The Day I Fell in Love with Venezuela

So, despite those lows below, It is also very important to show pictures and say how much I love and appreciate Venezuela. Even though it's really polluted here, the landscape is breathtaking. We are entirely surrounded by the Andes and when you walk on the street you are walking mostly on a steep incline. It's funny because Venezuelans are used to that steep incline, they walk very slowly and don't really break a sweat, but all of us troop into Venusa (our school) after our breaks sweating our asses off, but it certainly feels great. I was not really getting much exercise when I left Chicago and that was really bumming me out.
But now I get some sweet moving in. I walked to school today and got here around 9 AM even though my classes don't start until 1. Today will be the first day of classes and I hope that they go well. Classes are long from 1-7 PM and then we usually have activities after that. The left picture here is a dog running up to me. He was sleeping under that truck but I came closer to take a picture and he came happily running towards me. He is probably a stray, although he might be a house dog, but dog leashes are rare here and there are many stray dogs running around. They look really dirty and they are so adorable. People tell us not to touch them, but I did pet one. I do a lot of things that people say not to do like I'm invisible. That dog wanted to follow me onto the bus wagging his tail.

Yesterday I fell in love with Venezuela. Despite the difficulties of this whole transitioning process, yesterday we got to leave Merida, and we were shown just how beautiful this country is. Instead of just looking up at the sky and seeing the mountains, we were shown them by being in them. When you look up at the Andes in Merida, you see little houses on the sides of the mountains and you wonder how those people get up there. But we went up the mountain by way of bus zig zagging in and out of the streets that you can't see from the bottom of the mountain. So when we were going through the mountains we got higher and higher and passed all of the little hillside communities that you usually only see from a distance in Merida. They were beautiful and colorful, street vendors on the sides of the roads selling collectables from the city and candies, breads, and clothing. Unfortunately we didn't really get to stop at a lot of these, but we got to stop at historical places along the way.

One of these places was a church entirely made with stones hand fitted together by a man when he was 80 years old with no architectural (sp?) experience. It was extremely beautiful.

Prior to visiting the church, however, we stopped at the Sierra Nevada National Park which I was so excited to be at. The higher up we traveled the more the air became clean. The altitude kind of gave me a head ache but it wasn't anything that a little tylenol couldn't help. Unfortunately we didn't stay at Sierra Nevada very long...Bus tours just sort of take you through areas, let you off to take some pictures and say that you've been there, and then you get back on the bus and go somewhere else. But it was still worth it because we got to see places in Venezuela that we otherwise would have been staring up at from the ground. In this picture you can see that I was doing something that people tell you not to do, but my invisible self said, "Go ahead, get close to the wild bull. See what happens." And so although we only stopped at Sierra Nevada for a little while, it was breathtakingly beautiful, I almost got speared by a bull---that picture is moments before I scurried away---and also peed in a mostly open area because there was nowhere else to pee.

After that, we went to a place to eat and it had a store attached. I bought some gifts for people there, and bought a hand woven blanket and scarf. It was funny because other Venezuelans who are not used to going to higher altitudes would be wearing winter coats and mittens and said that it was "freezing". I'm sure it is freezing by their standards because the weather is usually warm in Merida. The place we ate at was pretty good and they had a lot of cookies and stuff to buy that were delicious.

And after that, we began the great trek. Unfortunately I have to go right now, but will blog later about hiking in the Andes. With lots and lots and lots of gorgeous pictures. Hasta luego!

The Bends

Merida is in the mountains, the exhaust is horrible, and I can smell waves of it coming in through my bedroom. Some other students don't think it is bad as I do and ask me if I come from a small town and I say that I live in Chicago and that this is terrible in comparison. I'm still getting used to all of the differences of food and living with a family, and trying to communicate to them in Spanish and then just to people in public as well.

Yesterday I fell in love with Venezuela. I will remark on the good after I get the bad off of my chest.

Each day is a new day, and these cheesy sayings that adults usually say is proving to be true here. Every morning I wake up and try to just truck on, take a deep breath, and tell myself that I can deal with whatever comes up. My family has been generally tolerant of my inability to really speak spanish, but it's kind of weird. Let me explain. See, my house-sister, Rosa, requested that her parents house someone from Venusa because she studies languages. She knows greek, italian, french, english, spanish, and she is quite brilliant at all of them. So, I'm here so that she can practice her English---which is good right now because my classes don't start until later on today. I've only been here a few days and really it feels like forever in both good and bad ways. I get really excited, but also extremely nervous. Buying food is a nervewracking experience, as is waking up in the morning and eating breakfast while people watch you. I feel my back curving and just down trodden, remind myself to sit up straight, even though I feel terrible.

