Batman: So did you.
Catwoman: Well then I guess we're both suckers.
Batman: The Dark Knight Rises
Campus Day 1
After shaking off the cobwebs of a very distracted night of sleeping, I struggle through the process of preparing to go to work. Finally, throwing my passport and wallet in my backpack I whisked through my doors, the elevator, out the gate throwing an "Hola" to the doorman and into the car.
Luckily, Andrea had the air on (wearing jeans in Venezuela is going to take some getting used to) so my back sweat could be tamed as we rounded the corner to pick up Kelley. The other new hires were coming in David's car with a rendezvous point at the school's auditorium.
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| Just outside the main office building. |
The warm humid air and alleged, lingering rainstorm greeted us as we exited the car and walked towards school. Breaching the main doorway I was summoned by a wonderful smell. Arepas. This corn based circles of goodness seemed to grin at me as I approached. After being instructed on proper construction and consumption, I devoured them. Delicious. They are cut in half like a English muffin, but are more closely related to a pancake (I suppose). I stuffed mine with local cheese and ham. Seriously, you come to Latin American you better try one of these.
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| Sorry it's not 4D. |
After breakfast, I walked towards the computer lab fighting off the food coma that was trying to descend on me. I won, but it wasn't easy. The rest of the morning we were trained in a variety of aspects of school policy, procedures, technology, and revisited the contract/benefits.
Lunch was traditional breaded chicken (fried of course, because why not?), mashed/whipped potatoes, and some veggies. It was unbelievable. Seriously, I'm going to get fat if I continue to eat like this. It was amazing. Our school doesn't have a cafeteria/cooks, everything is catered in. We can also get food catered in, but I feel that may be a slow (but tasty) death wish.
After lunch we received our keys and got to check out our classrooms. Now, I've heard the word campus thrown around high schools in the states, but it doesn't really jive with their set up. Colleges and universities? Yes. High schools? No. CIC, however, is a campus. Based on the bottom of a mountain we move up the mountain as the grades get higher (cute I know). Secondary is the furthest from the parking lot, about a 7% grade up, and my room is the last one on the right (most distant).
The walk up was awesome for the visuals. Our natural trail is on the left, just past the elementary building for any class to use during the school day. While Kelley and I (the only new secondary teachers) ventured up several iguanas shot around the grass seeking shelter as we approached. We passed the secondary library (yep, we have two) and then split into our rooms. This is what my room looks like from the outside (my video won't load so I'll shoot and post that tomorrow).
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| This door is what separates the house of learned doctors from the uneducated. |
It is obviously barren, but hopefully I can fill it with posters just like my last classroom.
We have been given three hours a day in our classrooms, with at least the same about this coming week, to prepare for the start of school. [Puts hands up to deflect the evil eye stares of his fellow teachers in the states.]
My schedule is pretty solid. It's an "A"/"B" block with me teaching for classes, English 10, English 11, English 12, and Newspaper. The biggest class I have is 16 (Eng 10) with the smallest being 6 (Newspaper). It breaks down to one day of 90 min prep and one of 180, which I will need as the standards and expectations are sky high. [Ducks as my teachers throw things at me.] The rules and expectations are unreal for me coming from a public school. It seems the international schools are a much different animal than public schools.
The view outside of my room from the balcony is pretty tough to beat, as is the walk back down to the central building.
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| The first thing you see outside my classroom. |
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| The hallway towards the social studies classes. Notice the lockers on the left- they remind me of a morgue. |
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| Looking down the road from the secondary building. |
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| Another view from the secondary building. That building is the secondary cafeteria (there's mountains too). |
After our afternoon work time, we got to head off to the grocery store Kromi a Hyvee/Fareway type story. We were driven by a company that rents out vans and drivers to take people to a variety of places like the store, the airport and such. Think of it as somewhere between a moving company and a taxi that the school uses frequently. We were also accompanied by security (Note: we did not need it and at no time have I felt threatened in my short four days, but the school uses it with new hires the first week).
The goal was to use your given Bs (Bolivars, the national currency), navigate the store, overcome the language barrier and buy needed food and such for your house. This wasn't as challenging to do as you may think, but it was frustrating.
