed at home in the last few months, and that I am missing important events that pass without me even knowing.
I was particularly peeved about missing Halloween, given that it is one of my favorite holidays. Knowing that I would miss it, I decided to throw Halloween parties in the American Corner for my classes at the university (I have two classes now, a class of level 2 English students, and a class of children that are mostly kids of people who work at the university). I dressed up like a black cat, to the enjoyment of basically the entire university, and everyone brought treats in to share. Some students dressed up, but very few. Most students brought candy, but a lot of them brought tequeños, which are something like mozzarella sticks. Very delicious.
My students read about the history of Halloween (I learned a lot). We listened to scary stories, attempted to watch the Michael Jackson Thriller video…. And then they asked me to rap for them in English. I don`t know why I obliged in this moment, but for some reason the rap from the King Burger YouTube video came to me in full force, and I embraced the moment… rapping for them… eating candy and cheese sticks, dressed like a cat in a room with walls painted like American flags, a life-sized cutout of Obama watching me as I shared the best of American culture with these unsuspecting Venezuelan university students. “Now this is what the Fulbright is really about,” I thought….
01 November 2009
30 October 2009
Backpacking in the mountains!
...That`s what I`m planning to do outside of Merida this weekend. I`m off to the bus station right now. More to come. Love you.
27 October 2009
The day a feather fell from the sky into the house...
Today, many things happened to me that would never happen in the US. A few examples, today was the first time in my life that I have ever ridden a mule, the first time a US embassador recognized me and asked me where we had met, (I think) the first time I have ever drank canteloupe juice, the first time I saw a lime the size of a football, and definitely the first time I have seen that a feather had fallen from a bird in the sky directly into my house. All this and it`s only 5:33. When I return from the university director`s house in a few hours, where I will be socializing with the American ambassador and company, I`m sure that I will have more experiences to report on.
So, let me be clear-- the US ambassador arrived in Valera today. While it seemed like nobody really knew that he was coming, the preparations that went in to two very short events were somewhat unbelievable. Security people, embassy people, university people, community members, etc… everyone rounding up to show the ambassador and his wife and daughter a good time, to take some pictures, donate some cheesey toys adorned with American flags, and photograph the ambassador with some donkey-mule-horse animals. His arrival was part of a larger trip, in which he traveled to three or four major cities in Valera to do various things. In Valera, he was meeting with Bibliomulas because they are donating $7000 to buy another mule, books, materials, etc, and he was going to inaugurate the American Corner, which was going to involve ribbon cutting and little kids speaking English.
Sounds nice, right? Well, there were only a few problems: 1) The fact that nobody had really done any of the preparations until this morning/afternoon, and 2) The violent protestors blocking off the streets.
When I came home, I said something that I hear my family say all the time when something gets messed up, “Se jodio la verga.” But when I said it, they all burst out laughing. Apparently, that means roughly, “Shit got all fucked up.” This is when I realized just how much my host mom swears, and how much I am like a little kid, repeating whatever I hear. Haha. I kind of love it. They wanted me to say it to the ambassador. I told them that I didn`t want to get sent home…
In other lack-of-news, there is no word on my computer. The police have been overly nice to me, in that they have not only helped me look for the ugly beast of a man that stole my stuff, but they have also asked me on dates and said things like, “I thought about you as I went to bed last night.” Real nice, huh? Well, hopefully my blonde hair will attract enough help that my stuff will be recovered. Word about the robbery traveled fast, for example, I met someone from the embassy in Caracas today. I said, “Hi, I`m Anna.” To which he responded, “I`m really sorry about the bad thing that happened.” Awesome. In class, one of my students said, “Why were you at the Petejota (police station) this weekend? My dad works there and he said a gringa came.” But seriously, a lot of people are really mad, and a lot of them happen to know people who work in the police station. The more eyes, the merrier. In the meantime, I am considering buying a netbook. Any thoughts? Opinions? Objections?
