The dogs sniff me because I was playing with a stray black puppy while waiting for the bus across the street from the beach. It had floppy ears and kept biting my hand.
Today was a great day. MS and I were supposed to get up at 6am to go to La Restinga National Park, but we didn't get up to the alarm. We emerged at 9am, had a breakfast of bread, humus (without tahini), tomato, crackers and dulce de leche and went to the other national park instead. It's closer.
We climbed El Copey, Margarita's tallest hill, in an hour and a half. MS showed me the huge 'walking tree', which shoots down roots that grow up again as trunks of new trees so that a whole series of trees are attached to each other.
On the walk I saw an enormous grasshopper the size of a sparrow, green and spindly with a red back. We walked up a road with forest on either side - narrow-trunked trees with small leaves, sometimes a bank of ferns or large, long-leafed climbers. There were beautiful views of the island, with the high-rises of Porlamar looking clean and light from so far away, the red-roofed houses in the valley embedded amongst trees, the large white square of Sambil mall and the ocean and its lagoons. After walking back down the hill we walked to a couple of restaraunts located down hilltop dirt roads, but they were closed on Mondays and I was feeling very muscle-tired and ready to sit down.
We ended up in La Asunscion and stopped for papaya juice at that cute little shopping arcade I had noticed on my wander around the town. Refreshed, we head for Playa Guacuco. This is a nice beach of sand-coloured sand, light waves and a few neat beachside restaurants with many, many palms and a view of 'the mountains'. Water was so welcome after the hot climb. MS and I played together in the waves and I had a laughing fit.
In the evening we went to Pampatar to see 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' at the national cinema. We were running late and made it into the theatre as the wedding was finishing, 'Dammit, Janet, I love you!' There were several other people in the theatre ('It IS Rocky Horror' I said in response to MS's surprise upon seeing cars parket outside the cinema) but it was a quiet crowd and there was no dancing to the Time Warp. MS liked the movie despite the fact that it is a musical, and now I can say I've seen Rocky Horror in Venezuela courtesty of Hugo Chavez. (I had actually decided to stay longer in Margarita just so that I could take MS, a Rocky Horror 'virgin' to see the film).
Friday, September 11, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
6.10pm, Sunday June 14, MS's ...the famous Spanish all-nighter
I just woke up an hour ago, me of the mango-swollen eyes. MS, C, S and I went dancing last night. We left MS's at 1.o0am, and the club above the beach closed at 3am. We danced outside. MS is a much better dancer than me and I shall reiterate that it is hot, hot, hot. I much prefer South American club music to the stuff I try to dance to in Melbourne. This music is more Caribbean and there is a popular genre of music called Reggaeton, which is a mix of West African, Latin American and rap. I loved dancing to this fast, upbeat music, but was repeatedly told that if I ccould understand the lyrics I would hate it. The lyrics come from the rap part of the mix: sex and violence.
After we left the club, MS drove us to Playa el Agua, where we drank light beers, sitting on a step overlooking the beach. We dropped C and S home and, while I dozed in the car, MS drove us to a spot high above the beach to watch the sunrise. We watched the black sky become blue, the pink ball of yellow sun rising from a whirl of cloud, like something from outerspace, to highlight the dancing woman and coiled cloud forms until it was a distinct ball and too bright to look at.
sunrise on Margarita
In the new brightness of the morning we drove around looking for breakfast. A hard ask at 6.30am on a Sunday morning. We finally found an early-morning outdoor empanada stand. I ate an empanada and an arepa and drank a cup of passionfruit juice. When we got home I was so tired, I just wanted to sleep. But then MS took his shirt off and I caught sight of his necklace with a spiral-patterned ivory-coloured disk hanging from a leather thong. He put on The Wall Live in Berlin CD.
