Big news today - will explain more later.
But we talked to our pastor tonight, and he is praying Psalm 43 for us.
Monday, September 30, 2013
The Creatures in Our Neighborhood
But every once in a while, we go for a walk and see something which reminds us that we live in the jungle. It may have been paved and constructed over in the past few years, but it is still jungle and home to many large and beautiful creatures.
I passed this little green guy on the sidewalk in front of our building. He is a bit bigger than my largest finger. He's awfully cute, but I didn't touch him because aren't fuzzy caterpillars supposed to be poisonous?
We've found some more typically brown and small ones in our garage. We don't touch them either, but we do generally stop and stare at them on the way to the car.
As we keep our windows open nearly all the time, and we don't have window screens, I am superglad that the embassy installed this netting. When I first saw it, I thought the netting was to keep my kids from falling out the windows. Now I think it is to keep these big ugly birds from wandering around inside.
This big fella was right in the middle of the girls' school, in an outdoor plaza which is always full of people. I did not move him, but I worry for the poor kid who unwittingly stepped on him while chatting with their friends. He was not just wide - he was tall, too.
This dude is well camouflaged by the stone wall about a foot behind him. Look closely, though, and you'll find a spider who was nearly as big as my open hand. But to allow you to see the size comparison, I would have had to put my hand very near to this guy. And he was really big. I did not want to do that. I didn't even try to sell my kids on it - we just took the photo and ran.
But here is the piece de resistance. This photo belongs to National Geographic Kids, because when we came across our own specimen I was too astonished to pull out my camera.
When the guy - probably 6 feet tall himself - opened his door to approach the iguana, the lizard reared up on his hind legs and flapped open all of those flaps of skin you see around his neck. He looked fierce! The guy was unintimidated and continued to shoo him across the road. The iguana first hid underneath his car, and then eventually jumped into the bushes. But jumping is exactly what he did, almost the entire time. He kept rising up onto his hind legs and lunging toward the guy, spreading his gills out wide each time. After a while, he was lunging himself toward the brush on the side of the road and once he reached the edge he disappeared into it entirely.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Bidding
Less than a year into our life in Caracas, and we are knee-deep in the bidding process for our next post.
Dave's assignment in Caracas is for two years, so since we arrived in December 2012 we are supposed to leave in December 2014. But what we learned in January and February this year was that mid-year moves are really hard on the school-aged kids. Because of the particular job Dave is in right now, and because he works for an amazingly bureaucratic machine, we are not allowed to extend our time here to the next summer. That being the case, we are trying to curtail the position and to move this coming summer.
We first saw the bid list for the summer cycle back in April and we've been playing with it ever since. Dave's made a number of emails and phone interviews. And I'll be honest, the whole process has been rather exciting so far. We are excited to live in loads of the cities listed, and every time Dave finishes an interview he emails me how excited he is about the job. We feel like we have nothing but positive options available.
But then Jeannine went and made us nervous. Chatting with her last week, she said, So, now that its the middle of September, you must have a pretty good idea where you're going, right? Is Dave anyone's number one choice?
Um, as far as we know, he is not anyone's number one choice. So, now we're both a little nervous. Here's how it works. Everyone bidding on next summer's jobs is looking at the same list, and has been looking at the same list since April or so. They've all been calling the folks in positions of power and lobbying for the jobs. Some people cinched their jobs early on, because they knew the right people and had things pre-arranged. Other positions have been moving along a more standard hiring process of multiple interviews and references. But the list remains the same until a day early in November, where each hirer will submit who they are hiring into a computerized system. That's the day you know where you are going. Before that, you only get to learn that you are someone's top choice.
Our top choice was Taiwan, but they weren't interested in Dave. We chatted with Guangzhou for a while, and although Dave is still interested in the job, the family is less interested in the number of moves it takes to get there. And so, at this point in time, our list is:
#1: Beijing, China
#2: The Operations Center, Washington, DC
#3: Dhaka, Bangladesh
People at each of these posts have expressed interest in Dave rather recently, so he seems to be in the running for all three. Where things will go from here, God only knows. Which is one of the things we like about the lifestyle. We put in all of our hard work to make good things happen, but at some point the only thing we can do is trust that God has a good plan for our lives.
