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| I just got a new website where I put up some pics. Check em out if you got some time
http://www.flickr.com/photos/59232721@N00/ | | |
| The electricity in my cramped room at the hotel Portofino keeps going in and out. The last time the power went out was a good 10 minutes ago, and it doesn’t seem to be coming back any time soon. As I sit here in the dark with my window open, it begins to lightly rain. With a candle on my nightstand flickering, I get a sudden urge to write.
This island is just not prepared for the rain. In fact, Go Travel Direct sells this destination by Margarita’s supposed eternal sunshine (www.gotraveldirect.com): 365 days of sunshine. If that’s the case, then I must be some bad luck, because it seems like the rain’s not going to stop. Ask any Venezuelan when the rainy season is and you’ll get a different answer, but the general consensus is that it’s from October to December. Then again, it seems like nobody on this island is actually from the island. Seems like everyone is from the mainland; Caracas or Maracaibo, which is where all the oil is found. Just two weeks ago it rained straight through for 5 days; let me tell you a bit about pale, grumpy tourists…
It’s going to be a transitional week this week. My supervisor on Margarita, Josee, just quit, and is heading back to Quebec on the flight this Monday. There comes a point where you just can’t handle people complaining all the time. The superabundance of petty complaints like, “The waves are too loud from my room”, or “The Ocean water is too salty”, takes a toll on one’s patience, especially when introduced with the comment, “I’m really not one to complain, but…” Throw into the mix: robberies, major flight changes, incessant rain, sub par hotels, and high expectations et voila: you’ve got yourself a bomb of frustration. One’s composure is bound to get lost eventually, although thankfully for myself I’m still hanging in there. The average lifespan of an overseas representative is less than one season; I’ve made it through almost three now.
I like what my mom had to say: don’t forget to smell the flowers. I’ve been trying recently to think more positively, trying not to worry so much. C’est la vie, Ce n’est pas parfaite. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Life’s too short to waste it being nervous and anxious. I’m here for 10 short more weeks, and I’m going to try to make it as enjoyable as I possibly can.
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| Bienvenue a l'ile Margaita! I arrived on the island on the 14th of December, and ever since I've been quite a busy man. The first couple weeks was great; we checked out the 14 hotels that we have on the island, needed to get to know the layout of this little island, and did as many tours as we possibly could before our first flight on the 26th of December.
Venezuela is a very interesting place, beautiful people, and gorgeous scenery. THe island itself is 37 km off the northern coast of Venezuela, and consists of 2 little islands that were brought together hundreds of years ago by techtonic plate movements. Both halves are now connected by a 100 square km region of mangrove forests and a long barrier reef beech made up of fossils and shells. THe difference between the two corners of the island is striking: one side has all the development, lush greenery, whereas the other half is full of millions of cacti, mountainous desert, and beautiful beaches all around.
One of the craziest things I can say about this place is this: GAS COSTS 10 CENTS A GALLON! Venezuela has supposedly the largest reserve of Petroleum on the planet, and good ol' Presidente Hugo Chavez provides his people with a greatly subsidized pricing of gas. I've never seen so many 1984 Cutlass Supremes, and gas guzzling beaters in my life. I've always felt sorry for the people driving around in their hummers, paying a Venezuelan's monthly wage-worth just to fill up to get groceries around the corner, but here in Venezuela NO PROBLEM!
Working here has been more difficult than in the Dominican. For the most part, the hotels are pretty basic: simple food, simple rooms, and things just don't seem to work right. I had a guest that was really upset because the phone didn't work in her room. I went to the manager and said, "So, the phone doesn't work in her room."
She replies nonchalantly, "Yeah, that is a problem."
"Soooooo.... Can we fix it", I asked,
"Of course", she assured me leading to a long,uncomfortable silence.
"So when exactly are we going to be able to fix it, because she's pretty upset", beginning to show my impatience.
"At the end of the season, around May."
Another aspect that makes my job exhausting is the amount of hotels I'm working in. At the moment I'm working in 6 hotels, running around all day long. Throw in the fact that I have to speak French to most of my clients. Actual Scenario: I jump out of bed in the morning, no time for coffee, no croissant, and the night before a crazy guest of mine woke me up at 2 am yelling and saying that she needed salt IMMEDIATELY because she dropped red wine on her Gucci dress; Makes it tough to speak French like a true Quebecois bright and early. However that aside, my french speaking and comprehension is improving extremely quickly. Im sounding more and more Quebecois everyday, with a twist of English, France French, and a twinge of Spanish. I'm in a very particular setting to be learning a language, and I'm happy the way things are going. Of course, at my French welcome meetings I always get a few giggles and funny looks, but my Quebecois guests have all been very appreciative that I made the effort to learn their language, and I'm selling tours like there's no tomorrow. ch-ching!
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| This weekend I went tandem paragliding in the Sacred Valley just above Urubamba. It was an incrediby scary experience, probably being one of the most nerveracking things I've ever done. We drove up to the top of a mountain, strapped in and then when the pilot said "run", we dashed to edge of the mountain and jumped off the edge. The drop below was 3800 meters down, and it was an amazing view of the mountains and the fields. I was most worried about the run to the edge. Was the wind going to catch us? What happened if it didn't? I guess your so high up, you wouldn't feel any pain by the fall.
Luckily, I didn't have to worry about that, and after the initial jerkiness and mini heart attack, it was smooth sailing. I flew over the valley for about 25 minutes. Richard, the pilot said that we were flying about 45 km/ hour. I got a bit worried though when the wind just stopped, and Richards altimeter beeped like mad. All in all, it was fantastic and I thouroughly recommend to anyone to do it.
The next day, Steph and I went to a soccer game in Cusco between Cienciano (Cusco) and Universitario (Lima). The game determined who would be the champion in the Peruvian professional league, so as you can imagine the stadium was jam packed. There was a sea of red, remeniscent of Arrowhead stadium, and the fans intensely followed every moment of the game. The stadium is just like anything else in Peru, packed to the brim so you can't breath, pushing and shoving, yelling and screaming.
The only area that was somewhat comfortable was in the Universitario hardcore fan section, so we stood there for the game. At the end of the game, Cusco's Cienciano came out victorious 2 - 0. After each goal, there was an all out food fight between the fans. I had to dodge half-eaten chicken legs, and bags of Chicha Morada that flew threw the air. There were cops all throughout the stadium, but all they could do were futile pleas to the fans, "Pretty please don't throw Papa Rellenas at the fans, its just a game!" | | |
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