Home Sweet Home

The unbelievable has happened.  Tomorrow I head back to the States.  How has time passed so fast?  I cannot believe the time for my first trip home has come. Please don't take this the wrong way, but I am not as excited as I thought I would be.  Maybe it's because I just had a stellar three days in paradise, or maybe it's because I am ungodly tired, or maybe it's just because I am not really looking forward to 12 hours in airports starting at 3am tomorrow.Whatever the reason, I am pretty confident that I will be very excited by the time I arrive that RayKoons Christmas extravaganza tomorrow night!

In all honestly, I think some of my general feeling of trepidation is due to the uncertainty of trying to reestablish myself in my homeland for short time, then returning back to my new country immediately after.  Travelling between worlds is undoubtedly a jarring experience.  I wonder- will my relationships back home be the same?  Can friendship survive when it's carried out on different continents? I hope the answer is yes.

Anyways, enough moping. I just spent three days being treated like a queen, so it's hard to feel even the littlest bit sorry for myself.  Colleen, Sean, Chris, Tendai, Holly and I went very early Tuesday morning to Los Roques, an archipelago (which means a group of islands) about 40 minutes off the coast of Caracas.  There, we spent three days sunning ourselves, snorkeling, swimming and eating. The posada we stayed in , Paraiso Azul, took such good care of us, getting us fattened up on DELICIOUS food, carting us around to the various islands, and providing us with nice soft beds to sleep the burns away.  As Colleen said, we spent three days getting our asses wiped, and we have never been so clean.  Really, that was probably the most pampered experience of my life.  It was IN-CREDIBLE.  My favorite part, besides the food, was probably snorkeling on Fransiqui, one of the closer islands to Gran Roque, the main island where we stayed.  Fransiqui had a lovely sandbar we could play on, a bar we could drink at and a wonderful little lagoon perfect for snorkeling.  Chris and I spent over an hour exploring the mangroves and a large coral shelf that had so many cool fishes, and randomly, a huge statue of Mary on the the seafloor.  Why not?  Anyways, it was a phenomenal trip, far better than this paltry paragraph has described.

So tomorrow, first thing after I get off the plane, it's a Starbucks Egg Nog Latte.  Then, I get my bag full of goodies and hug Anne really, really hard.  Then it's 2.5 weeks of loving life back with those I love the most!

My Next Ten Days Are Going To Be Kind Of Awesome

It's winter break!  Party on!  Besides one more "virtual" school class, I am free as a bird for a month!  Because of the extremely contentious elections coming on Sunday, we had to close school a solid eight days early, so the next few days we teach the kids "virtually" and then next week everyone gets an early vacation.  Since I booked my flights home before the change of date, that means I get a whole week and a half to enjoy life, slowly pack up and relax.  At first I was bummed that I wasn't heading home earlier.  But then, I realized, hey, everyone else will be at work, and I haven't really gotten to prowl around here much during daylight hours, so let's make the best of it!

Today Walli, Jason, Jackie and I officially started prowling, heading down "El Hatillo", an urbanization not far from our Los Samanes neighborhood. El Hatillo is known for still having a very quaint "old town" that surrounds an equally quaint town square, which, like every other square in this country, is named after Simon Bolivar.  Our purpose for visiting, besides taking in the quaintness of it all, was to visit a well-known shop called Hannsi, which boasts an enormous selection of Venezuelan artisan gifts from all over the country.  I'm not going to lie- this place was kind of awesome.  It had all kinds of neat stuff, and many beautiful items similar to the things I have seen in my explorations around the country- jewelry and woodwork from Canaima, baskets from Orinoco, dolls from Tovar etc.  It was all there, along with a cafe selling nothing but coffee and chocolate.  Yes. What you are thinking is right.  I wanted to pitch a tent and live there.  And yes, you are all getting chocolate in your stockings, because I bought the place out.  To be fair, Venezuela makes some damn good chocolate. We spent about two hours roaming around the store, playing the fun game of "how much would this be in dollars". Turns out, though some items were quite expensive, some were definitely muy barato.  I was able to get a lot of great gifts to bring home to my friends and family.  I refrained from buying myself a load of stuff, but only because Jackie and I promised ourselves that we would come back and spend lots of money on ourselves after the break. We did, however, buy delicious cafe con chocolates- basically a mocha with way too much whipped creme and syrup on top.  Which I promptly burnt myself with, but it was worth it.  After we completed our spending spree, we stumbled upon a delicious chocolatier whilst looking for a taxi and got even more chocolate....for ourselves though. Lavender and honey chocolate is definitely not going to make it back to the states.

My prowling will continue tomorrow, with a trip up the Avila for a special mojito night at the bar that is at the top of the teleferico.  I'm more excited about the view at night from the top of the Avila than I am the mojitos.  Then on Friday, Colleen made friends with a baseball player from the Tiberones baseball team, and he is hooking us up with free tickets for the Leones vs. Tiberones baseball game!  I am so excited to see another game.  I had so much fun at the last one.  The one bummer is that this time there will be no beer showers.  Venezuela has a law called leyo seco- around elections, they stop selling booze.  I guess they want people to have clear heads when they vote?  It's so contentious though, I feel like everyone could use a few just to make it through the weekend.  I think the US State Department would agree- they sent out an ominous email this morning advising us to basically lock ourselves in our apartments for the weekend because to the election, which we are apparently flagrantly ignoring.  I kind of don't have a choice, because Ivan's sister is getting married on Saturday!  Yes, my first Venezuelan wedding!  This is going to be a fancy Boda too, so I get to re-wear my pretty dress form the Marine Corps ball.  AND I get to go back to my gay salon to get my hair and makeup done again.  Yessssss.

Don't think that my fun stops because the weekend does.  On Monday, my sweet Ivan is leaving me to go to Spain for three weeks to visit his best friend Ricardo.  To deal with the sadness of losing him for so long, I, along with Colleen, Sean, Chris, Tendai and Holly, are treating ourselves to three glorious days in Los Roques!  Los Roques is a series of islands that make up a Venezuelan national park--> see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Los_Roques_archipelago. Because it is a park, it is not really commercialized and apparently STUNNINGLY gorgeous.  Three days in paradise?  Don't mind if I do!  We return late Thursday, leaving me Friday to pack up and Saturday it's go time....straight to the RayKoons Christmas party!  

So ya, it's winter break and I am going to enjoy every little glorious drop of it. :)

A Post About Food...and in a Meandering Way, Life Too

If you've read my last few posts, you've probably noticed that I've been unreasonably fixated on food of recent. I mean this in a couple of senses.  First, as I have noted, I spend a good deal of mental energy on worrying if I will find a particular item, like beer or milk or cream of mushroom soup. And then, if I happen upon said item, I try to do black market math in my head to determine how much the item actually costs in dollars and how much it will cost me to buy a dozen to hoard in my apartment in preparation for the next shortage. Secondly, I've found myself lost in la la land on more occasions than I care to mention, daydreaming about what I am going to eat during my two weeks in America.  Most recently, I've be fantasizing about Starbucks Eggnog Latte's, Trader Joe's entire freezer section, and everything on the Chic-Fil-A menu.  Personally, I think this current list is totally tacklable in two weeks. I hope some of you will help me rise to this challenge.

Finally, with Thanksgiving this week, I have been thinking about missing dinner with my family.  Man, nobody warns you about holidays as an expat.  This Thursday, I'll be at work as usual, then I have a Spanish lesson.  Then maybe I'll have a turkey sandwich.  That's it.  I realize this was part of what I signed up for, but as the first major family holiday descends this week, I'm pretty bummed.  But mixed into the bumminess is a very, very keen sense of appreciation.  My, oh my, how I have taken my family for granted.  One does not truly realize the joy of a close family until you miss a holiday. Missing this time with them makes getting to spend Christmas at home even more meaningful and special. 