Dave's assignment in Caracas is for two years, so since we arrived in December 2012 we are supposed to leave in December 2014. But what we learned in January and February this year was that mid-year moves are really hard on the school-aged kids. Because of the particular job Dave is in right now, and because he works for an amazingly bureaucratic machine, we are not allowed to extend our time here to the next summer. That being the case, we are trying to curtail the position and to move this coming summer.
We first saw the bid list for the summer cycle back in April and we've been playing with it ever since. Dave's made a number of emails and phone interviews. And I'll be honest, the whole process has been rather exciting so far. We are excited to live in loads of the cities listed, and every time Dave finishes an interview he emails me how excited he is about the job. We feel like we have nothing but positive options available.
But then Jeannine went and made us nervous. Chatting with her last week, she said, So, now that its the middle of September, you must have a pretty good idea where you're going, right? Is Dave anyone's number one choice?
Um, as far as we know, he is not anyone's number one choice. So, now we're both a little nervous. Here's how it works. Everyone bidding on next summer's jobs is looking at the same list, and has been looking at the same list since April or so. They've all been calling the folks in positions of power and lobbying for the jobs. Some people cinched their jobs early on, because they knew the right people and had things pre-arranged. Other positions have been moving along a more standard hiring process of multiple interviews and references. But the list remains the same until a day early in November, where each hirer will submit who they are hiring into a computerized system. That's the day you know where you are going. Before that, you only get to learn that you are someone's top choice.
Our top choice was Taiwan, but they weren't interested in Dave. We chatted with Guangzhou for a while, and although Dave is still interested in the job, the family is less interested in the number of moves it takes to get there. And so, at this point in time, our list is:
#1: Beijing, China
#2: The Operations Center, Washington, DC
#3: Dhaka, Bangladesh
People at each of these posts have expressed interest in Dave rather recently, so he seems to be in the running for all three. Where things will go from here, God only knows. Which is one of the things we like about the lifestyle. We put in all of our hard work to make good things happen, but at some point the only thing we can do is trust that God has a good plan for our lives.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Counting My Blessings
Headline this morning:
Explosions, gunfire at Kenyan mall as armed attack enters 3rd day
When we were bidding on our current post, we listed Nairobi as our number one choice. We were disappointed when another member of his class was assigned there instead, gave him a hard time for his good luck, and began worrying about our safety in Caracas.
Praying for everyone impacted by these acts of terrorism, and feeling too close to this violence.
Explosions, gunfire at Kenyan mall as armed attack enters 3rd day
When we were bidding on our current post, we listed Nairobi as our number one choice. We were disappointed when another member of his class was assigned there instead, gave him a hard time for his good luck, and began worrying about our safety in Caracas.
Praying for everyone impacted by these acts of terrorism, and feeling too close to this violence.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
The Kids, They Are A-Changing
Our oldest child is our most difficult.
This is partly because she has many unique challenges. She has a temper like you would not believe. She hates sleeping in, and so can not catch up on her sleep when she stays up late. She is a perfectionist, panicking when the world is not black or white. She can be a bully.
And she hates moving.
The move here was her most difficult, by far. The previous move had been in the middle of kindergarten. Kindergarteners are so friendly, and she is such a good reader than she fit in academically without a problem. At that age, kids are simply an extension of their family.. and so if the family moves with them, a move is not so hard.
But the move here was in the middle of 2nd grade. She had a best friend in Virginia, and that best friend lived only two doors down. They could play outside after school. They could hide in the neighbors' backyard, or climb the magnolia tree and disappear together.
When we moved in the middle of 2nd grade, she had no best friend just down the hall. Now we livedin a high-rise, and we have no other kids in the building. She struggled. Moving in the middle of the year is hard, and she struggled to fit in. But her teacher saw a good fit, and matched her up with Marcella.
Marcella was a good friend for our daughter. They were both smart kids, good at school and loved to read. They were sweet kids who cared about each other and could play with anyone. Being with Marcella made her feel at home.
And then Marcella moved.
And now third grade has begun, and we are more than 6 weeks into the school year. The teacher is good. The other girls in the class are good. The work is good. The after-school programs are good. And still, she tells us that he doesn't want to go to school. She throws temper tantrums. And she misses America.
