After bloating in my last entry about how I only took one wrong bus on my 1st day of getting really lost in the city, I indeed was able to raise the number to 4…4 buses in the wrong direction. I thought I it would be a cakewalk to get from little Baruta to my apt, but just to be sure, I asked the man who remembered my name at the key store if I was in fact headed in the right direction. It was 4pm when I took a stab at going home for the first time. I asked the driver of the bus that headed to Monterrey (the right direction), just to be doubly sure and he convinced me I was. I knew something was a little fishy when my apt. that was in view from the internet shop took longer than 10, 20, even 30 minutes to get to. When the bus stopped and everyone had gone off I asked the driver again if we had gone through Monterrey. He told me I was in Monterrey. So, I went back in the direction of Baruta hoping to recognize the winding road at the top of the hill by my Montepino apt. buildings. The next thing I knew I was passing a familiar area of the city where I had been grocery shopping the previous day. I was in the very back of the bus with 2 guys on each side of me and an isle full of hot, tired, standing Venezuelans. I tried to get off before the bus went any further, but before I could, we were once again in transit. It was rush hour, so traffic was slow. I ended up farther out than where I started that morning—WAY in the center of the city… a good 45 minute ride back to Baruta, if traffic was smooth. I thought about taking a taxi just to get it over with, but realized I wouldn’t know how to tell them where I was going once we got to Baruta. So I hopped a bus back to my charming little neighborhood and started back from square one. I was just happy that the key guy wasn’t still working to see me still holding my fresh bakery bread- it was 7 o’clock and starting to get dark. Which is another weird thing, for some reason I thought I would leave Minnesota where it starts getting dark around 8:30 and come here, closer to the equator to have an even later sunset. Well I’m no meteorologist, but I guess it must work the opposite. This time leaving Baruta I made my way within minutes to my flat. I was thrilled to see that the door was open for me (I have 4 keys, none of which are special enough to open the entrance door to my building or elevator). So a little over 3 hours, a dreadfully full bladder, and 112 steps later I made it home sweet home. A piece of cake I tell you. At least I will never have to do that again. I know that I DEFINITELY can find my way home from Baruta. Now from the other parts of the city to Baruta…well, I’ll have to do that a different day. You have to get good and lost in order to really get to know your way around a city like this. Don’t worry Dad, I was practicing being safe, alert and aware the entire time J and I made it home in the twilight hour of the day. Yesterday I had a bomba sandwich and it made the preceding days trek a thing of the past. I found this gigantic bomba on la calle de hambre and ….oooo and was it good! This thing had everything on it- we’re talking a super-sized bun with egg, cheese, ham, seasoned steak, bean sprouts, lettuce, tomato, potato chips, more cheese and 5 different sauces. I had to eat this guy in 2 shifts, it truly was the bomb. I got it to go because I knew I could easily get home in less than 5 minutes to eat it while it was still hot- YESSSS! VICTORY!
victory, yes victory- the bomba had victory over me in the late hours of the night and early morning, it let me know that it in fact WAS street food and even though it was amazingly delish- I had to pay the consequences.
