Esteban's Venezuelan Adventure

Que pasa, chamos? This means, "whats up, chums?" The title of this blog entry provides a rough outline of the topics up for discussion. Vaso gigante means giant spleen; Murcielagos are bats; Futbol is soccer; Licensiadure means diploma; Soya is soy; Saradillos are a particular type of house. My acclimation continues to progress though I believe that my honeymoon period of discovery without disillusionment has ended and the slump has begun. Damn hot weather, people skipping appointments without notice, water and power outages, stupid language. I plan to weather it with beer. The photograph below is of the 'Hospital Universitario,' the big teaching hospital associated with the University of Zulia medical school, one of the best medical schools in Venezuela. I attend a class there each Thursday morning in semiotics, which means going around and looking at sick people and then molesting them with your unpracticed, medical-student fingers. This is similar to what happens in semiotics classes in medical schools in the US. On my first day there, we looked at a woman who had a spleen the size of a chicken salad sub from Subway. It was alarming and sad, but if I am going to be a doctor, I need to get used to seeing people in difficult situations. The first day of class I could understand about 15% of what was said. The second day I understood 16%.

The Hospital Universitario is filled with top notch doctors who are real experts in their field. However, there is no toilet paper in the bathrooms and the air conditioning only works in certain sections at certain times of the day. This picture was taken in an abandoned corridor on the 7th floor. Four bats can be seen - 2 hanging from the concrete ceiling and two in flight.
This is a photo taken in front of the house of the Peruvians with whom I have been living. It had rained, and of course the power was out, so I went outside for a respite from the stale indoor heat. These boys were playing soccer barefoot in the street. They ranged in age from 12-18. The guy in the blue shirt to the far left plays on a semi-pro team and can change direction five times in five seconds. The nets, which get run over by cars on a regular basis, kept collapsing, so the players would add more bricks to the base for support. I like this photo because it also shows the flooding that happens on these poorly draining streets in a rainstorm. The puddles immediately get filled up with mosquito larvae which attract dragonflies, and in turn attract me to watch the dragonflies hunt.














Here I am at a more professional soccer venue. The photo below was taken in Pachencho Romero stadium. Tickets are free as the park is sponsored by Pepsi and the local government. Games start at 5:00 or 5:30 so that at least some portion of the game can be played in twilight, without the presence of the brutally powerful sun. In this game, the Sports Club of Maracaibo took on the Guayana Miners. Maracaibo dominated with a final score of 2-0. The language used by the fans is one of the majors draws of the games. The most urbane fans yell, "Hey ref, you're a dick." Those in the lower classes enumerate sex acts performed by members of the opposite team and launch bottle rockets onto the field.

This is another picture taken at Pachencho Romero stadium. These kids showed up midway through the 1st half with an impressive set of drums. The metal instruments that make a raspy sound are calles Charrascas; the big drum played with short pieces of wood is a Furro; the smaller drum is a Tamboura. This impromptu band would beat out fast rhthms when the soccer club of Maracaibo was on the offensive.














A few weeks ago, I attended a literary convention called the Feria del Libro or 'Festival of the Book' at a private college called Universidad Cecilio Acosta (UNICA). After sitting through an hour long 'critic and author' panel discussion for an acquaintances new book, I was walking around and shmoozing with various people. The guy in the picture below came up to me and said that he overheard me saying that I was from the US. His name is Jorge, and he is a professor at UNICA. Jorge wanted me to come speak at his geopolitics class which was starting in a few minutes. After verifying with another friend that the guy was kosher and not a kidnapper, I went along. After class, we went back to his house and his Mom (everyone lives with their parants) made us ham sandwiches. Jorge is writing his thesis on Venezuela's current and future role in international events, so he is an excellent person to know. For some reason, he wanted to show me his diploma, so I took this picture.

Here is a picture of the cabinet in the house where I have been living. Is this a sticker advertizing the radical, vegetarian left-wing of the Boy Scouts? Nah, soy means "I am."

I took this picture while sitting in the back seat of a Carrito (one of the taxis that follows a proscribed route). The type of house in this picture is an old-style Maracucho house called a Saradillo. Saradillos are most common in a district called Carabobo which is close to the city center. It was hot, so I was surprised to see this guy sitting in his rocking chair between the houses.

So that's all for now. Tomorrow I am moving to my new apartment which is near a popular street called Cecilio Acosta. I am also going to be supervising two poetry slams in upper level English conversation classes at the school where I work. More about that next time. Saludos desde Maracaibo.