This seems to be the eternal joke for anyone who`s caught me online over the past few months.... how`s the blog coming along? not really one to have taken advantage of the immediacy of such a medium, but certainly on to have made use a plenty of its save for another day-acy, i`ve a folder full of half finished drafts that really aren`t so up to the minute any more... but certainly add another spin on my diary, which is also looking fairly out of date.
so. where were we left?
well, in bogota, looking at a 30 hour bus ride to caracas. the upcoming referendum, which was to decide, among other things, the term length for one red shirted chavista shook off most of the fear of flying through forests in bus shaped cans. here`s a bit from that draft.....
Caracas isn`t as pretty as other Latino capitals. It didn´t have as much gold to steal in the colonial period, and the architecture of last century`s black gold rush rivals or rather, replicates the concrete block mall rather than the grand plaza or stately governmental palace with which forced indigenous and black slave labour in the OTHER capitals was busied all those centuries ago. And onto workers´ rights we go...
I tied up all my bus trauma in the finger of a surgical glove and swallowed it for the 30 hour journey between here and Bogotá. It´s only here that the Andes comes to its spectacular finale. If only I were travelling further east to enjoy the straight stretches again. Usually I wouldn´t take on so many hours in one go as it doesn`t matter how much leg room I have, my knees always feel arthritic after 10 or so hours by bus. However, I got my dates muddled, and had to high tail it to Caracas to have a squizz at the local papers and propaganda in the lead up to last Sunday´s referendum to change the Venezuelan constitution.
I`ve been pretty under awed by the prevalence and quality of graffiti here. The graffiti of the campaigns on both the SÏ with chavez and NO with the opposition (and media moguls) was limited to the si or no sentiment in block capitals on everything. Both SI and NO were clearly visible on walls, bridges, and the sides and windows of cars and buses, though the si campaign seemed to have a little more paint, enthusiasm or lack of concern for the general environment, with SIs sprawling across tree trunks, and, as I had a giggle at yesterday, don`t throw rubbish off the bridge signs. Granted I didn`t have the opportunity to see what was happening on the tele, as I arrived in Caracas after the official campaigning period had ended, but the SI campaign certainly appeared to have more money for stickers, billboards, and city wide banner flags.
But the NO campaign won on the day, albeit by a margin of next to nothing. The handful of people I talked to before the referendum were CONVINCED that thanks to the implementation of computerised ballot boxes, SI was due for a landslide victory. so really, it was a win for Chavez, as the voting process, which was implemented by him, worked... so the rhetoric goes... and the red billboards blazing his "..... for now" reply in response to whether the outcome was accepted. As the editorials sheepishly asked, who`s got the balls to let him in on the fact that he lost? eh?
The day to day of Venezuelan living certainly bleached the Chavista right out of my shirt... the food shortages... the labour hours wasted by well positioned officials, who`d rather give terrible advice and a petrol based bail out than have people actually making use of their time... the countless red billboards with our hero Chavez in one of a handfull of patriotic positions, marching towards the revolution (I always have wondered how a healthy marxist distrust of false ideology can be married with such a blatant use of media hypnosis) .... and then there was the suggestion that the FARC should have their terrorist status twinked right off....
THAT was all the way back in December... so if you`re keen for more on the subject, email me, or wait until i`m back and we`ll discuss it over 6 coffees a bowl of wedges and a clove cigarette. ew. You can smoke that one. They call cloves, literally, smelly nails here (clavos de olor).
I went to the most serene white sand, palm tree lined island paradises in parque nacionál Morrocoy following the elections, saw all sorts of angel fish and brain shaped corals and discovered that agua de coco and whiskey really isn`t such a bad combination.... better at least than whiskey and amaretto which they sell in the planetarium of Bogotà.
This national park was a welcome respite to my last attempt to enter a piece of land of similar status in Maracay. To enter parque nacionál Henri Pittier, the oldest park in the whole country, said to host 5% of the world bird population during one migration or the other, one needs to ask permission 15 days in advance, provide details of tho se wanting to enter: their names, ages, marital and education status, pay a park fee (to be determined at the time of application) to some bank account else where no less than 8 days in advance, and the list goes on and on. In other words, as a visitor with less than two weeks to wait around, you can really only see the park from the road unless you`re willing to help smooth over the paperwork with the park security. Sooooo many more stories where that came from. maybe you should buy a twenty pack.
This national park was a welcome respite to my last attempt to enter a piece of land of similar status in Maracay. To enter parque nacionál Henri Pittier, the oldest park in the whole country, said to host 5% of the world bird population during one migration or the other, one needs to ask permission 15 days in advance, provide details of tho se wanting to enter: their names, ages, marital and education status, pay a park fee (to be determined at the time of application) to some bank account else where no less than 8 days in advance, and the list goes on and on. In other words, as a visitor with less than two weeks to wait around, you can really only see the park from the road unless you`re willing to help smooth over the paperwork with the park security. Sooooo many more stories where that came from. maybe you should buy a twenty pack.
Visited Punto Fijo for a tax free camera with black market rate bolivares, which worked out rather nicely for me thanks. Unfortunately, the memory stick wasn`t of the same calibre as my cut price cunning, and i lost 2 gigs of the world`s longest bridge in Maracaibo , 16 minutes of christmas lights and Chavez propaganda, and dairies blasting reggaeton from the water locked shacks on stilts in Sinamaica.