Dinner at T's is all the activity we managed to fit into Saturday evening. J, T's young boarder, cooked us a nice pasta sauce with champignons. I talked to him about Chavez. He is not a fan and believes the country has gone downhill because of Chavez. He admits to being from a wealthy family and believes socialism is utopian. He thinks Venezuelans like to show off their wealth and spend money on things such as digital television and Tommy Hilfiger clothes - rather than on a proper house - and everone is always out to con someone. Venezuelans buy and sell but don't produce.
J dislikes Chavez's educational programs because the missions teach all of high school in two months or train up doctors in two years. Doctors in public hospitals aren't properly trained and those with the brains and education (and money) leave the country. It is difficult for Venezuelans to leave the country. It takes a lot of paperwork - or a lot of money. This too is a plan of Chavez's. Venezuelans don't pay taxes; there's no history of it or of government services, and there is no IRS, only an agency that goes after businesses, has little power and is bribable.
MS doesn't like Chavez because of his militarism. He is undertandably afraid of what could happen if Chavez controls a trained military and has 'the people' behind him as well.
A question, then. How do countries change? Can Chavez make people change? Is giving the people the tools to change enough? Do people use them? Is it possible for a govenrment to give the people more than just tools? Is that government's job?
After we left the club, MS drove us to Playa el Agua, where we drank light beers, sitting on a step overlooking the beach. We dropped C and S home and, while I dozed in the car, MS drove us to a spot high above the beach to watch the sunrise. We watched the black sky become blue, the pink ball of yellow sun rising from a whirl of cloud, like something from outerspace, to highlight the dancing woman and coiled cloud forms until it was a distinct ball and too bright to look at.
sunrise on Margarita
In the new brightness of the morning we drove around looking for breakfast. A hard ask at 6.30am on a Sunday morning. We finally found an early-morning outdoor empanada stand. I ate an empanada and an arepa and drank a cup of passionfruit juice. When we got home I was so tired, I just wanted to sleep. But then MS took his shirt off and I caught sight of his necklace with a spiral-patterned ivory-coloured disk hanging from a leather thong. He put on The Wall Live in Berlin CD.
Dinner at T's is all the activity we managed to fit into Saturday evening. J, T's young boarder, cooked us a nice pasta sauce with champignons. I talked to him about Chavez. He is not a fan and believes the country has gone downhill because of Chavez. He admits to being from a wealthy family and believes socialism is utopian. He thinks Venezuelans like to show off their wealth and spend money on things such as digital television and Tommy Hilfiger clothes - rather than on a proper house - and everone is always out to con someone. Venezuelans buy and sell but don't produce.
J dislikes Chavez's educational programs because the missions teach all of high school in two months or train up doctors in two years. Doctors in public hospitals aren't properly trained and those with the brains and education (and money) leave the country. It is difficult for Venezuelans to leave the country. It takes a lot of paperwork - or a lot of money. This too is a plan of Chavez's. Venezuelans don't pay taxes; there's no history of it or of government services, and there is no IRS, only an agency that goes after businesses, has little power and is bribable.
MS doesn't like Chavez because of his militarism. He is undertandably afraid of what could happen if Chavez controls a trained military and has 'the people' behind him as well.
A question, then. How do countries change? Can Chavez make people change? Is giving the people the tools to change enough? Do people use them? Is it possible for a govenrment to give the people more than just tools? Is that government's job?
Monday, September 7, 2009
2.30pm, Saturday June 13, Canaima airport ....monkeying around
I am sitting in the dining area of Kavak Tours, trying not to itch my eyes. I have said goodbye to the young couple, the boys, the mothers. They are off to the lagoons and Salto Sapo, the waterfall that Anthony did not take me to walk behind.
