Semana Santa

After my last post (which you may notice was published a few days after it was written), there was even more excitement on our long journey home. We discovered in Barinas that bus prices were now three times what they were due to Holy Thursday. We did not have enough money for everyone so I made a deal with the bus driver that we would pay him some up front and then have him drive to our apartment so we could pay the rest. We ended up paying a little more but it all worked out. I can’t even begin to describe how good it felt to be back in Mérida with enough money in my pocket for food and water. Friday I slept in and then we went to the Centro where artisans were displaying their wares. We ran into our Botany teacher, who was selling pre-Colonial artifacts in one stand. A couple weeks back, my friend who lived in the apartment below ours left the door open for a ten minute period around 1AM and the host mom woke up and noticed. She then had him and his roommate moved to a new host family, which has turned out for the best. Friday evening, their host family invited us to a soup party at their friends’ house. My friends’ host parents are professors at la Universidad de los Andes, Mariangela in political science and Francisco in economics, mathematical modeling, and programming. Their friends who we met are also professors; Francisco is an anthropologist and his wife is a biologist who specializes in reptiles. They are planning to move the entire family to an indigenous village in the Amazon rainforest once they have enough money and the kids know how to swim. We found out that they are best friends with our Botany teacher since she teaches at la ULA and they all have kids the same age. Another interesting factor is that they are all Chavistas, so we got to hear a totally new perspective on the positive elements of Chavez’s presidency. While we chatted, we sipped on flor de Jamaica tea with vodka and munched on some awesome corn and onion dip that Mariangela made (I now have the recipe). They all have great taste in music and we added a bunch of new bands to our “artists to check out” list. Before I leave, I am going to gather up as much music as I can and then share it with everyone who had asked me about Venezuelan music. The popular music (mostly Reggaeton) is not really my thing, but Venezuela and Latin America in general has an amazing alternative rock and jazz scene that we have slowly been discovering. The soup was cooked in a pot over a fire and after two bowls of it, we were all satisfied. It was a pretty standard stew of chicken, beef, carrots, and potatoes and did not have any salt or seasoning aside from a few herbs. Very tasty! Afterwards we headed back to la Parrochia and caught the end of la Pasión Viviente, a massive reenactment of the crucifixion of Jesus. At one end of the plaza some authentic-looking Romans were tying live men onto crosses to an intense soundtrack that sounded a bit like the Lord of the Rings. The most theatrical part was definitely Judas; they had a guy in a harness throw himself off a tree and perform a pretty graphic and probably accurate portrayal of a suicide by hanging. Saturday morning we got up early and Hiro took us on a hike to las letras, a hill overlooking the city that is named after the words written on the hill in white plastic. On the way there we ran into a guy selling puppies on the street; it was hard to resist the temptation. I might have mentioned this already, but if Venezuela has one thing, it’s dogs (and oil I suppose). Wherever you go, there is always an awesome dog ready to greet you and play with you. We also ran into a farmer selling fruits and I picked up four clementines for about $.50, not a bad deal. A lot of the hike ended up being nearly vertical climbing that required all four limbs. The view was fantastic; we could see the entire plateau of Mérida laid out in front of us and mountains on all sides: la Culata, Pico Bolívar, and Páramo los Conejos. Later in the afternoon, we sat at an outdoor pizzeria near our place. I have gotten kind of used to having bacon and corn on all of my pizza; that’s a tradition I might have to take home with me. Last night, we were invited back to my friends’ host family for Francisco’s birthday. This time we were prepared and made some tuna pasta salad and brought a bottle of wine. Francisco cooked eggplant, yuca (a root like a potato but twice as dense), steak, chorizo, and salchicha on the wood fire grill while his wife made salads and a mango chutney that was absolutely fantastic (I have the recipe). Their friends are pretty much all intellectual Chavista professors from la ULA and I ended up having a lengthy conversation with the director of Political Science. I think I learned more in that conversation about the reasons for Chavez’s rise to power than I have in Venusa or anywhere else. We spent a long time talking about education in Venezuela and how the misiones of the Chavez presidency addressed the situation. I had also just finished a presentation on the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund two weeks ago, so we had plenty to talk about there. Finally, we spoke at length about the globalization movement and how it has negatively affected Latin America. He goes so far as to say that globalization only really pertains to capital since the movement of land and labor is restricted. And of course, our Botany teacher made yet another appearance. Today, we decided to go back to Montezerpa, the Cloud Forest that we visited on a field trip a couple weeks back. On our way, we ran into the Parque Zoológico Chorros de Milla, where we saw an Andes Bear, a lion, tapers, an Andes condor, a baboon, leopards, a tiger, and countless other awesome creatures. All for just 15 bols! On our hike, we revisited the vine swinging spot and then headed back to the river, where we built a dam, had some lunch, and then played a game of O’Hell. We had gotten tired of playing P’s and A’s and Rummy all the time, so I introduced O’Hell and it has been quite the hit so far. We finished by exploring upriver a ways and then trekked back. The past two days have been filled with some very satisfying hikes; I have gotten into a rhythm of getting up early, going on a pretty strenuous hike, eating lunch, and then lounging around or napping in the late afternoon. I will somewhat begrudgingly admit that my days are much more fulfilling and enjoyable when I get up early and take advantage of the day. I just hope I can keep up this habit when I come home…Anyway, back to school tomorrow. This has been the best spring break I have ever had, full of adventures and activities, much more interesting than my usual spring breaks which tend to consist of reading a couple books, exercising, and doing my taxes.

