Curaçao

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Today life is good.

The holiday bazaar was interesting, but nothing to write home about. After it, however, we went to the Feria. We journeyed down to the wrong side of the tracks with seven other folks. Many of them are new to the area and had never experienced such a thing before. That made it even more fun.

About half the group chose to go to the bullfights so we left them at the arena and ventured back onto the fairway. We encountered rides and food and art and food and beer and food and sangria and food. There was also lots of music and dancers. We had a ball just wandering around, gazing at the sights, eating till we were stuffed, and taking it all in.

The following week was only three days as the elections happened and shut the school down Thursday through Tuesday. On that Thursday, we climbed into a taxi and headed off for Curaçao. The flight from Valencia to the island is only thirty minutes on a little turbo prop plane. Zachary, Carrie, and I met up with the six women we traveled with at the airport and journeyed off to our getaway. We flew over stunning, Caribbean water, landing on a small island in the rain.
An awaiting van whisked us off to our hotel. The “resort” had seen better days for sure, but it was comfortable and the people were very friendly. As it turns out, it had been raining for a week straight so there was a lot of standing water everywhere. They are used to getting rained on, but this volume was more than they were accustomed to.

Curaçao is a diver’s paradise, I guess, so most things are set up for that crowd. Nonetheless, the food and drinks were cheap and our room had a fridge and cable T.V. There was milk in the market, along with Stove Top stuffing, and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. What more do I need?

The island is beautiful. It is technically a Dutch territory, but was a huge entry point for slaves. This makes the population an interesting mix. We were there for the arrival of Sinter Claus which was fascinating in and upon itself. Sinter is the Dutch version of Santa. He is accompanied by helpers dressed in page boy outfits and wearing blackface. It was quite a spectacle which many people gathered to observe.

This took place in the main village of Willemstad; a gorgeous, well maintained, brightly colored little hamlet full of artisans, restaurants, and shops. Apparently it is a big stop for cruise ships, although we didn’t see any while there. There is a great pedestrian bridge that swings open to allow huge container ships to sail right past your nose. We spent one full day there shopping, eating, and exploring.

One of our stops was a slavery museum. It was an incredible collection of artifacts from around the world. One whole wing was dedicated to West Africa. There we got to reminisce about life in Mali. They had a replica of a boat just like the one we rode on the Niger River. We even got to see them made at the boat works.

It rained every single day we were there. It would be sunny for part of the day and rainy for part of the day. We got used to it. We went to the beach when it was nice and dove under cover when it started to rain. The water was aquamarine and as clear as glass. There were also few waves so the swimming was relaxing.

We flew home on Tuesday. Our flight was delayed so we ended up spending six hours at the airport, but we were on vacation so we made the best of it. We arrived home rested and ready for the next two and a half weeks. Now we are looking ahead to Christmas and time at home with the family.

Apparently the elections here were uneventful as opposed to last year when there were burning tires and tear gas. This year the vote was for local leaders: mayors and governors. The opposition won a few key seats, most notably in the states of Zulia, Carabobo, and Miranda. These states all elected opposition governors. They are homes to the largest population centers in the country. These cities, Maracaibo, Valencia, and Caracas respectively, all elected opposition mayors. The hope is that this will scare Chavez a little and force some change.

Many of his support base voted against him. There has been a lot of trouble with acquiring basic needs and this has caused many to suffer. Complaints of lack of garbage collection, lack of police protection, and soaring crime rates have left Mr. Chavez hurting. Many believe that the new local leadership will work to provide these things. Unfortunately, another of the opposition’s main media outlets has been shut down by the president. He has also threatened to cut back money to the states that voted against him. We shall see what the future brings.

Until next week…

MJR

Choroni

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Break time is getting closer. I am getting anxious. I am also tired; tired of going to work, tired of dealing with kids, tired of Venezuelan weirdness.

Last weekend we took a much needed trip out of town. Seven of us gathered at 5 a.m. and took a cab to the bus station. We caught an express to Maracay where we got on a short bus to Choroní.

Choroní is a beach we had heard much about. It is written up in most travel books and is touted by just about every Venezuelan as the best beach in the country. It is also well known for the condition of the road that leads to it. Even the most intrepid driver has told me that the road is insane and very treacherous. This is why we decided to take the bus.

The bus is a short one for a reason: some of the turns are too sharp for a longer one. Even the short bus had to make a three point turn on at least two of the switchbacks. To say that the road is narrow is an understatement; it’s barely wide enough in places to accommodate the bus. Add to the equation scattered boulders in the road way, oncoming traffic, a cliff face with jutting rocks, and a drop off where the bottom can not be seen, and you have somewhat of a picture of this road.