The store is packed, people are everywhere- think Walmart on Sunday afternoon on a non-Nascar weekend. The store was actually well stocked this time, compared to usual (I was told this), but there are many things you cannot get. No peanut butter anywhere, but lots of Nutella. However, they did have butter- I knew this was important when kids were running with two packages on their shoulders to tell their mother. They had sugar which were told that isn't typical, so I grabbed two (no idea why- I don't remember the last time I used some). Toilet paper was limited to one package per person, no shortage, but no overindulgence. Yep, so that's awesome.
The serving sizes and packaging are much smaller and they leave their eggs sitting out. At first I was shocked by this, but then I thought, "Well that is how the enter the world..." Regardless, I bought some and refrigerated them. Meat and cheese is fairly cheap here, but veggies are limited, plus you have to wash/soak them with vinegar water, so I may not do many veggies that don't come in can form. Also, Venezuelans love soda, dozens of varieties of colas and fruit based pop.
After hunting down some basics and cans of tuna, I headed for the checkout. I may have been trying to merge on or of a ramp during rush hour. We were in line for 45mins. Venezuelans are social, love to talk, and are in no rush. The cashier will talk, text, and move at glacial speed to check out your items. The bagger follows suit and you tip him/her. Crazy.
At the check out you have to provide your cedula (think id number) or passport. I, naturally, overshot the money I brought and had to bum some off of a colleague which I told them I would repay them when we get back in the van. But that's when the fun starts...
The goal was to use your given Bs (Bolivars, the national currency), navigate the store, overcome the language barrier and buy needed food and such for your house. This wasn't as challenging to do as you may think, but it was frustrating.
The store is packed, people are everywhere- think Walmart on Sunday afternoon on a non-Nascar weekend. The store was actually well stocked this time, compared to usual (I was told this), but there are many things you cannot get. No peanut butter anywhere, but lots of Nutella. However, they did have butter- I knew this was important when kids were running with two packages on their shoulders to tell their mother. They had sugar which were told that isn't typical, so I grabbed two (no idea why- I don't remember the last time I used some). Toilet paper was limited to one package per person, no shortage, but no overindulgence. Yep, so that's awesome.
The serving sizes and packaging are much smaller and they leave their eggs sitting out. At first I was shocked by this, but then I thought, "Well that is how the enter the world..." Regardless, I bought some and refrigerated them. Meat and cheese is fairly cheap here, but veggies are limited, plus you have to wash/soak them with vinegar water, so I may not do many veggies that don't come in can form. Also, Venezuelans love soda, dozens of varieties of colas and fruit based pop.
After hunting down some basics and cans of tuna, I headed for the checkout. I may have been trying to merge on or of a ramp during rush hour. We were in line for 45mins. Venezuelans are social, love to talk, and are in no rush. The cashier will talk, text, and move at glacial speed to check out your items. The bagger follows suit and you tip him/her. Crazy.
At the check out you have to provide your cedula (think id number) or passport. I, naturally, overshot the money I brought and had to bum some off of a colleague which I told them I would repay them when we get back in the van. But that's when the fun starts...
David and Christie had already checked out and then came back in to see if they could leave with the van to their house then come back to save room, it was not advised. I checked out moments later, tipped the bagger, showed the exit guard my receipt, got a stamp, and rolled outside to talk to Dave. Yep, all of those steps are needed to get groceries.
Outside business was picking up. The van was gone. Our money, my American wallet, our backpacks with laptops (5), cell phones, and everything else in our Venezuelan lives were in there. Gone. They main driver/owner sent his man on another job to pick people up and forgot that we had our stuff in the back. Andrea quickly seized the situation and told the owner to get his man back here.
"Ahora," he told her. Yep, now. And by now he meant in about two hours from now.
We waited for a spell at the grocery store and then retreated back to the school where we waited as the sun slowly coasted behind the mountains. Finally, as the greens and blues turned different hues the other drive showed up. We feverishly checked our bags for all valuables, deemed them there, grabbed our groceries and headed out to our respective homesteads.
That was tense.
While loading his car David asked me if I wanted to travel with him to his Aunt's house in Tinaquillo (google it).
It was 7:00 and pitch dark when we departed to extract his dog, Pepe. The roads are lit dimly with little worry. Street signs are as timid and as the traffic is excited. People like to run the gauntlet. We were cruising early on until we hit an absurd amount of traffic. Police carries lit up the highway like fireflies in late August. Military were stationed proportionally along the opposite side of the highway leading to Valencia. We had no idea what was going on.
