Weekend Spaziergang

(I´m typingthis from my notes which I wrote earlier today)

I´m sitting in a terrific little mountain restaurant at the end of the bus line labelled "Culata." It´s early Saturday afternoon, no school. So I took a "pòr puesto" from the city center to here. A por puesto, in this case, is a long van, lengthened to hold about 15 people. I was lucky. I got the last seat. It was about an hour ride, up,up,up. During the uphill ride, the city ended and we were in the country. There were a number of small farms and even some very upscale hotels.

The end of the line is a turnaround at a trailhead that leads up the mountain. It reminded me very much of the hike to the top of Spanish Peak, except I STARTED at about 7000 feet. I hiked for a couple of hours and made it to the big saddle.From this point its possible to go off trail and genuinely mountain climb. In my case, I sat down and gasped and admired the view. I don´t know how high I was but I would guess about9000 feet.The only other hikers on the trailwere young couples from Merida. Despite the high elevation, it was genuinely hot. The breeze was understandably cold, given the elevation. I found it somewhat strange to have it feel so warm, and humid, and at the same time with such a cool breeze. The air smells and feels so wonderfully fresh and cool in contrast to the polluted city air of Merida. The couple of hours of solitude and fresh air felt very good indeed.

Culata is the mountain range on the OTHER side of Merida. Sothe view from here is down onto the haze of Merida and the impressive Andes rising up behind it. Beautiful!
The vegetation is surprising at this altitude. It´s very green and lush. There are lots of cows, reminding me very much of the Swiss Alps above Bern. And, just like the Alps, and the German mountains, after walking back down to the bottom, I´m able to sit down in a great looking restaurant with wonderful views. How civilized!

I even found trout on the menu! However, trout came with salad, so I chickened out (as it were)and ordered ¨chicken in a basket." Good old fried chicken and french fries. Not necessarily the healthiest thing, since who knows what kind of oil it was cooked in,but it reduces the chances of getting Hugo´s revenge. I didn´t hear the sounds of screeching chickens being chased by the mamacita of the restaurant prior to the meal, so maybe that´s a good sign. The chicken and french fries were excellent. Now, backdown the hill to "civilization."

I´m starting my last week of language class. It truly is a wonderful feeling to be able to ask directions, talk to the teenage waitress about the virtues of chicken in a basket, and discuss the merits and demerits of Honda v. BMW motorcycles with the bus driver. By this statement I definitely don´t want to overstate my abilities. But I mention it in relation to the fact that it definitely beats just riding the bus in silence! Hasta luego!

Some Random Thoughts re-Merida, Part 2

I´m sitting in my favorite cafe on the second floor overlooking the crowded street below. Needless to say, the parade of people is fascinating.

Yesterday, at this time, about 3 p.m., I gave in to temptation and decided to get some sort of pastry. All of the pastries look absolutely great. Unfortunately, as is common elsewhere in Latin America, they frequently take a great pastry and, in my opinion, ruin it by stuffing it with some sort of mystery meat and cheese, kind of like a Russian peroshkee. I figure if I want a ham and cheese sandwich, I´ll order a ham and cheese sandwich. But, if I want a nice sweet pastry, with cinnamon or fruit, or sugar icing, or whatever, then I don´t want it married to a ham sandwich.
Regrettably, the Venezuelans are also into those awful little candied fruits that one finds in fruitcake. What a shame to take a perfectly good pastry and stuff it with what looks like residue from last Christmas!

So, by the time I analyzed what was left, the pickings were a little slim. Front row center in the display case, was what looked like a rather large chocolate donut. I asked what it was called. I should have guessed. It carries the understandable traditional Spanish name of "DONA," pronounced doe-nuh. Well, if it LOOKS like a donut, and SOUNDS like a Frenchman´s pronunciation of donut, it must TASTE like a donut too, right?
When the delightful young waitress placed it on my table with a pronounced "thud," I began to have misgivings. I´ll swear it must have weighed in at close to a pound. Suffice it to say, I was raised in the old school of waste not, want not, and I was able, foolishly, to eat a whole half of it. Bottom line: I don´t think Krispy Kreme needs to worry that the market is going to be taken over by the Venezuelans sometime soon.

