Una Boda, Blues, y otro Pan de Azucar

About a day after swimming at Vegasol my right ear became infected and extremely painful; they do not chlorinate the pools here so it comes as no surprise. The pharmacist gave me some ear drops which cleared everything up within a few days. I am kind of a fan of this “skip the doctor and head to the pharmacy” thing for minor problems; this round only cost me $5. Tuesday night we headed to a bowling alley with some Venezuelans for a couple hours (~$1.5/hour/person). We bet on the second game and I proceeded to bowl the best game of my life and won 60 Bs. (~$3). Wednesday night there was a Venusa event where we learned how to make arepas.  They are made from corn and avena, which is some sort of oat-based thing that tastes like cream of wheat and has the consistency of oatmeal. Arepas are the Venezuelan equivalent of tortillas or pitas and are eaten for breakfast or dinner. Usually they will fill them with cheese, tuna, or meat. Cointa usually puts eggs in them, which makes for an extremely hardy, but very dry breakfast; we tend to lather on the hot sauce. Most Venezuelans use mayonnaise to alleviate the dryness, but Cointa it seems is not a huge fan of mayo. Thursday as I was heading into the Centro, a motorcycle slammed into the buseta I was taking. They tried to weave around another bus, which hit the bike and sent it flying toward our bus. Thankfully no one was hurt, but the bus drivers had plenty to say to the driver of the motorcycle. Friday I cut my hair and then we headed to la Culata to do some paintballing; I had never been before, but I had a good time. I was more interested in our surroundings; the temperature, fog, and foliage in the mountains above Mérida is something I could get used to. On the way home, we witnessed a fight break out on one of the main roads in town. Four people got out of two cars at a stoplight, started beating the crap out of each other and continued doing so for about two minutes until a cop rolled in and shot his gun in the air wild west style. Crazy man! Aside from this, I have not seen any violence here; a friend of mine got “mugged” on a main road the other day but the guy was too incompetent to take anything from him. Saturday was probably the best day I have had here so far. Early in the morning, Hiro led us up another Pan de Azucar, a hill about a twenty minute walk from our house with a trail that begins in somewhat of a barrio and winds its way into a pine forest. An awesome dog started following us pretty early on and stuck with our crew the whole way; once we reached the top, we gave him some food and then he took a nap. It was pretty sad when we had to get on a bus and leave him there. I am going to return Wednesday morning to run the path, which is exactly what I have been looking for: a nearby, uphill path with breathable air. An instructor told me that the run I did from Venusa to my apartment was probably equivalent to smoking about three cigarettes, so I have mostly been using Venusa’s gym and doing shorter runs in areas with little traffic. Later on in the day, we had the opportunity to attend a Venezuelan wedding. Our friend Martín’s brother Arturo was getting married and managed to get me and five other friends invited. Our plan was to hide out in the back, go unnoticed, and let them have their day, because who wants a bunch of random foreigners hanging out at one of the most important events of your life? However, that plan failed when we discovered that we constituted about 20% of the attendance at the wedding. The bride gave us a shout out, they insisted that we be in virtually all of the wedding pictures, and one of our friends even caught the bouquet despite her best efforts. The wedding was actually fairly similar to those that I have experienced, which is probably because Martín and his family are pretty criollo (descendants of Spanish colonists, “creoles”), and thus bring traditions with a more European twist. Criollos constitute most of the Venezuelan elite, which tends to be dominantly white-skinned. I guess his uncle is fairly high up in the state-owned oil company PDVSA and has met Chavez in person. The priest was easy to understand and even said chévere at one point; he was making the analogy that marriage is like driving around in a car and that sometimes you are driving along a nice highway, bien chévere... He also made the comment that 70% of Venezuelan homes are dysfunctional due to the man not assuming his role as the head of the household; the female, he argued, is the neck in the relationship.  Another interesting thing to note is that the bride got pretty worked up and spoke during the service, while the groom remained silent, in keeping with the machismo culture in which men tend not to display such emotions. It sounds like they are going to Disney World and Cape Canaveral for their honeymoon (I suppose it's possible to get bored of Margarita Island or Chichiriviche). Saturday evening we headed back to the Emu, the bar where we saw the live band last weekend, for a blues band. I cannot say I have been to many, but I think this was the best live blues show that I have ever seen; they had a guy jamming on the piano and harmonica, a pretty soulful vocalist, and an absolutely phenomenal guitarist in the style of Stevie Ray Vaughn. Today a group of about seven of us headed to a public pool for the afternoon and then up to la Culata, where we shared a bottle of homemade blackberry wine and watched the afternoon fog roll in. One of the downsides of hanging out in the mountains all the time is the gnat-sized bugs that plague your legs and arms, leaving volcano-like bites that itch like mad. But hey, I'm hanging out in the Andes, vale la pena. Before this adventure, Martín filled up the tank in his truck, which cost $.30 for 80 liters! It absolutely blows my mind that gas is cheaper than water. The people here consider the absurdly-low price as somewhat of an apology by the government for being so terrible, that and the free university education. This upcoming weekend there is a trip planned to Los Llanos, the area in central Venezuela that I noted earlier as the equivalent of the Wild West.