Salto Ángel

 

Another long post, get ready. During the past weekend we had the awesome opportunity to visit Salto Ángel, the tallest waterfall in the world (~1 km). The crew was composed of seventeen of our group from the States plus our friend from Nova Scotia who is doing a sort of co-op for a semester. We met her at a birthday party a few weeks back. Friday morning we took a four hour bus ride from Mérida to Barinas, a steamy town in the plains at the base of the Andes. There we discovered that the next bus to Ciudad Bolívar was full; we should have bought tickets in Mérida. The next bus was not leaving until Sunday so I talked with bus drivers until I found us a ride to Caracas, where we could catch a bus to Bolívar. After an eight hour ride, we arrived in the Caracas bus terminal around midnight and caught a ride out two hours later. Midday we met our Bolívar guide Tato, who brought us to the posada. Ciudad Bolívar began as a shipping town for goods moving from the rainforest up the Orinoco, and is now the main gateway to Canaima National Park, which is only accessible by plane. We spent some time seeking out food in the city, and I started noticing the bad looks we were getting. Tato had told us that the city shuts down at 5PM, and that it is extremely dangerous to go outside after this time. Four girls and one guy walked to a park around 3PM, where two men approached them and they noticed the glint of a knife. Two of them were able to escape, but one guy grabbed a girl by the hair, threw her to the ground, and held a machete to her throat. They robbed her of a small amount of cash. The second guy held a knife to the wrist of another girl, whispered “shhh” and told her to give up her backpack. She was robbed of her original passport and all of her money. We never have been so aware that we are in one of the most dangerous countries in the world. Although the city has amazing views of the Orinoco and many other beautiful spots, it is wrought with crime and poverty and walking around makes one very uneasy. Needless to say, we spent the rest of the day near our posada, glad that everyone was safe. We later received news of many unexpected fees and taxes that we needed to pay and discovered that many of us were short on money. In addition, I was stupid and forgot to pack my original passport so I would have to pay a 200 Bsf. bribe to the officials at the airport. Thankfully many brought extra money and were able to lend some to those of us who were short. Our room was a caged in second story porch, and we spent the evening relaxing, enjoying the breeze, and taking in the views from our protected “gringo cage.” The next morning we rolled out around 6AM to the airport. Airport security took each and every item out of my bag and then shoved it all back inside in a jumbled mess. They also took a friend’s antidepressants. I lucked out and had to fly separately from the rest of the group on a six-seater bush plane with four Germans. I am still kicking myself because my camera was in my backpack out of reach the whole time. The plane had huge windows and I watched as the countryside changed from dry llanos to the Gran Savana, a surreal contrast of grasses, palms, bright pink trees that look just like Trufula trees, and giant tepuis (plateaus) looming in the distance. The most famous ones are Roraima, the tepui that inspired Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Lost World and Auyantepui, from which Salto Ángel falls. Upon arriving at the park, we were greeted by a man dressed in the traditional caramacoto dress. In fact, all the employees and guides of the park are indigenous, grew up in the park, and learned English and Spanish in pemon at a school in a small village near the Canaima Delta. Although they no longer live their traditional lifestyle, they protect and work on the land of their ancestors. That afternoon we took boats on a tour of the delta. First they took us to a white sand beach, where we swam for an hour or two in the warm water dyed a copper color by decomposing plant matter. We then hiked up to the top of a cliff, looked out over the savannah below with tepuis scattered here and there, and then ventured down another path which led behind a series of three waterfalls. We had a great time getting sprayed by the mist and sitting under the falls. The rest of the afternoon was spent at another beach on the other end of the lagoon. Since the delta has a current, I could swim in place, “water treadmill” style. While we were doing this, however, one of my friends requested that a picture be taken and we started to joke about our other friend being the camera lackey, yelling “pictures, Ian!” in bourgeois British accents. He interpreted this as us wanting the camera ourselves, so he lobbed his waterproof camera into the water and it skipped past our heads and sunk into the depths below. We dove for an hour but to no avail. We felt pretty dumb about the