Returning for the First Time

Hello everyone.  I'm dusting off the old blog machine and giving it another go at being a writer.

Miss me?

Probably didn't even notice I was gone!  But in case you are looking for some good Cornflake reading on Sunday morning then you've come to the right place.

Where to begin, where to begin... I'll start with this, I had no idea what to expect or how to approach the move down here, so I just let it be and let the universe take over.

I had never been out of the country, let alone move away from everything I've know to teach in a place I knew nothing about besides what was painted on my TV.  So far I haven't been disappointed.

Let's recap.

Monday

Like flying? I don't, well didn't.  Day -1 (negative one because technically wasn't starting the teaching part) of my Teaching Abroad experience, consisted of me saying goodbye to the family at the airport.  Drove down with the 'rents and shared pleasantries to pass the time and put off the awkwardness that lie ahead.

Once we got there we fiddled around for about 10 mins and then came goodbye time.  I swear I'm becoming a baby in my older age.  I broke- cue the water works.  What a sally.  I fought it hard and only my mom teared up. Hugs were exchanged and it was onto security.  It was a tough, but cool moment to wave good by to the whole family.

DJ keeping it light and photobombing. Yep, that is a Jon Cena shirt.  "You can't see..." never mind.

**Cough, cough.** Enough mushy stuff.

Monday consisted of 1,262 miles of flying over two flights.  Moline to Hotlanta (as the fraternity brothers say) to Miami (I'm not taking my talents there).  Piece of cake and thanks to my good friend Ian Hembry's advice I did not miss my connecting flight as I did on my way to Austin last year.

Rather uneventful day until I got my baggage in Miami and literally ran out into oncoming traffic to flag down my shuttle to the hotel.  The shuttle drive was either in awe of my courage or of my stupidity, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do.

Got to the hotel called my mom (nothing wrong, happy mom), and then met up with Rachel, a Minnesota native, David, and his wife Christie.  We had a beer and let David, burly college football player with a $100 smile, and Christie, a petite Idaho-ian, tell us about teaching abroad- they had been in Venezuela (different school) and Korea before that.  It helped cool the nerves.  We parted ways and prepared to get up at 4am to catch the am shuttle. Yep 4:00 am, that's cut my eyes out with a dull spoon early.

Hit the bed, took a breath, alarm went off, and I went down to shuttle.

Tuesday

Day 0 (staying on par with the numbering system- no school, but school event).

Got to the airport fourteen years early, but had to be safe with customs.  Smooth transition to the terminal where we waited for two hours.  Miami Airport is huge, but it does have "Stairway to Heaven" lyrics written in the floor..so that's a plus.

We boarded Copa Airlines and headed to Panama City, Panama.  I'd never flown international or over bodies of water (larger than a river or lake), so that was a first.  We had "free" breakfast on the plan, and by free I mean included within the fee like the candy bar is free within the wrapper.  I was hoping to sleep (ain't gonna happen jack), but I listened to some Pink Floyd and dozed off at 39K feet (sleep deprived).

A few back of the class-student-falling-asleep-head-snaps later, we were approaching.  I usually enjoy landing as it means it's over.  Not so much this one.  Someone switched the Panama City airport with a weathered concrete basketball court with a few lines and pylons.  Couple that with the fact that I think the pilots had a bet to see if they could land it like a Tony Hawk skate trick sprinkled with a hair-wet tardiness.  We started the descent and David said man this guy is coming in fast.  I thought he was messing with me.  But what David meant was coming in hot.  Hot and flights are not good.  This cat drops her down early, tips the nose up and got after it.  We lunged at the runway and promptly landed the patented right wheel first double axle. Then he slapped the other rear wheel down and slammed the breaks.  I swear the left side of the plan was 45 degrees higher than my seat.  Anyway, all was good and we got off the plane (Hail Marys in tow).

We supposedly had about 35mins, so I sent a few Van Halen - Panama texts to my family, but the called us and then we were off again.

Flight to Valencia was smooth until dropping in behind the mountains.  I wanted to have a cocktail on the flight as they were free and the last landing left me with a bad taste in my mouth, but I refrained knowing the headmaster and principals would meet us at the airport.

A little bumpy on the insertion, and a huge rain cloud guided the jet into the airport. This airport seriously could have been some one's driveway in a suburb.  Again, the Copa pilot brought it in hot and dropped her down like a kid drops a rock into mud (side note: I've determined that when pilots have lackluster landings they don't leave the cockpit to see you off, own up to it man!).

President style

We walked off the plane, downstairs (like the president), across the tarmac, and into the terminal.  Customs here= no goodo for me.  Luckily Dave speaks fluent Spanish (as he was born in VZ and raised in Canada) so I got through easy.  Kelley, another first year, had trouble with the visa, but with David speaking to the soldier and helping out, she shortly joined us waiting for luggage.  After getting the coveted visa stamp we gathered our luggage and the smooth sailing we had had turned into rough seas.

Christie, David, and Kelley heading to the terminal.