And the other reason she is our most challenging daughter is that she is our oldest. When our youngest does something out of line, we simply smile and give her the appropriate consequences. Ah, three year olds. But when our oldest child begins to act out of line, we just look at each other with confusion. What is typical of 8 year olds? Are they gaining independence? Is it harder to make friends? Is school becoming more challenging? Have the boys grown cooties? I suspect that the answer to each of these questions is yes, but I'm not entirely sure.
And the floundering is enhanced by the recent move. She was happy in 1st grade, when everyone liked her. She struggled in 2nd grade, when we moved. And she struggles again in 3rd grade. Is this because of the move, as she believes? I have a hunch that 3rd grade is harder in every sense - the schoolwork becomes more challenging, the homework calls for more responsibility, and the social life is no longer simple.
Ah, for a handbook on my child.
This is partly because she has many unique challenges. She has a temper like you would not believe. She hates sleeping in, and so can not catch up on her sleep when she stays up late. She is a perfectionist, panicking when the world is not black or white. She can be a bully.
And she hates moving.
The move here was her most difficult, by far. The previous move had been in the middle of kindergarten. Kindergarteners are so friendly, and she is such a good reader than she fit in academically without a problem. At that age, kids are simply an extension of their family.. and so if the family moves with them, a move is not so hard.
But the move here was in the middle of 2nd grade. She had a best friend in Virginia, and that best friend lived only two doors down. They could play outside after school. They could hide in the neighbors' backyard, or climb the magnolia tree and disappear together.
When we moved in the middle of 2nd grade, she had no best friend just down the hall. Now we livedin a high-rise, and we have no other kids in the building. She struggled. Moving in the middle of the year is hard, and she struggled to fit in. But her teacher saw a good fit, and matched her up with Marcella.
Marcella was a good friend for our daughter. They were both smart kids, good at school and loved to read. They were sweet kids who cared about each other and could play with anyone. Being with Marcella made her feel at home.
And then Marcella moved.
And now third grade has begun, and we are more than 6 weeks into the school year. The teacher is good. The other girls in the class are good. The work is good. The after-school programs are good. And still, she tells us that he doesn't want to go to school. She throws temper tantrums. And she misses America.
And the other reason she is our most challenging daughter is that she is our oldest. When our youngest does something out of line, we simply smile and give her the appropriate consequences. Ah, three year olds. But when our oldest child begins to act out of line, we just look at each other with confusion. What is typical of 8 year olds? Are they gaining independence? Is it harder to make friends? Is school becoming more challenging? Have the boys grown cooties? I suspect that the answer to each of these questions is yes, but I'm not entirely sure.
And the floundering is enhanced by the recent move. She was happy in 1st grade, when everyone liked her. She struggled in 2nd grade, when we moved. And she struggles again in 3rd grade. Is this because of the move, as she believes? I have a hunch that 3rd grade is harder in every sense - the schoolwork becomes more challenging, the homework calls for more responsibility, and the social life is no longer simple.
Ah, for a handbook on my child.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Disappearing Children
A few nights ago, our housekeeper babysat while Dave and I had a date. It was a sorry excuse for a date, because it was actually Back to School Night at the girls' school. But we went out to dinner afterwards, and we didn't put our kids to bed so it felt like a date.
We got home at 11:00pm. Little Annika was still awake, but the other two had eventually gone to sleep. This did not bode well for the nannying expertise of our housekeeper, but at least all of the girls were safe. We put Annika to sleep and the housekeeper went to bed in our guest room. Caracas is a dangerous enough city that babysitters generally spend the night rather than going home late.
We finally got little Annika down, and then went into the big girls' room to tuck in the sleeping children. Lilly was in her bed and got a kiss, but Sophia's bed was empty.
Dave and I searched the entire house. We looked under tables and inside forts. We looked in closets and bathtubs. The child was not anywhere. We began to panic. How could a 6 year old with a babysitter simply disappear?
Finally, we knocked on the guest room door. Maxima? Lo siento, Maxima. Dónde está Sophia? Where is Sophia?
Está aqui. She is here.
Apparently she had gotten angry at Lilly while she was in bed, and stormed out of the room. She decided to sleep in the guest room, having no idea that Maxima would join her there later. Poor Maxima just assumed she would have to share a bed with a 6 year old all night, and gave no complaints!
