Well, it has been eventful times since my arrival back. School has basically kicked it into high gear. Between my Wellness course, Elementary classroom guidance, chasing the seniors around trying to get them to finish their college applications and the countless other responsibilities that appear out of nowhere (like providing a sex ed program to parents or coordinating a 4th and 10th grade collaboration to clean up the butterfly garden), I feel like living, breathing Woman Wearing A Million Hats. First year at a new school is such a lesson in humility. As competent as you are as a professional, there really is only so much you can get done.
Meanwhile, my personal to do list is running at about the same pace as my work one. First on my list was finding a flight home for the summer, which, given the current flight situation in Venezuela, was clearly a priority. Thankfully, I scored a ticket home from June 19th-July 31st, which means almost six glorious weeks at home. Meanwhile, next on my list was getting a flight for Ivan to come home to visit. That proved a less productive venture.
After two years of counseling school, I was well aware of my white privilege, middle class privilege, protestant privilege etc. Being a WASP has a lot of positives. However, I was not fully prepared for the extent to which my American privilege reached until I arrived in Venezuela. Almost every advantage I have here is tied to my American passport, and this was NEVER more obvious to me than last week when Ivan and I made the journey to the American Embassy to get his tourist Visa.
Unbeknowst to me, many citizens of other countries need to get a Visa to travel into the United States, even if only for vacation. Also unbeknowst to me was how complicated, expensive and stressful this process is. It took Ivan more than two weeks, multiple visits to the bank, one visit to a tax paperwork advisor, many visits here, and over $170 JUST TO GET AN APPOINTMENT. We thankfully got an appointment much sooner than we suspected- it usually takes over 70 days just to get the appointment. So last Tuesday morning, we left my apartment to head to the embassy at 8am for our 9am appointment. We arrived at 8:30 and stood in a line on the sidewalk outside the embassy. It was wild- men, women and children of all shapes and sizes waiting in an incredibly long line wrapping all the way up the hill from the embassy, all waiting patiently just to be let into the embassy. After a while, a woman started yelling appointment times, which I assumed meant we would head to our appointment. That was not the case.
We were literally herded into another bank of lines- our one line was split into three. Some of the embassy workers pointed out bags or phones that weren't allowed in the line. It has the air of a cattle sale- everyone was confused and wondering if they indeed had what it would take to make the sale. The woman who herded us into the second line- the second of the seventh Ivan would end up being in- then got onto a loudspeaker and spoke in Spanish about all the things we could not take into the embassy with us. Phones, large bags, zip up folders etc. Then we waited. And waited. And waited. And felt, well, uncomfortable. The air was humid with frustration. The visa seekers radiated confusion and apprehension; the workers radiated annoyance and judgement. In our third line, we were under an awning, creeping slowly towards a desk, where an embassy worker, after taking one look at my passport, told me in no uncertain terms that after this line, I could no longer accompany Ivan. I was bummed. I wanted to go to his appointment with him so they knew for sure that he was not using me as a drug mule or something crazy. Besides, I am charming- who could say no to me? Especially if I cry- who can say no to such a ugly cryer?
The embassy worker moved me to under another awning with concrete slabs for seats and there I sat for three more hours as I watched Ivan go through line, after line, after line. Next they checked his documents. Next they checked his appointment confirmation. Next he got in line to actually enter the embassy. Next he stood in line in the embassy. Finally, he had his appointment. They asked him five questions, did not accept any of his carefully prepared paperwork, and flatly denied him. Section 214b. After the fact, we realized we just had no chance. We had EVERY required document, our travel plans were rock solid, our ties to Venezuela clearly demonstrated our intent to return. We had legitimate reasons to go and legitimate reasons to return. But none of that mattered. That embassy officer only saw a young, single, Latino male and poor Ivan was dead in the water. Yes, I realize this is a public forum, and yes, I realize this is a pretty major accusation. And yes, I really love my friends who work at the embassy. But I will say this, generally, to you, Venezuelan US Embassy- You are profiling. You profiled my boyfriend and I am fucking pissed off about it. You can have my middle finger up whatever orifice you choose- be my guest.
Well, now that that is off my chest, Ivan and I did get to lament our disappointment in style, because last weekend we went to the beach, along with Walli, Jason, Colleen, Gordon, Chris and Tendai. First, on Friday, we had the VANAS conference, a nationwide conference of all North American style schools in Venenzuela. We had a terrific keynote speaker, great food and I must say, my presentation on US College Admissions was very well received. I also got to network with other counselors, which was incredibly helpful, and as an added bonus, I almost stepped on an iguana the size of my arm on the sidewalk. Living here continues be a walk on the wild side.