Why do I think I even need a camera when everyone else has one? Haha, I feel like I`m arguing against a hep C vaccination, which reminds me.... get the names of any vaccines IN WRITING on some piece of OFFICIAL LOOKING paper before you leave to look for them in Venezuela. It`s a terribly confusing mess that involves many people, much running around, number taking and your no doubt extremely volatile, temperature sensitive vaccine sitting on the bench propped up by an icecube.
I returned to the Atlantic coast of Colombia to spend Christmas in Parque Taerona, where I haphazardly met a friend and a bunch of his geezer mates from the British Council language school in Cali. I had planned to spend christmas drinking rum and burning my bum infront of a stack of books, but ended up as a contestant in our very own special olympics, throwing coconuts and getting disqualified from almost every event. Did you know that you can`t cavar yourself in sand without digging a hole first? ah those tricky, tricky language tricks. Beijing qualifiers... you`ve been warned.Mompox is beautiful. It`s between Santa Marta and Bogotà. This photo comes from their most famous landmark, the church. Hundreds of people come here to celebrate the rebirth of Jesus. If you look closely, you`ll see that despite it`s popularity, there are still spaces available. You sized spaces. Just a thought.
The Amazon is too... beautiful that is.
Beautiful that is, though no doubt there`s another Santa Marta further south. Little imagination these place namers.
However, it`s all a bit polluted from people chucking whatever they can`t be bothered disposing of responsibly in it. Yeah, that`s right. Into that same wake the sunset`s illuminating. I gave up on the idea of a toilet edition to this blog quite some time ago, but a few pedazos of information for you. The sanitation systems here can`t handle toilet paper, so bins are provided. Often these bins don`t have lids and are located less than two doors away from the kitchen (is that really NZ building code or some urban myth?) and attract a lot of flies. Add to that a big tank of water to splash whatever ails you down the bowl while providing an ideal home for baby mosquitoes and you`re pretty much up to date on that entry, minus a few particularly grotty examples with swing doors and peep holes in some of the more humid aguadiente joints. I really hate smell memory sometimes, and that playdoh ad about fun memories that always seems to attach itself to any discussion of it...
Beautiful that is, though no doubt there`s another Santa Marta further south. Little imagination these place namers.
However, it`s all a bit polluted from people chucking whatever they can`t be bothered disposing of responsibly in it. Yeah, that`s right. Into that same wake the sunset`s illuminating. I gave up on the idea of a toilet edition to this blog quite some time ago, but a few pedazos of information for you. The sanitation systems here can`t handle toilet paper, so bins are provided. Often these bins don`t have lids and are located less than two doors away from the kitchen (is that really NZ building code or some urban myth?) and attract a lot of flies. Add to that a big tank of water to splash whatever ails you down the bowl while providing an ideal home for baby mosquitoes and you`re pretty much up to date on that entry, minus a few particularly grotty examples with swing doors and peep holes in some of the more humid aguadiente joints. I really hate smell memory sometimes, and that playdoh ad about fun memories that always seems to attach itself to any discussion of it...
Back to the bins. Toilet paper gets put out with the regular rubbish. Good system for building the immune systems of dumster divers looking for plastic and glass to recycle that. What that means, according to the crew of the passenger ferry Don Segundo which makes a twice weekly, 4 day trip from Puerto Henri Iquitos to Pulcallpa, transporting 250 people a pop, is that every last nappy, sanitary pad, and scrunched up 2 ply ball of shit and corn ends up in the river.And while we`re on the topic of taking the rights to natural resources as your people have for generations, so its only fair.... want to buy the pelt of near threatened jaguar? 200 bucks`ll do it. That spider on the right goes for 150 they tell me.
So, after getting over my horrible illnesses from the unsanitary steerage conditions of my river hammock trip, I went to volunteer for a week in Pisco and Chincha: two areas dramatically affected by the August earthquake. I was working putting plastic roofing on schools of woven flax and helping put together moulds in which to pour concrete and make permanent toilet, shower and water tank fixtures for semi permanent housing. The towns are cleaned up enough that people are starting to come back from the refugee camps. There is a big fear that more people will die from sanitation related `complications` than died in the earthquake originally. I was working with
burners without borders in Pisco, and was recruited through them to work for Unicef in Chincha. Ever wondered how NOT to keep administrative costs down if you`re a cheque writer at a Peruvian NGO? Crab breakfasts.
burners without borders in Pisco, and was recruited through them to work for Unicef in Chincha. Ever wondered how NOT to keep administrative costs down if you`re a cheque writer at a Peruvian NGO? Crab breakfasts.oooh.... i`m out of time.... I have to go and meet a woman to share some english learning links, as that same british council is charging her 300 soles a month PLUS additional material costs for one weekly three hour lesson five hours by bus from her house. That best part of the coincidence for me, is that we met at the Nasca lines, a collection of giant images of hands, trees, monkeys, aliens and all manner of other really aesthetically awesome designs etched into the Peruvian desert. They`ve been there thousands of years, despite the fact they`re only a few cm deep. ¡Increìble! No one really knows why they`re there, but nevertheless, it seems a relatively fly place for knowledge sharing.
Finding cheap ways to see Machu Pichu and figuring out where to go in Bolivia and Argentina are the next challenges. Do I want to go on a mine tour in Potosí? Can I whip over to Uruguay for the day? Should I add a cajón to the weight of latino instruments I`m carting about?
My tapping toe says yes. yes. ba boom bap.
Finding cheap ways to see Machu Pichu and figuring out where to go in Bolivia and Argentina are the next challenges. Do I want to go on a mine tour in Potosí? Can I whip over to Uruguay for the day? Should I add a cajón to the weight of latino instruments I`m carting about?
My tapping toe says yes. yes. ba boom bap.