So, the once disappearing girl was crazy enough. But tonight we put Annika to bed without her lovey. It seems to have been left in the garden, and we will surely find it in the morning. But tonight, she has no binket, which made her feel very lonely. The sweet girl cried a little, and then - ever resilient - she talked about how Jesus would keep her company and keep her safe. Such a good girl! We kissed her and left the room.
Two hours later, Dave and I came upstairs to go to bed. Again, we went to tuck in the sleeping little girls. But in Annika's room, we found no sleeping little girl. I checked the stuffed animal box - no girl. I checked the closet and under the bed - no girl. We looked in the chair and the hidden corners of her sisters' room - no girls. We checked behind and underneath the bean bag pillows in the den - no girl. We began to panic. How could a 3 year old with her parents in the house simply disappear?
I peeked up at Lilly once more. She sleeps on the top bunk, spread out amongst piles of books and animals, with the covers always bunched up to the side. And there, amongst the covers, smooshed against the wall, slept her little sister. It seems that Annika remained scared and went into her sisters' room to seek solace. Sophia was already asleep, but Lilly must have been awake and invited her up the ladder.
So sweet to have sisters willing to share their bed.
And here's to hoping that Annika kicks all night long, forcing Lilly to move into our bed in the night, allowing little Annika to sleep a little bit longer in the morning.
We got home at 11:00pm. Little Annika was still awake, but the other two had eventually gone to sleep. This did not bode well for the nannying expertise of our housekeeper, but at least all of the girls were safe. We put Annika to sleep and the housekeeper went to bed in our guest room. Caracas is a dangerous enough city that babysitters generally spend the night rather than going home late.
We finally got little Annika down, and then went into the big girls' room to tuck in the sleeping children. Lilly was in her bed and got a kiss, but Sophia's bed was empty.
Dave and I searched the entire house. We looked under tables and inside forts. We looked in closets and bathtubs. The child was not anywhere. We began to panic. How could a 6 year old with a babysitter simply disappear?
Finally, we knocked on the guest room door. Maxima? Lo siento, Maxima. Dónde está Sophia? Where is Sophia?
Está aqui. She is here.
Apparently she had gotten angry at Lilly while she was in bed, and stormed out of the room. She decided to sleep in the guest room, having no idea that Maxima would join her there later. Poor Maxima just assumed she would have to share a bed with a 6 year old all night, and gave no complaints!
So, the once disappearing girl was crazy enough. But tonight we put Annika to bed without her lovey. It seems to have been left in the garden, and we will surely find it in the morning. But tonight, she has no binket, which made her feel very lonely. The sweet girl cried a little, and then - ever resilient - she talked about how Jesus would keep her company and keep her safe. Such a good girl! We kissed her and left the room.
Two hours later, Dave and I came upstairs to go to bed. Again, we went to tuck in the sleeping little girls. But in Annika's room, we found no sleeping little girl. I checked the stuffed animal box - no girl. I checked the closet and under the bed - no girl. We looked in the chair and the hidden corners of her sisters' room - no girls. We checked behind and underneath the bean bag pillows in the den - no girl. We began to panic. How could a 3 year old with her parents in the house simply disappear?
I peeked up at Lilly once more. She sleeps on the top bunk, spread out amongst piles of books and animals, with the covers always bunched up to the side. And there, amongst the covers, smooshed against the wall, slept her little sister. It seems that Annika remained scared and went into her sisters' room to seek solace. Sophia was already asleep, but Lilly must have been awake and invited her up the ladder.
So sweet to have sisters willing to share their bed.
And here's to hoping that Annika kicks all night long, forcing Lilly to move into our bed in the night, allowing little Annika to sleep a little bit longer in the morning.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
American Independence
I've heard it said that the defining characteristic of Americans is our friendliness. Especially within the United States, people will discuss how Americans are immediately welcoming, although generally only superficially. I've heard it described as a low fence with a high wall - we'll let you right into the front garden, but its hard to be welcomed into the house. Many other countries have a high garden wall, but once you're into the garden you're also welcome in the house.
