We left San Felix via bus at 8:45 pm on Thursday, with the intention of arriving in Caracas around 8am Friday morning. Things didn't quite go as planned. After driving for maybe 10 minutes, we pulled over and the motor turned off. I asked if we had already arrived which got some laughs from the people around us. It turned out to be not so funny though, the bus had some electrical problems that the solo bus driver couldn't get figured out. We ended up hanging out on the side of the road just before the bridge leaving San Felix for three hours. We were in a pretty sketchy area (what area isn't sketchy late at night around here though) so some police arrived to keep us company. The first to arrive was a squadron of motorcycle cops who were super intimidating. They got off their bikes, wearing body armor, combat boots, black combat helmets, and pistols strapped to their thighs, and poked around the bus without saying hardly a word. They weren't my favorite cops I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. The two who ended up staying with us turned out to be really funny. They were "normal" cops I guess, not the motorcycle riding version. They, and some of the other passengers who were fun to talk to made those three hours not so bad. Turns out Pedro is also quite the jokester. Another bus eventually came to pick us up at midnight, but its air conditioning was broken so they took us to the terminal in Puerto Ordaz to get on yet another bus. Then they had to find someone to drive that bus. It was quite the ordeal. We finally left at 1:30 am, and arrived in Caracas around noon.
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| Pedro and me-it was dark in the bus and neither of us could see anything, the flash was killer |
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| The guy to my right (viewers left) is from one of the neighboring barrios and has seen me around and recognized me, sometimes I forget how much I stick out. Oh also, I was asked four times over the weekend if I was German. It's funny because I'm not, but I was born there. |
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| Police errwhere |
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| I fail to understand how this position could be comfortable. Also, that's me underneath the sheet. |
Once we finally got to Caracas, we took the subway to where everyone was meeting before we were brought out of town to where the retreat would take place. The subway was something else. I have never seen so many people packed into a small space. The train arrived looking completely full, the doors opened, and in we crammed. At multiple stops it took a few tries to get the doors to closed. At the priests residence before heading out we ate lunch and met some of the other guys from various parts of the country. It was interesting hearing some of the differences in speech. For the most part all of the others were easier for me to understand than the boys from San Felix. The people from Puerto La Cruz especially spoke nice and slowly which was great. We took a van out of the city up at the top of one of the many hills. Caracas is surrounded/is on some big hills/mountains. The retreat center is at the top of one of those hills. It was pretty cool. It was also cold, in the evenings and mornings especially. Everyone had sweatshirts and jackets. I don't have a sweatshirt or jacket here in Venezuela, in San Felix I've never needed one. I borrowed a denim jacket they had at the Casa Hogar. Pretty spiffy lookin if you ask me.
Pictures from in Caracas and from the road as we went up to the retreat center
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| Juggler------------^^ |
The retreat itself was overall a positive experience. At first I wasn't too thrilled. Hardly knowing anyone while a lot of them already knew each other from past gatherings like this, combined with the first evening of talks with Fr. Rino being about sexuality made for a "not too pumped about this" feeling. Fortunately it got better from there. The next day a lot of the guys made efforts to talk to me, ask me about where I'm from and what I'm doing, how to say random things in English, etc. The retreat was partly about becoming a man and finding a path, rather than just floating along aimlessly. The youngest guy was Omish, who is 16, and the oldest I think 21 or so. Many of them come from troubled, aimless, tough backgrounds, and so this retreat served as a kick in the butt or a jumping off point to think about their lives.
We played some soccer on Saturday afternoon versus a local team. It was the first time since I've been here in Venezuela that I've played full field soccer rather than futbolito on a concrete court. I like full field soccer much better, I get beaten pretty regularly in futbolito because of how good everyones foot skills are from playing like that their whole lives. The game was really intense, but we ended up losing. I felt like I actually played pretty well though which I was proud of.
I talked to one guy on Sunday morning for a while about the U.S. and how our country is perceived by others internationally. His father was from Syria. He understands, but has trouble speaking, Arabic, and knows many Syrians living in Puerto La Cruz. It was interesting getting his take on things. He told me that many Syrians are of the opinion that the United States should mind its own business. They of course want the killings and the violence to end, and many hate the dictator (as my friend referred to him as). However, the fear is that if the United States steps in, they won't leave. The fear is of a takeover/American influence. He made the interesting observation that if the United States had a civil war and another country decided to step in we would be outraged. He also said that we should not be like international police stepping into other country's affairs. Interesting stuff.
Omish absolutely loves taking pictures. He took almost all of them from the weekend. I had to go through and delete pictures because he filled up the memory card.
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| St. Patrick's day, not celebrated at all here but I wore my green |
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| They're really into poses.. |
On Sunday back in Caracas, the four of us and one guy from the home in Caracas were able to see some of the city. One of the priests took us around to see various things, including the Plaza de Venezuela and the residence where the pope stays when he comes to visit. (Not sure when the last time that was). We drove through some of the nice neighborhoods, I felt like I was in a gated community in Orlando. The streets were very clean, everything was orderly, people were out jogging in shorts. It was extremely different than the Venezuela I'm used to. We went to a school in that neighborhood that had three huge courts, and a POOL. Seeing that school was impressive. Luis was pretty chill, but Omish and Pedro couldn't believe it. They were running around, literally jumping up and down, talking about how great it would be to go to school there, Omish asked out loud if he was dreaming. We also drove through some of the poor barrios, the likes of which I am very familiar with.
We met an Italian priest who is 101 years old. Random but cool. His mom lived to be 103.
The second to last picture is us at the Korean-Venezuela friendship agreement bell something or other. Very exciting stuff. Later that night in the bus station we saw some Asian men also waiting for their bus. We stood up to go find some food and they moved in to sit at our table. I asked one of them in Spanish where they were from, he looked at the ground and mumbled something, it was obvious that he didn't speak Spanish. I asked in English, then, if he spoke English, and to that he responded with "English..uh" pointing at one of the other men. Turns out they're from Korea, and were on their way to Puerto Ordaz. His English wasn't great and so I didn't get details as to what they're doing here but it was kind of fun to talk to this Korean man in the bus terminal. Our bus was delayed, and then put back on time, so I went to find them to make sure they knew what was going on. I bumped into a huge latino man right next to the table they were sitting at, and it turned out he was with them. He addressed me in English which was a surprise. His English was such that I suspect he grew up in the United States. Very little accent and overall he just spoke really well. When I told him I was on my way to San Felix he was incredulous, asking why I would want to go to San Felix, that it was an ugly place. I told him I lived there. He didn't really have a response for that. Later on the bus he asked me for my phone number, saying he'll give me a call sometime. We'll see if that happens. I gave it to him in Spanish, and he repeated it back in English and had noted one of the numbers wrong. That made me wonder if English really is his first language, or if he was just speaking in English because he thought I didn't speak Spanish. Who knows. Stuff like that really interests me.
This is such a long post. Holy moly.
In Caracas on Sunday afternoon we spent some time at the Casa Hogar with some of the guys who we had been at the retreat with. They have a basketball/soccer court of their own within the walls of the home which is sweet. We played 3 on 3 basketball and for the first time here I was the dominating force on the court. It felt good to be good at something rather than nearly always losing soccer games. After the first couple minutes of playing they yelled into the house for one of the other guys who was pretty good at basketball, saying "The United States is here, come play." It was really fun.
It's 945am now, we got back to San Felix at 5am this morning after an overnight bus ride. I'm happy to be back in my room. Now to figure out what to do for my class this afternoon!
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