Waddling out of the cafe, I saw an interesting sight. There was one of those huge American station wagons from the 1960´s parked at the curb. It was painted orangy yellow and on the side was written "School Transport." The back seat had been removed and a carpeted flat bed had been installed in the interior of the wagon. I could see 4 kids standing, sitting, or kneeling on the front passenger seat. There were an untold number of little kids inside the flatbed, laughing and carrying on. The driver was attempting to squeeze yet another kid through the back door. As the "school bus" pulled away, I noticed a very offical looking sign stenciled on the back side: "Maximum Capacity: 19 children."
As I walked to my Spanish class, I walked past several signs proclaiming: "The Other America...On the Move!" And so it is, safely or not.

Germany revisited?

It certainly is an exciting time to be in Venezuela. VZ is in the process of undergoing potentially very sweeping changes in its society and government. Historically, the country has been an oligarchy. There is still a very, as in VERY, wealthy but small upper class, with a huge percentage of people who live in poverty or at the edge of it.

As in most of Latin America, and perhaps worse here in VZ, government corruption is ubiquitous. You can´t get a drivers license, or a copy of your birth certificate, etc., without handing over a bribe. And so upon this stage Hugo Chavez made his entrance. He has challenged the voters: "I will change things, and if I don´t, throw me out!" He says the corruption is so wide-spread that to cause reform, he has to assume all the powers of a dictator. The consequences? Public interest industries are being expropriated by the government, small towns´and counties are being re-structured to eliminate local power bases. The currency is artificially controlled to gouge the tourists. A tv station which did not toe the government´s party line has had its 20 year license renewal rejected. Large undeveloped properties are being expropriated to divide up and give to landless peasants.
You can almost feel the tension (excitement?) in the air. Every day the newspapers are filled with news of Chavez´latest proposal with virulent editorials for and against. 70% of the voters gave Chavez a vote of support. In effect, they´re saying: "Go for it, Hugo!"
I can´t help but think that the situation here is similar to the way Germany must have been in the 1930´s just after Hitler came to power. Sure, he was uncouth, uneducated, and boorish. But, he had an energy and a drive that was infectious. And, whether or not it was due to his efforts, the country began an economic turnaround. (As the terrible joke has it, any one who can build all those autobahns can´t be ALL bad!).

There´s a strong attraction to the argument that the country can´t afford political freedoms until there is a modicum of economic freedom. In effect, the people have to be middle class before they can indulge in such niceties as pursuing the¨"human rights" agenda that Rice and Bush like to extol for the middle east. Regrettably, history has usually proven that creating a dictator does not usually improve things. For example, Hitler, Pinochet, and others.

So many people in Latin America do not respect the environment and do not respect others. Bags of garbage pile up under the sign that says "Prohibited to throw garbage here." Newighbors play music at maximum volume at all hours, etc. In order to respect others, or the earth, they have to first respect themselves. Unfortunately, they have been subject to a couple of centuries of oppression by gringos from the US and Europe, and suffer a corresponding inferiority complex.

To respect themselves, they need to be financially and politically independent. Chavez has helped bring about the latter already by publicly thumbing his nose at George W. A large part of the 70% vote for Chavez is a reflection of the people´s pride in endorsing Chavez´s statements of freedom from US economic dominance.

It would be wonderful if, 10 years from now, when VZ is at the apex of the third world, Chavez can reinstate some of the pillars of democratic government.
Regrettably, history would seem to inidcate that this outcome is unlikely. "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." All that notwithstanding, it is indeed a very exciting time here. I wish the venezolanos luck and keep my pessimism to myself.

Hasta luego!

