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!
August 27, 2013
August 23, 2013
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!
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!
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!
August 18, 2013
"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?
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?
August 15, 2013
Clash of the Amoebas
Warning: Graphic descriptions of poop ahead
When I went to work this morning, I felt like I had been hit by a bus. Or an 18 wheeler. Or the whole Ringling Brothers and Barnum Bailey Circus. And I was pissed about it. Had I not done nothing but sleep since Monday night? Had I not drowned myself in fluids? I should be getting better, not worse! By 8:30 my superintendent Carmen took one look at me and sent me home. Call it Mom's 7th sense, but she knew shit was getting real. Literally. At home I slept on and off between the many noises that constantly grace the Caracas landscape- children playing, renovations, reggatone emanating from apartment windows, conversations had four decibels too loud. Around 10, my housecleaner arrived, and god bless her, she knows less English than I do Spanish. Thankfully, the school secretary had called her and prepped her for my situation. She stared furtively into my refridgerador and then out tumbled a mass of Venezuelan Spanish that I could not understand even to save my own life. She got the school secretary, Lourdes, on the phone.
"Tracey, you have nothing healthy in your refrigerator I told her to make you a soup, but you have nothing to cook with."
"Lourdes, I live off of turkey sandwiches, beer, and cereal".
"Tracey, this will not help your situation- give her Bs 300 and send her to the store."
::Tracey makes walk of shame to her wallet and laments total lack of kitchen skills::
Through our exchanges with Lourdes, word must have gotten back that my condition was deteriorating I didn't say anything, but I guess, like always, I am more obvious than not. And indeed, the stomach cramps were becoming more severe and nausea was setting in, punctuated by strange stabbing feelings in my back and joints.
Carmen called around 2pm and said "I think it's time I take you to the doctor". Not wanting to overreact, I hemmed a bit, claiming I could sleep it out until tomorrow, while really I was thinking THERE IS SOMETHING F---ING WRONG WITH ME OMG AM I GOING TO DIE OF VENEZUELAN PLAGUE!!!!
Carmen saw past my hemming and told me to get dressed and get outside. So I did, painstakingly, but ever so gladly.
And so, in less than three weeks since my arrival, I ended up in a Venezuelan hospital. Had I been on my own, I would have likely sat for 12 hours and ended up getting diagnosed with chlamydia and died of Venezuelan plague. But since I was with Carmen, I lived to tell this tale. She sat me in the waiting room of an internist's office. She left for ten minutes, returned, and five minutes later we were called back. Dude was IN THE MIDDLE OF ANOTHER APPOINTMENT, stopped what he was doing, examined me, pushed on my stomach, declared that I was fit to return home but that I most definitely was suffering from a bacterial stomach episode. Then he went back to his previous appointment.
I asked Carmen how long I must live in this country in order to do the magic she does. She said, as long as she is around, I will never have to. God I love this woman.
In and out we were from the lab, taking a stool sample and bloodwork. Then to the pharmacy, where Carmen locked me in her minivan and went to work her magic again, returning with all three medicines I was prescribed- a miracle in shortage-driven Caracas. In under two hours, Carmen had saved my digestive track from an untimely death. She said that I must be the lucky one, because the ease of our adventure was unheard of. I told her it wasn't luck- it was the armor of Jesus because my Mom prays for me so gosh darn much!
Back home, my housekeeper had just finished making the most delicious chicken soup I had ever had....not to mention she somehow procured a large pot from somewhere, because gosh knows I have not spent the time stocking my kitchenwares. With my Cipro and Fadigyn by my side, with my soup, and god bless my house cleaner, a freshly made bed, I figured I just might survive my first bout with the 3rd world stomach ilk.
Around 6, Carmen called to ensure I had taken my meds as prescribed, and also confirmed that the lab results indicated I was indeed the host of a bacterial family that was tearing up my innards. How she managed to get lab results in three hours, well, I guess she's just good like that. And I am so lucky to have a second Mom in Caracas. Being blessed with Carmen will also help my Mom sleep better at night! Speaking of sleep, it's about time to rest and let that Cipro do it's dirty work. Begone bacteria! I have a job to do and weekend fun to have!
August 14, 2013
The Price of Invincibility
Moving to a place that the State Department thinks is going to implode at any moment can give one a false sense of invincibility. I am suffering the repercussions of this falsehood as we speak, having come down with some sort of cold/flu/stomach virus combination that, while it has not been so bad that I can't make it to work, has required that I sleep for the remaining 16 hours in the day. But- I will look on the bright side. I now feel comfortable navigating a Caracas pharmacy and buying Gatorade in bulk, so all is not lost.