I will leave you with my biggest epiphany of late--- that I`m pretty sure our dogs are actually more fashionable than I am. For example, they went to get haircuts last week (something I rarely do) and came back with little bows in their hair (or should I say on their ears?). The old blind one has pink bows, while the young spastic one has yellow bows. They have been wearing them for about a week, and every time I see them I think that maybe I should go buy a headband, or at least a sparkly scrunchie or something…
....nahhhhh.
24 October 2009
Tootsie roll...
Last night I found a tootsie roll wrapper in my pocket, so worn out it must have been washed several times. Funny, I thought... I haven`t seen one of these in a while...
23 October 2009
Maybe the wind blew it away...
Do let me explain. I realize that I you with very little information about this robbery…
Many people live in our house, as I have previously described. I assumed that these are all people that Susana and family know or at least trust on the most basic level. Some of them have been living there for years, coming and going, others not. The thing is, I don´t know who is who.
Alberto has been friendly with me, sending me nice text messages daily, bringing me dinner at night, proposing marriage. It almost seemed like an obsession for the past week, he was contacting me so much. The other night, he came into my room when I was on my computer. I had my camera on my desk, and he saw it. He warned me that I shouldn´t bring my camera to the university because there are thieves all over the place.
Yesterday he told me he was on his way to the cyber cafe, so I told him that I wasn´t using my computer and he could use it this once. I had to go to class, but every other person who lives in the house was there. I couldn´t imagine that someone who lived in the house, who knew that we know where he works, where he´s from, could steal something that valuable right under the noses of everyone.
Talarin, Susana´s uncle, bought two chickens yesterday. He brought them home in a big,opaque black plastic bag. He left the bag in kitchen. He said that when he came back from the bathroom, the bag was gone. Maybe the wind blew it away, he thought, reasonable since the house is essentially outside.
When I came back from class my computer wasn´t in my room. I sent Alberto a text message asking him where he had left it. He didn´t answer. I went to the park with Susana, and on the way for the first time I thought that maybe the computer had been stolen. I decided I would look for my camera as well when I returned.
I went straight to my room, and the camera and charger were gone. My webcam, computer charger, hard drive and my cellphone from the US were still there. Shit hit the fan when I told the family.
The thing is, the bruto (translated: dumbass) left all of his most important papers in the house. He left the equivalent of his driver´s license, passport, birth certificate and resume.
This morning we went to the police station, where they looked at the documents. The officer told us that he had been recently arrested for something related to drugs. He hasn´t come back to the house. I sent him several text messages, offering four hundred dollars for the stuff, saying dont sell that computer to someone else because it is worth much more to me than to anyone else in this country.
In reality, I had almost everything backed up, I think. All I don´t have are the pictures from Nathaniel and my trip and the pictures I have taken here. What I was really upset about was losing the ability to talk to you guys when I want to, to connect to the outside world ¨magically¨ as my dad says, which it really is. I have the money to buy a new computer and camera, and I guess I will.
Having my bike stolen was like sick, good practice, this honestly feels like round two of that robbery. My frustrations with the two things are opposite: With the camera, I am frustrated because it was so old that it wasn´t worth anything, with the camera I am frustrated because it was brand new, a waste. I kind of expected to have one of those things stolen, but not at the beginning of the trip like this, and definitely not from my bedroom. I feel like there is no chance I will get anything back. The guy is obviously a drug addict, out of his mind. I´m sure he stole it to get his next high and now he´s wandering the streets, can´t go to work, can´t come home.
In the house, everyone told me that they thought it was very trusting that I often left my windows and doors open while I was home, where he could see your computer. BUT THAT´S WHAT I WAS TOLD TO DO!!! I was specifically told to leave my windows and door open. Geez. Sometimes, I just don´t know. People here assume that I know things that I could never intuit… Like to do the opposite of what they tell me.
We are going back to the police station tomorrow. Several friends of friends are helping us, but I honestly can´t imagine what they can do. Perhaps arrest him, but recovering my stuff is like a needle in a haystack. Not to mention they have things like regular homicides to deal with, slightly more important than a rich gringa getting robbed of an old computer.
I guess it´s another excuse to go shopping. Or for you all to come visit me soon.
22 October 2009
Maldito.
