I’ve spent the last half hour uploading hundreds of old-ish photos to my new flickr account (it uploads so darn fast!) an it’s really given me a chance to remember some things I’d forgotten. This is a good thing.
First of all, I’ve had an adventurous life! No, I’ve not been backpacking in Europe, but I have been on a 16 hour-long bus ride sans air conditioning from Big Low in Valencia to Puerto Ayacucho, Amazonas. I’ve crossed a river on a “chalana” (or raft) at sunrise with a double-decker bus almost tipping over. I’ve jumped into a natural jacuzzi on a natural rock slide in the Amazon jungle. It was a deep (and I mean deep, no one has touched the bottom) hole in the middle of a large, smooth rock. I’ve taken the bus all by myself from Valencia to Tucacas and back again twice and lived to tell the tale (you’ll notice that many of my adventures in Venezuela have to do with busses. There’s a reason for that.) I’ve been rappelling in Las Chimeneas in Valencia. I’ve spent ample time at some of the most beautiful beaches in the world. I’ve been an illegal alien in a third world country. I’ve nearly been deported. I’ve bribed numerous officials in Venezuela. And most importantly, I’ve travelled to a foreign country with a false promise, had my expectations broken down around me, yet come out of it a better person.
I’ll tell a quick story about a life changing moment for me in Venezuela, and one that ultimately led me to meet Carlos. After arriving in 2007 and realizing that the reason I went there (we’ll call him “V”) wasn’t a reason anymore, I was so lonely and miserable for several weeks. I had decided to stay the full two months anyway, but I was beginning to regret it. One night, while sitting in my room in the big and beautiful house in El Parral, I made a decision. I would walk down to the little club on the corner in the vibrant Las 4 Avenidas and sit there until I made a friend. It was a desperate move, but it paid off. So I walked, in the middle of the night (something V had been obsessed with preventing) to a bar which was not-so-creatively named “Drinking Bar”. It was a hole in the wall where almost everyone my age would go. You would go inside, buy a beer, and then come outside to hang around and drink it. Nothing fancy, but it was full of the typical 4 Avenidas kids. The “sifrinos”. I bought myself a beer, propped myself up against the wall that separated the outside part of the bar with the street, and I sat there. That’s all I did. I sat and waited. I even stooped so low as to play with my phone, which wasn’t even connected. I pretended to be doing something very important. I was truly desperate. Finally, two people recognized two things. 1. I was a gringa and 2. I didn’t know anyone. They took mercy on me. Their names are Nairy and Vanessa. We became best friends. They approached me, and recognizing my foreign-ness, spoke to me in English. We all lived only a few blocks from there, and for all the years I lived in Venezuela, I was never lonely again. They brought me to the place where I met Carlos. Halfway through that vacation I nearly gave up, and I hopped on the bus back to Valencia, ready to pack up and go back home to the states. They convinced me to return, so back I went on the bus to Tucacas. That night I met Carlos. I miss them. I still speak to Nairy (although not as often as I should.) Unfortunately, Vanessa passed away about two years ago from cancer. She was 25 I believe.
Through this adventure of uploading photos, I’ve come to realize that I have had an amazing and privileged life.