We climbed in the rainforest to see Salto Angel. Often tourists can walk behind the fall but the water level was too high for us because of the night's rain. I was impressed by the three older women who trekked slowly up and down the mountain, gently clambering over rocks. The younger boy was very patient with the women, staying with them, while the young couple and I sped ahead. It was a humid walk, lush. And then there was Salto Angel, spraying us with its uncontained mist. Nicol told me to call to her when I reached Salto Angel and I did, hallooing her name to the waterfall.
me, swollen-eyed, in front of Salto Angel
Today's boatride back to Canaima was not as nice as on the way there. Not because the grand tepuis were behind us but because I wore sunglasses belonging to the Venezuelan student, at the insistence of one of the women, who is a doctor. She advised me to protect my mango-eyes from the sun. The world is dull behind sunglesses, dull and indistinct.
I have a half an hour until my plane takes off and from a stand selling homemade food I've bought a moist slice of light chocolate cake with other unidentifiable flavours and a sort of mousse in the middle. Earlier I wandered down a forest track, emerging in front of a cage of small monkeys. I stood entranced by their cream-coloured genitals while they desultorily clambered around their cage and hammock. Another cage had a different type of monkey. One, with a damaged red eye, took my arm and made a feeding sign - his hand in front of his mouth. These monkeys had completely different genitals, dark, long thin penises with a dish-like protuberance at the end. I agitated the red-eyed monkey by being there. He started to run around and climb the cage, swinging his ass as he walked along the floor, hooting. I thought it best to leave him alone.
Last night I didn't sleep very well in my hammock, disturbed by my itchy, itchy eyes and early bedtime. I got up in the wee hours of the morning to pee and bathe my eyes in salt water. On the way to the rainy bush for a pee I knocked apart two narrow tubes, one attached to the gas cylinder. I didn't burn down the shelter, thank god. I was easily able to put the tubes back together again.
I sat at a table putting wet napkins on my eyes and Churum, our guide, got up to see if I was okay in the candlelight. The sky was starting to lighten. Eveyrone was very concerned about my eyes. Last night the smiley wife of the tall Trinidadian put her contact solution into my eyes and one of older woman who said she was a doctor told me only to eat big mangoes as the 'poison' in them is less concentrated.
On the way back to Canaima we stopped at a small waterfall on the river and had a swim in the Pool of Happiness. Here we could stand in the falls and sit on rocks where the falls jacuzzi the water. A nice break from the long, wet boat trip. Roiling clouds enfolded the tepui tops, and occasionally, when the river curved it looked as if we were heading into a mottled wall of green. The water was lower today and I saw grassy banks and islands, the women behind screaming as we hit some light rapids and got a soaking.
I don't have the blissful feeling today that I had yesterday but I am glad I have excursioned with a group of Venezuelans who shared whiskey and homemade birthday cake with me.
I saw Anthony only briefly today. He said hi when we arrived back and I gave him a kiss on the cheek goobye when I left. Churum took me to the island's white hospital building, where I was injected in the ass-cheek with cortisone by a fair, skinny, moustachioed Spanish-speaking young doctorwho looked like a sweet-natured American hick even though he was not, and given a cycle of antihistamines. Yay for socialised medicine! So far the cortisone does not seem to be working.
When I was finished at the hospital it was almost time for lunch - a huge pile of spaghetti, mine with just oil and grated parmesan. It was nice! My fellow excursionistas teased Churum over our meal until it was time for them to go tour the lagoons. Everyone shook my hand or kissed me goodbe and seemed genuinely sorry I wasn't coming with them again. Hopefully the boys will email me the photos taken of all of us together.
A group of tourists are taking off in the Aerotuy plane and I am the only tourist left at the station. I was told I am on another flight. My own private one?
Churum told me the Amazon isn't rainforest, but jungle, and it is totally different from Canaima. I thought rainforest and jungle were the same thing.
