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

driving ms. ostlie

I actually prefer the driving here. Coming after my post of the road rage, it seems a bit silly to mention such a thing, but it´s true. With few exceptions, people know how to get from point A to B as fast and efficiently as possible. From the time they are a baby they are traveling on these rickity buses, metros, and cars in their mothers arms swaying back and forth from the force of abrupt take-offs and fast braking. They have grown up with the feel of the fast-paced chaos. It is only natural for them to be able to navigate within it, it´s in their blood. If you want a license to drive here, you go to an office and pay for it. To get it they have to take an exam. I asked how - did the person with them tell them anything, did they have to take a written exam as well? Turns out that no one is in the car with them when they actually take the road test. I guess they figure if you can make it around the block, you proved that you can handle yourself on the roads and in the traffic of Caracas. Drivers concentrate on the cars in front of them. The cars behind you have zero relevance to where you are going. If someone wants to pass a bus or another car, they honk and whiz past. No one gives a dirty look, no one throws a finger. Instead you see a hand out the window waving them by. The horn is solely the announcement of passing, to avoid being sideswiped from either side of the road. Inside the city, walkers have to be real conscience about are the cars they cross in front of. I have known a few friends already to be hit by a car in the city. I feel this is because they pay less attention when they are in stop and go traffic, and the walkers.... well if you are talking on your cell phone and trying to cross the street, at least be on guard with the oncoming traffic. Speeding doesn´t exist here. Go as fast as you can, police won´t stop you. They couldn´t care less how fast you go. They are more concerned with directing traffic at crossroads. They don´t come after you for running a red light, those are only suggestions when traffic is super heavy. If you can cross it- cross it, the color of the light doesn´t matter. However, they may stop you for something completely irrational and get loads of money from you just because they can. 3 friends of mine while walking through Sabana Grande got robbed by the police. They told them to empty their pockets, when the money came out, they took it. Clean, simple, and quick... now who do you report that to? Bus drivers are cool. They let me sit in front on occasion and I get an excellent view. They even have special roads and lanes to pass by all the standing traffic. The taxi drivers on the other hand... well, them and I aren´t on the best terms. Maybe it´s because I live "so far" from the center and pay an arm an a leg coming home on the weekends. Without traffic it takes me 10 minutes to get home by taxi, but other days it takes 35-40-- and that´s not when they take their "short cuts" which always add on another 10-15. Ultimately, it just puts a smile on my face that I don´t have to drive or even think about driving for the next 10 months. Everyone else does it for me. If I never had to drive again I would be one happy girl. I think I will have my own driver. Until then, I am completely content riding with these venezolanos who know how to handle their road.

Dad, don´t read this… Mom- you either.

2nd consecutive weekend at Drew´s after 5 straight weekends at the beach. I don´t know what wears me down more. Friday night it all started, Saturday it continued and remained constant until Sunday night. There was pizza, there was salsa, there was beer, there were backrubs. There were games, envy and sarcasm to beat no other. There was even (supposedly) sex in the bathroom, which is why we all had to leave the club.

I was about to recover from this weekend at Gladys´ place on Monday afternoon, when walking into her building she says: “someone got murdered here last night”
She proceeds to tell myself and Guillermina that there was some traffic, one of the dudes (dead now) started getting aggressive and actually took to pushing the car in front of him with his own car. The other dude (killer) got out of his car and shot him point blank before getting back into his vehicle and driving off. So, I can´t help but wonder….will there be any news of this incident? Will the murderer ever know justice for his actions? I was laughed at and told matter of factly- “Angela, NO! Of course not, this is Venezuela- nobody´s going to testify for that sort of thing.” Wow, and right outside her door. I mean RIGHT outside. Gladys heard the shots and ran into the kitchen, the farthest room from the street. It´s not a necessarily dangerous part of the city, but I guess it´s not the safest either.

When I first arrived Carlos, my boss, told me the ins and outs out of the city, as well as some statistics that I really couldn´t believe… or I could believe them, just didn´t want to and definitely didn´t want to write about them for my family to fret over, a world away. The statistic (as true as it may be) that stands out most in my mind is this: there are 70-80 murders a week in Caracas. More than Baghdad during the heart of the war. Of course almost all of these happen in the barrios over drugs and money, but the statistic is still engrained in my mind. Somehow I believe it. Going home from Chacaito I pass 2 funeral homes on the same block. They are always swarming with people. Always. I make sure to check everytime I pass them because I thought it seemed weird that there was so much activity on any given day- at any given time. Doesn´t seem weird anymore.