whole situation, especially in contrast to what had happened earlier- the others lost everything at knife-point while we threw our camera in a lake… The evening was spent playing cards in the posada (where the walls were covered in cool geckos and salamanders) and at the beach. In the morning we left around 6AM to begin the six hour boat ride up the river to Salto Ángel. Since it is the dry season, there were many rapids and the guides surprised us all by gunning the motor and charging up them rather than having us all get out. This happened quite a bit and at times all the men had to get out and push the boat. The landscape began to change from savannah to forest and the tepuis became larger and larger. At our lunch spot there was a big rock off of which some of us jumped; it’s always a good day when I can jump off a cliff. The guides fed us very well, giving us arepas, eggs, and juice for breakfast and some awesome hamburger pasta for lunch. An hour or so later we turned a bend a saw for the first time Salto Ángel, a misty stream of water falling from the highest tepui in the area. The tepuis were reminiscent of Zion National Park and the river below was like something you’d find in the North Shore. Later we arrived at our camp, a roof with hammocks about a hundred yards from the river. We then took an hour hike up to a rocky overlook which had a great view of the falls. Although this trip was very much of the “journey is the destination” variety, the destination was pretty phenomenal. The water fell out of the sky in almost slow motion, making one wonder how Jimmy Angel had the guts to land a plan on top back in the 30’s. One local legend goes something like this: The land was dry and one day a man and a monkey were walking through the woods when they found a vine flowing with water. He blessed some of this water and took it with him. Later on, the sky fell and an eagle with a broken wing landed at the feet of the man, who nourished the eagle with the blessed water. Since that day, water has flowed from Auyantepui, giving life to the land. Another legend has to do with a native who lost his lover, climbed to the top and has been crying since then. We walked a little ways down the path to a pool at the base of the falls, where we swam and fooled around for a while. That night we had chicken cooked on a rotisserie over the fire, cole slaw, and rice, after which we played some cards and chatted by the river. In the morning we lounged, swam by the river, and floated down the rapids, a real-life lazy river! At one point I got stung by a gigantic bug and after I pulled a stinger about a half a centimeter long out of my back, I felt the venom spread throughout my muscles to an area about the size of a compact disc, which ached for the rest of the day. We noticed a helicopter getting pretty close to us and just a few minutes later, it was landing on the rock in the middle of the river where we had just been sitting. Some tourists and the man dressed in the indigenous garb got out with food and equipment. I guess that’s how the rich and famous see Angel’s Falls. We decided the ideal method would be horseback on the way in and then kayaking on the way back. After a lunch of tuna pasta, we got back into the boat and rode four hours back to the Canaima Delta and our posada. We spent the night having good conversations around the table, hanging out and swimming at the beach, and playing limbo and looking at stars on the third story roof of the posada. My roommate Mitchell and I stayed up late enough to watch the sun rise over the delta. I have a pretty good photo sequence if anyone is interested. After the trip, I realized I had slept a total of about eight hours over those three nights, which I do not regret at all since I enjoyed the park to its fullest. Our flight left around 1PM the next day and the morning was spent back at the beach. This vacation was honestly like something out of a dream. Most national parks in the United States are magical places unlike anywhere else in the world and Canaima was no exception, a unique contrast of savannah, rainforest, tropical beaches, waterfalls, palm trees, and tepuis. I can still hear the sounds of the waterfalls and the eerie drone created by the thousands of tree frogs and insects in the forest. Back in Ciudad Bolívar, I took a nap and we ate at a great Criollo restaurant with a TV playing Workaholics in English. We got on our bus around 8PM, which is the most luxurious bus I have ever been on. The double decker bus has comfortable seats that recline almost all the way back and footrests that create a veritable bed. Last night, I made it about ten minutes into a Nicolas Cage movie (in English, Spanish subtitles) before falling asleep.  Right now, I am still on the bus writing in order to avoid watching the Hobbit. It is dubbed in Spanish at a very low volume and I have not seen it yet, so I am doing whatever I can to not look up. 