We climbed in the rainforest to see Salto Angel. Often tourists can walk behind the fall but the water level was too high for us because of the night's rain. I was impressed by the three older women who trekked slowly up and down the mountain, gently clambering over rocks. The younger boy was very patient with the women, staying with them, while the young couple and I sped ahead. It was a humid walk, lush. And then there was Salto Angel, spraying us with its uncontained mist. Nicol told me to call to her when I reached Salto Angel and I did, hallooing her name to the waterfall.
me, swollen-eyed, in front of Salto Angel
Today's boatride back to Canaima was not as nice as on the way there. Not because the grand tepuis were behind us but because I wore sunglasses belonging to the Venezuelan student, at the insistence of one of the women, who is a doctor. She advised me to protect my mango-eyes from the sun. The world is dull behind sunglesses, dull and indistinct.
I have a half an hour until my plane takes off and from a stand selling homemade food I've bought a moist slice of light chocolate cake with other unidentifiable flavours and a sort of mousse in the middle. Earlier I wandered down a forest track, emerging in front of a cage of small monkeys. I stood entranced by their cream-coloured genitals while they desultorily clambered around their cage and hammock. Another cage had a different type of monkey. One, with a damaged red eye, took my arm and made a feeding sign - his hand in front of his mouth. These monkeys had completely different genitals, dark, long thin penises with a dish-like protuberance at the end. I agitated the red-eyed monkey by being there. He started to run around and climb the cage, swinging his ass as he walked along the floor, hooting. I thought it best to leave him alone.
Last night I didn't sleep very well in my hammock, disturbed by my itchy, itchy eyes and early bedtime. I got up in the wee hours of the morning to pee and bathe my eyes in salt water. On the way to the rainy bush for a pee I knocked apart two narrow tubes, one attached to the gas cylinder. I didn't burn down the shelter, thank god. I was easily able to put the tubes back together again.
I sat at a table putting wet napkins on my eyes and Churum, our guide, got up to see if I was okay in the candlelight. The sky was starting to lighten. Eveyrone was very concerned about my eyes. Last night the smiley wife of the tall Trinidadian put her contact solution into my eyes and one of older woman who said she was a doctor told me only to eat big mangoes as the 'poison' in them is less concentrated.
On the way back to Canaima we stopped at a small waterfall on the river and had a swim in the Pool of Happiness. Here we could stand in the falls and sit on rocks where the falls jacuzzi the water. A nice break from the long, wet boat trip. Roiling clouds enfolded the tepui tops, and occasionally, when the river curved it looked as if we were heading into a mottled wall of green. The water was lower today and I saw grassy banks and islands, the women behind screaming as we hit some light rapids and got a soaking.
I don't have the blissful feeling today that I had yesterday but I am glad I have excursioned with a group of Venezuelans who shared whiskey and homemade birthday cake with me.
I saw Anthony only briefly today. He said hi when we arrived back and I gave him a kiss on the cheek goobye when I left. Churum took me to the island's white hospital building, where I was injected in the ass-cheek with cortisone by a fair, skinny, moustachioed Spanish-speaking young doctorwho looked like a sweet-natured American hick even though he was not, and given a cycle of antihistamines. Yay for socialised medicine! So far the cortisone does not seem to be working.
When I was finished at the hospital it was almost time for lunch - a huge pile of spaghetti, mine with just oil and grated parmesan. It was nice! My fellow excursionistas teased Churum over our meal until it was time for them to go tour the lagoons. Everyone shook my hand or kissed me goodbe and seemed genuinely sorry I wasn't coming with them again. Hopefully the boys will email me the photos taken of all of us together.
A group of tourists are taking off in the Aerotuy plane and I am the only tourist left at the station. I was told I am on another flight. My own private one?
Churum told me the Amazon isn't rainforest, but jungle, and it is totally different from Canaima. I thought rainforest and jungle were the same thing.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
6.30pm, Friday June 12, forest camp ....freshly showered
We arrived at camp about a half an hour ago. I went immediately to shower in hopes of relieving my mango-swollen eyes. So far it is just my eyes that are affected. The camp is a tin-roofed, concrete platform with plastic tablecloth-covered tables and 19 hammocks with mosquito nets accompanied by wooden bench-tables set perpendicularly. The toilet and shower facilities are in a separate building.
