Where to begin?

Where do I start to talk about the last week and a half of my life? There is really no definite place that would make sense (even the beginning doesn't really cut it) so I'll just randomly speak about what was one of the most awesome, amazing adventures of my life.....

Driving on top of a mountain, through the clouds then above them. Driving for an hour straight up into the air, surrounded by the poorest of humans and animals I have ever seen. Relative poverty here in the US would be a very difficult thing to compare.

Finding out how horribly disorganized the Social Forum was when, in multiple attempts to go to a forum, I was twarted. They had either been cancelled, moved, had no interpreter or were just running about three hours late.

Men in Caracas appreciate the thickness in a female body, and I'll be damned if I didn't let them down with some thickness!

Ultra means "another" or "more", as in, "Por favor, ultra 7Up".

The rain in Venezuela, while filled with pollution and acid, made my skin feel very soft and made my hair really curly. And when they say "A chance of rain" in Caracas, it means you'd best bring a poncho or be near an awning if you don't want to get pelted with painful drops of water (which, of course, I happily played in while everyone else ran for cover)!

The Bolivar is not pronounced "boliVAR" but "boLIvar", as we found out upon checking OUT of the hotel at the end of our stay!

The BoLIvar has a horrible exchange rate with the US dollar. I bought shoes for my wedding. I paid 32,000.00 for them. It equals about $12 USD.

There is a restaurant, called Mastranto, which puts a whole new meaning to the words "Customer Service".......they were the most attentive people in, literally, the entire world (that I have seen, at least). Every little thing that we could have wanted, including samples of each one of their appetizers AND desserts for absolutely FREE, along with free passion fruit juice. Freshly squeezed, fresh, personally bottled passion fruit juice. It was so amazing. My tastebuds really didn't know what to do. They were amazing.


The J.W. Marriott Hotel Caracas doesn't mind lying to Americans or the US Embassy. Nor does it mind making my fiance think that I am missing, dead, injured or somehow other than perfectly healthy, happy and on my way to the airport. In a taxi supplied by them. After saying goodbye to them. To their faces. And eyes.

Americans are called "Septies" in Australia. It's short for septic tanks, because we are full of shit. That was pretty amazing......and pretty much true.

The Bush regime is implimenting psychological warfare to the poor in Caracas in an attempt to sway their opinions of Chavez. This includes pumping major money into the country, paying people off to spray paint anti-Chavez comments on the walls in the poorest communities. Bush Inc. knows too many Americans support Chavez, so they can't pull a Regan-Era Guatemala and overthrow the government. Ah, the many ways around being a good person......

The sound of a machine gun butt hitting a car window with two American women and one Caracan driver inside sounds like a small, almost hollow, "tink". I couldn't count how many machine guns were inches from my head while driving in the mountains.

The heavy pollution (from the vast amount of oil and car exhaust in the country, among other things) along with very dry airplane air creates a NASTY head cold in an American who is used to the only-slightly dirty-by-comparison Chicago air.

There are bugs that are never seen, never heard and never felt, that will leave your feet, ankles and shins/calves red, swollen and horribly itchy for DAYS after leaving. We don't know if they were bed bugs, fleas, lice, mosquitoes or freakin' vampire bats. Whatever they were, they are making me very frustrated and bloody.

Learn Spanish. To truly exist in this world of massive globalization and McDonaldization, one must MUST learn to speak Spanish. We are truly an ignorant country. There were people walking around Caracas speaking four or five different languages. Yeah, I know "ultra" means another and sure, I spoke to a deaf man on the el today, but that means nothing. I need to learn a language spoken frequently in my apartment complex, city and a huge chunk of the world. Enough of this "expecting them to learn English" bullshit. Rosetta Stone, here we come! (because Steve said he wanted to learn Spanish as well).

My trip was amazing. It was awe-inspiring. It was something that words could never describe. Neither can pictures, although they try. There is nothing that can be said about the experiences I've lived through the last two weeks.

Absolutely amazing.

And now it's time to blow my damn nose (story of my life for the last 48 hours) and get ready for Steve to come home with the ingredients for dinner. Ah, the married life of a worldly, cosmopolitan Chicagoan!!

Viva Venezuela!