Montezerpa y Mucuy Baja

Highlights of last week include seeing Oz the Great and Powerful in 3D for $2.50. Unlike most of the movies in theaters here, this one was dubbed in Spanish, so we got to watch James Franco, Zach Braff, and Mila Kunis “speaking” Spanish. I definitely missed out on a few subtleties and the occasional joke, but it was a pretty visually appealing film so it didn’t matter all that much. We had seen Argo in the same theater a few weeks back, so when Maduro expelled the US embassy official, we joked about things getting crazy enough that we would have to flee to the Canadian embassy and get rescued by Ben Afleck. Also this past week, I ventured to an area in Mérida where many of the art studios are located. I thought it was interesting that they all paint similar subjects in the same style and sell their work right next to each other without much differentiation or specialization. Friday we had a Botany field trip to Montezerpa, a cloud forest just outside the city that lies within the boundaries of el Parque Nacional Sierra la Culata, and is characterized by the bromeliads that grow on almost every tree. We were led by our Botany teacher as well as a long-haired guide whose beard was braided in the style of Jack Sparrow. Along the hike, we stopped and identified different plants until we came across a clearing with hanging vines strong enough to swing on. We spent a short time there and then climbed another half hour to los Chorros de Milla, small cascades on the river Milla. Since I was wearing whitey tighties, I was hesitant to swim in front of our female teacher, but then I looked over and noticed that our guide had completely stripped down and was wading into the water. I have noticed that Venezuelans tend to be a more comfortable with nudity than Americans. A few weeks back, we stumbled upon an art gallery featuring pretty graphic nude photos that shocked most of us, but when we asked Cointa about it, she casually responded, “Not my cup of tea” (paraphrasing a bit). The water in the stream was as cold, if not colder, than that of Superior, but we spent about an hour climbing on the rocks and sitting under waterfalls. Best field trip ever! Saturday we had been invited to visit our friend Manuel, the tour guide who we met at los Llanos. We took a 45 minute bus ride to Tabay ($.20) and then a jeep up to Mucuy Baja ($.30) where Manuel’s parents live. When he is not guiding a tour, he lives with his parents saving money to build his house nearby. Mucuy Alta, which is just east of where we were, is the start of the trail to Pico Bolívar and Pico Humboldt when the teleférico is not running. We spent most of the afternoon hiking to a waterfall by Manuel’s place and hearing about his adventures. Later on, we met his friends and neighbors Rojo and Gustavo. Rojo creates sculptures out of metal, plays guitar, and is well on his way to building a greenhouse in the backyard and starting a small farm. With regular rain, fertile soil, cheap land, and a long growing season, this area is ideal for farming. Gustavo is a painter, designer of Swiss Army knives, and plays the bongos. It caught my attention that their house did not need a refrigerator since they have constant access to fresh fruit, veggies, and fish. It was Rojo’s birthday so that night all their friends came over with more instruments and the jam began around 7PM. Their setup included a keyboard, drum set, three bongos, guitar, bass, and some other percussion equipment. The vibe was constantly changing, with people trading instruments and rotating out to say hi to friends, smoke a cigarette, or drink a glass of wine. They continued until about midnight when we went to bed. Today we hiked back to the waterfalls and made plans to return after spring break and possibly after our program to spend a week summiting the two aforementioned peaks. This weekend was a very inspiring experience seeing all of these people living simply and doing what they love. On the way back, we came across a store that sold limoncillo, which I have been trying to find for a while. I first heard about it during a Botany field trip to the Universidad de los Andes medicinal garden and later on discovered the tea’s calming effects. For our Botany class, we have to write a paper on a topic of our choice, so I am going to research tropical plants used to make teas and their medicinal and therapeutic properties. Happy St. Patty’s Day to all! We hardly noticed here...

