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...