To a finca

The senora of the house has 3 sisters and they are all very close. One of the reasons is probably because they are all widowed or divorced. Yesterday, Sunday, one of the sisters invited me to her finca in the country. 3 of the sisters could make it, all of them quite a lively group. What a blast!
We drove down this big long valley, that Merida lies in, about 45 minutes. Then we drove up to a big plateau with incredible views. It seems to me that the dream of many Latin Americans is to own a finca, or small farm somewhere in the country.
We went down a long country road near the town of Las Lagunillas. The finca looks to me like about a 50 acre farm. There is a caretaker and his family who live in one house and then there is the home of the senora. She must have called the caretaker to let him know we were coming. The BBQ was already going when we arrived.
The senora-owner told me she firmly believes that this is the best spot in all of Venezuela. I believe her. There are wonderful mountain breezes all the time. I dont know if it´s the breezes or the location, but the humidity is very low there. It´s perceptible. It´s also about 1000 feet lower in elevation than Merida, so it´s a bit warmer and doesn´t have Merida´s late afternoon clouds. They have about 50 head of Brahman cattle on the farm, as well as the usual pen of chickens, rabbits, a couple of peacocks, some sheep, the dog, geese, and a big land tortoise.
The senora´s house was huge. There was a center courtyard but not the usual kind of courtyard. This one was filled with flowers and vegetables and fruit trees. Around the courtyard was a covered walkway with nice tile floors. There are individual bedrooms that lead off the walkway.
Everything is open air: the dining room, sala, etc. There was even a corner of the inside walkway with couches and chairs set up before a tv set. It felt like you were miles and miles away from anything and everything. After the crazy traffic and noise of Merida, I can understand why these places are so popular.
We had a HUGE lunch...little sausage appetizers, an avocado salad, yucca, a slab of beefsteak and a couple of beers! Oh, yai, yai! We sat on a covered outside veranda with views looking over the valley and the Andes mountains behind. We could make out the gung-ho hang gliders hanging in the air near the top of the mountain across the valley. The whole scene was very idyllic. After over-eating shamelessly, we then all retired to separate bedrooms for the afternoon siesta. How civilized! And what a great way to digest all that food and those 2 beers!
After about an hour, we were awakened by the caretaker´s wife with small cups of coffee for us all. We then went for a short hike and headed for home. On the way home, we stopped to look at the huge stadium the government is building to host the America´s Cup soccer match coming up this summer.
All in all, a wonderful day!
Hasta luego

Automotive World

The senora of the casa asked me if I wanted to go shopping with her today. I said sure. We picked up her girl friend and her sister, all of whom talked all at once and at blitz-schnell speed. At least I got a chance in the market see what a guanabana looks like. It´s hard to believe that the juice from such a thing could taste SO good given how ugly the packaging is.

At breakfast, I asked the senora how much car insurance cost her. Given the way drivers in VZ drive, I assumed she had maximum coverage. She said she didn´t have car insurance. I said that sounded a bit risky. However, she had an excellent explanation She said that last year they raised the rates quite high, so she dropped it. I´ve come to the conclusion she doesn´t need car insurance anyway, since she crosses herself about once every 45 seconds while driving down the street. She also provides coverage for particular other drivers by calling out ¨Mother of God¨on appropriate occasions.

I also had the pleasure of watching the tank get filled up at the gas station. All stations seem to be full-service. The gas cost about 60 Bolivares per liter, or about 12 cents per gallon! If Chavez promised that price at the pump in the states, he could get elected US President in a hearbeat! My understanding is that Chavez is offering gas to Venezuelans at cost. Even if the price to US companies is a lot more, there´still a heck of a lot of room for profit there!

Traffic in Merida can be pretty bad. Those with money buy gas-guzzling SUV´s. Why not, if gas is 12 cents a gallon?! There´s plenty of good public transportation, but not a lot of motivation for people to use it when the price of gas is so low.

The consequence is that in a mountain valley like Merida, there is morning haze which is probably just flat out air pollution. Lots of cars and trucks drive around belching fumes and smoke so there doesn´t seem to be any smog control requirements. The only positive side is that the pollution here can´t be as bad as in Caracas or the other big cities of VZ.

The cars are an incredible mix. About one third are late model stylish small things, usually made by Ford, Chevy, Renault, or even Hyundai and Daewoo. They look very spiffy. Another third are old clap traps, like 1970´s American muscle cars. Most of these seem to be used as taxis, no doubt because of the room they offer. The last third are trucks and buses and pick-ups of every conceivable size and description.