While on the flight we had to fill out paperwork to allow is into the country, and seeing as I have never been into another country, filled out the paper, or knew my address, I was bound to have fun.  Naturally, when I provided the form that allowed my luggage to accompany me to Valencia the red flag went off.  Three of us were shuffled to a side of the airport and led to a small room where our luggage was inspected.  Apparently, in the area that made you list what "new" items you are bringing into the country, I wrote down everything I brought and the dollar amount.  This means they thought I was smuggling things into the country to sell on the black market.  This means I was a dumb gringo (what the call us whiter-toned folks) and had to have my stuff searched.

Luckily the older woman was nice and after a short 45mins we got to take our luggage the ten feet outside the doors and onto Venezuela ground.

The headmaster (superintendent), both principals (secondary and elementary), and our HR secretary met us with hugs and handshakes.  I had made it.  This second part of the journey was a measly 3,796 miles bringing the total to...drum roll please... 5,058 miles in under thirty hours.  Not bad, not bad at all.

The drive to the school for a short our was about an hour to go a distance that would take 10 minutes in the states.  The Valencia airport is within the industrial district, and many of the walls and buildings are littered with political graffiti.  The streets filled with foreign and local cars with motorcycles shooting the gaps between them.  There are really no lanes, or for that matter, street markers/signs/stop lights.  There are a few lights that count down the time for each color, but people just force their way.  The driving here is comparable to ants leaving and returning to their hill (best analogy I could come up with).  People just pull in front or out when there is a small gap, roads are worse then Clinton, and there are no signs for directions on the streets (only highways).  It's a trip.  Our welcoming party provided us with Coca-Cola and water for the "short" ride.  Once we arrived we had pasta, received our packets of info, and our food allowance.  The whole party was gassed and we quickly said "chao" and packed into cars.

My first photo of school: This is the field right in front of the Central Office. It's used for PE (Never mind the trashcan).  

I was to be the first dropped off, but no one put my door key on my key ring, so we had to take Kelley to her place.  Upon arrival at Kelley, Andrea (our welcome coordinator) made some calls to track down  a school employee to get me in.  About forty-five minutes later we had a key and I could go "home".

This was my first taste of "ahora" (see below).

We buzzed in, walked past the doorman, took the elevator, and finally got in.  She showed me the apartment basics, but I was missing something- a plastic tub to store water (more on that later).  A note was made, I let her out (need keys to get into the elevator and outside), and I returned.

The door shut and my bags greeted me at the door.  No sounds, no people, nothing on the walls, it felt like solitary (or what I imagine it to be like).  Then it hit me.  My first bout of culture shock (google it).

"What had I done?" I thought.  I'm on a continent, in a country where I don't speak the language, have no family, no tv/video games, a no friends.

A good friend of mine told me when I was going thinking of teaching abroad that it takes twenty seconds of

"Great call." I murmured.  Then the emotion bagged me.  I had a week full of no sleep (ragbrai and flying), just completely altered my life (by choice), and was in an apartment full of strange shadows and sounds.

I did the only thing I could.  I fell on my bed, put my hands over my face, and got it out.  Then I coached myself up, put on some music, set up my internet and talked to my family.

Longest night ever, but to my surprise the morning sun crept through my window.  I showered, grabbed my bag, and left to catch my ride.

No choice but survive, and survive I shall.

Things I learned in my first two days:

1) Nothing in Venezuela is on time except people at CIC (my school).  My Uncle Jeff Lueders said that Colorado people think they are the only people on the planet.  That means Venezuelan's are the only people in the Universe (it's their culture and harmless, just frustrating).

2) Traffic is aw(ful)esom.  It's like Frogger, Gran Tarismo, and Road Rash combined without rules or regulations. Traffic during rush hour is worse than LA, Chicago, and New York.  I've been in them.  *Kids if you are playing along at home and don't know those games youtube them quick, watch 10 seconds, mix them and gasp.

3) "Ahora" means now, but it really means anytime beyond the moment.  The measuring tool varies person to person and instance to instance.  Tomorrow, I'll let you in one the first scare and "Ahora" moment that got me.

4) Copa Pilots want to keep it interesting.  I mean flying a plane with hundreds of people in it isn't a big enough rush right?

5) Venezuela is so colorful and the people are so nice.  Seriously, every one I've met or attempted to talk to (cashier, doorman, and CIC native staff) are nice and put up with my horrible attempts at Spanish.

6) The "day" is much different here.  For instance, sunrise this time of year is about 5:30am and the sun settles in behind the mountains at 6:30pm. I'm about 30 minutes ahead of the central (don't ask, VZ has it's own time zone), so if you would like to contact me, synchronize your watch and iMessage or FaceTime me.  I'll get skype, but right now those are how I roll.  

Non-Venezuelan Thought of the Day

Shoot out to the 563 and the CHS River King baseball players that made the semi-finals.  I was following from down here!  Well done, but where do you go from here?  Be humble, work hard, compete in everything and get better.

That concludes my first two days, but don't worry, I'm going to post this and continue on with the next several days.  Some interesting stuff happens.

I'll be posting at least once a week from now on.  It just took a while for things to slow down and for me to get settled.

Keep you eyes peeled.

Buenas.