In true Latino style, the bus is fully decorated and comes complete with a thumping stereo system. Every seat gets sold so you are sitting shoulder to shoulder with your knees in your chin. The steeper the road gets, the louder the stereo becomes until it is so loud you cannot hear yourself think. It would also seem that the fastest one to the end gets a prize as the driver continually increases speed until you want to scream.

On blind corners, of which there are many, the driver lays on the horn and hugs the cliff. If you are going to the beach, this is on the left. Any oncoming traffic must therefore move to the left and stop to allow the bus to slip by, millimeters from their car. If oncoming traffic is encountered in a spot that is too narrow to allow passage, the cars must back up until the bus can pass.

If one is prone to car sickness, this is not the trip for them. Every passenger can be seen to be gripping something tightly. This is to prevent them from being thrown and/or rolled around the cabin of the bus. The fact that you are seated body to body is actually a blessing as it locks you in even tighter, making it even more difficult to get thrown around.

The whole trip, from Maracay to Choroní, takes about an hour and a half. We arrived shortly after nine. Upon arrival, it is necessary to stagger about a little before your legs can become accustomed to standing and walking. The bus station there is quite nice, although it is a bit of a walk to the center of town.

The town is beautiful. It is clean and well tended with brightly colored buildings. There is a posada or hotel every three steps making it easy to find accommodation. Fortunately, we went on a weekend when not many others were there so we had our pick. The four ladies we were with found a room together while Z, Carrie, and I found space in another posada. We changed clothes, explored the village, and ate breakfast before heading off to the beach.

The beach is a short walk from town. It is isolated, with no posadas nearby. It is clean, clean, clean. Next to Los Roques, it is the cleanest beach I have seen in Venezuela. There were even other gringos there! We bumped into folks from Ireland, Canada, and the U.S. We rented two umbrellas, stretched out our towels and relaxed. Soon, a fellow came around selling beer for about a dollar a bottle. When the next one came, he collected the empties and sold us cold ones. It was great!At four o’clock, they threw us out. We wandered back to our places, showered, and re-gathered for dinner. We found a small seafood place next to the Malecon where we had an excellent fish dinner. There were two little kittens playing there who quickly befriended Zachary. After some time, they curled up in his lap and fell sound asleep. We sucked down some cocktails and headed off to explore the nightlife.The Malecon, or boardwalk, is beautiful at night. There are vendors everywhere selling homemade jewelry and clothing. The faces are friendly and it feels very safe. Soon, Zman was asleep on his feet so I took him back to the posada. He was delighted with the fact that he got to sleep on the top bunk. Alas, after stories and songs, I got to sleep on the top bunk too. Sometime later Carrie awakened me to go listen to the drumming.

I could hear it as soon as I stepped out the door. A short walk to the Malecon found me standing outside a large crowd that had gathered to watch the action. About half a dozen guys were sitting on congo drums an banging away. It was really nice to hear, like water to a parched man. I stood and listened for awhile, then stumbled back home to sleep with my wife.

The next day we decided to hike to a different beach. We had been told it would take about thirty minutes, but that turned out to be more like forty-five. We trudged up the mountainside under a bright sun with no shade to the top. The back side was more protected and emptied onto another pristine beach. This one was completely devoid of human life. We quickly dove into the water.

Zachary and I played in the waves until a big one came along that ripped him out of my arms. Fortunately, he was thrown closer to the beach where he arose on his feet, sputtering and crying. I rushed to him and snatched him up. He was done with the water for the day.After a short time we hiked back over the hill, changed our clothes, and climbed aboard the bus for home. The trip back was slightly more pleasant than the trip coming, although the music was louder. We arrived home Sunday night; tired, but happy. It helped to make this week go by a little faster.

This weekend is the holiday bazaar at the school and then we are off to the Feria tonight. We have a six day weekend starting Thursday because of the elections here. We are going to Curacao with six others (all women!). Then it is only two more weeks until Christmas break. I am counting the days.

MJR

Echoes of Halloweens Past

Saturday, November 01, 2008 

Last night was the annual Halloween party. It is a fun event that nearly all of the elementary students participate in. Mickey, Goofy, and Minnie all made appearances. There was also a haunted house set up by high school students. 

Afterward, some folks came over to our place for a small gathering. It was reminiscent of earlier times, though not quite the same. The coolest part was that some of the local hire folks showed up. This is atypical. For the most part, the ex-pats do their thing and the Venezolanos do theirs. Although we have invited all comers on several occasions, it is usually only the foreign hires that show up. 