I have come from a beautiful day on the Carrao and Churum rivers, boating to see Angel Falls. It was a long boat ride, 80 kms - fourish hours - with rainforest on both banks.
It rained last night so the river was very high. As we boated through the landscape of forest and tepui, (there are 700kms of tepui) I counted 14 waterfalls streaming down the faces of one tepui in the distance. Along the river there is pink sand. I noticed small-needled orange cone-like flowers on trees in the forest, as well as pink and white acacias in flower, and a bush with tiny red two-petalled flowers. May is orchid season.
Today I have travelled with a lovely group of people: a 44-year-oldTrinidadian financial services manager and his smiley Venezuelan wife; two male students from Barcelona, one Venezuelan and studying economics, the other studying journalism; the Venezuelan student's mother; and two other older women, one with her son, who carries big bags of cashews. I think the students are a couple. One of the boys, the darker, broader, shorter one, is very cute and giggly. English is the national language of Trinidad, so throughout the day I talked to the tall Trinidadian husband. At first it seemed as if the group wasn't going to talk much to me, but after my initial conversations with the Trinidadian who prefers speaking English, and as my eye began to look worse and worse, and as we were sharing a meal together, the others began opening up. The sparkly young wife and the two boys shared stories and the older women, who didn't speak much English, talked about me.
We were served lunch on the boat: two cheese and tomato sandwiches, cookies, two hard candies. It was difficult to keep my garbage from blowing into the river. Dinner at camp was yellow rice, omelette, coleslaw and pineapple. The coleslaw made by these cooks is very mayonaissey, rich and delicious.
The happy Venezuelan group was celebrating the birthday of one the older women, so they brought cake and whiskey to the camp, which they generously shared with me. I could only drink the whiskey when poured into coffee.
I have come from a beautiful day on the Carrao and Churum rivers, boating to see Angel Falls. It was a long boat ride, 80 kms - fourish hours - with rainforest on both banks.
It rained last night so the river was very high. As we boated through the landscape of forest and tepui, (there are 700kms of tepui) I counted 14 waterfalls streaming down the faces of one tepui in the distance. Along the river there is pink sand. I noticed small-needled orange cone-like flowers on trees in the forest, as well as pink and white acacias in flower, and a bush with tiny red two-petalled flowers. May is orchid season.
Today I have travelled with a lovely group of people: a 44-year-oldTrinidadian financial services manager and his smiley Venezuelan wife; two male students from Barcelona, one Venezuelan and studying economics, the other studying journalism; the Venezuelan student's mother; and two other older women, one with her son, who carries big bags of cashews. I think the students are a couple. One of the boys, the darker, broader, shorter one, is very cute and giggly. English is the national language of Trinidad, so throughout the day I talked to the tall Trinidadian husband. At first it seemed as if the group wasn't going to talk much to me, but after my initial conversations with the Trinidadian who prefers speaking English, and as my eye began to look worse and worse, and as we were sharing a meal together, the others began opening up. The sparkly young wife and the two boys shared stories and the older women, who didn't speak much English, talked about me.
We were served lunch on the boat: two cheese and tomato sandwiches, cookies, two hard candies. It was difficult to keep my garbage from blowing into the river. Dinner at camp was yellow rice, omelette, coleslaw and pineapple. The coleslaw made by these cooks is very mayonaissey, rich and delicious.
The happy Venezuelan group was celebrating the birthday of one the older women, so they brought cake and whiskey to the camp, which they generously shared with me. I could only drink the whiskey when poured into coffee.
9.30am, hammock at Kava Camp ....a weird night
Anthony and I went for beers at the local restaurant, a big room with a bar, pool table and television, a kitchen bar and plastic tables and chairs. There were several boys playing pool and a soccer game on the television. I struggled to make conversation with Anthony, asking about small town life. When I asked where all the girls were (ther were only boys in the bar besides me) he said they were playing football.