Rosa had school early this morning and so I planned on sleeping in until 8 AM, but woke up from all of the street sounds and smell of exhaust and breakfast cooking at 6 AM. But I laid there for a while anyway and didn't get up until around 7:30, and so only the parents were around when I got up. It's very uncomfortable because the second I wake up they scramble to prepare breakfast for me and if they've already eaten they just sit there and watch me and try to talk to me. Since my Spanish is so bad, Rosa's mom tries to speak to me in English. So I'm usually a mix of talking in english and spanish. Rosa seems like she only wants to talk to me in English, which is nice to have someone to communicate with at home. At the same time, she sits me down and says, "Read this poem in spanish, I want to see what your vowels sound like." I say okay, and read the poem, and she is hard on me and I tell her that my classes have not even started yet. I'm a mix of trying not to be too emotional and understanding that she has no friends and that I have paid to be her guinea pig and friend. This was a night or so ago, and then this morning when she wasn't there when I woke up, her mom was kind of militant saying that I needed to "try" to speak Spanish. I wanted to cry. I wanted to say, "I don't know any spanish. That's why I'm fucking here. My classes start this afternoon, give me a break."

A lot of things that I read said that Venezuelans are patient with non-spanish speakers, and that they will not correct your Spanish unless you ask them to. This is my first week, I'm still so vulnerable, and I wish they would understand that and just give me a break. This morning my madre and padre just sat at the table trying to speak to me in spanish and the little english that my madre knows she would translate for me and get frustrated that she couldn't find the words in english and I said, "Lo siento. That's exactly how I feel." She would cover her face and groan when she couldn't find a word and I just say, "umnn..uhhh..i..i don't know how to say this word in spanish." And if she knew the word she would just say it to me over and over, like beating it into me, and I can't remember anything from this morning at breakfast other than the verb "sentimentir." Also, the speaking isn't slow as I had learned, but it is very fast and so many sounds that complete a word get lost and I just say, "wait, what? say it again? spell it? ohhhh, ok ok..si...." It's hard. I'm going to be here for a very long time and this is my first week. I've been trying very hard to hold it together and be positive, but I kind of just feel like weeping right now. I told mi madre at breakfast this morning that I simply do not know a lot of spanish and that I have been practicing it with my friends at school. Yelling me words is not going to help, and I feel like they're fed up with me or something. I wish that I had a room mate that could help me out like everyone else seems to have. Some people live in groups of five, and here I am, choking down ham at breakfast sweaty and wanting to just jump out the window.

I feel like I am offending them by lacking in Spanish abilities, and my lack of vocabulary is coming across as "not trying". I'm also confused because they speak to me in English and Spanish, so which is it? Are you okay with me speaking a little english until classes start or are you not? After this morning when mi madre said I had to try speaking in Spanish, before I left, I said, "gracias para desayuno" and she replies with "You're welcome." AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Am I here just for Rosa's English practice or will I learn, too? I know that Rosa loves me, but I have no idea about her parents. They seem annoyed with me about my lack of language skills. Madre also seems super annoyed if I don't appear to like some food, or if I do like it and only take a small amount she says, "That's it???!? You no like?" And I think jesus christ, yes, I like it, do you want me to eat the whole can of jelly??? How do I seem to offend when I think I'm being polite? They think that I don't like anything that they make, granted some of it is really gnarly, I never make remarks or comments about their food---I only told them that the cheese made me feel sick and that I was allergic as a child and that I tend to eat more fruits and vegetables. Now when I eat they say, "Is this okay? You need to tell us what you like and don't like." Everything is very difficult. It's also super hard from living entirely by myself for a long time and then having breakfast and dinner made for me before I can even say no gracias. I wish that it wasn't part of the program for them to make us meals, but that we could have just used that money to buy local food that is balanced and nutricious and make it ourselves. I don't like people waiting on me. It makes me feel bad.

The combination of everything just makes me feel really claustrophobic. Like no matter which way I move or try to speak I'm not making someone happy or doing the right thing or liking the right things. It makes me not know how to react in this social space. I'm really foreign. I'm almost tempted to dye my hair brown for three months just to ease the stares walking down the street. No venezuelans have naturally red hair, and if it's dyed, it's not like this. I feel so obviously different that it's a little overwhelming and makes me feel a tad unsafe.

It's different when I talk to Rosa or hang out with my new friends from Venusa because they understand all of the awkwardness that we're all going through with being here, but most of them say that their house parents give them space and time to speak and are okay with them not knowing a lot just yet. My house family just seems a lot different from many others that I've been talking to and I kept help but have a little jealousy.

On the good note, last night was one of the best sleeps I've had since the night I arrived. I was exhausted the first night I got here and was exhausted last night as well because we spent the entire day in the mountains. We took a bus up to a certain part of the mountain making stops along the way to take pictures and see beautiful things. But then the bus stopped at a certain point and we hiked for 5-6 hours in the Andes and it was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I will blog about that in another, with pictures, called: "The Day I Fell in Love with Venezuela."