I'm so glad I am going home for the Christmas break, even if it's only for two weeks. Some of my co-workers are not returning to their homelands for the break, and while I don't pretend to know their reasons, I'd be willing to bet it has something to do with the exhausting practice of having a foot in two different worlds. Many of the expat lifers I have encountered don't travel home but once a year. I guess after a while, some folks eventually plant both their feet wherever they are. It certainly requires a good amount of mental toughness to stay straddled the way we are, keeping our lives going in our home country while living a life in another.  In some ways it's a meditation, trying to keep yourself from being swept away by your new life and new experiences while still enjoying where you are. At the same time, it's an active practice, making a home for yourself in your new community while also making the efforts to keep the relationships back home strong and connected. I have to say that in this department, my friends and family have made all the difference- the letters, emails, chats, likes, Skypes and Facetimes have made the "active practice" part so much easier. Now that it's been four months, I feel like I survived the initial transition and have actually managed this expat double life thing reasonably well.  I won't say I'm not nervous about how going home is going to screw with my adjustment to the expat life.  It may be like when you finally get your first kid potty trained and then have another and the first wants to get back into diapers.  I worry that coming back in January will put me right back to July.  But well, as long as I don't forget all the Spanish I have learned, I think I can handle the post-vacation blues. I've got good friends, good family and will be filled to the brim with Trader Joes, Starbucks and Chic-Fil-A.  And thanks to some expert hoard-shopping, I have enough milk to last me until March.  So ya, with a little luck and a few well-directed prayers, I think I'll be alright.  

Thoughts about coming home

I must say I am starting to get quite excited to come home.  I think everyone else here is too.  It's obvious at work, both with the kids and with the teachers, that we are frankly sick of one another.  We've been in each others lives day in and day out, at work and socially (not the students, my co-workers obviously) every day since July 26th.  That's a lot of time with the same 20 or so people.  I have to hand it to us though, we are a remarkably compatible group, and besides a few sharp tongues here or snappy sentences there, we have all gotten along remarkably well.  I'd go as far as saying we all independently like one another, and will look forward to seeing each other again in January.  But yes, the break will be good.

I have started fantasizing about a lot of things, though mainly food.  I am so looking forward to some DC brunches with my girls. Extra points to whomever takes me to Sweetwater. And Meredith and I, well, we've been friends for a long long time.  I don't even have to tell her what's on the menu for when we get home.  She knows there's going to be lots of chic-fil-a, starbucks, and slurpees. We might even have starbucks followed by slurpees.  Weather be damned, we just get too gosh darn excited about having 7-11's around.  Of course I am looking forward to seeing people too.  I miss my Mom and Dad terribly.  I just want to be curled up on the couch with my Dad watching Star Trek.  Or snuggle up with my Mom on her bed with the cats and Josh Grobin crooning Christmas carols. I am just going to soak up my 17 days back home, loving on all my dear friends and family and eating my way across the Commonwealth of Virginia. Mark your calendars folks- Dec 14th-Jan 2nd. And everyone better have plenty of milk and toilet paper around. 

A Comment About the Shortages Where I Try Desperately Not to be Political

I feel the need to address the scarcity issues in my current homeland.  I thank Anne for sharing with me the pithy blog TheSkimm that regularly and with great humor covers the goings ons here in Venezuela.  I know that many other media outlets also cover the situation here, though less blithely and often with a political sway that lands squarely in the ideological right and over-top a puddle of oil.

I mean, I'm not ignorant.  I live here for heavens sake.  Shit is not good.  The government is run by people who are blind to everything except their own self-interest and their beloved new age socialism.  That blindness has unfortunately manifested into a full blown economic war, and everyone is a soldier, because everyone is affected.  I'm trying hard not to be political here, but there really is blood on everyone's hands.  Every side is guilty, because they are all putting being right above human rights, and when there are hospitals without gauze and grocery stores without milk, toilet paper, sugar and oil, then it's clear that something is not working right.  And while the opposition is blaming the government, and the government is blaming the Empire, I am literally playing hookie from work to elbow my way through a crowd to shamelessly grab a carton of milk.

After I got my crate of 12 liters of long life milk, I smugly rode the bus home and when I got to school, I gave away half of it.  It was literally like I was handing out gold. People were so grateful and appreciative.  For me, it was paying it forward, because who knows when I will be out of toilet paper and need a kind donation from a friend.  This is the game we play here.  We are ready for any basic good to go AWOL at any moment.  If we know we can't live without it, we buy it in bulk.  And when we get caught with our pants down, we rely on each other's generosity to get us through.  It's people helping people.  So when my friend who works in the Catina got wind that a milk shipment was in the store, I didn't hesitate.  It was my moment to help out. With my bosses blessing of course.  I was like " OMG KELLY THERE'S MILK I'M GOING!" and she smiled and waved and sent me on my way.  

Really though, most of the time I stay blithely unaffected by the majority of the swings in  supplies.  I don't cook, so only when toilet paper or milk or beer goes scarce do I feel the pangs.  Thus, I currently have eight liters of milk, 30 beers, and two bags of coffee and toilet paper in my house, just waiting to weather the storm.  And thankfully, I have the money to pay for any good I want when I happen to stumble upon it.  I'm middle class here though, and many people aren't so lucky.  They can't leave work or don't have the resources to buy in bulk.  They are the ones we all should pray for, because there is no light at the end of the tunnel here.  And while I am voyeuring in this country and have the opportunity to escape every holiday, others can't.  And unfortunately, I can't import milk and toilet paper from the US.  My suitcases simply aren't big enough.

So what's the answer here?  I had a really neat conversation with my juniors earlier this week, where they used two economic models to explain to me why I can't find milk.  They had great ideas on how to improve the situation, valid ideas with a solid economic foundation. And what's more, they want things to change.  The problem is they are leaving.  And so is everyone else with a dollar and prayer.  There is an exodus of intellect in this country.  The people with the will and means and mind to change things are getting the hell out of here.  They want to stay- they want to help, but the situation is too dire.  Their best option is to get out, get established elsewhere, and come back when the situation is less grim. And I can't fault them for it, because I don't know what critical mass it would take to incite positive change.  Nor do I know what theory or political bent would be best suited to fix the situation.  But what I do know is that this country has so much to offer this world. There are brilliant, wonderful people who should be proud to call themselves Venezolanos. These are just dark times- the country is struggling through a very troublesome adolescence, and it's reputation is nearly irrefutably tarnished.  The best I can do as an appreciative expat is dig my heels in and focus on the positive, because there is so, so much positive.  The people of this country are incredibly resilient, not to mention kind, giving, fun-loving and friendly.  I have no doubt that Venezuela will overcome this, if no other reason than sheerly on the will of her people. And in the meantime, I have shit ton of beer, milk and toilet paper in my apartment and when I come home for Christmas, it's Starbucks EVERY DAY for me! :)

Colonia Tovar, the Marine Corps Birthday Ball and a Present-Time Check In

Well we have almost caught up to the current time here at TraceyinCaracas.  We left off at my visit to the wonderful Colonia Tovar, so let's pick up there.

Colonia Tovar is a German village in the jungle in the middle of no where half way between Caracas and Valencia.  The village was founded in 1843 by a sect of Bavarian immigrants who remained largely cut off from the rest of the population until the 1930's, when the village became a thriving tourist destination thanks to its proximity to Caracas and strict infrastructure regulations that left the architecture, customs and food largely intact even today.

The village literally looks like German village in the alps, or, since I have never actually been to Germany, I can definitely say it reminds me of the Festhaus at Busch Gardens.  Traditional German houses dot the hills, and in the center of town, there is a beautiful church and a smattering of stores and restaurants selling sausages, strawberries and cream and special (and delicious) Tovar beer.

Ivan, myself and Pablo and Yis, two friends of Ivan's, took to the mountains for a little weekend getaway.  When Ivan arrived to pick me up, he reminded me that it would get cold at nights in Tovar, and around that time I realized that I sincerely did not pack the clothes to move here that I would need to deal with chilly weather.  I was very grateful, therefore, when we arrived at our cottage and saw that they had provided us with a plethora of blankets, which I immediately transplanted to my bed because it was indeed quite chilly.  Saturday morning we got up, grabbed some coffee and hot chocolate and cruised through the jungle towards the beach.  Puerto Cruz beach was an hour and a half drive from Colonia Tovar, and the road, while positively terrifying, was also breathtaking with some beautiful views of the mountains.  The beach itself was just awesome.  No crowds, beer tents a short walk away and people would serve you fresh fish for lunch at your umbrella on the beach for roughly the equivalent of $6.  I felt pretty snazzy. Of additional coolness was the fishermen who would bring their catches right to the beach. About half way through the day a boat came in with the biggest swordfish I have ever seen.  It was a solid foot longer than I was, not including the sword part.  They cut it up right there in the water, which was obviously gross, but super cool at the same time.  I just made sure not to swim in that area after that to avoid being covered in fish blood.