EL LEON- great pizza, great atmosphere. Love it! Ulia, Sarah, Angie, Baros
AT THE CLUB... Baros, Dan, Drew, Ulia, Mario
Here is where the envy came into play. and as many times as the girls tell him to "stop calling" Mario will still call.
Drew showing the working hand position for caps.
chillin' on the roof, or perhaps I`m chillin- they seem a bit worried.

pictures

Here are some pics- mostly all from the "girls weekend"


A hot game of bingo on a Friday night on the streets of Rio Caribe- beer caps were there markers.
These guys are just chillin, watching the traffic go by.
Another traffic shot- Chacao, crossing the street.
Rio Caribe sunset
playa medina and me
FRESH FISH!!!!!!!!!!!! coming through
"in the town" of Rio Caribe
Hanging out at the natural mineral springs and mud baths, Sarah took time out of her rum drinking to serve me
during our private spa day
We got down and dirty here and later dried ourselves in the sun creating mud statues.
this was my spot to take it all in at playa del uva-our private beach for the day.
Brandi and I, as you can clearly see, are really loving our sangria/rum mix at our beach
These folks were having tons of fun bathing, doing laundry and just splashing around under the bridge

life IS my plan

I am getting into the flow of this Venezuela thing. I fell asleep on the bus last week and woke up because I could "feel" the corner that I needed to get off on. When this happens, I know that I must be moving on soon. I don´t know why "I must", but I must. My 'plan' before I came here- if you consider having no plan as a plan... was to stay in 3 cities-countries during a majority of my year in Latin America, Caracas being the first. I told Paola to expect me in Colombia the first weekend in July- but then I couldn´t leave Venezuela without doing this, that, and the other thing- so I postponed that country indefinately. Ok, not really indefinately, but for a month or more. Now, to stay on track with my "plan" (to be in Chile-Argentina-Uruguay by Sept/Oct) I need to get through Colombia, Ecuador, and Peru in only a few months. I don´t know how this will pan out. It probably won´t. In any case, plans for Margarita Island are in the works and I think I may just have to jet to Angel Falls before heading west to Merida, Maracaibo and then onto enchanting Colombia! There´s just so much... a year is definately not long enough. Perhaps after this year I can pay off my standing student loans by working on a cruise ship in Austrailia, New Zealand, or Indonesia perhaps. (hearing the cries from my family) Someday folks, someday, I will in fact have a paying job, and then my restaraunt- but for the time being I am more than happy roaming lands, gaining treasurable memories, friends, experiences, and discouraging mediocrity. (thanks Digs)
My life is truly supreme. I wouldn´t trade with anyone in the world! mine is best... and no, I don´t have a boyfriend here, I don´t have a lot of money, I didn´t even go to the beach last weekend. Life is just good.

it´s not always fun in the sun

sometimes it´s fun in the rain, all for the best I guess to keep things GREEN!
5 girls on a freezing cold overnight bus to the sucre state where tales tell of the best beaches in Venezuela. We started at the rustic mineral spa and hot springs where we were completely by ourselves. It was almost just us as we took full advantage of all 16 natural springs and mud baths. The mud took a while to dry in the sun, but that was the maintenence worker's entertainment for the day as he edged closer and closer to our serene spot to get a better look. The place was awesome, food was great (we ate buffalo) and people were amazingly hospitable.
Following our muddy body experience we moved closer to the beaches. In and out of Carupano and Rio Caribe we managed to find a chauffer to our private beach for the day- Playa de Uva. There were 2 others on the beach besides us and I don´t think they noticed that we were there. Perfect day with sangria and rum on the beach. My shoe broke because we were dancing in the rain, but that added to the greatness of it all.
Sarah and Mira had to cut the holiday weekend short because work called, but the 3 amigas remained and conquered the town of Rio Caribe on a rainy Monday eating at the only open restaurant in town, and again on Tuesday to conquer the beaches and rain with the help of some other foreigners from Britian, the U.S. and even Caracas!
Playa Medina IS all it´s cracked up to be, even if the sun isn´t blazing hot, the local Rio Caribe locos ARE in fact loco, to be equipped to travel on buses here you should always bring a blanket and coat. Everyone brings a blanket and coat. doh!

Oh, how I LOVE you CANADA!!!!!!!!!!!

Last year at this time, I was making preparations for a Canada Day party in Odessa. My Canadian roomate at the time and I decorated the place and even hosted a trivia contest. It was fabulous! July 4th followed on the Marmara Sea in Turkey scuba diving for the first time.

This year I celebrate 2 independence days again- July 4th and 5th, in the sucre state of Venezuela at the best beaches in the country. I believe it to be a weekend of mud baths, natural springs, beaches, and sun, near a spa. A group of 5 girls ready to set off some fireworks of our own!!!! Get ready playa medina, we`re on our way!