Here's to a better day and not getting eaten alive in my first Spanish class today.

Out of the races and onto the tracks...

I am here, but not in the city I will be staying at yet. This has been an insane adventure and I don´t know how to accurately describe how I feel. I am a foreigner; the second i landed in Caracas I was met by a barrage of men saying things to me and I just said ¨no gracias, no gracias¨when a woman on my flight told me that they were saying I couldn´t take a luggage cart beyond a certain point. She and I had been talking but then parted ways to get our luggage, and everyone told me to have a good time when getting off the plane. The man talked to me some more, however, no comprendo, and then the woman said, ¨Let´s go get some coffee, eh? You can´t do this by yourself." And at that point, and still, I do believe that. With my level of Spanish, I am only confident to make a fart joke or tell someone that I´M handsome. It´s really no good for survival.

So, that womán´s name is Nubia, and we have already parted ways. She´s been living in Canada for 30 years but is from Caracas and was coming here to visit her friends. She took me under her wing and made me try this pastry with cheese in it and she got me some cafe con leche and it was served in a nice little cup. She translated for me, helped me with my shit, talked to me, made me laugh and said that everything was going to be okay and understood that this was all overwhelming. It turns out that she is an activist and social worker in canada organizing for women´s immigration rights and works with refugees. she told me all of her projects that she works on and has created herself. She houses immigrants and students who come to Canada for foreign language programs, but says she not really a house mom or anything---but she gives young women a place to stay. She began as an artist and then amalgamated into everything activist and for three years began building her own project where young women and refugees participate in an art program all of her own beginning. She was angry when the local art college completely closed down and said she felt that young women and people weren´t exposed to outlets wherein they can express themselves or just have fun creatively. Three years of her hard work, and then a popular local congressman wanted to outsource her work, but instead, she demanded that she get a grant instead and that the organization would not be co-opted. She is amazing.

Her friends finally found her at the airport, with me as her new immigrant friend, and they guided me through everything. They gave me a ride to the airport so I didn´t have to get a taxi. I asked a lot of questions about which taxis were official, where I could best trade my USDs for Bolivares, and she helped me exchange my money. She said that most banks actually screw you over and that asking people to do it for you is better, contrary to everything study abroad and the internet tells you. I felt safe with her because i know that she was really trying to help me---who else wants to just hang out with a sweaty confused freckly girl who can´t speak a lick of spanish? I can´t even find the "at" sign on this keyboard to write an email, well, I see it but i don´t know how to make it function and no, the shift key is not the answer. Anyway, we got into a woody station wagon jeep that wreaked of exhaust and I was taken to the domestic airport. She came in with me and checked me in, shipped my bag off, and then let me go. I could not have come this far with out her, not without having a break down. I´m scared that I don´t have her as a support anymore, and I´m trying to speak spanish and actually being understood, but I just don´t always understand the response.

It is very humid outside and when Nubia and I were lugging our bags uphil on the way to the woody jeep she said that she should be able to walk with her shirt off because she is wearing a pretty bra. She was very funny, and she gave me all of her information to send her pictures of my trip, and she said that she wanted me to come to Canada to see the work she does and that I could stay with her. After all of her help, not a piece of me things that she doesn´t mean what she says. No stranger anywhere has to be that kind, but she said, "This is what we do, we help each other out, that is what we are here for." I couldn´t have asked for a more welcoming, warm spirit. We talked about so many things within a seemingly short period of time. Do you know what I feel like? Remember that part of Amelie, the movie, where she just narrates to the blind man in a whirlwind practically running with him? She just hurries and takes him around, explains everything, and then dumps him off at where he needs to be? That´s exactly what my morning has been like from 5 AM until 8 AM. She told me about the mountains, the area i´m staying in, general safety, politics, unique fruits to the area and delicious natural delicacies to eat, took me to the airport with her friends, helped me check in, gave me a big hug and then left. Walking inside the airport tentatively, I looked out the window and saw the Woody Jeep drive away.

Counting My Days...

It's Wednesday night and Chicago is humid and rainy. The thunder claps roar and then soften, and the wind is knocking my windows right out of their tracking. For one, I just have shitty windows that pop-out easily, but the wind really is strong. I helped Amanda close the coffee shop tonight and when I was taking out the garbage the wind flipped my skirt a la Marylin Monroe, only less sexy, as I was sweaty slinging waste.