On the way home, we stopped by a deli to get some delicious German sausages.  While it was a good idea at the time, our charcoal grill cooking capabilities were more limited than we thought, and it ended up taking us like three hours to cook them.  But they were extra delicious at 10pm, for sure.  The next morning we took a walk around the town, and then took a tour of the Colonia.  We visited a winery, a sausage house and a chocolate factory, so I was basically beside myself with glee even before lunchtime.  For lunch, Ivan introduced me to pig's knee, which is apparently a German specialty and something I would be happy never to see again. After lunch, our afternoon plan for shopping got completely washed away by a pretty persistent rainstorm, but Ivan and I were troopers as we ran from storefront to storefront, dodging sheets of rain and the rivers coming down the streets, all just so I could get little German knickknacks for my family. You're welcome, family!

The following week at school was a relatively stressful one, as issues with governance of our overseeing board of parents are beginning to seep into the school day. As this is my first experience in a private school setting, I am curious to see how these issues play out. As you can imagine, working in an international school is quite different than an American public school, and I am still sorting out my views on a lot of the similarities and differences. But, as with working in any new environment, I am just trying to keep my head down and do my job. First year at a new job is always an exercise in survival, because that is about all you can do- keep your head above water. I'll leave ideological warfare for next year.

Yesterday was a delightful break from the school week as a bunch of us girls got makeup-ed and dressed up and headed out to celebrate the Marine Corps 238th birthday.  This was my first Marine Corps Birthday Ball, and I have to say, we certainly went in style.  Tendai helped me find an absolutely stunning black bedazzled dress a few weeks ago, and it was so perfect, it didn't need a single alteration.  I got some baubles to match and I was ready to go.  Tendai, Jackie, Holly and I went to a very gay salon in the Centro next door to our apartments to get made up and boy did those boys go to town on us. I brought mimosas to share and we ended up getting to toast to another Miss Venezuela winning Miss Universe.  Tell me a better place to be than in a gay-owned beauty salon in Venezuela when Miss Venezuela wins Miss Universe.  It was kind of awesome.

Ivan was my very handsome date to the ball, and we all enjoyed a great dinner and dancing at the fancy Hotel Tamanaco.  Good times were had by all indeed.  As I prepare for another week, I am feeling completely satisfied.  I had another weekend with wonderful people, I am still loving where I live, my job while stressful at times is still mostly positive, and despite the absolute chaos, violence, rampant inflation and general deficient nature of the country I live in, I still get along in my day to day affairs pretty much unscathed.  Though if anyone could Amazon Two Day ship me toilet paper, milk, Woolite or Drano, I would be most appreciative:).

Update in Warp Speed

Well, after my awesome Venezuelan vacation, I've kept myself busy.  The weekend after the trip, Jackie and I threw a joint birthday party for our friends Jason and Colleen.  As I said before, birthdays are a big deal around here, and this celebration was no different. Cocktails, fondue, dancing, brunch and pool time were involved and fun was had by all.  The following weekend a few of us went to a Halloween party hosted by the French embassy.  As to be expected, the drinks were overpriced and the music selection was sub par, but since it was a French party, I didn't set my bar very high to begin with.  And truly we had a good time and got the dance floor started once we finished our expensive drinks.  On Saturday, Ivan, Colleen and I met up with Ivan's Mom and friend for some salsa and meringue at a rooftop bar in downtown Caracas.  The rooftop bars in hotels are very popular here, and they all have their own style, ambiance and a fantastic view.  We had a great time dancing and enjoying the atmosphere.  I also had the pleasure of spending more time with Ivan's Mom the next morning when she made us and some other family members a delicious brunch.  I contributed by introducing the whole family to mimosas, which none of them had heard of before.  What's the best way to get in with your significant other's family? Bring alcohol to breakfast.  Tracey-1, Being classy-0.

Last week, Ivan took Jason, Walli and I to a wonderful piano concert in a gorgeous music hall in the center of town.  The added bonus was that a Peruvian market was taking place before the event, so we got to eat delicious Peruvian food and then see the concert.  The concert venue was breathtaking, and the main stage and seating area actually were designed by an artist so that the whole theater was art in place.  The music, the venue, the whole thing was just phenomenal.  And free.  Did I mention free? As I understand it, the government makes up for its terrible infrastructure and shortages in milk, gas, oil, coffee, toilet paper and basic services with providing world class free music and art events.  Who needs basic necessities when you have art? Right? Ah socialism.  

Anyways, last week I also went to my first Caracas baseball game.  The Caracas Leones were playing the Magallanes, their big rivals. The whole thing was an absolute blast.  We were shuttled into the game by riot police, and once we got into the bleachers, it was like a party.  Vendors were selling taquinos and popcorn and cheap beer as people crowded in on top of each other trying to get seats.  Every time anything good happened....like, a strike or someone hit the ball, the crowd would erupt.  People all had these loud kazoo-like horns that they would blow and everyone would throw whatever they were drinking in the air or generally at the people in front of them.  Since basically everyone was drinking beer, that meant that the entire game we were pretty much taking a beer shower.  But the crowd was having so much fun and people were just enjoying themselves so much, you just join in rather than getting mad.  It was definitely the best baseball game I have ever been to, even though the Leones lost miserably, so the actual baseball wasn't so good.  I will definitely be checking out more games in the future! 

Finally, last week I visited Colonia Tovar.  Go ahead, look it up!  Because I am going to have to go to bed now and save that story for another day.  It was just a neat little adventure, I can't wait to write about it!  So until then, my friends! 

Adventure Vacation: The Concluding Chapter

Guys, this is really embarrassing.  I am so behind in my blogging, simply because I cannot tell an efficient story.  And now, due to my extreme verboseness, I am going to have to severely abbreviate my life over the last three weeks.  Which is tragic, because I have done so much!  As I tell the kids: todo es terrible.  Everything is terrible.  But we will persevere.

So, let's finish off the vacation first. After Angel Falls we flew on another six seater to Uruyen, a small village constructed in the Pemon style that serves as a small camp for tourists.  It is nestled on a river at the base of the Tepuy, surrounded by mountains, waterfalls and a vast savanna.  It was breathtaking.  And imagine our shock to find we were the only ones there!  We had the camp to ourselves, and the BEST tour guide, Arturo, a Pemon guide who we later nicknamed Sneaky Arturo because he always had little surprises up he sleeve.  Arturo took us to see and swim in a beautiful waterfall, and the next day, we hiked 12 kilometers to our next camp, Kavac.  On the way, Arturo had us visit a few Pemon homes, including one village.  Kavac was a slightly larder tourist camp, with an even more lovely view of the Tepuy, mountains, savanna etc.  We were all in constant amazement of how every place we went was more and more beautiful than the last.  At Kavac, they had beer at the lodge, which put Gordon in a better mood, and in the two days we spent there, we visited two more waterfalls.  One was in a cavern that we had to swim to and I swear, if I could live in Kavac and swim to that waterfall every day of my life, I would die a happier and healthier person.  It was just incredible.  

To maintain brevity, we'll move on to our jungle adventure on the Orinoco river, which lies in the northwest corner of the country near Trinidad and Tobago.  So we took another six seater, spent the night in Ciudad Bolivar and then the next morning took a three hour car ride. At the end of the ride, we found that the mountains were behind us and we were squarely in the jungle.  We got dropped off, loaded on a boat and fifteen minutes later we were in a camp that was built literally on top of the Orinoco river. The Orinoco is the continent's third largest river and we were separated from this river by one layer of two-by-fours.  But that didn't seem to bother any of us because there were dogs, cats, a myriad of birds and beer at the camp.  Beer for Gordon, cats for me, dogs for Jackie and birds for Walli.  All was well in the world.  We took an evening boat ride and saw a stunning sunset over the river. While we were enjoying the sunset, we were also joined by a family of adorable children, who just paddled their canoes up to our boat and hung out with us for a while.  I have to admit, they were more interested in Gordon's phone than anything else, but it was definitely fun to interact with them.  After we returned to the camp and Jackie and I got into our mosquito net covered beds, I have to admit I was terrified.  There was nothing but mosquito net separating me from anacondas and crocodiles and bugs of all sizes and weird jungle creatures of the night. Just as I was lamenting to Jackie about my fears, another unexpected concern came forth quite violently and without warning: an earthquake.  A 6.5 Richter scale earthquake.  While we were suspended over the continent's third largest river by one layer of two by fours.  When it was over, I took two sleeping pills and told Jackie I was ready to go home.  She agreed.

The next morning, I caught some piranhas while using my expert fishing skills, and then we took off to the airport.  The flight was remarkably on time and uneventful, and we were greeted by a smiling Ivan at the airport- the best end to a great trip I could think of.

