No hay aventura sin problemas

This past weekend my friend Carter and I took a four-day, three-night hiking trip to the country's second largest mountain, Pico Humboldt. Even though I’d been traveling a lot since I’d been here, the 5 days we had off because of “Carnaval” festivities seemed the only reasonable time to take on this adventure. And I had read in my Venezuelan Travel book that the view from the top and the way there were absolutely gorgeous. So last Tuesday, we shopped around the city until we found the cheapest guiding company that could take us this weekend. We got what we paid for.

We met our guide around 9 a.m. Saturday morning. His name was Leonardo, and he seemed to be very happy and funny for a 54 year old. We packed a car and drove about an hour to the Sierra Nevada national park. When we had stuffed full our 3 packs, inside and out, and were just about all ready to begin, Leo shouted “Mierda” (shit, in Spanish) and explained that he had forgotten the tent poles in his house. Quickly he told us to wait in the shade and he hitchhiked back to the city to grab them. Neither of us was expecting everything to go smoothly, so we didn’t mind the two and a half hour delay too much. But it was the beginning of a “Mierda”-ton of mistakes, blatant lies, and nonsense on his behalf that would make the weekend a lot less fun than it should have been. I will avoid getting into too many of those details but suffice it to say he was extremely frustrating.

When he returned, he gave us some empanadas he had bought, promptly stuffed the poles into his sack and headed up the trail without waiting for us. Almost nothing was as difficult as those first 10 minutes of climbing were. Walking straight uphill, both my lungs and legs were immediately exhausted and I kept thinking, what on earth did I get myself into? But this faded pretty quickly, and while the first day was long it was very beautiful. There were lots of green shrubbery and some cool trees that only exist in the lower parts of tropical mountains. We used water from the mountains’ streams to fill our water bottles, which is completely pure and fine to drink.

Unlike the Boundary Waters, which has plentiful campsites on almost every lake, this route only had 2 good places to camp. This made for a long first day. Because we had left so late, we didn’t get to the 1^st campsite until well after nightfall, it must have been around 9 p.m. We had walked for about 3 hours with our headlamps on, and for each minute of those 3 hours we were under the impression we were just a few minutes from our campsite, because that is what our guide continued to tell us. The rest of the weekend we were very skeptical of any of his time estimates. 

When we finally arrived at the campsite, which we shared with about 6 other tents, we found it full of trash but with a decent spot to pitch our tent. We threw on all the warm clothes we had, which for me was 4 layers on top and bottom, and huddled around the stove. This weekend was the first time I have been to that gives you sunburn in an hour during the day, and freezes your water bottle overnight. It must have gone from 65 degrees F to 20 in 8 hours.

Generally speaking, everything tastes good in the wilderness and you will eat just about anything, but we didn’t need any convincing when he made a delicious cooked chicken and vegetable dish. Then we slept like rocks, on rocks.

We got up the next morning and had some delicious coffee and beginning-to-become-stale bread with cheese. I don’t remember the 2^nd day very well, but what I do is a lot of hiking and climbing, eating a delicious pineapple and nothing else for 8 hours, and a transition from green forests into silver and brown rocks as we got higher up in the mountains. We got to our campsite by the big “Laguna Verde” (green lake), where we would spend the next two nights, just before dark. We ate for dinner a mixture of ground beef, vegetables, salt and a lot of vegetable oil that he heated all together. It tasted okay, but it looked like the BP oil spill.

The third day was both the coolest, because we got to look around from the top of Pico Humboldt, and the most difficult, because of the climb it took to get there. We got up at 4:00 a.m. and ate another group’s leftover dinner for breakfast, which was actually the best breakfast we had. We, thankfully, went with another group of 5 up the mountain. If not for them, we’d have had no food and only 3 water bottles to sustain us for 10 hours. We climbed for about 3 hours through rocky stuff before we got to the huge plateau of ice leading up to the peak. At that point, the altitude really began to take its effect. Altitude sickness, in the way I experienced it, is the feeling you get when you stand up and all the blood rushes to your head—only much more frequent and intense.