La Muerte del Comandante

As you all know, the death of President Hugo Rafael Chávez Frías was announced late in the afternoon of Wednesday March 13^th. We were in our Business Spanish class talking about the recent news that Vice President Nicolás Maduro had expelled a U.S. Embassy official for inciting rebellion within the Venezuelan military. The Venusa Director Francie burst into our room and told us Chávez is dead, we have to go home, and that we would not have classes until the following Monday. As we rushed out, we took note of a few grown men crying on a street corner; most faces were pretty somber since we are in a dominantly Anti-Chavista city. On the Trolebus, however, one of our pretty American-looking friends got quite a few dirty looks from a gigantic man who looked very upset. Cointa was very calm when we arrived home and only said something along the lines of, “Now he cannot cause more pain.” We watched the news that evening, which was mostly dedicated to Chávez tributes and interviews with family members. We had heard about some riots in the Centro around 7PM and wanted to head down there to check out the action. Martín drove me and a couple others (both of whom are Asian so we were feeling inconspicuous) in his truck around 9PM. By then the police had gotten everything under control, and all we found was a group of Chavistas in red singing and mourning in la Plaza Bolívar. The rest of the city was silent and all the streets empty except for the occasional gang of Chavistas on motorcycles holding hands and swerving in the roads. We listened to various speakers on the radio and Martin’s observations, which reminded me of my respect for the man. Although the latter part of his regime focused more on consolidating power and creating a sort of personality cult, I have to admire his fight for social justice, despite the dubious nature of his methods. What some refer to as his “utter lack of diplomacy” might also be interpreted as courage to stand up to the pervasive cultural and economic imperialism of the United States. Although many of his policies are not in the long term economic interest of the country or its people, the man loved el pueblo.. In the morning, I tried to get up early to buy a copy of the Frontera or the Pico Bolívar, the two papers in Mérida, but I ended up sleeping in until about 9. I walked around for probably two hours trying to find a copy, but to no avail. Eventually I gave up and met my friends to drink some coffee and figure out what to do with our five day weekend. That afternoon we climbed Pan de Azucar again, and thankfully ran into a guy selling newspapers along the way. I guess you find what you are looking for when you stop searching? Later that night we went back to the mountains to enjoy the chilly air (there is something Minnesotan in me that just wants to put on a sweater)… A dry law had been instituted for eleven days following the president's death, and some other folks were drinking when we arrived there, so a few minutes later a truck drove up and about twelve members of the Venezuelan military got out and started arresting people. Thankfully we were not drinking, so we were allowed to go home. Otherwise I might have gotten a look at the inside of a Venezuelan prison. Thursday we hung out in the mountains again and found a cool pine forest, after which we came across a place that rents cottages at $3/person/night so we decided to spend the night there and ended up playing lots of catch phrase. Friday morning we had pasteles for breakfast, which are essentially hot pockets, but half the size. They come with trout, cheese, ham and cheese, or ground beef usually and cost about $.20; I have become somewhat addicted since they sell them on most street corners. We found out later that Nicolás Maduro had been named president illegally. Most people here are saying Henrique Capriles Radonski would win the election in a month, but that the Chavista who is head of the elections commission would not allow Maduro to lose despite his lack of popularity and perceived lack of experience and astuteness (his previous career was a bus driver). That evening, we hung out with our friends Martin and Rafa and went to the house of their friend, a DJ who gave us a little sample.  Afterwards, they took us to a 21^st birthday party of a friend, where we met the privileged young Venezuelans. I don’t think I have ever been to a party with more attractive people; it was fairly intimidating. We also met a girl from Nova Scotia who is about to start studying Spanish at Venusa. I have developed a bad habit of subconsciously seeking out English speakers at social events; it’s just so hard when you overhear someone talking and realize, “Wait I know that language!” Saturday I had the opportunity to go paragliding. I had originally opted out due to the price but someone had already paid for me and I ended up on the list. Could be a sign? We drove a half hour south of Mérida and then up a foothill where we met our “pilots.” They give you a helmet, strap you into a sort of harness and then attach the harness to the pilot behind you. You are lifted into the air as the wind catches the parachute, which is long and narrow and controlled by pulling on just two handles. My pilot was an old guy who had been flying for 26 years, so I told him he could go crazy and he showed me all his tricks. At one point we were flying in a horizontal circle. This was definitely the closest I have ever felt to flying; we were in the air for about a half hour but it felt like much less. I probably would not go again without the intention of learning how to do it myself. I guess it only takes about 6 classes, but the parachute is the pricey part. Sunday Rafa and Martín took us to meet their friend from Spain, who made us some great coffee at his house on the edge of town near some hills in an area called Pedregoza Alta. From there, we went on a half hour jog up a nearby hill and enjoyed the view from there before heading home to get some work done. It has been quite the weekend to be a gringo in Venezuela; I had the chance to experience a small piece of history, something I will not forget. I only wonder if I will remember receiving the news as much as in first grade on a Tuesday morning in September…

