margarita

Do you know how good it feels to not use the internet for a week straight???? I am willing to bet you have NO IDEA what that feels like. I do.
I was the first one waiting for the taxi to Margarita Island. It was 430am last Thursday. The others greeted me with full flavor trash can punch breath and we were off on our adventure, there were 6 of us. Before being able to fly we were surprised with a tax to get on the plane. I thought I had already paid for my ticket and everything would be accounted for on that hand written ticket, but not in Venezuela. Not with Hugo Chavez as president- NO. Turns out that Conviasa, a new government airline, in fact has the cheapest prices, but if you choose to fly with them it ends up being more expensive because of the airport tax both times you board the plane- not to mention your flight can get cancelled (as happened to me) and you can end up stuck in a place for a week or more bearing all the expenses.
Once we finally arrived we had the pleasure of going through the car rental process. It’s pretty much the same everywhere in the world, but somehow Venezuela it takes 35X longer to get it all straight. By this time I could see Jill’s patience growing thinner and thinner, she had been in the country 12 hours. Jill aspires to be a nascar driver and we voted her in to handle the roads of Venezuela. I too, got my chance to drive and it was awesome. Brings me back to the days driving on the farm… no one around, driving crazy through fields and too fast on dirt roads… I mean---ah— it was a challenge and somewhat nice to be behind the wheel after a few months, very freeing to be able to be in a real life video game and win!
The beach had to wait until almost 2 o’clock to see the likes of the of us. Playa del Agua, named the “best beach in the world” or something like that was our first stop. I don´t remember the exact title but it sounded cool. It wasn´t my favorite, but incredible nonetheless. Soon after we arrived we were bombarded with a sand/thunder/rainstorm and had to do the 3 second pickup and run. We ran as far as the car and tailgated it for a while until it cleared up enough to head to a different beach. We choose a new beach each day and they were all completely different. We did the super touristy, pure sand, sand with shells, secluded, private island, pearl hunting beaches, calm windsurfing, big waves, we even did the beaches with the prickly creatures where sandals were made essential in the water. We did the beach volleyball thing and I have the scars embedded with sand to prove it. I climbed a palm tree, hunted oysters, had a complimentary full body massage on a private beach, had a hot mud face mask and bathed in the sun all day everyday on margarita. It was nice.
However getting to these events in time was much more difficult that one would imagine. Take Jill in the above example. It started at the airport standing in line; luggage, taxes, passes, etc. We arrived an hour early- it took nearly that entire hour to get through the 4 people in front of us. The rental car took another 2 hours and checking into the hotel took a hefty portion of our morning as well. If it wasn´t enough to deal with all of the service slow downs- we had the Venezuelan mindset in tact with 2 full blooded Venezuelans and 2 that are in training. We had to make phone calls, change clothes, buy beach supplies, “oh, I forget my money upstairs,” we had to eat, take a few detours to find the right beach, pick up the ice we forgot, “can we stop for a coffee?”, find a parking spot, get postcards, stop at the bank (the banks take EXTRA long)- all this and it was only the first day. This stayed true to all 4 days we were there and we never got to the beach before noon.
The last night of the trip we forced ourselves out of the hotel to go to a happenin’ club. The previous nights we found ourselves too tired from the sangria, rum, beer, sun, sand, and water to get past our early evening food, shower, and nap. But the last night we made the haul. We tried our best to find locals and my win for the night was meeting a friendly Colorado/Venezolano server at the club. I knew that my flight, and only my flight, for the next day was cancelled and if I was going to stay another week, I needed to make some friends.
When we got to the airport (I hopefully went along) nothing was mentioned about my flight having a cancelled status, so I was back in Caracas in 40 minutes. And really, there’s nothing better than ending a vacation close to a weekend. I had 2 classes and BAM! it’s the weekend once again. I can rest and relax with the Caracaños. Briefly. I am moving tomorrow, have to pack.

I was determined to get a coco- love that milk!

100% alive. When I went oyster hunting the guy who does it for a living called me over before he pulled this monster off of a starfish. I was able to see its full fleshy body wave and wrinkle into it´s shell. awesome.
these are the boys at the beach that ran circles around us all day long. They are all 5 years old. The one in the red took care of our car for the day and assisted us on a recon team mission to a liquor store midday, quite a businessman that one.
we WERE the lifeguards
here´s our group before eating paella on the beach. myself (venezolana in training), cesar(venezolano), mark(texas visitor), brandi (venezolana/texas transplant), Spyros(venezolano in training)aka- the Greek, and nascar Jill
We stopped to eat at a foodcourt of empañadas and there were 4 or 5 of these stands with massive amounts of bananas, plantains, oranges, limes, melons, everything!
if you ever wondered where cesar was, you would only have to look for the local oyster vender.
oops- not on margarita, rather last weekend with the Caracas crew
the real deal. making empañadas to order in the juice, arepa, and empañada food court
Yaque beach- a windsurfers paradise