After our drinks, we went down to the beach, where Anthony produced a blanket out of his little duffle bag. He proceeded to kiss and touch me. He kept trying to get me to go farther than I wanted. I had to keep saying no and pull his hands away. The experience was very juvenile. I felt silly and a little bored. He kept asking me why I wouldn't have sex with him, so finally I said a few things.
1. Just because you want to have sex witha girl doesn't mean she wants to have sex with you. These are often mutually exclusive desires.
2. That I don't, probably most women don't, want to fuck strangers.
3. Then I told him he was lucky it was me he was trying this shit on with. A different sort of woman would have him fired. I told him that in countries like Australia and the USA sexual harrassment is a big deal and women are urged to complain. I also asked him if he understood that in a situation such as ours, where he is the tour guide of a sole woman, she may not feel comfortable or able to say no.
He seemed to understand all this and murmered about this being his job. I think I made him cry. After I gave him a kiss and thanked him for the nice day (I felt bad, how spineless) I finally got up to leave. He wanted us to sleep on the beach. I said no. Then he asked if he could sleep in my room, on one of the other beds. I asked him if this worked on other women but he insisted this is the first ime he tried. He was sniffling on the way home.
I said he could come to my room. I wondered if there was a reason he didn't want to go home. He seemed so desperate when he asked. He still tried to get me to have sex with him. I told him I was going to throw him out and he finally gave up. I think we both had trouble sleeping. I was really hot and getting bitten by mosquitos. Anthony left early in the morning.
This morning he didn't eat with me.
I do realise how crazy I sound. But Anthony was essentially harmless. There was something quite sweet and honest about him. There was nothing violent or aggressive ever suggested. Just wheedling persistence. I never for a moment thought I was in any danger with him. He was just...a boy. [I'd be curious to hear other women's responses to this type of experience. What did you do? Feel free to leave a comment.]
Now, I am waiting for today's group of tourists to arrive. I woke up with a swollen eye, though it is already better. I try not to touch any itches on my face. Breakfast this morning was a thin fried egg, three more slices of oily orange cheese and three small pancakes. I buttered them and added a bit of guava marmalade. Best of all was the jug of watermelon juice set beside me, which I didn't notice until I finished my meal. I'm looking forward to a lovely day viewing the world's tallest waterfall without a touchy guide trying to kiss me (another young man is taking us to the waterfall)!
After our drinks, we went down to the beach, where Anthony produced a blanket out of his little duffle bag. He proceeded to kiss and touch me. He kept trying to get me to go farther than I wanted. I had to keep saying no and pull his hands away. The experience was very juvenile. I felt silly and a little bored. He kept asking me why I wouldn't have sex with him, so finally I said a few things.
1. Just because you want to have sex witha girl doesn't mean she wants to have sex with you. These are often mutually exclusive desires.
2. That I don't, probably most women don't, want to fuck strangers.
3. Then I told him he was lucky it was me he was trying this shit on with. A different sort of woman would have him fired. I told him that in countries like Australia and the USA sexual harrassment is a big deal and women are urged to complain. I also asked him if he understood that in a situation such as ours, where he is the tour guide of a sole woman, she may not feel comfortable or able to say no.
He seemed to understand all this and murmered about this being his job. I think I made him cry. After I gave him a kiss and thanked him for the nice day (I felt bad, how spineless) I finally got up to leave. He wanted us to sleep on the beach. I said no. Then he asked if he could sleep in my room, on one of the other beds. I asked him if this worked on other women but he insisted this is the first ime he tried. He was sniffling on the way home.
I said he could come to my room. I wondered if there was a reason he didn't want to go home. He seemed so desperate when he asked. He still tried to get me to have sex with him. I told him I was going to throw him out and he finally gave up. I think we both had trouble sleeping. I was really hot and getting bitten by mosquitos. Anthony left early in the morning.
This morning he didn't eat with me.