From the conference, we were only about two hours from one of the better beaches in Venezuela- Morrocoy. We left from the conference to a very nice posada outside of the main town. It had it's own pool and nice rooms, and our favorite part, a private dock that winded through a ton of mangroves and finally opened up to a beautiful view of the water. Both Saturday and Sunday the posada took us by boat to a nearby beach, where we snorkeled, drank delicious, fresh coconut drinks, people watched and soaked up the beautiful scenery. It was perfect, and the perfect way to soak our sorrows away. Added wildlife bonus: the posada had the cutest kitten with the best personality ever that almost came home with me. Ivan made me choose between him and the cat. It was a hard decision.
It was nice spending time with all my friends, since we hadn't gotten to catch up much since the holiday. And it was nice to see another part of the country. And in general, life continues to be busy and good. Now if only we can convince the United States to let my boyfriend come visit my friends and family, my life will dandy. Here's hoping!
January 22, 2014
January 8, 2014
The Fun Doesn't Stop When the Vacation Ends
Home sweet Caracas home! My mother would disagree with this statement. Home, she said, is ALWAYS where your mother is! :)
Seriously though, it's great to be back in Caracas. I am, deep down, a habitual creature and I was so relieved to get back on my normal schedule. And so happy to see my friends! I missed them, particularly mi novio! Ivan was kind enough to pick me up at the airport at six in the morning, after he had just arrived from Spain a mere 12 hours earlier. He was there on time, with a smile on his face and a rose in his hand. That, my friends, is a how you make a very happy girl.
So I got home and promptly slept the entire day, then spent half the night unpacking my goodies. Ivan probably thought I was crazy, though he was nice enough to not say anything. I came back with the most random assortment of American knick knacks. Pens with feathers, fancy soap, peanut butter, red sequin slippers, whiskey, a bath mat, a baseball mitt, an arsenal of creams, washes, and glosses, and most troublesome to Ivan, multiple packages of dried mangos. The ensuing conversation looked something like this:
Ivan: Tracey! Mangos??!?! Those are free here! Literally, they rot on the trees because no one wants them, except you apparently! You brought DRIED MANGOS when you could get fresh ones LITERALLY EVERYWHERE????
Tracey: But these are from TRADER JOES.
Ivan: :::Blank Stare:::
Tracey: TRADER JOES!!!!!
After unpacking, I pretty much slept the rest of the weekend. It was recovery time from my whirlwind of travel. On Saturday afternoon, we did visit a very cool park in northeastern Caracas that was about as random as my suitcase contents. Along with normal park things like grassy knolls, lakes, tennis courts, and couples making out everywhere, this park had a full replica wooden ship from the 1600's, crocodiles, monkeys, a planetarium, and the largest bird I had ever seen. Ivan said this same bird tried to eat his sister when she was a baby, which I would not only believe, given it's size, but also shocked me, as it then became both the largest and oldest bird I had ever seen (Ivan's sister is 29).
After the park, we searched in vain for the 37th time for beer, but found that most everything was still closed or sold out of things. As the week has continued, I realize that the rest of Caracas is most definitely still on vacation. Lame. But anyways, Ivan and I were able to string together enough stuff to make cheeseburgers, because having just come back from the states, that was the ONLY THING I WANTED TO EAT LIKE EVER AGAIN. And those burgers were outrageously good, and went well with the whiskey I brought, since that quickly became our only booze option in all of Caracas.
This first week back to school has been remarkably smooth, probably because half our students are apparently also still on vacation. I've been crazy busy working on some big projects, but it's nice to be using my brainpower again. I have, however, noticed that my 10 hours of hard thought is taking a toll on my eyes- by the end of the day, I can barely see what's across the room my eyes are so tired. My eyes have now fallen into a category of other things on my body, including my calf muscles, my all of my hair and my feet. When things about my body change, I play a game called "Caracas or Thirty". Is this thing changing because I am in a new strange place or because I am getting F'ing old? Are my eyes getting tired because I am old or because I have a terrible Venezuelan bacteria in my retinas? Are my hair and eyelashes falling out because I am getting old or because the water here is chock full of hair eating parasites? Is the skin on my feet molting like a snake because it's old or because I have Venezuelan Leprosy? Are my calves super tight because I am a lazy ass sedentary old person or because I am about to die of some paralytic Venezuelan virus that starts with the calves? This, as you can imagine, is an incredibly fun and imaginative game that usually ends with me trying to read WebMd in Spanish. In all seriousness though, these changes don't phase me in the least- in fact, for every random thing my body does that is less-than-exciting, it does something else super cool. For example, I sleep SO GOOD here. UNMEDICATED. Like, holy crap. I also lose weight without trying. I can go bald and blind but I will be skinny dammit! For every time God closes a door, he opens a window:).