Almost all the downtown streets are one way. Because the streets are so narrow, there´s only room for one lane with usually parking allowed on one side of the street. The sidewalks are also crowded with street vendors of every conceivable commodity: fruit, cell phone rentals, batteries, arepas and empanadas, newspapers, popcorn, and more. There are a great number of pedestrians. Unless you´re an attractive young woman, you have to hustle across the street to avoid becoming road kill.

Now to dash safely across the street for a cup of coffee.
Hasta luego!

Some random thoughts

There is a wonderful sort of shaded pedestrian street between 2 large university buildings here in downtown Merida. In this ¨street¨there is a cafe with numerous outdoor tables and students discussing the meaning of life with great animation. There are several tables with chess boards set up and males of all ages playing and observing. They move their pieces with such incredible speed! And, there are a handful of painters doing their thing and selling their results. About half of the paintings are indeciperable to me. The other half are probably nothing more than kitsch. But I have to confess I find them very attractive. Idyllic scenes of a little farm house with the majestic Andes mountains rising up behind. These little paintings seem to be available in many latin american countries. They sell them in Mexico, in Guatemala, and in Costa Rica. I think its the latin american version of Kincade, except of course the painters here are barely eking out a living.
There are some GREAT bakeries in Merida with great smells coming out of them. The locals believe that the best bakeries are run by Portuguese. Yesterday I splurged and bought something that thasted absolutely delicious for a 4 p.m. kaffee und kuchen snack. Yummy! Yummy!
Among the items on dispolay were schweineohren. The venezolanos call them palm trees (palmeras). That certainly sounds more attractive that way.
One thing venzolanos have in common with probably every other country in the world is they wear these t shirts with combinations of English words that are interesting, if not even challenging, for example, ¨Back Baby¨or ¨Play teams¨. Obviously, im not in on the secret code that makes these saying comprehensible.
The young girls of Merida are head turningly beautiful. They do however all look excactly the same...long straight black hair, black eyes, incredibly narrow waist. They all wear low cut halter tops and tight fitting jeans that barely make it above the line of propriety. In short, it makes for a very scenic walk every day back and forth to school!
Last week, I made the mistake of eating in a chinese restaurant. The lead item on the menu was chop suey. That should have been a clue. The rice had lots of ham strips in it. Venezolanos can´t seem to get enough of ham. The standing joke is that if venezolanos ran out of ham and cheese sandwiches, they´d die of hunger. A very hot item in the deli case here is Underwood deviled ham.
There´s also a German restaurant in town. I´m told it´s as bad as the chinese one. I´m told there is ONE sushi bar in town run by an Italian family (!), but the locals steer clear of all fish products. We are a full day´s drive away from the ocean and the locals fee you will get sick easily eating fish that has gone bad. The guide book says something about trout being available locally but I haven´t seen it on any of the menus posted outside restaurants.
Yesterday, I had to go to the bank again to withdraw money with my ATM card. For foreigners, the outside ATM machines won´t work. There are huge lines at all the banks for reasons I don´t know. Its not unusual to see 10 to 30 people standing in line down the sidewalk for the outside ATM machine. As a non Venezuelan, I have to go into the bank. I stood in line one hour to get my money. I had to produce my passport, have my photo taken, and sign paperwork, etc., just to use my ATM card. To add insult to injury, the official exchange rate is pegged artifically low, about 35 % lower than what the currency will bring on the black market. This is just what Russia and the east european countries used to do during the cold war. Regrettably, VZ is just not tourist friendly. Period. But they don´t have to be. They have oil. It makes life quite difficult here for businesses like the language school and travel agencies, etc., who cater to tourists.
One of my teachers asked me today, for some reason, what time I go to bed. I told him 10 p.m. His response was ¨So early!!¨Well, I have to get up at 6 a.m. every morning in order to eat breakfast, and hike to school by 8 a.m. But I understand his comment about 10 p.m. being early.
On my street there are several 10 story high apt. houses. About 9 p.m. every night, the street begins to come alive with people. A large number of them are students. There is a great deal of loud music, drinking, spontaneous singing and dancing. Those portable hot dog stands crop up like crazy selling every conceivable food item. In addition, for the last 2 weeks I´ve been here, there are extremely loud fireworks every night. I asked why and the response was...but of course, its christmas! This is now the 26th of january and they´re still setting off fireworks every night in honor of christmas! I´m told the celebrating ends officially on Feb. 9th. As good fortune would have it, that´s when the Feria del Sol starts here, a local week long fiesta, leading up to Carneval directly thereafter. Welcome to VZ, where the party never stops!!
The noise outside my bedroom window is mind bogglingly loud until about 2 a.m. every night. I´m on the second floor of a 10 story building and my bedroom looks out onto the street. The window is louvered and is permanently in the open position to beat the heat. The noise of loud music, talking, laughing, singing, dancing people is amplified by loud fireworks which set off car alarms. A number of cars are equipped with awesome power units and speaker systems. My bedroom louvered windows rattle in their metal frames and the bed springs vibrate in synch with the booming bass. It´s quite an experience. I´ve noticed also that most drivers here use their car horns about once every two blocks, probably to ensure that they are still in good working condition.
I´ve talked to other foreign students at the language school, and the impression I get is that the situation is similar all over town. There are indeed some ritzy upper class neighborhoods with large houses behind security gates, etc. But even there the general background noise is still pretty overwhelming.
At about 5 a.m., the taxis and car pool drivers start pulling up under my window. They notify the additional passenger, who must live somewhere in the building, of their arrival by leaning on the car horn. Amazingly, I have actually grown somewhat immune to all of this. In addition, I´ve come to greatly appreciate my 30 minute siestas after lunch.
As a matter of fact, it´s time to go home for my nap. Hasta luego!

