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Bronwen July 3, 2001
Sorry to be so slow about
this email. We haven’t exactly had the normal life for the last few weeks, even
by our standards. First Dad flew home for a week for work, and then Mom flew
home for a week to sort out green card troubles. I won’t go into the details of
all of that because I doubt that any of you are interested in a second-hand
account of their adventures. Then all of us flew to Atlanta for a week for the
wedding of our cousin. That was great, especially seeing all of our family. It
was very strange to be in America again though. It was really weird to see all
of the fast-food places, the huge supermarkets; to hear all of the American
accents again. We hadn’t been home for a year and a half, so it was a bit
strange to be back there again, where it was our culture, we weren’t just
visitors.
Back in Caracas we were
immediately thrust into a country where we were definitely stand-out tourists.
It felt like everyone was trying to scam us. For example, one taxi driver told
us that the bus to Puerto la Cruz (where the boat is) cost much more than it
really does, because he wanted us to take his taxi. We didn’t trust anyone and
it felt like everyone wanted something from us. We made it safely to our hotel
though, and took the bus back to our boat in Puerto la Cruz the next day. It is
really hot in there. There is no wind at all in the morning, and the air is
always really humid and hot. If you do anything at all active then you break out
in a sweat.
After Atlanta we were in
Puerto la Cruz for a couple of days, and then got ready for another road trip;
this time to inland Venezuela. The first day we took a taxi with all of our bags
to the bus station, only to find that the bus was broken. So, we had to go back
and try to fill our day without starting anything major or unpacking. The next
day the bus was finally working, so we all piled on for our 19-hour ride up to
Merida, in the Andes. The bus was wonderfully
cold inside. In fact, it was so cold that we all wore long pants and brought all
of our warm clothing (which isn’t much) just so that we would be warm that night
on the bus. Everyone was all dressed up, because the AC is kept too high on all
of the long-distance buses for some strange reason, and people come to expect
it. The AC is so cranked up that while on the bus with sweatshirt, long pants
and hat you are actually too cold!! It seems like a crazy system for such a hot
country.
We arrived in Merida the
next morning without having frozen to death, and stepped out into surprisingly
cold air (although it was still warmer than the bus). Merida is the big tourist
city of the Andes here, and although the Andes barely stick into Venezuela, they
are a very popular tourist destination. Merida has an altitude of 5,000 feet,
which gives it a wonderful climate. It has basically the same temperature
year-round, and it is warm enough for shorts without being too hot. There is
basically no humidity. It is great to have some cooler weather after the heat of
Puerto la Cruz. The city is also a nice change. It is quite friendly and much
safer than either Caracas or Puerto la Cruz. It is actually safe to go out at
night. It is still very dirty here, but the town feels more unified and alive.
The traffic is very congested and the streets very narrow, but all of it has the
bustle of life. In any direction from town you can see mountains. One of them is
Pico Bolivar, the highest peak in Venezuela, at 16,000 feet. Because we are so
close to the equator though, there is only a little bit of snow on it, up by the
peak. Being in the mountains is really a very refreshing change.
We are struggling along with
our Spanish here. Spanish is turning out to be the main language that we need to
know on this trip. In a way it is good because it lets us focus on that one
language, but I am unfortunately learning French in school. My knowledge of
Spanish is very limited still sadly enough, and I am having a hard time getting
really motivated to learn. Mostly I just listen to Dad and Mom talking. It is
quite hard because people here seem a little more hung up than usual on accent.
For example, the first morning here we asked the taxi driver to take us to Plaza
Bolivar, only we put the accent on the first syllable instead of the second, and
the taxi driver just stared at us. It is the biggest plaza in the city, so we
were wondering what sort of a taxi driver we were dealing with. After a few more
tries he eventually got it, “Oh, Bo-LIV-ar.” Sometimes when people, after
staring mystified, correct us on accent, we can’t even tell the difference
between what they say and what we said. We are having enough problems aside from
accent though. Even when people say the simplest things to us, there are sure to
be several words that we don’t know, and it is very hard to get most people to
slow down enough that we can understand. Somehow to me, the fact the people
actually have this language as their first language, and can communicate in it
beautifully, can understand each other when they talk so fast, is actually
becoming less comprehensible instead of more as time goes on.
OK, that’s all until next
time.
Bronwen
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