All in all, this trip was one of the best experiences of my life. It was my first real vacation that I paid for by myself, and it was unlike anything I have ever done before.  And whats more, I really got to know my new country, and that was very meaningful to me.  Now, I just can't wait to share all of this with you, friends and family!  Get excited!  :)

The Trek to Angel Falls

Now where did we leave off from last time?  I think we were on a boat....for a very long time.  But as I said before, the beauty of the land served as a good enough distraction until, as we rounded yet another bend in the river, we saw what we all thought definitely HAD to be Angel Falls.  It was stunningly tall, and though the flow was not very large, it was clear we were beholding a massive and spectacular naturally wonder.

Our boat pulled over at a camp on the opposite side of the falls.  We took our bags and scrambled up the bank, only to find a structure with a roof that covered some tables and hammocks.  I was super pumped.  I am a hammock lover through and through and I was actually pretty thrilled to get to spend the night in the jungle in hammocks. We threw down out stuff and ran along the bank to get a closer look at the falls.  See exhibit A:

After some exploring around the camp, we were served some great chicken, straight out of the firepit.  Then, we unknowingly began the longest game of Uno ever played.  Our new friends from the neighboring international school in Caracas had their nine year old daughter Elka on the trip, and since I had brought Uno, I asked her if she would want to play.  Given that there was nothing else to do at night in the jungle, we ended up having eight players- Elka and seven adults who had nothing better to do than relive their childhoods.  The first game was innocent enough. The second game, however, became an all out war of pick fours.  In the end, if got so dark that we donned headlamps, and finally, since we couldn't tell the greens from the blues and yellows from reds, we simplified the game by calling everything orange or teal, which ended things swiftly enough.  Then it was to the hammocks for night.  You would be surprised how cold it gets at night the jungle.  I was so happy that I had the insight to throw my little jacket in my bag at the last minute because I definitely needed it. In the morning, coffee was definitely a necessity, not so much for the pick me up (since waking up in a hammock in the jungle is enough of a pick me up) but for the warmth.  

Everyone got up and ready fairly quickly, and after some eggs, juice and coffee we hopped on a boat to cross the river and took off for a hour hike up to the base of the falls. Churun was a great guide, showing us all kinds of cool things in the jungle, like insect eating plants and different species of orchids.  The hike wasn't so hard, thanks to Ivan's death-defying Avila training course; I even kept up with Gordon, though I did wear my knee braces for good measure.  Jackie, Gordon and I were the first to the view point, and then went tearing down the mountain with great excitement in search for the pool at the base of the falls.  The hike to the pool was every bit as treacherous as the Avila.  Steep, rocky and slick, it was more like mountain climbing than a hike.  At one point when Gordon had gone out of view, Jackie and I were sure we were lost in the jungle.  Without food or water, we figured we would last about three hours before being eaten by wolves.  Thankfully, we carried on and soon found Gordon and the breathtaking pool at the base of Angel Falls.

I can't really describe what it was like there.  I mean, here we are, at the base of the worlds tallest waterfall, in a jungle that so few people have ever laid eyes on, swimming in this cold, clear pool being fed by this roaring falls, overlooking scene that was just to vast and wild and enchanting to put into words.  I mean, just look at this! Just being there, with the sun and water and jungle and falls...it just doesn't get more terrifying and enchanting and mesmerizing.  

We stayed for a number of hours there, just basking in the awesomeness of the place.  I mean, it took so much god damn effort to get there, we should have stayed all day.  But alas, hunger and thirst set in and we reluctantly made our way down the mountain.  We were particularly reluctant knowing that we had to get back in the boat again for another three hours.  Back at the camp, we ate lunch, packed our things and got on the boat.  Churun advised us to bring our rain jackets, and good thing too, because within twenty minutes the skies opened up and it just poured.  Let me tell you what's worse than a Greyhound bus ride- three hours in the rain on a wooden canoe   To be fair, it didn't rain the whole time, but long enough for Gordon to be very, very whiny.  When Churun announced that we were going to visit one more waterfall- Salto Sapo (Toad Waterfall for all you Gringos), Gordon was not pleased.  See exhibit B:

I have to admit, I was pretty wet and cold myself, but Sapo was worth it to see, because we got to walk behind the falls, which was a super neat experience.  I also learned that if you wear socks on slick rocks, you don't slip!  So when I finally get all my pictures posted, that will explain why I am always wearing socks and a bathing suit! See exhibit C:

We finally made it back to the lagoon that the base camp was on after dark and another canoe was there to take us back to the camp.  While we were in the boat, Churun pointed out the only bar in the village on the edge of water about a 15 minute walk from where we were staying. Gordon became remarkably more chipper.  At camp, we retrieved our stuff from the closet, which apparently stayed locked as my passport, cash and suitcases were unmolested. After a cold shower (ALL WE WANTED WAS A FREAKING HOT SHOWER!), we had a nice meat-filled dinner and headed to the bar.  There, we drank overpriced beers and Cubolibres, made the DJ play Guns and Roses and basically reveled in the awesomeness of dry clothes and alcohol.  At that point in the trip, none of us had any idea where we were going next (since no one read the itinerary), but we knew it would be hard to top what we had seen so far.

As it turns out, it wasn't that hard.  But our adventures in Uruyen and Kavac will have to wait until another night:).  

Our Adventure to the Heart of Venezuela: Part One

I just had the most epic vacation.  Eight days and seven nights traipsing all over heart of Venezuela.  This post will probably end up being split into multiple, as there are so many things I want to share with you all, but for now, we start at the beginning.

In the beginning there was Tracey and there was Gordon and there was Jackie and there was Walli and we all had a fall break.  We were/are quite the band of misfits, with our one commonality being that we all work at CIC and all needed something to do for a vacation.  Walli is a math teacher and grandmother of 16 who doesn't eat meat and is a better hiker/climber/swimmer/adventurer than I could ever hope to be.  Jackie loves chocolate, dogs, and adventure, but not bugs and not sleeping in the jungle during an earth quake.  Gordon is our magic Scot who prefers beer to water and somehow managed not to get tired of women after spending eight days with the same three.  So, us four decided that Angel Falls would be our destination.  Salto Angel, as it is called in Spanish, is the world's largest waterfall. It lies on the northwest side of Canaima National Park inside of what the indigenous Pemon people call a Tepuy, which is basically one of these fantastically awesome mesas that just rise out of nowhere in the middle of the Venezuelan savanna.  Had you asked me what a Tepuy was before last week, I would have looked at you, blinked, and said "Lo siento, otra vez?" Basically, all four of us walked into this trip completely blind.  Gordon met a guy in a bar who set up the trip.  We literally transferred $900 to a stranger and hoped for the best.  He sent us an eight day itinerary that said something about Kavac, Orinoco, Cuidad Bolivar and airplanes, but as we discovered at the beginning of the trip, none of us actually took the time to read the itinerary.  All we knew was that we were going to Angel Falls...and some other places.  So we packed some bags and took off on Saturday afternoon for an unknown adventure.

As the state department can tell you, the most adventurous place in the world is the Caracas airport. One does need a bit of savvy to navigate it.  Unfortunately for us, the only one of the four of us who can speak any sort of decent Spanish is Gordon, but by the time we arrived at the airport, he was already drunk. Our driver told us that our flight had been cancelled, but not to worry because we were flying into another city and then would be bused to the correct airport.  Somehow this ominous proclamation didn't bother us, particularly Gordon who just wanted to get through security so he could find a bar and continue drinking.  And we did just that- found a bar. After Gordon put his ticket on his finished plate and I went and rescued it from the befuddled waitress, we made our way to the gate listed on our ticket, only to find that the gate was in no other way labelled, and that our flight continued to be cancelled with no further information.  Fast-forward two hours later, after much confusion, yelling in Spanish, and Gordon's impeccable ability to speak near perfect Spanish while drunk, we made it on a plane.  We weren't really sure where it was going.  But we figured hey, let's just see where we end up, because it's better than the Caracas airport.

We landed in a place called Puerto Ordaz, a city that was, as we were told, an hour from Ciudad Bolivar, where we were supposed to be.  And indeed there a bus was waiting, which we promptly plopped onto and fell asleep, as it was rounding 11pm by the time we got on.  Lo and behold, an hour later we were at the Cuidad Bolivar airport, and even more to our surprise, there was someone waiting to take us to our hotel!  We checked in, had a few beers at the bar, passed out, got no more than four hours of sleep and were up again to head back to the airport for our flight to the Village of Canaima, the launching point to head to Angel Falls.