Comparisons

In visiting different latin american countries, it´s difficult not to avoid the temptation to make comparisons. So I´m going to fully give in to the temptation, and indulge, knowing full well that what I say is bound to meet with some disagreement.
In the Guatemalan city of Quetzaltenango, about the same size as Merida, when I walked into a small store, I was frequently the only one in the store. The sales person would dawdle over the item, pretending to busily wipe the dust off the bottle of water I was buying, etc., and thereby win time in which to ask me where I was from, how long I was staying there, what I thought of their (beautiful) country, etc. The purchase was an excuse to enter into a social engagement. I think the Guatemaltecos do this because they are genuinely friendly and genuinely curious.

In Merida, I am at the northernmost end of the Andes. First of all, the city here is quite crowded. Therefore, there are other customers at the counter anxious to complete their purchase. The salesperson doesn´t have the time to dawdle. If they are curious about me, they hide it pretty well.

One of my teachers described this "Andean attitude" as the kind of "hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil" kind of point of view. I get the impression a cop could walk up to a dozen people at the scene of an accident and ask what happened and the uniform response would be "I don´t know anything."

Countries such as mexico, costa rica, and guatemala have a deep vested interest in pursuing tourism and providing tourist friendly services. Not so in Venezuela. They have oil. That´s all they need. They also have Isla Margarita, which is a beautiful island off the coast. It has an international airport and caters to foreign tourists. This seems to be where the overwhelming majority of tourism support is based. In an article in the local paper last weekend, they talked about the fact that there are only business or government visitors to caracas, the capital, hardly any tourists.

The lack of tourism and tourist support also has its positive side. The people´s indifference, etc., is quite genuine, the real article. The sales clerks, etc., as in most places in the US, simply don´t know how to speak slowly and clearly for the benefit of the foreign listener. Some local attraction is not hyped up for the benefit of foreign tourists, etc.

I find it another fascinating quirk of cultural curiosity that you can travel all over latin america and in every town and village and hamlet there is at least one soccer field. In the evening, when the temperature has dropped a little, many players are out there doing their thing in front of an impressive number of spectators, usually older men commenting on the merits of various players, the coach´s decisions, etc. There are 2 countries (at least), that are exceptions to this. They are Cuba and Venezuela. For these countries, baseball, of all things, is king. Never mind the fact that baseball is BORING! certainly in comparison to soccer.