Someone who has been renting a room in the house where I live stole my computer and my camera. I am in a state of shock. He also managed to steal the camera charger, but fool forgot the computer charger. Idiot.
20 October 2009
Snow? In Venezuela?
In general, Venezuela is really, really hot. So you can imagine my surprise when I saw snow this weekend… On Thursday, I made a last minute decision to go visit Merida, a city higher up in the mountains, known for being a land of adventure. In Merida, you can go hiking, mountain biking, paragliding, canyoning (which I think means belaying down waterfalls?), whitewater rafting, or participate in basically any other extreme mountain sport you can think of. Unfortunately, I did none of these things this weekend, but I did get to visit two wonderful Fulbrighters who are living there. And we made tentative plans to do almost all of the above in the future.
The road between Valera and Merida is absolutely stunning. I thought that the mountains in Valera were beautiful, but I had no idea just how picturesque the Andes could be before this weekend. The trip was about 4 hours long, and I spent nearly the entire trip (both directions) with my arm hanging out the window, snapping picture of the unbelievable vistas. There was so much to see, so much to capture in pictures. Brightly colored houses, fields of artichokes and papayas, strawberries and cabbage, a world-class observatory, palms and cacti growing in the shade of pine forests, broken down cars, houses in impossibly high places, fields of all different shapes, wrinkly old men in cowboy hats, gorgeous middle aged women in parkas and winter caps, crosses adorned in flowers along the side of the road commemorating loved ones, cars with many dents, broken down cars, epiphytic vines draped over the forests, children playing, children working, sheep, horses, stray animals, rushing rivers and small waterfalls. Wildflowers dotted the sides of mountains as we climbed, but at the top of the peaks, there was only one single plant covering every square foot of land—a simple yellow flower grew for as far as you could see, and further. The rainshadow on the eastern side of the mountains was readily visible—the Western side was cloudy and wet, while the Eastern side was dry, almost desert-like, after the moisture was squeezed out of the clouds. When we turned a sharp corner to see the snow-covered Pico de Aguila (Eagle Peak), I let out an audible gasp. Everyone agreed with me that it was, “demasiado bonito,” “It is too beautiful…” when covered in snow. I felt lucky when they told me that only occasionally is it dusted with snow like it was that day.
But the trip was more than just sights— my throat felt cold as I breathed in the clouds that surrounded us and filled our car, and I fought coughs as my lungs were filled with trails of black smoke left by trucks struggling to climb the mountains. The smell of chicken grilling on the side of the road was like summertime at home, but the smell of sour garbage reminded me of how far away I am. The drivers changed CDs every hour or so, and we listened to ballads in Spanish, mostly love, and Gaita, the traditional Christmas music in Venezuela. I felt dizzy and slightly nauseous as we wound around the endless curves, the whole way up to Pico de Aguila, and the whole way back down. I felt the person sitting next to me lean on me, perhaps resting against me for a while, I enjoyed how normal it is to touch another person in this culture, enjoyed the fact that everyone in the car refers to me as “hija,” their “daughter.”
Merida was really fun— I stayed with Zach (the Fulbrighter who visited Valera last weekend), who has a refreshing amount of independence given his lack of host family. We slept in, ate French toast with pineapple, mangoes and passionfruit when we felt like it, walked all over the city, met our friend Emma when she wasn’t working, drank wine when we wanted to, and lounged around just because we could. I love my host family, but it is sometimes exhausting to tiptoe through a culture that is not your own, trying your hardest to not offend anyone, sometimes unsuccessfully. The American companionship was greatly appreciated, and even more needed on my part.
We were planning to go to the zoo with Emma over the weekend, but we ended up like gringos so often do, walking in circles until we realized that it was too late to do what we wanted. Instead we went to a vegetarian restaurant for dinner and just relaxed the night away. It was wonderful.
My trip to Merida was refreshing—it was fun to experience an adventure on my own, to have some level of independence restored in my life. I was also lovin’ the sightseeing along the way, especially once I realized that basically the only sightseeing I have done thus far is visit statues of religious figures and/or virgins that tower above the rest of the city, like the ones featured in pictures to come...
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