I needed coffee.  The restaurant in the hotel was not awake yet, and after getting the airport, I realized it was so small, there wasn't even a kiosk selling coffee.  This made me very sad.  In this state, I went through security, where they confiscated the three bottles of rum that Gordon and I brought.  Something about Canaima being a "state park". I was a shell of myself.  No coffee? No rum?  Then, the asshole took my bug spray.  NO AEROSOLS ON THE PLANE MY ASS!!!!  I didn't no how to say that in Spanish, so I fumed to myself, until I saw our plane.  Then, I silently thanked the asshole for having our safety in mind.  They were putting us on an old six seater plane!  

I was fairly terrified. I had never been on a plane that small and after all, this is Venezuela and I was none-to-confident in the safety checks done for these sorts of planes.  But off we went and after the initial fear, I relaxed and realized how cool it was that heck, the four of us had our own gosh darn plane!  Over the city we went and into what was clearly the park, as there was literally nothing to see but forests and plains.  This went on for about an hour.  Then, out of nowhere, the first Tepuy.  It was far away, but clearly taller than the altitude of the plane.  It was amazing- this huge, tree covered plateau just sitting there triumphantly, standing tall throughout time immemorial.  Before I had time to consider its grandeur, we were passing a mass of waterfalls to my left and then just landing in the midst of all of it.  Just as I started to convince myself that we had flown to Narnia instead of the innards of Venezuela, we were hustled off our plane and into a little sitting area where, by the grace of God, they had coffee.  I got a coffee and a pepsi, for good measure.  Then we were hustled again onto a bus.  After a five minute ride into the village, we reached a lodging area were we packed a smaller camping bag and locked all of our belongings in a closet. Had I had time to reflect and take inventory of my life it would have looked something like this: "I'm in the Venezuelan bush, all of my money and my passport are in a bag locked in a closet that I have no idea who has the key to, I have no idea where I am, I think I am going to see a waterfall, I have no idea how long I will be there or what this journey will entail, my camera battery is dying, I hope I packed my headlamp and now I really have to pee because I just drank a lot of liquid." Since I had no time to reflect, I simply got back on another bus.

Five minutes later, we found ourselves at a dock with long wooden canoes with motors attached to the back.  I had the wherewithal to realize at that point that the man who had met our plane was going to be our bold and fearless guide for the journey to Salto Angel.  His name is Churun, he is a native Pemon and he had been leading groups for over eight years.  I felt in good hands.  I learned later that the Pemon are the native tribe that lives around the Auyan Tepuy, the largest Tepuy in that part of the park, and the one we got to see for most of our journey.  I also learned later that he was a terrific salsa dancer, but that story comes later.  For now, we are in a boat, with our bags covered in a tarp, my iphone in a ziplock bag and 8 other people joining us.  There was a strange couple from Germany who literally spent every available moment smoking, a thirty-something couple with an nine year old daughter, who ironically enough are teachers at another international school in Caracas, and a group of three Aussies who ended up being absolutely delightful.  The woman of that group was also named Tracey with an E, so I liked her from the start.  So together, our band of misfits grew to 12, plus Churun and a boat captain, and off we were down the river.  About six minutes in, I had the unfortunate idea to ask how long our trip would be, assuming it would be somewhere around the thirty minute mark.  Three hours. Yes, gentle readers, three hours in a wooden boat with ten strangers. It made the six seater look like Rolls Royce.  Really, at that point, we were so excited about the journey and the absolutely gorgeous surroundings we didn't really care.  Every direction you looked was absolutely marvelous.  Palm trees and mountains dotted the landscape, the foliage around the river banks was lovely and the river itself was the color of coca-cola, dyed reddish brown by the tannins of the trees.  It was just such a neat way to travel, we didn't really notice the numb butts or water spray....at least until the second hour.  Around the second hour, Jackie and I got silly and sang, while meanwhile every time we saw a waterfall someone would ask if we were there yet.  Waterfalls were EVERYWHERE.  We were surrounded by Tepuy and around every turn was another waterfall.  The view was just absolutely majestic.  See the pic! 

I think I will have to stop here, as it is time for me to go to bed, but don't worry, there are still seven days to go!

Pick Your Poison: A Mountain or a Room Full of Nine-Year-Olds

This week, I have faced two nearly insurmountable challenges: teaching 4th grade and hiking over 10km of El Avila.  I'll start with the harder of the two: teaching 4th grade.  

Now, for those of you who have paid attention to my professional life at all, you will realize that younger children are not really my jam.  I have a gift for teenagers, and well, when you have a gift for teenagers, you work with teenagers, because Lord knows no one else wants to.  And truly, that is the majority of my job- navigating the dark underworld of adolescence.  However, I have been given the unique opportunity to co-teach the 3rd, 4th and 5th grade counseling classes at our primary school.  It's really a win-win, because my job is to help the elementary counselor with her English, and she in turn helps me with everything else, like how to deal with it when out of nowhere in the middle of a lesson one kid is suddenly screaming on the floor while two others pull his hands and feet in opposite directions.  Fourth grade contains a particularly challenging set of 18 little personalities, and I find myself utterly exhausted after every 45 minute lesson with them. It is remarkably hard to teach values and higher order concepts like respect and tolerance to a group of ninde year olds whom more than half of don't speak English as a first language. What's more, we've got kids from all over the globe, from every continent but Antarctica, just in the fourth grade! Talk about challenging.  And don't get me wrong, I absolutely love it- the challenge of coming up with pertinent lessons and the reward when you can tell they really grasp it is worth it, but boy, this venture into elementary has kept me on my toes.

So now, the Avila.  Ivan is very lucky that he did not show me the map of our hike until I was actually already on the trail.  First, he showed me the inch between the start and the first stopping point, then the inch between the first and second stop.  The second stop was where our first hike terminated.  Then, he showed me the 6.5 feet between the 2nd stop and the 43 subsequent stops we would have to make between there and the teleferico which would finally, at the end of our quest, mercifully take us down the mountain for a mere 36 B's.  The only reason I agreed to go is because I had a whole chocolate bar in the backpack and Ivan said I could eat a little at each stop and he wouldn't make me share it.  

It was brutal.  My cavs were killing me.  My knee braces were rubbing. My back hurt.  I had convinced myself that I couldn't make it.  No way could I make it over 10km of 3rd world mountainous treachery!  This trail was more rock climbing than hiking!  And all I had to work with were two bad knees, and old pair of tractionless running shoes and a chocolate bar!  By the third stop Ivan could tell I was freaking myself out.  He gave me a sincere pep talk, and helped me to mentally focus on my steps and my posture.  He even showed me some good stretches to get my cavs back into working order.  Sometime in about the 2nd hour, the endorphins began to kick in and I mentally shifted to a more positive place.  It probably also helped that a nice guy hiking in front of us was playing Katie Perry on blast. That in fact may have had more to do with it than the mental focus.  Most likely.

Anyways, we got to the peak and the view was absolutely phenom.  You really must check out the pictures on facebook.  I have never seen a view like that, probably because I had never been that high in the air while not in an airplane. I had such a sense of satisfaction, having struggled so much to reach the top.  It was a really remarkable feeling.  Almost as good as the feeling of drinking smuggled beers on the ride down in the teleferico!  Holly, Ivan and I capped off our terrific day with fresh ceviche and some Solara Verde's- I couldn't think of a better way to spend a Sunday!

As this week draws to an end, I am looking so forward to our trip to Angel Falls.  Gordon, Walli, Jackie and I are in for an adventure I think!  I can't wait to write all about it when I get back. Pray for safe travels for us all, and no malaria!  :)

A short post complaining about politics

Politics has been the name of the game today. Yesterday, Maduro expelled three US diplomats for "bribing companies to cause shortages" as well as sabotaging the electric grid, by which I assume he means that the US is ostensibly responsible for last month's major blackout.  Meanwhile, the US government shut down today because congress can't agree on health insurance.  F-ing health insurance.  People in this country are happy when their hospitals have gauze and plastic gloves and bandaids.  Also meanwhile, the inflation on the Bolivar is soaring, with the black market exchange being more than seven times higher than the official, meaning that the haves and have nots are getting more and more disparate.  It is dark economics times, my friends. I can see why we have beer shortages in this country so regularly. There is a lot to forget about.  I wonder sometimes if anyone is immune to the corruption that comes with money and power, and if there is anyone who truly can set aside personal interests for the greater good. Obviously, my current country and my home country could not be more different, but I think I'll find there is more overlap than there appears at first glance. I look forward to learning more...which hopefully won't entail watching the utter economic collapse of either of my countries.....