I do realise how crazy I sound. But Anthony was essentially harmless. There was something quite sweet and honest about him. There was nothing violent or aggressive ever suggested. Just wheedling persistence. I never for a moment thought I was in any danger with him. He was just...a boy. [I'd be curious to hear other women's responses to this type of experience. What did you do? Feel free to leave a comment.]
Now, I am waiting for today's group of tourists to arrive. I woke up with a swollen eye, though it is already better. I try not to touch any itches on my face. Breakfast this morning was a thin fried egg, three more slices of oily orange cheese and three small pancakes. I buttered them and added a bit of guava marmalade. Best of all was the jug of watermelon juice set beside me, which I didn't notice until I finished my meal. I'm looking forward to a lovely day viewing the world's tallest waterfall without a touchy guide trying to kiss me (another young man is taking us to the waterfall)!
8.12pm, Thursday June 11, Canaima
Anthony told me at dinner there will be more trekkers arriving tomorrow. Relief! Dinner was oily, creamy and lovely: a fried omelette with no vegetables, delicious coleslaw, and potato rounds fried with garlic and parsley. Red jello for dessert. Anthony let me try a piece of his cassava with chipotle chile bread. This is the Caribes' native bread and it was very nice.
MS has an interesting bookshelf - 'Les Mis' in two volumes, which he hasn't read, ditto Ulysses; Spanish poetry; Brecht, whom he didn't like; and a book of structuralist criticism which he dips into to help him write better.
Here there is the constant chirping of crickets and a drop-whistle sound of some other sort of animal, the occasional dog bark.
MS has an interesting bookshelf - 'Les Mis' in two volumes, which he hasn't read, ditto Ulysses; Spanish poetry; Brecht, whom he didn't like; and a book of structuralist criticism which he dips into to help him write better.
Here there is the constant chirping of crickets and a drop-whistle sound of some other sort of animal, the occasional dog bark.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
6.30pm, Thursday June 11, Canaima ....swimming through rainbows
I am the only person at this camp. I was looking forward to a personal tour of the Canaima Lagoon, but while a private tour has its advantages, such as discarding the rules (wearing life jackets and shoes) and taking as long to explore as you want, when your guide is a young man and you are a single, young female, this makes a private tour awkward.
Anthony and I took a boat from the first lagoon, which has six waterfalls, to the second lagoon. We walked to the third lagoon. Anthony and I swam to the biggest falls, Hacha, a feat I was a little scared of because it is a long way across the lagoon. I ran into the water first. Anthony followed shortly, and when he swam up to me he grabbed me around the waist. Oh, I thought.
After the swim to the waterfall I flattened myself against the watery rocks and then paddled to a smaller fall where I also felt the cool water flow down my back. On this other side of the lagoon, in mosquito territory, Anthony started kissing me and touching me. I let him. We walked back along the rock wall to go back to the other end of the lagoon and then climbed back in the water. It hasn't rained so the waterfalls aren't at their most impressive, but I think today they are perfect. The lagoons are filled with brown water. When you swim you see rays of golden sunshine radiating in the brown and that is all.
Hacha Falls
After our swim we walked behind Hacha Falls. This is slippery and vegetative, the rock ledge fringed with green ground cover and pink flowers. I picked my way carefully along the gleaming ledge and felt the spray of the water from a pouring sheet through which I could see the white sun throwing a ray across the rippling water of the lagoon. It was beautiful and nearly perfect. The walk to Hacha Falls crossed savannah and grass and into rainforest with big sprays of palm, big black ants that Anthony says are poisonous (24-hour fever and headache) and the occasional butterfly. The forest is lovely - a normal rainforest, not spectacular.
behind Hacha Falls
I am a bad feminist. I didn't want to be fondled and kissed by a little brown stranger, even if he is cute. But I couldn't imagine what would happen if I said no. I've spent so much of the last two weeks kissing, why get cringey about it now? What's the harm, really? I am otherwise having a wonderful time and Anthony seems nice enough. Good-hearted, quiet, gentlemanly, if prone to coming on to tourists. The enjoyment of my incredible day is in this boy's hands, so I half-heartedly kiss him back, full of justifications.