This is true, but I think its not the most significant difference. After all, many cultures are friendly. And friendliness differs drastically by cultures within American. No, I see independence as the defining characteristic of an American.
I've been thinking about this as I watch our housekeeper care for Annika, and as I watch nannies bring young children to music class. It annoyed me to watch nannies follow children around the classroom with a water bottle pointed toward their face - can't that child manage her own drink of water? It made me crazy that our housekeeper doles out cookies instead of fruit when I'm not here - Annika needs to understand the difference between healthy and unhealthy food.
We saw these same patterns while we lived in China, where they also made me crazy. Children on the playplace at McDonalds would have parents following them around with a chicken nugget in their hand. When sufficiently prodded, the child would turn to take a bite and then continue playing. If they choose to play instead of eat, thats their own problem!, I would think. Our Chinese housekeeper Wendy and I would discuss this frequently, because her own daughter was near Sophia's age. As a 1- and then 2-year-old, I rarely fed Sophia. She could eat with her hands, and eventually she figured out how to eat with a spoon. Wendy thought this very impressive. She reported back to her family that my children never needed help getting their food to their face. They answered back, and these children make no mess? To which Wendy had to reply, No, they make a horrible mess. There is rice all over the floor when they finish. She and her family decided it is much simpler just to feed the kids themselves. And to that end, she was still feeding her 5-year-old niece.
This seemed insane to me. How can these children learn to be fully functioning adults? And yet somehow they do, because both China and Venezuela have their fair share of fully functioning grown-ups.
It occurrs to me that as a culture, Americans teach our children independence immediately. We are much more prone to You can do it! than to Here, let me get that for you. And this must be directly related to the way we treat our elderly. Other cultures would not consider a retirement home as a viable option for their grandparents, but we tend to assume that our grandparents would not want us waiting on them. When we spend so much time teaching our children to care for themselves, I wonder if we make it less obvious how selfless a job parenting is? Possibly caring for a child's every need makes dependence upon your family so much more familiar, and creates the assumption that of course you will eventually care for your parents as well.
This is true, but I think its not the most significant difference. After all, many cultures are friendly. And friendliness differs drastically by cultures within American. No, I see independence as the defining characteristic of an American.
I've been thinking about this as I watch our housekeeper care for Annika, and as I watch nannies bring young children to music class. It annoyed me to watch nannies follow children around the classroom with a water bottle pointed toward their face - can't that child manage her own drink of water? It made me crazy that our housekeeper doles out cookies instead of fruit when I'm not here - Annika needs to understand the difference between healthy and unhealthy food.
We saw these same patterns while we lived in China, where they also made me crazy. Children on the playplace at McDonalds would have parents following them around with a chicken nugget in their hand. When sufficiently prodded, the child would turn to take a bite and then continue playing. If they choose to play instead of eat, thats their own problem!, I would think. Our Chinese housekeeper Wendy and I would discuss this frequently, because her own daughter was near Sophia's age. As a 1- and then 2-year-old, I rarely fed Sophia. She could eat with her hands, and eventually she figured out how to eat with a spoon. Wendy thought this very impressive. She reported back to her family that my children never needed help getting their food to their face. They answered back, and these children make no mess? To which Wendy had to reply, No, they make a horrible mess. There is rice all over the floor when they finish. She and her family decided it is much simpler just to feed the kids themselves. And to that end, she was still feeding her 5-year-old niece.
This seemed insane to me. How can these children learn to be fully functioning adults? And yet somehow they do, because both China and Venezuela have their fair share of fully functioning grown-ups.
It occurrs to me that as a culture, Americans teach our children independence immediately. We are much more prone to You can do it! than to Here, let me get that for you. And this must be directly related to the way we treat our elderly. Other cultures would not consider a retirement home as a viable option for their grandparents, but we tend to assume that our grandparents would not want us waiting on them. When we spend so much time teaching our children to care for themselves, I wonder if we make it less obvious how selfless a job parenting is? Possibly caring for a child's every need makes dependence upon your family so much more familiar, and creates the assumption that of course you will eventually care for your parents as well.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
The Small Church Challenge
Dave and I were members of a small church back in St. Louis, many years ago. I was a social work student, we were committed to living in the city and we were excited to attend an urban church. The face of most urban churches in St. Louis 15 years ago was the same - a small group of primarily older couples who have held membership in the church since its heyday. The churches are beautiful old buildings, now crumbling alongside their membership. And the members are beautifully dedicated to their church and their city, but also to the way they have worshiped for the past 50 years.