When I open the newspaper here, the first page of the sports section is baseball news. When I walk to school past a shaded schoolyard configured for soccer, the boys are out there playing baseball. Of all the countries in the western hemisphere, it´s hard to conceive of 2 who are more opposed to the u.s. government. And here they are, dedicated and devoted to the great american pasttime. Just think of the concessions Washington could extract from them by offering them the opportunity to play major league baseball!!!

the baths

What a fun day! I decided to take a trip to the baths...aguas calientes. I got on the local bus for 30 cents and road about three quarters of an hour to the nearby town of Tabay. I think Tabay is about another 2000 feet up from Merida. The road reminded me very much of Guatemala, and the bus ride as well. The driver turns on a local radio station at maximum volume and through the miracle of modern chemistry and about a dozen speakers, you can´t hear yourself think over the noise. The road winds up and down very high mountains and deep barrancas. I don´t think the actual as the crow flies distance between the two towns is more than a few miles. However, it was about a 15 mile ride winding up and down narrow mountain roads.

The town of Tabay is kind of unremarkable. I wandered around the town. there´s a nice plaza and church. I then got into a Jeep Wagoneer (I think that´s what it was). The back had 2 benches facing each other. They squeezed 10 people in there and 2 in the passenger seat. For another 50 cents, they drove us up this VERY steep road for a few miles. The Jeep never got out of first gear. The road is cut out of the jungle and reminded me again of Guatemala or Costa Rica. We went past houses perched on the hillsides which I guess are small farms. Incredibly, only half of us passengers got out at the hot springs. The others in the jeep apparently live even farther up the mountain on this precarious road.

I then walked about a half mile to the baths. The baths are in a ravine on the side of the mountain. Tubs made out of concrete had been made on the mountain side, catching the hot water as it pours downhill. There is one large pool, about 15 feet by 50 feet. The posted temp. is 30 degrees cent (86 fahrenheit). Maybe. They also boast a ¨sauna¨which is a small hut holding 4 over the stream of the natural hot water. The posted temp in the hut was 37 degrees C. (99 F.), which was the case until some one opens the door. Because the outside temp. is aready so warm, I didn´t feel the desire to have a hotter tub.

I got there about 10:30 a.m. on a Sunday. It was pretty nice. By about 11:30, lots of people started arriving, most of them families with kids, and the atmosphere of the place changed considerably, but still fun.

On the way back down, I decided to take the mountain trail back to the town of Tabay. Thank God I didn´t try to take the trail uphill. It was STEEP! The ¨trail¨was mostly steps made out of existing stone in the mountain side. Each step out was also a step down. Based on my lightheadedness, I suspect we were well above 8000 feet. There were some beautiful views going down, looking out over the valley with the Andes rising up very high in front of me. I could look down onto the town of Tabay....the square and the church and all the buildings looking very small way down below. Unfortunately, wouldn´t you know it, this was the day I forgot my camera! Hopefully, next time I won´t forget.

Hasta luego!