Busy, Busy, Busy

I cannot get a grip on how busy I have been since I arrived in this country.  The social opportunities abound, and between activities, working out, Spanish lessons and squeezing in a Skype convo here and there, I haven't even had time to watch a movie since I arrived here.  I've gotten in two episodes of SVU, and that was the day I took off from work because of stomach parasites. Please know, gentle readers, this is NOT a complaint, just a pleasant yet somewhat exhausting surprise. I also promised myself before I came here that  I would not say no to social invitations, a self-promise I have stuck to pretty religiously.  For example, this past Monday I was invited to the celebration of Saudi Arabia's national day.  Saudia Arabi has never been occupied, so instead of an independence day, they have a National Day, and since the son of the Saudi Arabian ambassador attends our school, anyone who teaches him was invited.  So into the van twelve of us piled and headed to one of the fanciest hotels in Caracas- the Gran Melia. The event was like a wedding reception.  There were people milling about awkwardly and making small talk in cocktail attire, surrounded by a freaking arsenal of food, which centered around a large ice sculpture of an eagle surrounded by cakes in the middle of the room.  After a long speech from the ambassador, which was in Arabic and translated into Spanish which I obviously did not understand and instead stared longingly at the sushi, Gordon, Ivan and I divided and conquered the food.  We split up and came back with plates to share, culminating in a death by dessert plate that we had no chance of actually finishing.  The whole shindig was done by 9, and I learned later that many embassies have their celebrations on weekdays from 7-9pm.  But hey, that means I will hopefully get more free dinners, which I am never going to pass up!

On Wednesday, Ivan, Walli and I saw another Venezuelan music concert.  This one was just two instruments- an electric bass and a Cuatro, which is basically a small guitar with four strings.  It was an amazing show- I was just blown away by what a variety of sounds that could come from just two instruments, and how rich the music was.  Boot camp on Tuesday and Spanish lesson plus a really great Skype convo with my Mom tonight rounded out my week.  

While I am having the time of my life, I wish I had more time to keep up with everyone.  I am starting to feel rather guilty that I have not gotten to catch up with many of my friends and family the way I would like to.  I also feel more homesick when I am not up to date on what is going on with everyone!  So if you are reading this, know that you are loved and please, don't hesitate to reach out!  I absolutely live for the catch up emails and Facebook messages I get from time to time.  It really makes my whole week to hear from people.

My communication skills are only going to get worse over the next two weeks too, because from October 5th-12th I am going to Angel Falls!  I COULD NOT BE MORE EXCITED!  Gordon, Walli, Jackie and I are taking a seven day trip to the Falls, with quite a few other stops along the way.  Before I leave I will post our final itinerary so yall can follow along!  I'll make sure that I take many many pictures and will write extensively about it when I get back.  I have to say I am pretty proud of how much of this country I am seeing in just the short time I have been here.  I wanted to suck the marrow out of this experience and gosh darn it I am doing it!  Now if I only I could get a little more sleep....:)

Camping with Middle Schoolers and an Important Memo About Toilet Paper

This past week, I had the distinct honor and pleasure of escorting 23 middle schoolers and 12 high schoolers into the Venezuelan outback for a three day team-building/adventure camp experience.  I mean, why wouldn't I want to venture into the wilderness with 23 twelve-year-olds? The comfort of my apartment was getting boring, and besides, I wanted to further study the seemingly limitless traffic that pervades every major road in this god-forsaken country.  And study I did, for the five and half hours it took us to travel what should be a two and half hour drive out of Caracas towards Valencia, where we took a (traffic-filled) minor highway south to Camp Lagunazo.  After five and half hours of dealing with pubescent squeals and incessant tattling (I still don't know how Santiago's pillow got covered in red lipstick....), I was really ready to get off of the bus. We arrived at the camp, which featured a main hacienda, lake, horse stable, and a variety of other activity structures like a dining hall, batting cage and rock climbing wall, and thankfully were taken straight to the aforementioned dining hall.  The food was great, and took the edge off after our long bus ride.  Like most of the places in this country, our beverage at lunch was a delicious fruit juice.  Every meal in this country you are given an option to have a mouthwatering juice, like watermelon, passion fruit, strawberry etc.  It's still a highlight of all my meals!

The kids went immediately to activities after lunch and unpacking.  I unpacked my things in a room I was sharing with Walli and Mariaelena in the main hacienda, which included its own bathroom and AIR CONDITIONING.  Roughing it in Venezuela is kind of the shit.  We then split into groups with the kids and started our activity circuit with horseback riding!  After a very brief and nonchalant demonstration on How to Ride a Horse, we were off, and before too long my horse was in a full canter and I was really cursing the brief, insufficient instructions we were given on how to make the damn thing stop.  Thankfully, my horse was also quite hungry, and therefore punctuated it's overzealous cantering with full stops to eat grass.  Next we moved to the rock climbing wall, which the kids were remarkably adept at, and finished off the evening with dinner and desperately trying to get the boys cabin to calm down for a 10:30 lights out.

The next day, we were off to water sports!  I got some great pictures of the kids walking a tight rope over the lake and I got to tool around in a kayak.  After lunch, we got to zip line into the lake!  Talk about cool.  This was WAY cooler than my camp experiences, mainly because it didn't seem like the counselors at this camp were too terribly concerned about safety.  At least the counselors required the kids to wear life jackets when they were ordered to swim across the lake, but the counselors didn't actually ask the kids if they all could swim.....no one died, so I decided to just go with it.  While the kids did their activities, Walli, Gordon, Mariaelena and I got to hang out and chat or play Frisbee or read- it was actually quite nice to relax and spend time together and just be outside.  I made the rookie mistake of taking a break in the cabin the last evening we were there and the next thing I knew, it was 2am!  I had passed out at 9pm and God Bless Mariaelena and Walli- they let me sleep.  Too much Venezuelan sun!  Totally wiped me out.  

On this trip I also learned that I had missed a VERY important and pertinent memo about living in a 3rd world Latin American country.  Half way through the second afternoon, I really had to use the bathroom, but not wanting to ruin our room's ambiance, I decided to sneak into Gordon's cabin and use his bathroom.  Moments later, I realized that I had managed to clog his toilet!  I began the desperate search for a plunger, eventually swallowing my pride and soliciting Mariaelena's help in finding one, as I did NOT want to face the wrath of Gordon when he got wind of my stealth bathroom activities.  Mariaelena eventually came in to investigate and immediately ascertained the problem.  "Tracey", she said in astonishment. "of course it's clogged, you threw the toilet paper in the toilet."

I was puzzled.  Of course I threw the toilet paper in the toilet!  It's toilet paper for heaven's sake!  Poor Mariaelena, if she didn't think I was gringa before, my true gringa colors were on full display.  She explained that south of basically Mexico, the plumbing systems can't handle toilet paper in the systems, so people throw their paper in the trashcan.  

WHAT?!?! I was horrified, both in the practice and in the fact that I had missed this VERY important memo for two months. I asked her, shocked, if I was supposed to do this at home and school as well, fully thinking that this practice was only in the campo and certainly not done in the city. But no, Mariaelena insisted that it should be done everywhere in the country.  At that point, I was certain that I had ruined my apartment's plumbing.  I needed validation of her opinion, which Walli and Gordon confirmed, so wanting further confirmation, I texted Jackie and Ivan, who both also confirmed the unfortunate truth: toilet paper belongs in the trash can.  Indeed, toilet paper is not for toilets.  And I have probably singlehandedly ruined the plumbing in half my apartment building, the school and at least five dining establishments.  This was a lot of guilt to deal with mid-camping trip.  But I had to push through.  I also had to push through the fishing out of toilet paper from Gordon's toilet, which was pretty terrible to say the least.