It's only about two and a half days until I'll be boarding a plane at O'Hare and flying to Venezuela. I don't have anything packed, but I have gathered all of the things that I need to pack. I have everything from my to-get lists and everything efficiently crossed off of my to-do lists. I spent a few days with my parents and sister---the time wasn't very productive so I just came back to the city to hang out with Amanda and Tony before I leave. My parents/sister are coming to "see me away" on Saturday, this of course being my mother's idea undoubtedly birthed by her ideas of me crashing into the ocean or getting robbed by some South Americans. These, of course, are all thoughts that I'm really trying to press out of my brain. And so I am leaving those thoughts riiiigggghhhhhtaboutNOW.

I wanted to start a blog before I left and document my travels along the way. I will have a hard bound journal with me to write in, but I also wanted something electronic so that I can post pictures with mah words. Also, it will not be so easy to call home, and there will be days when I don't want to write multiple extensive e-mails about my travels to every one I love, and so again, there will be Mamasita Capybara to read. The name of this blog is silly, but it is derived from a wonderful animal that I hope to meet in Venezuela, the capybara (see video below), and a saucy cat call that will likely be heard as the beat of the streets along with all the reggaeton I've been reading about.

CAPYBARA ENJOYS A PETTING

Is that not adorable? It's like an giant gerbil. Venezuelans apparently eat them, and after I have seen this big friend rejoyce in pets, I just don't think I could do that. Nevermind chickens, cows, pigs, or domestic house cats. ..er, what?

CAPYBARA ENJOYS A SURFING

Caplin is a famous capybara on YouTube. There are videos of him as a wee lad and throughout his life. Needless to say, I might just ride home on a capybara---either by land or water.

All capybaras aside, that's only one pleasure that I am looking forward to in Venezuela. I will be flying into Caracas at 5:15 AM on May 17th. I will then have to take a flight from Caracas to El Vigia and then a bus to Merida where my school is. During the program switch from Mexico to Venezuela (a la Swine Flu), I did not really get a lot of information about travel plans, group travel, etc---but I knew the program date began on May 18th. I wanted to get there a day early, assuming that classes started immediately, but that has landed me in a world of trouble. Not trouble, exactly, but just lots and lots of irritations trying to plan my travel a day early now. Classes do not begin until Thursday May 21st---prior to that the days are filled with orientation and tours of the school/area. Now I'll be meeting my host family a day early. Maybe it was my medical record of bum ovary electric epileptic body, or not, but my host parents are a nutritionist (mom) and medical doctor (dad). If anything else turns awryly bum, I've got the best folks in town. Tengo una hermana---su nombre es Rosa. I don't know how old she is, but I hope she has a pet capybara.

Merida is nestled in the Andes and should be around 70-80 degrees while I'm there. There are tons of activities to do---rafting in waterfalls, hiking, swimming, safaris, canoeing, and I'm so excited to do all of them. Venezuela has an enormous array of climates and terrain from desert to jungle, and if I don't make my way to one area during school excursions, I have two weeks after my program ends to bus/fly around Venezuela and explore before coming back to Chicago. I want to hike and camp, but I'm not terribly experienced with either. So far, I am thinking of keeping my things at a posada (the equivalent of our bed and breakfasts, only posadas are a mere $4 a night---the price fluctuates depending on amenities/luxury, but still high-end is only around $20) and then going on excursions around different areas. We'll see how that all pans out.

And right now? I'm vulnerable as shit. I'm having dreams about currency exchanges, bolivares, and getting the math right converting bolivares to USD. I've never been out of the United States (so this is wonderful), I only know a minimal amount of Spanish, and I'm jumping in totally alone at first. I'm sure I'll meet great people when I am away, and I hope that I even find a travel companion for when the program is over---otherwise, that traveling will be guided alone as well, but excursions will still be with organized groups, likely. I am going to miss Tony; no snoogles or soft kisses for three months. This also would have been our first summer spent together. No late night bike riding lake Michigan swimming adventures with Amanda like last summer and the non-Chicago summers of summer's past. I'll also miss her birthday AND be in Venezuela for my birthday. But---those come every year, and I'll always have easy access to Lake Michigan. And when I come back, it's going to be a fucking snuggle party with Twoney. And not to mention, my baby kitty, Cecilia! Her tumor is getting huge on her face, and I only hope that she will still be well when I return. I told my parents/sister not to tell me if she dies when I'm gone. Poor Beans, I love her so much.

What else is there to say? I'm a vulnerable ball of nerves and excitement, and at this point I'm just jumping in. I've got to expect some things to go poorly and with difficulty, but nothing about this adventure is not going to be in many ways life changing. All I've got to do now is keep brushing up on my Spanish, fill my music player, condense my clothes, and get on the plane. And of course, celebrate with friends Friday night prior to departure, sex my brains out the same night and following morning, and then...THEN...get on the plane.

...To the land of Capybaras!, cable cars that scale mountains, and 900 flavors of Ice Cream!