Merida: a little background description

This is supposed to be the dry season. Unfortunately, the correct description is probably the drier season. By the afternoon, it starts to cloud up and by the evening, it starts to rain, usually pretty heavy. The good news is that it stops raining by morning. But it sure doesn´t make you feel like going out anywhere after dark, if it´s pouring down rain. Maybe that´s good!
Merida lies in a valley at about 4000 feet with high impressive mountains all around. The town has about 300,000 people and is about the 5th or 6th biggest city in the country. It´s home to the University of the Andes, which is a very large university. The U. and the city grew up at about the same pace, so the univ. is found in different buildings all over the city.
When we think of the Andes, we usually think of the high mountains which run up the western side of South America. They constitute the border between the narrow strip of Chile and the vast expanses of Argentina. As they go north through Peru, Bolivia, and Ecuador, they provide the kind of scenery we think of when we see photos of Machu Pichu.
Merida is at the very tail end of the Andes. The Andes make a right turn in Columbia and push just a little bit into Venezuela. So the Andes either end or begin in Merida, depending upon whether you´re a Chilean or a Venezuelan.
In the morning when I walk to school I can look up and see the highest peak, Pico Bolivar. Mauna Kea, on the Big Island, is equally as high, but it is far away so its height is nowhere near as dramatic as Pico Bolivar. At 14,000 feet, Pico Bolivar is right THERE, in your face, and causes me to look up and up and up, craning my neck to marvel at it.
It´s also a weird feeling because it´s 70 to 80 degrees in Merida, and one can see snow year round on the top peaks. It´s truly dramatic.
Merida lies in a valley between these high mountains. When the 2 engine prop plane comes in to the local airport, it makes a U-turn right up against the side of these impressively steep mountains and lands on a strip the size of Quincy´s.
Merida boasts the 2d highest cable car in the world. The cable car ride consists of 4 sections and requires 4 hours to go the whole 8 miles and 10,000 feet up to the second highest peak, Pico Espejo. Needless to say, the temperature at the top is similar to the top of Mauna Kea; in other words, freezing-___ cold! So, at the bottom, they rent winter jackets and gloves to the tourists.
Walking down the streets, it´s nice to see small shops where some guy repairs small appliances and sells his refurbished ones. One major difference from some Central American countries: many of the shops are closed on both Saturday and Sunday!
Until later!

Mas Merida

I want to change the date of my air ticket from caracas to buenos aires. That turns out to be a bit more difficult than one would expect. There are MANY travel agencies all over Merida. However, 90% of them just sell package tours of the area around Merida. To find a genuine travel agent, that does air tickets, etc., is turning out to be quite a challenge.
The senora of my house volunteered the name of the travel agent her daughter used a couple of years ago. She called the travel agency and confirmed that they were open saturday from 8 to 2. The senora volunteered to drive me to the travel agency since she had an appointment to have her car serviced. I was very surprised that this quiet, self-effacing diminutive lady drove a car. That was my first surprise. The second surprise was the Jekyl and Hyde transformation that occurred once she got behind the wheel!
Her driving technique of her little automatic consisted of 2 options: pushing the pedal to the right to the floor and pushing the pedal to the left to the floor. We bombed through the narrow city streets at very impressive speeds, the pedestrians scattering left and right in front of us. She had one hand on the steering wheel and with the other hand gestured dramatically in front of my face pointing out sights of interest.
It was amazing how she never struck parked cars or other objects, while spending only 10% of the time looking at the road ahead. She dropped me off at the travel agency exactly at 8 a.m. Actually, she didn´t exactly drop me off AT the travel agency. We were on a big boulevard, 2 lanes in each direction, and 2 left turn lanes in each direction.. She pulled into the right hand left turn lane and came to a full braking stop at the intersection despite the fact that the green arrow was blazing above us. She smilingly pointed out the travel agency to me on the left side of the boulevard. She further urged me to jump out of the card, but carefully!, as quickly as possible. The traffic was moderately heavy. The cars in the lane to my right were whizzing past at 50 mph. The cars behind us were screeching to a halt and leaning on their horns. The senora was oblivious. None of this caused the slightest wrinkle in the smile on her face as she wished me well. I scrambled out of the car, holding my breath, and raced for relative safety on the narrow traffic island. She waved and sped off only about 5 seconds after the left turn light had turned red.
The travel agency wasn´t open. I´ve noticed that stores and businesses here in Merida very wisely do not post their hours of operation. I waited. At 8:30, the senora pulled up, half on the sidewalk, again all smiles, and told me it was unlikely the travel agency would open up that day. She also told me that the car repair place had decided not to open until Monday, despite her appointment.
To think, some Americans are concerned that Chavez says he wants to bring Venezuela to socialism. It´s already here!

merida

yesterday i decided to buy 1 or 2 t shirts to wear to school because the weather is so warm here. i brought some long sleeved shirts with me but they´re much too warm in the afternoon. i went into a rather large clothing store. i had fair amount of cash with me but i saw the credit card signs, so i decided to pay by credit card. getting cash in merida is difficult to say the least. the atm´s will simply not recognize my gringo atm card, so i have to go into the bank, stand in line forever, etc., in order to withdraw the money using the card.

