"Hairless gringa in bootyshorts that smells like vinegar"

Everyday here I feel like I learn or discover a new tidbit that I have to incorporate into my "Venezuela" schema.  For example, we clean everything with vinegar here.  Or drinking tap water or anything cleaned in tap water can give you parasites (see post from August 15).  This weekend I learned two more tidbits for my schema: my hair hates this place and don't wear jeans on Saturday nights out.

Let's start with hair.  Mine is acting very funny.  First thing I noticed, about a week in, was that my eyelashes were breaking off.  This is different than the time that I got drunk and accidentally ripped out an entire eye's worth of eye lashes. No no, this time, on both my lids, a chunk of my eyelashes right in the middle are half as short as the rest, like someone took a pair of scissors and gave them a lash cut.  My mom insists that I have just been using my eyelash curler too much, for for heavens sake I've been using the damn thing since puberty, so why it decided to go all Edward Scissorhands on my lashes a week into my life in a new country is a mystery.  The whole thing smells fishy.  I think there is an eyelash eating parasite that nibbles on my lashes at night.  Meanwhile, another hair-ruining parasite is giving me HORRIBLE ingrown hairs in my bikini line.  Since I, you know, have a pool and all, I have had to make sure I am bathing suit ready at all times for impromptu pool parties.  Unfortunately, I have yet to be pool ready because I am having a terrible time with very painful ingrown hairs.  And try asking for a name brand product in this country like Nair.  I dare you. It probably exists, but has an entirely different name that sounds and looks nothing like Nair. I need a Venezuelan beauty consultant, stat.  Thank God the hair on my head hasn't decided to fall out in mass, but who knows, that's probably coming next.

In other news, I went out on Saturday to two FABULOUS night clubs.  We started the night at a club playing house and electronic music that was celebrating the birthday of my friend Mike and his wife's friend.  Whew. Mike and Elsea were nice enough to invite a bunch of us out to the party, and it was really a great scene!  Around 1am (because yes, in Venezuela, the party is just starting), we made a change in scenery to a club that played all types of music- salsa, meringue, hip hop and Reggaeton. Ivan showed me how to meringue and Mike helped my dance the salsa- what great partners for my first time trying both dances!  Omar, who is the fabulous dancer of the group, showed me some Reggaeton moves, and I could really keep up! I think Reggaeton was my favorite style, because all you really have to do is shake your butt, which I apparently do well enough for a white girl.  Which leads me to my second point: no jeans on Saturday nights.  I was dancing my face off, and in a tropical country with limited AC, jeans are a TERRIBLE choice for dancing your face off. I am getting my Mom to send me my old college skirts that I could never wear in the US but are perfect for this climate. Thankfully, no one here expects you to dress your age, so 30 is the new 19 when it comes to club wear. 

To wrap up my weekend of Venezuelan schema building, I went out with a group for a Cachapas brunch this morning.  I don't know what these things are made of, besides glory and awesomeness, but this Venezuelan delicacy is the PERFECT morning-after brunch food.  It's basically a pancake with cheese and meat inside, smothered in butter and fresh crema. And of course, you can always get a delicious fruit smoothie to wash it all down.  After nearly a week of not eating anything and/or eating bland and white, this was JUST what the doctor ordered.  Ivan, glorious man that he is, even ordered me some of the favored Venezuelan desserts to take home for later. I need to get the names from him, but one I will call "chocolate and milk fantasticness" and the other "Passionfruit Tart of Joy"- suffice to say, both were great afternoon snacks.

To conclude, I am on the mend for sure, excited for my first actual full week of school, and learning more everyday about what my life is going to look like living in this country. So far we have "hairless gringa in bootyshorts that smells like vinegar".  That's a good start, right?