We needed gas, and unlike the states, Venezuelan gas station want to see how badly you need gas by playing a fuzzy game of hide and seek. What I mean is, they don't have signs that light up and tell you about Red Bull 2/$5 or "Hot Pizza"rather they barricade themselves behind a curb, a ditch, and highly congested frontage road.
After failing to tag the hiders, we stumbled upon a gas station just barely missing the turn. David slowed up, talked to some soldiers, found the next exit, and guided his car into the gas station. Full service is the way of the world here. We had nine gallons pumped for the American equivalent of maybe $.60 or as I like to think of it, less than a candy bar in the States.
Crazy.
We tipped the attendant, and headed down the dark highway. The rest of the journey was spent dodging pot holes, slowing for the jack-in-box-like speed bumps, and eluding "ghost cars."
Speed bumps on the highway? Yep. They use them to control speed in urban areas and before heading into towns. Think if highway 30 had those bad boys. Yikes.
"Ghost Cars" is a term David uses to describe the number of cars that do not use lights (by choice or otherwise), signal, or mind road rules. They just want to drive. And they are all over.
We finally reached Tinaquillo. David was hungry so we stopped for a burger. Not just any burger, but a Venezuelan street vendor burger. Wow.
By burger they mean bun, littered with a variety of sauces/condiments (Venezuelans love condiments), followed by a beef patty, shredded chicken, slice of ham, tomato, lettuce, more sauce, and the top bun. Holy sh..., sorry family orientated- I almost slipped. SOOOOOO GOOOD. Best burger I've had in the world (Sorry Hembry, Griz, and my Dad), ever. We washed it down with an Apple soda from Pepsi- find that in the states.
We continued to his Aunts.
David called for his Aunt and she met us at the door. Full of hugs and well wishes, she treated us to a glass of water and hospitality. A wonderful woman, with a beautiful house decorated with religious artifacts, pictures, and comfortable furniture. Upon our arrival she asked us if we had seen the President.
We didn't understand.
It turns out that the President Maduro was passing through Valencia, hence the strong police/military presence. We had no idea, but it made sense. The traffic and number of civil service vehicles were insane. We laughed in amazement and then David turned his attention to his Aunt.
David had brought her a new phone as payment for watching his dog and when he went to the car to get it I had my first semi-Spanish conversation. His Aunt forgave my shortcomings and mixed in some English to assist me. I felt civilized, until my words ran out. I switched to non-verbals and graciousness.
David gave her a tutorial on his phone while I played with Pepe. After he concluded, we were surprised by his other aunt that lived next door. David introduced me and we hugged. Hugs are good when you don't have any family within in 5000 miles and your friend's family accepts you. We chatted for a while, then gave another round of hugs before hitting the dusty trail.
The ride back was uneventful, but full of conversation. We talked sports, school, philosophy, and Venezuela. It made the ride back very short.
He dropped me off and I hurriedly got ready for bed and nearly as soon as I hit the pillow I was out.
I'll try to summarize a few of the not really distinct days tomorrow. I took at TRX class tonight that beat me up, so I'm dozing off as I'm writing this. Don't worry I've taken notes throughout my time here as to keep you informed even when I may get a few days behind.
The power and water were out yesterday for several hours or this would have been posted then (Sunday). Hope all is well wherever you are.
Keep on L-I-V-I-N,
KRS
Outside business was picking up. The van was gone. Our money, my American wallet, our backpacks with laptops (5), cell phones, and everything else in our Venezuelan lives were in there. Gone. They main driver/owner sent his man on another job to pick people up and forgot that we had our stuff in the back. Andrea quickly seized the situation and told the owner to get his man back here.
"Ahora," he told her. Yep, now. And by now he meant in about two hours from now.
We waited for a spell at the grocery store and then retreated back to the school where we waited as the sun slowly coasted behind the mountains. Finally, as the greens and blues turned different hues the other drive showed up. We feverishly checked our bags for all valuables, deemed them there, grabbed our groceries and headed out to our respective homesteads.
That was tense.
While loading his car David asked me if I wanted to travel with him to his Aunt's house in Tinaquillo (google it).