So, when we joined the church we were young and energetic and immediately asked to be integrally involved. We each had our own keys to the building and were responsible for our own committees. And by the time we left that church, we were both exhausted. For a small church to run any programs, everyone needs to be integrally involved.
When we arrived in Caracas, we joined the United Christian Church. And we were both struck by how much it reminded us of that little urban church in St. Louis. The church building itself is beautiful, with a pitched roof and dark wood pews and colorful stained glass windows. It is an old building, and the non-transient members are old as well. Much the same as in St. Louis, things change slowly and everyone is needed for any programs to run.
Dave and I held back when we arrived last year. We don't feel called into any of the volunteer opportunities available, and still felt the burn from having exhausted ourselves at our last small church. We went home for the summer, and we attended our home church in St. Louis a few times. This church is large and growing and excitingly active and beautifully organized. My kids loved going to Sunday School and Dave and I loved the worship and the preaching. We can back to Caracas intent on helping our current church home to draw a little closer to our old church home.
I admit - my vision was tall. Our church currently sees maybe 50 people in the pews on Sunday morning, but frequently teaches 15-20 kids in the Sunday School program. Sunday School excited my kids in St. Louis and so I set it as a goal to see Sunday School excite my kids here in Caracas.
I volunteered to organize Sunday School for the year and to run worship for the kids. I uber-organized our volunteers into a system of teams with two different classes and one break-out session each week. I dialogued with my stakeholders and felt very positive about implementing this fabulous new plan. Except, I forgot to talk to one of my stakeholders - one who represents two of the 6 volunteers and 5 of the 15 children. And as it turned out, she was not on board with most of my suggestions. And as it turned out, maybe no one else really felt the need for change either.
And now I'm feeling kinda funny. On one hand, I feel a bit silly for over-enthusiastically trying to make-over our Sunday School program single-handedly. On the other hand, I feel relieved not to have much work left to do anymore.
I am still running worship, which has me pretty excited. I'm looking forward to getting to know the other kids, and to seeing each of the kids begin to learn some worship songs to carry in their hearts. That should be enough church service for this year.
So, when we joined the church we were young and energetic and immediately asked to be integrally involved. We each had our own keys to the building and were responsible for our own committees. And by the time we left that church, we were both exhausted. For a small church to run any programs, everyone needs to be integrally involved.
When we arrived in Caracas, we joined the United Christian Church. And we were both struck by how much it reminded us of that little urban church in St. Louis. The church building itself is beautiful, with a pitched roof and dark wood pews and colorful stained glass windows. It is an old building, and the non-transient members are old as well. Much the same as in St. Louis, things change slowly and everyone is needed for any programs to run.
Dave and I held back when we arrived last year. We don't feel called into any of the volunteer opportunities available, and still felt the burn from having exhausted ourselves at our last small church. We went home for the summer, and we attended our home church in St. Louis a few times. This church is large and growing and excitingly active and beautifully organized. My kids loved going to Sunday School and Dave and I loved the worship and the preaching. We can back to Caracas intent on helping our current church home to draw a little closer to our old church home.
I admit - my vision was tall. Our church currently sees maybe 50 people in the pews on Sunday morning, but frequently teaches 15-20 kids in the Sunday School program. Sunday School excited my kids in St. Louis and so I set it as a goal to see Sunday School excite my kids here in Caracas.
I volunteered to organize Sunday School for the year and to run worship for the kids. I uber-organized our volunteers into a system of teams with two different classes and one break-out session each week. I dialogued with my stakeholders and felt very positive about implementing this fabulous new plan. Except, I forgot to talk to one of my stakeholders - one who represents two of the 6 volunteers and 5 of the 15 children. And as it turned out, she was not on board with most of my suggestions. And as it turned out, maybe no one else really felt the need for change either.
And now I'm feeling kinda funny. On one hand, I feel a bit silly for over-enthusiastically trying to make-over our Sunday School program single-handedly. On the other hand, I feel relieved not to have much work left to do anymore.