We returned to Caracas Friday evening and the trip again took five and a half hours, but at least the kids were less rambunctious on the way back.  I got a good nights sleep Friday and on Saturday Gordon, Walli, Jason, Catherine, Jackie and I hosted the Hash!  It was the 740th Caracas Hash and we called it Hash CIC- Chaos in Caracas!  A good time was had by all, good Curry was provided by Santi and lots of beer was provided by Andre. We even had a few Marines and the Jamaican ambassador show up!  By today, I was pretty pooped from all the activity, so Jackie, Colleen and I went over to Mirage to hang out with Elsy and Holly by their pool, since our pool has turned a rather unappealing shade of green over the last week or so.  We capped off the weekend with a walk down to Las Colinas to our favorite burger joint.  I still haven't found anything better to stave off a hangover than a cheeseburger. And now I know how to properly handle my cheeseburgers later on too, thanks to my new found toilet paper knowledge.  What more could I need?  :)

My Death-Defying Beach Trip and Joyous New Workout Program

You have not experienced a hair pin turn until you climb the mountain road on the way to Choroni in a 19 person bus at 11 o'clock at night.  I must say, I am grateful for the darkness, because it deceived me into thinking that we were not, in fact, inches away from plummeting to our deaths at anytime for approximately two hours of our six hour ride to the beach.  It also helped that we had been drinking for much of the ride down- Caracas traffic and a harrowing mountain road will drive most sane teachers to alcohol, which was certainly the case for the 13 CIC expats and two brave natives that joined us on last weekend's beach adventure.  Ivan and Zeke braved the trip with what we summated was 5/6ths of the expat teaching staff at CIC.  When we asked our principal what would have happened to the school if we plummeted to our deaths, or met some other unfortunate delay in returning to school, she answered only with "we'd manage".  I don't think that the administration has come up with a "all of our expats have gone missing" contingency plan yet, but after last weekend, they probably should.

The ride to the beach was certainly worth it.  The house, or rather hacienda/estate/Latin mansion we stayed at was absolutely stunning.  We all had a bed, copious spots to sit and relax, a pool to enjoy and a wonderful landscape to savor.  We even had two dogs to play with, a band of monkeys to entertain us and a housekeeper to make us breakfast each morning! Saturday morning, we enjoyed an arepa-filled breakfast and headed to the dock on the edge of town, where we caught a motorboat ride to a beach that was 15 minutes from town, and only accessible by foot or boat!  The views form the boat were breathtaking- mountains buffered the shore, with sea caves and beaches around every peak.  The water was just indescribably blue.  A mix of teal, aqua and deep blue, it looked like it must have been colored by a masterful painter.  I have been to Italy, Greece and Australia, but never have a seen a water so lovely, and the beach where were made camp rivaled all the beaches I have seen before.  It was absolutely stunning.  We set up under a few umbrellas, and Gordon and I immediately slathered ourselves with SPF 60.  As the whitest of the white people in the group, people were quite concerned with quality of our lathering jobs, as no one wants to deal with third degree burns when the nearest hospital is only accessible via a peril-filled mountain road.  We all enjoyed the sun and surf, playing frisbee and soccer, swimming and snorkeling.  Ivan took me out for a snorkeling adventure close to the shore.  Not very far out was a whole other world underwater!  Schools or fish, brain coral and even a moray eel greeted us- I never wanted to come back to the dry world!  But alas, Ivan was concerned about my back in the sun, and I was sent to reapply sunscreen and sit in the shade. 

After a solid five hours at the beach, we returned to our hacienda for rest and showering, and then headed to dinner. After an incredibly long wait (especially considering that we were 14 famished adults and one starving eight year old), I was served a fish as long as my arm, fried, complete with eyes and teeth and scales.  Despite Jason and Ivan's attempts to help me find the meat among the rest of the fish, I wasn't able to eat my fill due to my discomfort with the idea of my dinner looking at me. I gave up entirely after Jason made the fish talk to me and then sat the entire head on my plate.  Asshole.

For the first time in the history of my friend group, we all went to bed before midnight that night, which meant we are all up and ready for more arepas bright and early (like 9am) the next morning.  We split into groups based on what we were interested in accomplishing for the day, and Ivan, Gordon, Walli and I set off for a walk through the town up to the main beach, Playa Grande (which, for you English speakers, is creatively named "Large Beach").  As we began our trek, we realized it was hot as hell, which we rectified by a) beers and b) coconut popsicles that were to DIE for.  The town was brightly colored and bustling and separated from the beach by a river that housed motorboats for taking tourists to and from the farther beaches.  Playa Grande was as beautiful as our beach the previous day, just, as the name suggests, larger and subsequently more crowded.  Vendors sold food and drinks amongst the hundreds of umbrellas, and people were everywhere in the water as well. I even spotted a few short boarders in the surf, doing a remarkably good job at not mowing over small children as they tore through the waves. On our return trip the hacienda, we picked up some souvenirs and the native alcoholic concoction call the Guarapita.  Guarapitas came in multiple flavors- passion fruit, coconut and even chocolate- and always in enormous bottles that thankfully encouraged sharing. They were DELICIOUS, which meant that after "sharing" ten bottles, we found ourselves far drunker than we anticipated while boarding the bus for our six hour ride home.  Thankfully I slept most of the way, which meant I missed most of the treacherous road down the mountain, and put off the impending nausea until we were about an hour from home.  We arrived at about midnight, and the next morning was the roughest I have had since I've been here, between the sleep deprivation and the number the guarapitas did on my stomach.  The moral of this segment of my beach story is guarapitas in general=awesome; guarapitas before a six hour bus ride= worst idea ever.  

This week has been as busy as ever at work.  I finished meeting with all of my seniors' parents, worked on a organization program to help the upper grades with organization and time management and pulled off a very successful first college visit. I have massive amounts of stuff to do Monday and Tuesday this week, since Wednesday Friday I will be accompanying grades 6-10 to a team building camping trip four hours away in Valencia!  I am very excited for the trip, as it will help me get to know the kids better and allow me to get our of Caracas again to see more of the country. 

To end this post, I'll share another "I'm clearly not in America anymore" story.  Today, I went with MariaElena to "boot camp".  Instead of gyms in this country, people exercise in mass in public places like parks or school stadiums.  MariaElena frequents one such groups called MTS, which stands for Marcos's Training System, appropriately nicknamed "BootCamp".  Marcos is probably one of the most attractive men I have ever seen in my life, though I have only seen him from the receiving end of a bullhorn as he yells in Spanish to CORREMOS NO CAMBIAMOS!   Today's boot camp was held in a construction site, where he ran 100 or so of us through pools of mud and even brought in a water truck to hose us down as we planked and jumpingjacked our way through a two hour work out.  He even utilized the rocks around the site to make us do clean-and-presses. And if I needed another reason to realize this was not my normal American work out experience, half way through our 200 squat finale, a herd of goats wandered into our group, fairly unphased by the 100 grunting people and blaring music. Monkeys, guarapitas and goats- oh my!  Clearly my Venezuela experience continues to entertain and delight- in fact, the end of my honeymoon phase seems no where in sight!  :)

A Challenge to my Homeland

Please note that this will not be a traditional Tracey blog post.  This is a challenge to all of you, and my impetus for this challenge comes from no particular experience of recent but rather a culmination of many experiences I have had working as an educator for six years.

Do not take for granted the inherent benefits that come with being an American citizen.  Daily, most of us do not fear for our safety or the safety of those we love.  We do not feel want in our homes- most of us neither want for food nor drink nor clothing nor the love of our families.  We can go about our day without fearing violence or scarcity. Employment may be difficult, but not impossible.  And the money we earn we can invest towards better opportunities, better lives, because we do not fear for the insolvency of our government.  We can practice faith, openly, without fear of retribution. We can love whomever we want, and though we may not have all the rights we deserve, we can openly speak out about our want for change. And my friends, in America, we have the right to a SOLID PUBLIC EDUCATION, and the opportunity to seek WORLD CLASS HIGHER EDUCATION.  If we cannot afford higher education, our government will assist us in funding our higher education. These are all, in my opinion, blessings.

Living in Caracas has not blinded me to the amount of suffering in my own country, but it has given me another litmus to measure suffering. Just as there exists a privilege of skin color, there exists a privilege of passport, and an American passport gives you rights that I didn't even comprehend until I moved abroad.  

We are lucky, and I challenge you to keep that in mind as you consider your day to day.  As you consider the immigration issues facing our country.  As you consider our role in world affairs. Be grateful. Question. Seek to understand, as I will continue to do everyday.  

Still Spinning

The weeks are spinning faster and faster, like a roll of toilet paper as it comes to an end.  I realized how long I had been here when I went to get a mani/pedi yesterday and realized that my last one had been a month ago.  A month! I see that I have accomplished quite a bit, both personally and professionally, but I also see I am just starting my journey up the mountain and the peak is still a long ways off, obscured in the haze somewhere....  I still haven't found a routine I am happy with, between being sick and (shhhhh don't tell my Mom!) twisting my knee, I haven't gotten to spend much time exercising.  Also, the schedule at school has been a bit screwy with all the back-to-school stuff, along with less predictable matters like country-wide electricity blackouts.  