It was 7:00 and pitch dark when we departed to extract his dog, Pepe. The roads are lit dimly with little worry. Street signs are as timid and as the traffic is excited. People like to run the gauntlet. We were cruising early on until we hit an absurd amount of traffic. Police carries lit up the highway like fireflies in late August. Military were stationed proportionally along the opposite side of the highway leading to Valencia. We had no idea what was going on.
We needed gas, and unlike the states, Venezuelan gas station want to see how badly you need gas by playing a fuzzy game of hide and seek. What I mean is, they don't have signs that light up and tell you about Red Bull 2/$5 or "Hot Pizza"rather they barricade themselves behind a curb, a ditch, and highly congested frontage road.
After failing to tag the hiders, we stumbled upon a gas station just barely missing the turn. David slowed up, talked to some soldiers, found the next exit, and guided his car into the gas station. Full service is the way of the world here. We had nine gallons pumped for the American equivalent of maybe $.60 or as I like to think of it, less than a candy bar in the States.
Crazy.
We tipped the attendant, and headed down the dark highway. The rest of the journey was spent dodging pot holes, slowing for the jack-in-box-like speed bumps, and eluding "ghost cars."
Speed bumps on the highway? Yep. They use them to control speed in urban areas and before heading into towns. Think if highway 30 had those bad boys. Yikes.
"Ghost Cars" is a term David uses to describe the number of cars that do not use lights (by choice or otherwise), signal, or mind road rules. They just want to drive. And they are all over.
We finally reached Tinaquillo. David was hungry so we stopped for a burger. Not just any burger, but a Venezuelan street vendor burger. Wow.
By burger they mean bun, littered with a variety of sauces/condiments (Venezuelans love condiments), followed by a beef patty, shredded chicken, slice of ham, tomato, lettuce, more sauce, and the top bun. Holy sh..., sorry family orientated- I almost slipped. SOOOOOO GOOOD. Best burger I've had in the world (Sorry Hembry, Griz, and my Dad), ever. We washed it down with an Apple soda from Pepsi- find that in the states.
We continued to his Aunts.
David called for his Aunt and she met us at the door. Full of hugs and well wishes, she treated us to a glass of water and hospitality. A wonderful woman, with a beautiful house decorated with religious artifacts, pictures, and comfortable furniture. Upon our arrival she asked us if we had seen the President.
We didn't understand.
It turns out that the President Maduro was passing through Valencia, hence the strong police/military presence. We had no idea, but it made sense. The traffic and number of civil service vehicles were insane. We laughed in amazement and then David turned his attention to his Aunt.
David had brought her a new phone as payment for watching his dog and when he went to the car to get it I had my first semi-Spanish conversation. His Aunt forgave my shortcomings and mixed in some English to assist me. I felt civilized, until my words ran out. I switched to non-verbals and graciousness.
David gave her a tutorial on his phone while I played with Pepe. After he concluded, we were surprised by his other aunt that lived next door. David introduced me and we hugged. Hugs are good when you don't have any family within in 5000 miles and your friend's family accepts you. We chatted for a while, then gave another round of hugs before hitting the dusty trail.
The ride back was uneventful, but full of conversation. We talked sports, school, philosophy, and Venezuela. It made the ride back very short.
He dropped me off and I hurriedly got ready for bed and nearly as soon as I hit the pillow I was out.
One Thing I Learned:
Venezuela driving is so crazy. While traffic lights mean something, stop signs mean nothing, horns are encouragement, turn signals are a suggestion, but hand signals actually work. You put you hand out to wave or show your intention and the traffic begins to open like the Red Sea. It's the strangest thing.I'll try to summarize a few of the not really distinct days tomorrow. I took at TRX class tonight that beat me up, so I'm dozing off as I'm writing this. Don't worry I've taken notes throughout my time here as to keep you informed even when I may get a few days behind.
The power and water were out yesterday for several hours or this would have been posted then (Sunday). Hope all is well wherever you are.
Keep on L-I-V-I-N,
KRS
For the Record:
After conferring with one of my attorney's (Michael Halac), I've decided to post these whenever I get a story to tell (or am able post one, whatever comes first). Which I think is a very punk rock, anti-conformist way of doing it. ["Walter, this isn't a first amendment thing man." The Dude]
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