I am still running worship, which has me pretty excited. I'm looking forward to getting to know the other kids, and to seeing each of the kids begin to learn some worship songs to carry in their hearts. That should be enough church service for this year.
Sunday, September 08, 2013
Ranchitos
Life has been very busy lately. Lilly celebrated her 8th birthday this week. My music classes began this morning. I've volunteered to organize Sunday School at the church. And then there are the power outages and the groceries missing from the stores and the extra work load Dave took on this month. Life is busy in our house!
When life is busy, I compose posts and then lose them to the other things going on around me. So here, rather than another rambling post doing nothing more than journaling my day, here are some photos I took on the way to the beach last weekend.
The poor in Caracas live in ranchitos. We are absolutely not allowed in this neighborhood, by a rather nanny-ish decree of the US government. You see, the security forces within the U.S. Embassy have mapped out the more and less dangerous parts of this city. They do this in any foreign post - you'll hear about it on the news sometimes in war zones. The green zone is the safe part of the city. Caracas has no green zone. The yellow zone is somewhere one ought to be wary. We live in the yellow zone. It is very small, but does encompass the school and our grocery stores and favorite restaurants. Much like our community, it is like living in a small town. We are supposed to be out of the orange zone by 8:00 at night, after which crime rates jump dramatically. And we are actively encouraged (in fact, I believe we are forbidden) from entering the red zone. At a guess, I'd say that 80% of this city falls in the red zone.
So, back to the ranchitos. Having not explored them myself, I can't give honest details. But they ramble up the hills all around town, looking as if the lower houses may be structurally sound and then people began adding walls and ceiling and light fixtures all the way up the hill in a very ramshackle way. They generally have electricity and running water, all illegally. And it appears that many of them do not face a road, but rather a sidewalk or a set of stairs.
I'm so curious what they look like inside, these ranchitos. And as I'm looking, I realize that although these photos capture the drama of layer upon layer of houses climbing up the hill or over an area, they don't show how precariously some of these houses will perch one upon another. The ranchitos are where what quick destruction this country could see in the face of an earthquake.
When life is busy, I compose posts and then lose them to the other things going on around me. So here, rather than another rambling post doing nothing more than journaling my day, here are some photos I took on the way to the beach last weekend.
The poor in Caracas live in ranchitos. We are absolutely not allowed in this neighborhood, by a rather nanny-ish decree of the US government. You see, the security forces within the U.S. Embassy have mapped out the more and less dangerous parts of this city. They do this in any foreign post - you'll hear about it on the news sometimes in war zones. The green zone is the safe part of the city. Caracas has no green zone. The yellow zone is somewhere one ought to be wary. We live in the yellow zone. It is very small, but does encompass the school and our grocery stores and favorite restaurants. Much like our community, it is like living in a small town. We are supposed to be out of the orange zone by 8:00 at night, after which crime rates jump dramatically. And we are actively encouraged (in fact, I believe we are forbidden) from entering the red zone. At a guess, I'd say that 80% of this city falls in the red zone.
So, back to the ranchitos. Having not explored them myself, I can't give honest details. But they ramble up the hills all around town, looking as if the lower houses may be structurally sound and then people began adding walls and ceiling and light fixtures all the way up the hill in a very ramshackle way. They generally have electricity and running water, all illegally. And it appears that many of them do not face a road, but rather a sidewalk or a set of stairs.
I'm so curious what they look like inside, these ranchitos. And as I'm looking, I realize that although these photos capture the drama of layer upon layer of houses climbing up the hill or over an area, they don't show how precariously some of these houses will perch one upon another. The ranchitos are where what quick destruction this country could see in the face of an earthquake.
Tuesday, September 03, 2013
Nationwide Blackout
Today was one of those days I had scheduled down to the minute. Quick stop at the gym on the way to Spanish class. Then head straight home to begin the process of baking bread. Grab a quick lunch with Annika, put her down for an early nap and then get to work on planning out the session's music classes. Grab a strong coffee to fuel some hard work, so that I can finish it in time to wake Annika early from her nap and head over to the school. Get there in time to pay for Sophia's swim lessons, put on her sunblock and then watch her swim for an hour before the standard after-school evening rush begins - snack, homework, dinner, showers, stories, lights out promptly at 8pm.
