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....:)
September 26, 2013
September 22, 2013
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? :)
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? :)
September 14, 2013
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! :)
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! :)
September 5, 2013
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.
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.
September 4, 2013
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:).
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:).
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