We wore helmets and harnesses and strapped into a long rope when we got near the peak, but the climb itself wasn’t horribly difficult. The last few steps to the top were rather anticlimactic, but the view was anything but! We could see clearly and at all angles over miles of other mountain peaks and clouds and the specs that were our tents and the lake far below. It was ridiculously quiet, save for the wind, away from the traffic of the city and any planes. We took photos and exchanged high fives and whatnot for about 15 minutes before turning back and heading down the way we came. Halftime! The hike down to the campsite went fairly quickly, I suppose it took about 3 hours, and we finally had some free time to play some cards and chat. We had some noodles with leftover BP oil spill for dinner and went to bed around sundown.

We got up on the last morning, Tuesday, at 6 am, which was two hours later than we had planned, but the way back was surprisingly much faster than we expected. But that didn’t mean it was much easier. Hiking upwards gives you the sense that your lungs and calves are getting a great workout. Hiking down makes you feel like you’re am a step away from having Adrian Peterson’s knee and a broken ankle. But we booked it the last day and, despite only eating very stale bread, made it back to the park’s entrance by around 4:00. There was a truck waiting there for us, which was a great surprise as we were expecting to have to wait for a taxi back to the city. Then the best surprise of all was the nice, free cold beer we got when we returned to the guide company’s office in Mérida. I am not much of a beer connoisseur, and I’m sure what we had was bottom of the barrel, cheap Venezuelan light beer, but at that point, boy! did it taste good!

It’s Friday now, and my legs are still horribly sore, my lips are cracking, my face is all sunburnt and peeling, and I’m finally over a bout with constipation I had for a couple days. The trip was easily the most strenuous physical workout I’ve ever had, and the lack of sleep and nourishment made it harder, and the incompetence of our guide made it harder yet. But it was still totally worth it and an experience I imagine I won’t forget any time soon.

El Parásito y los Llanos

Last monday began the worst three days of my trip so far, but what followed were probably the best. Around mid-day on monday my stomach began turning and twisting, an awful feeling I would wish only on my brothers. Just kidding. But really, it was a miserable afternoon that I spent in bed, though I was able to sleep for about four hours. I steadily improved over the next day but the following night (tues) it was just as bad as the day before so my mama insisted I get checked out the following morning. A lab by my school discovered I had "Endogérmina," a stomach ailment/bacteria. I got some liquid medicine and fortunately that eased my stomach over the next few days and now I feel completely normal. Or should I say, regular!

With that out of the way, here is what I can remember of our weekend adventure to Los Llanos, the plainsland that covers much of central Venezuela:

Thursday morning we woke up at 4am and took a bus that left at 5:30. Like most things here, whether because of my still novice Spanish listening skills or because of Venezuelans' tendency to not explain things well, I had no idea what to expect on this car trip. My understanding was it would be about 3-5 hours. It was 12. But we stopped a few times and ate some really delicious meat and fruit, and it was actually a pretty fun road trip.

We arrived (we being 20 of the 27 Americans in our Abroad group and four Venezuelan guides/drivers) at this campamiento, basically a farm that hosts travel groups every weekend, around 5. We unpacked and quickly went back in the two vehicles, one jeep, one bus, to go on a quick safari of sorts. Some people got to ride atop the vehicles, and one of the Venezuelans shouted to stop the cars. He had seen a large snake. Toto, one of the guides, went and captured the Anaconda (a pretty small one) armed with a stick, bare hands and bare feet. It was really cool to see the two layers of fangs and its tongue and feel its scales. We saw a couple other things that night: lots of cayman, tropical birds, and Capibaras. Capibaras are the world's largest living rodents, and they are adorable.

The next day we woke up very early and some of us went Pirahna fishing while others went horseback riding. We drove to this little river and Toto showed us how to fish. It was just like the kind of fishing we do in North America but without a rod or a reel; rather a little stick attached to the line and hook. You throw the hook out, like a softball pitcher almost, and wait to feel the nibble before jolting your hand back to set the hook. First I caught a fish whose name I cannot recall, but then I caught a Pirhanna and was surprised at how colorful they were. I had been under the impression they were ruthless disgusting ugly creatures. I then learned that the stick attached to the rope also makes a good club to kill them with, and that what we caught would be our lunch the following day. Despite my early luck I caught absolutlely zero fish over the following 3 hours. After a while a little kid, he couldn't have been more than 8, came along and showed us all up. He probably caught 20 in about thirty minutes, and bashed each one over the head, allthewhile showing no emotion at all.