so i went to the check out counter with 2 t shirts, about a $10 purchase. The poor young salesgirl looked at my credit card. it obviously looked very foreign to her. she looked at me and asked me if i had my cedula (domestic id card) with me. i told her i didn´t have a domestic id card and that i had intentionally left my passport at home in merida for safekeeping. i showed her my driver´s license with my photo on it. she was obviously very perplexed so she called over the lady jefe of the cash register section. by this time, about a dozen lady customers were all standing near me and couple of them were intervening on my behalf with the sales girl and jefe of the dept.

the jefe started the questions all over again. i should show her my cedula. i said the u.s. was not as modern as veneuela. we don´t have a domestic id card. now both the jefe and the salesgirl were more suspicious than ever. after all, everyone knows the u.s. has the most of everything. everyone in the country must have at least TWO domestic id cards. one of the customer ladies volunteered that she had actually visited the u.s. and it was true they don´t have domestic id cards and she could attest to this fact that in the loose u.s., one did not need an id card to use a credit card.

both the jefe and the sales girl were in complete disbelief, and started passing around my driver´s license and credit card to the 3 or 4 ladies that were helping me. everyone was studying my 2 cards with great interest, while talking all at once. i was somewhat lost to the side. i was not taking part in the conversation because i was too busy hawkeyeing my credit card and driver´s license.

fially, with great reluctance and displeasure the store manager swiped the card. to save face, she required that i write on the back side of the sales slip my complete local address and telephone number. i then thanked all the ladies profusely and they wished me well.

back at home in merida, the senora of the house, not a particularly worldly wise person, told me to carry a photocopy of my passport with me (!). now why hadn´t i thought of that???

Merida

Greetings from Merida, Venezuela. I flew from SF to Miami overnight, sat for 5 hours in uncomfortable plastic chairs at Miami airport, flew to Caracas, changed planes and flew for an hour and a half to the university town of Merida. I got in about 6 p.m. after 20 hours or so of traveling. That makes for a long day.
When I got out of the merida airport (about the size of Quincy´s), I decided take the bus from the airport to the center of town for only 25 cents, instead of taking a taxi for $10. From the airport I had reserved a room in a cheap posada. I also knew the bus would drop me off a long 10 blocks or so from the posada. But what the heck. I had my backpack and I was ready.
the moment I stepped off the bus, it began to rain. Unfortunately, not just rain, but RAIN! as in a torrential downpour. Unfortunately, I had forgotten my beloved trusty guatemalan baseball cap in the car while leaving for SFO. I also knew I had a little collapsible umbrella somewhere in the backpack. The good news was I knew I had one. The bad news was that I knew it would take me forever to find it, and only after pulling out all sorts of stuff and junk looking for it. Not a good idea in pouring rain.
I was a little upset. The guidebooks say this is supposed to be the DRY season. Shame on Mother Nature for not reading the guide book!
In addition to rain, the second thing I discovered is that Merida doesn´t have storm sewers. that is, they do have storm drains, but the streets are the storm drains. The 10 blocks I had to walk in the dark were all gently uphill. The street I was walking on quickly became a creek, several inches deep in rushing water.
Fortunately, the sidewalks are raised anywhere from a few inches to a foot and a half above the creek, er....road. The locals know which side of the street has the higher sidewalk, and that´s the side they walk on.
I felt a personal obligation to let the locals know that Merida is a diverse international city. Therefore, I walked on the other side of the narrow street and found out that the cars going down the street at 20 mph throw out quite an impressive spray! Fortunately, the posada accepted what looked like a drowned rat attempting to check in. The first thing I did was hang up my pants, socks, and shoes on the shower rod. Incredibly enough, in the morning, everything was dry. Oh, and needless to say, the rain stopped 5 minutes after I checked in.
Well, this morning the sun is shining and the world looks friendly. Hasta luego.