So in conclusion, being home for Christmas was amazing. Seeing friends and family was just what I needed. And all my previous concerns were misguided. I had a great time with no emotional baggage either in the States or coming back. And, I got to eat so much Chic-Fil-A! I couldn't be happier both with my trip and with coming home. I tell you what, I am BLESSED. Even if I am going bald!
Seriously though, it's great to be back in Caracas. I am, deep down, a habitual creature and I was so relieved to get back on my normal schedule. And so happy to see my friends! I missed them, particularly mi novio! Ivan was kind enough to pick me up at the airport at six in the morning, after he had just arrived from Spain a mere 12 hours earlier. He was there on time, with a smile on his face and a rose in his hand. That, my friends, is a how you make a very happy girl.
So I got home and promptly slept the entire day, then spent half the night unpacking my goodies. Ivan probably thought I was crazy, though he was nice enough to not say anything. I came back with the most random assortment of American knick knacks. Pens with feathers, fancy soap, peanut butter, red sequin slippers, whiskey, a bath mat, a baseball mitt, an arsenal of creams, washes, and glosses, and most troublesome to Ivan, multiple packages of dried mangos. The ensuing conversation looked something like this:
Ivan: Tracey! Mangos??!?! Those are free here! Literally, they rot on the trees because no one wants them, except you apparently! You brought DRIED MANGOS when you could get fresh ones LITERALLY EVERYWHERE????
Tracey: But these are from TRADER JOES.
Ivan: :::Blank Stare:::
Tracey: TRADER JOES!!!!!
After unpacking, I pretty much slept the rest of the weekend. It was recovery time from my whirlwind of travel. On Saturday afternoon, we did visit a very cool park in northeastern Caracas that was about as random as my suitcase contents. Along with normal park things like grassy knolls, lakes, tennis courts, and couples making out everywhere, this park had a full replica wooden ship from the 1600's, crocodiles, monkeys, a planetarium, and the largest bird I had ever seen. Ivan said this same bird tried to eat his sister when she was a baby, which I would not only believe, given it's size, but also shocked me, as it then became both the largest and oldest bird I had ever seen (Ivan's sister is 29).
After the park, we searched in vain for the 37th time for beer, but found that most everything was still closed or sold out of things. As the week has continued, I realize that the rest of Caracas is most definitely still on vacation. Lame. But anyways, Ivan and I were able to string together enough stuff to make cheeseburgers, because having just come back from the states, that was the ONLY THING I WANTED TO EAT LIKE EVER AGAIN. And those burgers were outrageously good, and went well with the whiskey I brought, since that quickly became our only booze option in all of Caracas.
This first week back to school has been remarkably smooth, probably because half our students are apparently also still on vacation. I've been crazy busy working on some big projects, but it's nice to be using my brainpower again. I have, however, noticed that my 10 hours of hard thought is taking a toll on my eyes- by the end of the day, I can barely see what's across the room my eyes are so tired. My eyes have now fallen into a category of other things on my body, including my calf muscles, my all of my hair and my feet. When things about my body change, I play a game called "Caracas or Thirty". Is this thing changing because I am in a new strange place or because I am getting F'ing old? Are my eyes getting tired because I am old or because I have a terrible Venezuelan bacteria in my retinas? Are my hair and eyelashes falling out because I am getting old or because the water here is chock full of hair eating parasites? Is the skin on my feet molting like a snake because it's old or because I have Venezuelan Leprosy? Are my calves super tight because I am a lazy ass sedentary old person or because I am about to die of some paralytic Venezuelan virus that starts with the calves? This, as you can imagine, is an incredibly fun and imaginative game that usually ends with me trying to read WebMd in Spanish. In all seriousness though, these changes don't phase me in the least- in fact, for every random thing my body does that is less-than-exciting, it does something else super cool. For example, I sleep SO GOOD here. UNMEDICATED. Like, holy crap. I also lose weight without trying. I can go bald and blind but I will be skinny dammit! For every time God closes a door, he opens a window:).
So in conclusion, being home for Christmas was amazing. Seeing friends and family was just what I needed. And all my previous concerns were misguided. I had a great time with no emotional baggage either in the States or coming back. And, I got to eat so much Chic-Fil-A! I couldn't be happier both with my trip and with coming home. I tell you what, I am BLESSED. Even if I am going bald!
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