Los Llanos

 

 

This past weekend, we made a trip into Central Venezuela to los llanos, plains which are like a combination of backcountry Louisiana and the Serengeti. We left around 4AM Friday morning and made a stop at a waterfall a couple hours later. We were all tired and groggy so it was pretty dream-like for most of us. Around 4PM we rolled into our posada, which was a family-run farm complex with ducks and chickens running around all over the place; we picked up and played with the groups of ducklings and chicks. Our lodging was an awesome screened-in bunkhouse with hammocks. Later on we went on a walk and played some Frisbee and bocce ball (bolas criollas en español) until it got dark. After dinner, they took us on a wildlife safari. Sitting on top of a bus, a guide shined a light on all the ponds, illuminating the eyes of the caimans lurking in the water. Later on that night, we sat down at a long wooden table and had a beer with some pretty interesting folks. There was an Australian who quit his job a year and a half ago and has been traveling ever since; not sure how has not run out of money. He was temporarily traveling with a German while they were both in Venezuela; this guy smoked about two packs of cigarettes during our conversation. They were with a guide named Manuel who lives in Mérida but is originally from Caracas; he gave us his number and told us to hit him up for future adventures. We also met an older guy who recently spent about two weeks living with an indigenous tribe in Venezuela. He showed us his pictures which depicted pierced natives were wearing nothing but a horn around their crotch fishing with spears. He kept repeating “la edad de piedra!” (stone age), which seemed pretty accurate to me. It just blows my mind that there are more than thirty indigenous tribes living in the rainforests of southeastern Venezuela that communicate very little with the outside world. Saturday morning we woke up early and took turns going on horse rides. I was in the second shift and my friend Ian had tipped me off about which horse was the craziest, so I had a pretty fun ride. He was itching to go fast, and I was totally down, so we spent a couple hours galloping around the plains until the guide got a little annoyed. I always forget how much I enjoy riding horses. After lunch, we climbed back on the top of the bus for another safari. About ten minutes in, the guide stopped the bus, walked off into a shallow pond, and after about five minutes of poking around pulled an anaconda out of the water. We took turns holding the ~six foot snake and letting it wrap around our arms. Later on, we went off road and drove around the fields until we came across herds of capybaras lounging in mud pits.  The world’s biggest rodents, capybaras are pretty hilarious little guys that can supposedly win a fight with a caiman. The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to find larger anacondas, but we had all run out of water and were getting pretty dehydrated so we headed back. Dinner was a pig that had been roasting all day; unfortunately we had heard it squeeling the night before, so it was with a bit of sadness that we chowed down on some of the best pork we have ever had. I had some bites of ribs that could have been mistaken for bacon. Our friends from the night before headed out earlier in the day, but a crew of about twenty Dutchmen had rolled in a couple hours before so we spent most of the night hanging out with them. They were traveling with what they described as a fraternity without the national organization component. We had a few in-depth political conversations; it was pretty interesting comparing our government systems, health care, and tax rates. The Venezuelans were not feeling our music, but our bus was parked in a nearby field so we moved out there, played some CDs, and danced a little bit outside. Sunday morning we went on a boat ride on a nearby river. We saw plenty of caimans, alligators, and even some freshwater dolphins! We only got a few glimpses, but they had a pinkish-gray hue and looked pretty strange, almost like something out of a bizarre dream. We pulled up on shore, and they gave us sticks with fishing line so we could fish for piranhas. When I first dropped my hook in the water with a little bit of chicken fat, I immediately felt nibbles, but it was not until about ten minutes later that I was able to hook one. Our group caught about twenty of them and we ate them for lunch later on. They are pretty bony and difficult to eat, but the meat is really tasty. Later on, we found a dead mata mata, a large turtle whose long flat head and pointy shell makes it look almost prehistoric. We rolled out around 1PM and spent the majority of the afternoon playing 21, a game which my friend Ian taught us. You go around in a circle counting to 21 and every time you make it to 21, that person makes a new rule (for example 14 is now 7, you have to speak in an accent if you are number 2…). Another great weekend! It is looking like this week is going to be heavy on the schoolwork, but I don’t mind all that much. So far, the academic component has been focused mostly on in-class time with little homework and requires about 10% of the work that I would usually do back at the U. Just a little jealous of the rest of the family hanging out in Hawaii, wish I could be there! ¡Hasta luego!