I have to negotiate this evening. I told Anthony I'd buy him a beer and go dancing with him, but he has to understand I go no farther than kissing and nothing in public. I do not want to be the poster girl for easy American/Australian tourist.
As much as I love travelling alone, I think I'd prefer ot take a friend next time to avoid these situations. Not a man, because I think people would be less likely to talk to us, but another female. At least there'd be some safety in numbers.
It is hard to decide if Canaima is mystical given the distraction provided by my guide, but I certainly feel a kind of joy being here, in the water, under waterfalls, with their soft roar surrounding me. Despite my previous week's mango allergy, I ate one from off a tree. This has been one of my dreams, to eat a mango off a tree. I threw a stick at it to try to get it down, but it was Anthony who finally knocked the golden fruit off the branch. The little mango wasn't actually better than a market mango as I thought surely it must be. It was just as good but not quite ripe enough. Still delicious. Hopefully my allergy stays away.
Anthony and I took a boat from the first lagoon, which has six waterfalls, to the second lagoon. We walked to the third lagoon. Anthony and I swam to the biggest falls, Hacha, a feat I was a little scared of because it is a long way across the lagoon. I ran into the water first. Anthony followed shortly, and when he swam up to me he grabbed me around the waist. Oh, I thought.
After the swim to the waterfall I flattened myself against the watery rocks and then paddled to a smaller fall where I also felt the cool water flow down my back. On this other side of the lagoon, in mosquito territory, Anthony started kissing me and touching me. I let him. We walked back along the rock wall to go back to the other end of the lagoon and then climbed back in the water. It hasn't rained so the waterfalls aren't at their most impressive, but I think today they are perfect. The lagoons are filled with brown water. When you swim you see rays of golden sunshine radiating in the brown and that is all.
Hacha Falls
After our swim we walked behind Hacha Falls. This is slippery and vegetative, the rock ledge fringed with green ground cover and pink flowers. I picked my way carefully along the gleaming ledge and felt the spray of the water from a pouring sheet through which I could see the white sun throwing a ray across the rippling water of the lagoon. It was beautiful and nearly perfect. The walk to Hacha Falls crossed savannah and grass and into rainforest with big sprays of palm, big black ants that Anthony says are poisonous (24-hour fever and headache) and the occasional butterfly. The forest is lovely - a normal rainforest, not spectacular.
behind Hacha Falls
I am a bad feminist. I didn't want to be fondled and kissed by a little brown stranger, even if he is cute. But I couldn't imagine what would happen if I said no. I've spent so much of the last two weeks kissing, why get cringey about it now? What's the harm, really? I am otherwise having a wonderful time and Anthony seems nice enough. Good-hearted, quiet, gentlemanly, if prone to coming on to tourists. The enjoyment of my incredible day is in this boy's hands, so I half-heartedly kiss him back, full of justifications.
I have to negotiate this evening. I told Anthony I'd buy him a beer and go dancing with him, but he has to understand I go no farther than kissing and nothing in public. I do not want to be the poster girl for easy American/Australian tourist.
As much as I love travelling alone, I think I'd prefer ot take a friend next time to avoid these situations. Not a man, because I think people would be less likely to talk to us, but another female. At least there'd be some safety in numbers.
It is hard to decide if Canaima is mystical given the distraction provided by my guide, but I certainly feel a kind of joy being here, in the water, under waterfalls, with their soft roar surrounding me. Despite my previous week's mango allergy, I ate one from off a tree. This has been one of my dreams, to eat a mango off a tree. I threw a stick at it to try to get it down, but it was Anthony who finally knocked the golden fruit off the branch. The little mango wasn't actually better than a market mango as I thought surely it must be. It was just as good but not quite ripe enough. Still delicious. Hopefully my allergy stays away.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