It makes it really challenging to get to know the local hires if they never come out to events. I understand that they have a life outside of school. They have family and friends here because this is where they have lived their whole lives. Unfortunately, all we have is school. 

We rely on it for too much. It’s not just our job, it is our way of life. Almost everything we do is governed by where we work and the people we work with. When we do things socially, we do them with the folks from school. They are, after all, the only people we know here. You could count in the parents of students, but they are still tied to the school. The families we went to the café with a few weeks back are great people, but they are parents of kids at school. It makes it really hard when everyone you know and everything you do somehow all gets tied back to one place; your job. 

In one way, I can parallel it to our time on the river. That was a group of folks that we knew intimately. It was easy to get back in with them every summer. During that time, they were much of our social contact. Even in the Fall when we had our Halloween party, they were many of the guests. Still, there was a time to get away. There were others that we knew from somewhere else, whether we worked with them at our real jobs, or they were old friends, or just some random stranger we met on the street. 

Here there is only us and the school. It makes it a little easier to understand how we can get burned out. We are surrounded by the same people every day for 185 days a year. There is no escape. That seems hard to imagine, I know. It’s not completely crappy, though. I mean the people we work with are pretty nice people. One of the bonuses is that we all know we are here for a short time so we tend to dive right in. I have learned to meet new faces more quickly. I have also, perhaps become quick to judge when deciding who is worth my time and who is not. 

Anyway, I seem to have gotten off track. The point is that the party was fun. It was attended by lots of good people and we enjoyed their company. I hope we can make an event like that happen again soon. 

MJR

I Love the Police and the Police Love Me

Saturday, October 25, 2008 

Well, the good news is that it took almost two weeks before I got pulled over again. 

We are suddenly very busy. I volunteered to be the assistant volleyball coach and now I am the Girl’s J.V. Volleyball coach. I have no idea what I’m doing. I never turned out for sports ever so I don’t even know what’s supposed to happen during a practice. 

Nevertheless, I am out there twice a week, after school, coaching volleyball. This is on top of guitar lessons, weekly department meetings, and an after school activity. Then there are the weekends; last Friday was the parent-teacher social, today was the Charity Road Race, and next Friday night is the Halloween party. 

The parent teacher social was fun. There was music and dancing and socializing. The following day we went out to lunch with some of the parents. Both sets of parents have kids in Zachary’s class. One set of them has a student in my class as well. We went to a beautiful little restaurant in Naguanagua, a community just north of here. We sat outside until the rains came. The streets flooded completely with water over my ankles. 

The Charity Road Race is an annual 5k run through the streets of El Trigal. There were over three hundred participants this year! Carrie and Zachary walked while I stood guard at an intersection. It’s a required event for the staff, but it’s pretty fun nonetheless. 

After the race we went to the beach. We had agreed to meet folks at the panaderia in thirty minutes. We raced home and gathered up our things: umbrella, chairs, kiddie tent, sand toys, cooler, clothing bag, snack bag, etc. I grabbed a handful and headed down to put them in the car. 

As I was riding the elevator back up, the power went out. I was stuck in a pitch black elevator car. I suddenly realized how badly I needed to pee. I managed to pull the inner doors open enough to see out and discover that I was pretty close to level with the floor. I shouted for help several times before I remembered that Spanish would probably serve me better. 

Finally, Carrie called out to me. I struggled with the outer doors for a while before I discovered the latch that held one of them closed. I slid it open, but still could not wiggle out. This older woman showed up and began a litany of Spanish that admonished me to get back in the elevator and wait for help. She was afraid that the power might come back on and injure me. The power did come partly back on, but the elevator didn’t move. 

Michael showed up and then ran off to find the building manager for the key to open the outer doors. The building manager was nowhere to be found. I had no choice; in the midst of Carrie and the old lady telling me not to, I played with the outer doors until I finally got them both open. I jumped onto the floor, elated that I was out. The whole thing only lasted about ten minutes, but it seemed like a lot longer. 

By the time we arrived at the panaderia, there were four car loads of people waiting so we caravanned. Everything went swimmingly until we hit the toll plaza. There, I was directed to pull over to the side. This was awkward because our friend Al was with us, but his passport was with his wife in another car. I directed the officer to pull over the other car as well. It turns out that all he wanted was to have me put my seat belt on. With a big sigh of relief we motored on. 

Fortunately, the rest of the day went much better. We had a ball at the beach, playing in these monster waves, rolling around in the sand, and enjoying each others company. We tried to buy dinner from our friend Robert only to find that he has since moved on to greener pastures. We settled for empanadas in El Palito. 

Now I am slightly sunburned, but rested. It was good to get out of town for a day. We need to do that more often. 

MJR