After that I got to go horseback riding, and was lucky enough to have one of the fastest horses. I raced a buddy and holy cow!, was that fun. I think I had "trotted" once or twice as a kid at camp, but never did I come close to going this fast. Pete: I should have listened when you told me to be a jockey.

Later in the day we went to a river and boarded two long boats, like the ones in "Tintin and the Broken Ear".  Every turn we were welcomed by more Cayman and capibaras and a few familiar birds, including a Blue Heron. Also, there was an enormous female Anaconda our guide spotted hiding in a log. Probably 9 inches in diameter. The creature was waiting to mate. But the coolest thing were these pink river dolphins that jumped out of the water a few meters from our boat. We returned after a while to another delicious meal and got to listen to a local three-piece Venezuelan band.

Sunday, we went on another safari and our guides caught another Anaconda and a cayman, but unfortunately couldn't find any anteaters. The climate was remarkably more hot and humid than it is in Mérida, and if not for the people, I would have thought we were in Central Africa.

Then we went back home, a 8 hour drive this time, where my mama was very excited to tell us that her favorite candidate, Henrique Capriles, had won the presidential primary by a huge margin that day. He will face Chávez in October. Literally everyone in Mérida dislikes Chávez and thinks he is crazy--but this is a very rich city and I don't think it will be a very close and interesting election. There is more I have to say on that matter but there are three people in this room speaking very loudly on skype so I have had enough of this for now. Peace, and thanks for reading!

Aguas termales y otras cosas

This being my 14th day in Mérida, I'm more or less acclimated to the way of life here. I know the basic layout  of the city nd I have started thinking in Bolivares (the $ here) rather than converting everything to US dollars. My spanish is improving, but it's still very hard to understand people because of how fast they speak.

Last week I started observing an English class at my school. It's so weird to see something that you've always known be taught in a classroom setting. For example, I know that "wrote" is the past tense of "write" and "lit" is the past tense of "light", but these are "irregular verbs" that the kids (mostly 17-19 year olds) must memorize. I more or less just sit there, occasionally helping the teacher (who is Venezuelan) and the class pronounce words, But I think teaching english as a foreign language is quite interesting and something I could see myself doing after college somewhere.

My classes are going pretty well. They are all in spanish and two hours long, which is a long time to focus and try to understand a different language. But they're far less work intensive than Madison, so I've enjoyed having a lot more free time.

The highlight of this past weekend was going to "aguas termales," aka thermal waters or hot springs. Ever since I played Kid-Icarus on Gameboy as a kid I have known that hot springs exist as some form of  natural meditation but I honestly never had any idea what they were. What I learned is that they are basically a natural hot tub, and they're awesome. We took a bus 1.5 hours into the mountains and then climbed for about 30 some minutes before we found this little man-made nook, supplied with hot water by a little stream going up into the mountains. We hung out in the little pool for about 3 hours, enough time for my upper body to get completely scorched by the sun. Fortunately aloe vera grows all over here!

I haven't said much about the culture here to this point. I think that in a lot of ways, it is very similar to Madison. There are a ton of university students, who are all very nice and willing to meet new people. In fact, everyone here is extremely nice and many go out of there way to introduce themselves or help us Americans out. After hearing so many words of caution regarding kidnapping and whatnot, it has been a pleasant surprise how genuine and friendly the people are here. That said, I still keep my guard up and don't venture alone ever after dark.

Venezuelans are also remarkably pokey. If you plan to meet a group of Venezuelans at 8:00, chances are they will arrive anywhere from 10 to 30 minutes late, without apology nor excuse. The sense of efficiency and punctuality is nonexistant. Eye contact is also very important: it is disrespectful to look down or away from someone that you encounter walking on the street.

This weekend, hopefully, our group of gringos is going with a few guides to Los Llanos, an area with wide stretching plains that features all sorts of awesome zoography. We are hoping for Anacondas and Crocodiles, at the least. Lastly, here is the site where I have been posting a few photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/75211262@N04/sets/72157629164942869/  Hasta luego!