Regulation will come, sooner than later I am sure.  This last weekend I was able to finish up getting things I needed for my apartment, learned how to pay my utilities online (so I don't have any Tracey Apartment Blackouts), and remembered again why going out with Gordon ruins my sleep schedule.  Ivan invited me out to a Ska concert on Saturday night, and for good measure, we brought along Gordon and a friend-of-a-friend Anne.  Yes, gentle readers, I have only been here for roughly six weeks and already have friends-of-friends.  Pathological extroversion at it's finest! Anyways, the bar where the concert was held reminded me of a dive bar in the US (similar to the old upstairs of Starr Hill for you Cville folks who may remember!), but unlike the US, the band didn't come on until 1am!  An additional surprise was, after noticing that our table was in fact made of an over-sized red bull can with an advertisement for red bull on the top, I ordered a red bull and vodka to drink.  The waitress said they did not have any redbull in the house, at which time I pointed to a RED BULL REFRIGERATOR WITH RED BULL IN IT and she said that they were "props" and not, in fact, cans of red bull.  Ironically, three hours later, when I was well lubricated and definitely no longer needed a red bull and vodka, the waitress magically found one. That was probably the beginning of the end. The concert was fantastic, and in true Tracey style, we went for late-night arepas after the show and rolled home at roughly 6am.  Thus, another unaccomplished Sunday.  I have a lot of those here.  

My expat friends who have been around the expat block all say that six weeks is when the honeymoon starts to wane, but so far, I haven't seen many signs of that yet. My first real feeling of homesickness did come this week though, when I learned of some troubles that some of my friends were having back home. Knowing that those I love were suffering and that I had no way of physically reaching out to them hit me pretty hard on Sunday night. That was a risk I knew I was taking when I came here, but it is harder to face this fact when it is actually happening. I would love advice on how to best reach out to my friends back home who are suffering.  I hate the idea of just sending an email. Sigh. First world problems in the third world.

Anyways, it's off to the beach this weekend!  Fifteen of us (yes, I have fifteen friends!) are going to Choroni, a three/four hours drive from Caracas in Aragua, Venezuela. Expect a full report (and pictures!) next week:).

Salsa is not my jam.....yet

I am not very good at salsa.  My seeming ease at working the Reggaeton dance floor gave me a false sense of dancing talent, which quickly dissipated on Friday when I went with Ivan, Gordon, Walli and Jason to a free salsa concert at La Estancia.  La Estancia is a beautifully maintained plantation right in the middle of the city.  The grounds are maintained by the government and they have free concerts and events on the property throughout the year.  Friday, the headlining act was an EXCELLENT salsa group from Puerto Rico.  For three hours the group of us, plus Ivan's Mom, Dad and friends hung out and tried our hand at salsa-ing.  Ivan's Mom and godfather were incredible, and on the other end of the spectrum was me.  I was spending so much time trying to get my feet right I forgot about the rest of my body!  And the tempo of the music was so fast, I never really got my feet right, even though there are only a few steps!  The evening was really fun, despite my shameful attempts at dancing, and I really want to keep practicing until I can look half way decent at it, as Salsa is a very popular pastime here in Caracas.

Saturday a large group of us attended Hash #2!  The block of ice returned and I found myself in a middle of the hash circle quite a few times.  Ivan received his Hash name after six years of attending Hashes- he is now, forevermore, Smelly Goat.  I think Gordon and Catherine are next for naming- Gordon because he's, well, Gordon and Catherine because she has been Hashing for four years.  The naming is not a pleasant process though, as you could probably expect from a group that forces binge drinking while sitting on a large block of ice.  They basically douse you in beer and corn flour while making you drink with no hands. If you thought that frat hazing ended in college- you were wrong.  I have found my new fraternity and it is awesome to be mere months from turning thirty and getting to be a pledge again.  

Sunday we did some shopping to complete the stocking of my apartment and hung out by the pool, and these first two days of work have been remarkably manageable.  I realized this was probably because I did not stay up until 5am both Friday and Saturday nights, so for the first time since I arrived, I have kept a reasonable sleep schedule. So there's the trade off- I engaged in planned binge drinking yet am getting enough sleep. Sorry Mom, but it sounds like a fair trade to me!  

Happy Monthiversary to Me!

Oh man what a great week!  Though this was technically the second full week of school, it was my first full week, due to my unfortunate stomach condition last week.  School has really been awesome.  There is a lot to do, and I am still trying to figure everything out, but I am slowly gaining more and more confidence as the days go on.  It's going to be a long building year, but I am feeling like I have more and more of a grip on it as time goes by. Meanwhile, my weekday evenings are turning out to be as full as my weekends.  Mondays after school I have Spanish lessons with dear, sweet Isabel.  Isabel is 68 years old, and though she could be my grandmother, she is as lively and spirited as a much younger woman.  What's more, her spirit is so kind and patient.  I suppose you must be kind and patient if you are going to deal in language acquisition and gringos, but Isabel really has a gift of empathy and is incredibly disarming.  Not like I am EVER self conscious, but Isabel helps me not feel bad when I struggle or make a mistake....like when I was trying to say "I was embarrassed" but instead said "I was pregnant".  Stupid false cognates!  

Tuesday, I went to a birthday party for a fellow new hire who works on the elementary side, whose name is also Isabel.  Isabel was turning 30 and her boyfriend, a local Lebanese restaurant owner, invited Isabel's friends to join them at his restaurant for a celebration.  I was feeling tired and antisocial on Tuesday, so made a pact with my boss to "only go for an hour".  Please note: one cannot just attend a birthday party in Venezuela for one hour.  Also, you had better have on your dancing heels and a hungry tummy, because these people are NOT playing around.  As the restaurant was Lebanese, the courses came out one after the other: hummus, dumplings, stuff stuffed with stuff, salad, things I cannot pronounce or label that were delicious and of course, wine wine wine.  On a Tuesday.  Hey, a birthday is a birthday and this country goes BALLS OUT. After stuffing our faces, Isabel's boyfriend surprised her with- what else- but a belly dancer!  She was beautiful and very talented and wanted very much for us to try out our dancing skills with her.  We obliged, tried our best, and had a great time. One of the things I love about this country is that people are more comfortable with uninhibited behavior, in that, you can pretty safely make a fool out of yourself without fear of judgment.  As long as you are having a good time, people are pretty responsive and supportive.  Speaking of responsive or supportive, I will try to upload a great video for your viewing enjoyment once I get a better internet speed!

Wednesday was my day of rest, though I had to turn down Gordon's invitation to Curry Club in order to get my eight hours of sleep.  Thursday was definitely the highlight of my week.  Ivan and his Mom, Nereida, invited me to a Venezuelan musical trio performance.  The theater was in Mercedes, a larger suburb not far from our little Los Samanes.  The theater itself was quite small, like a black box theater, and the group consisted of a drummer, upright bass and guitar.  The music was amazing. It was a mix of jazz, samba, merengue and what I could best describe as Venezuelan folk.  And all of it had a Venezuelan flair to it, no matter the style.  The whole experience was just what I needed. Just hearing the music and letting the sound wash over me, not having to worry about translating language, relaxing and just feeling the music.....gosh it was just so great.  The concert lasted over two hours, and even featured a few singers who were just phenomenal.  I want to spend every Thursday at the theater!  It's good for the soul!  And even better for my soul- and stomach- were the arepas Ivan, Nereida and I had after the concert. Since it's perfectly acceptable to eat dinner at 10pm in this country, we enjoyed dinner and conversation after the concert.  Nereida is trying to learn English, so we were quite the pair, me asking her questions in Spanish and her answering in English and visa versa.  Ivan (rightfully so) refused to help us, so there was a lot of hand wringing and helpless giggling, but in the end, we realized that we could actually communicate remarkably well!  I learned about her travels, of which she has done a lot, and that our birthdays are ten days apart, so we are both Aries. This gave me some insight as to why we get along so well...and why we both can't sit still or stop talking....classic fire sign behavior!

The fun doesn't stop here- in mere minutes I am off to a free salsa concert at a park in Alta Mira.  And tomorrow, it's Hash #2!  Happy one month in Caracas anniversary to me!