And really, since I am not missing work and not necessarily dying (thanks to packing enough Imodium to prevent the runs for the rest of my life), it is kind of worth it considering all the life I've lived since I have arrived here. This weekend, for example, was awesome. Holly, Jason, Walli, Gordon and I met up with our Venezuelan friends Angelica and Ivan to hike "El Aliva" on Saturday. El Avila is the rather daunting mountain that looms protectively over all of Caracas. No matter where you are in the city, you can always see it. It runs the length of the city and beyond, separating Caraquenians from the ocean, and likely providing us with a lot of the wonderful, temperate weather we enjoy. El Avila also provides Caraquenians with a source of natural, free exercise, as it seems the entire population of the city descends upon the mountain every Saturday and Sunday for a hike. Please, gentle readers, do not assume that this is a gentle hike up a gentle peak. This is a straight up rock scramble that requires the utmost vigilance One does not stop to enjoy the view for fear of a misstep that could land them in a Caracas hospital, which, let's be serious, nobody wants that. But at the top, the view is magnificent and well deserved after such a strenuous hike. And then, to reward our treacherous descent, we drank these delicious coconut smoothies at the base of the peak- SO DELICIOUS. My friends who had done the hike before said the "grande" of the coconut drink was too much- advice which I obviously ignored since I figured they did not know me well enough to be accustomed to how much I eat-but low and behold, it was too big for me to finish!
After our hike, we missed the rain by mere minutes and enjoyed Arepas and Cachapas at a nearby restaurant. These are Venezuelan specialties that basically involve wrapping meat and cheese in delicious doughy goodness. I really cannot get enough of the food here. Right now, my stomach would likely claim a different opinion, but as soon as it stops protesting, I will be back at it with a vengeance for sure.
In other news, I am happy to report that on Saturday night I invited people over to enjoy tasty beverages and, to my great glee, Cards Against Humanity! My friends here LOVED it. I even had a few people over who were not necessarily English speakers- and one of them won! It was great, and only a few cards got thrown out for being too "American" for people to understand Gordon, in all his Scottish glory, probably knew what less of the cards meant than the native Spanish speakers! On Monday, I was surprised at the candidness of some of my co-workers are they explained the game to those who weren't able to come on Saturday. Since my Mom reads this blog, I won't repeat the cards that were being talked about, but safely assume that the language used at Venezuelan school lunch tables is more open than what I am used to in the US!
As hump day is almost over and I lament my wimpyness, at least I can reflect on the fabulous weekend I had, and really, the fabulous time I have had here so far. Hopefully I'll shake this ilk in time for another fun weekend!
And really, since I am not missing work and not necessarily dying (thanks to packing enough Imodium to prevent the runs for the rest of my life), it is kind of worth it considering all the life I've lived since I have arrived here. This weekend, for example, was awesome. Holly, Jason, Walli, Gordon and I met up with our Venezuelan friends Angelica and Ivan to hike "El Aliva" on Saturday. El Avila is the rather daunting mountain that looms protectively over all of Caracas. No matter where you are in the city, you can always see it. It runs the length of the city and beyond, separating Caraquenians from the ocean, and likely providing us with a lot of the wonderful, temperate weather we enjoy. El Avila also provides Caraquenians with a source of natural, free exercise, as it seems the entire population of the city descends upon the mountain every Saturday and Sunday for a hike. Please, gentle readers, do not assume that this is a gentle hike up a gentle peak. This is a straight up rock scramble that requires the utmost vigilance One does not stop to enjoy the view for fear of a misstep that could land them in a Caracas hospital, which, let's be serious, nobody wants that. But at the top, the view is magnificent and well deserved after such a strenuous hike. And then, to reward our treacherous descent, we drank these delicious coconut smoothies at the base of the peak- SO DELICIOUS. My friends who had done the hike before said the "grande" of the coconut drink was too much- advice which I obviously ignored since I figured they did not know me well enough to be accustomed to how much I eat-but low and behold, it was too big for me to finish!
After our hike, we missed the rain by mere minutes and enjoyed Arepas and Cachapas at a nearby restaurant. These are Venezuelan specialties that basically involve wrapping meat and cheese in delicious doughy goodness. I really cannot get enough of the food here. Right now, my stomach would likely claim a different opinion, but as soon as it stops protesting, I will be back at it with a vengeance for sure.
In other news, I am happy to report that on Saturday night I invited people over to enjoy tasty beverages and, to my great glee, Cards Against Humanity! My friends here LOVED it. I even had a few people over who were not necessarily English speakers- and one of them won! It was great, and only a few cards got thrown out for being too "American" for people to understand Gordon, in all his Scottish glory, probably knew what less of the cards meant than the native Spanish speakers! On Monday, I was surprised at the candidness of some of my co-workers are they explained the game to those who weren't able to come on Saturday. Since my Mom reads this blog, I won't repeat the cards that were being talked about, but safely assume that the language used at Venezuelan school lunch tables is more open than what I am used to in the US!
As hump day is almost over and I lament my wimpyness, at least I can reflect on the fabulous weekend I had, and really, the fabulous time I have had here so far. Hopefully I'll shake this ilk in time for another fun weekend!
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