All went well until lunchtime. The bread sat rising in its bowl and Annika and I hopped in the car to go out and grab something quick and tasty. We arrived at the mall down the hill from us and entered the drive-thru (I'll admit - we were craving McDonalds). No one answered at the drive-thru. This seemed a little strange, but strange things happen in Venezuela so we parked in the lot and went inside.
Nothing looked right. Shops were dark and police were wandering. People sat at tables looking lost. We walked to McDonalds and tried the door. It was locked, although people sat eating inside.
It seems that the power had gone out only a few minutes before we arrived. Folks who had already paid were eating their food, but anyone else would not be served. Some stores had quickly locked their doors and the mall had drawn down the gates to some sections. The grocery store seemed to run on a generator. The mall is open to the air in many places, and with the grocery store humming it was difficult to discern the problem for certain. However, the line to pay for parking grew by the minute and McDonalds clearly wasn't serving so we paid and left.
Another McDonalds is within driving distance, down in Las Mercedes. We headed in that direction, passing only two stoplights on the way. Neither functioned, but neither carried much traffic either. The drive was quick and easy, until we faced Las Mercedes.
We live up on a hill, a rather suburban little hill. Its covered with high rise condominiums but it is primarily residential and doesn't carry much traffic. But at the bottom of the hill is Las Mercedes, a neighborhood of shops and restaurants which carries too much traffic fairly often. Althouh the area is small, it has taken over 30 minutes to cross on a regular day. We approached the area and faced gridlock. Of the four streets in the intersection we faced, we could only drive into one and it was not moving. No traffic lights created a mess, and the mall in the center had people streaming out. We made a quick U-turn and headed back home.
We enter our gate with a remote control, but today our vigilante stood guard and opened the garage gate for us. We walked up five flights of steps to reach our apartment and scrounged for food. We split three hard-boiled eggs and 2 granola bars for lunch. The bread had raised nicely, but we had no oven to bake it in. And after a weekend at the beach, our kitchen had no leftovers to nibble off of.
Annika went down for her nap, and I grabbed a very quick shower (remember, stop #1 was the gym). Quick partly because the hot water is powered by electricity. Also quick partly because the water pressure is powered by electricity. But quick mostly because the condominium stores water in the basement, using a pump system to bring water up to our apartment. An electrical pump system. My fast, weak and cold shower used all of the water in the house.
If you recall, the plans for the afternoon involved baking and lesson planning. Baking wasn't going to happen without an electric oven, so I moved the pans quickly into the fridge. Lesson planning couldn't happen today without a DVD player. I could have used the computers, but once I learned that most of the country had lost power I worried that we would be without power for days and left the laptop with its little bit of juice. Its always funny to realize how connected we are to the power grid. That I couldn't cook lunch is no surprise. But I had no contact with the school, either. Our home phone didn't work, and my cell phone had only sporadic service. I was notified in person by another friend (listed as our emergency contact with the school) that busses left early and every child was on them. I had no access to news, making me awfully curious about this country-wide blackout rumor.
So, I took a nap. And I snacked on a chocolate bar dipped in peanut butter. And as I waited for the bus to arrive, the power came back on. The bread was saved and I was still able to spend the evening baking snacks for Lilly's birthday celebration in class tomorrow. Such a disaster we would have faced if that could not have occurred!
All went well until lunchtime. The bread sat rising in its bowl and Annika and I hopped in the car to go out and grab something quick and tasty. We arrived at the mall down the hill from us and entered the drive-thru (I'll admit - we were craving McDonalds). No one answered at the drive-thru. This seemed a little strange, but strange things happen in Venezuela so we parked in the lot and went inside.
Nothing looked right. Shops were dark and police were wandering. People sat at tables looking lost. We walked to McDonalds and tried the door. It was locked, although people sat eating inside.
It seems that the power had gone out only a few minutes before we arrived. Folks who had already paid were eating their food, but anyone else would not be served. Some stores had quickly locked their doors and the mall had drawn down the gates to some sections. The grocery store seemed to run on a generator. The mall is open to the air in many places, and with the grocery store humming it was difficult to discern the problem for certain. However, the line to pay for parking grew by the minute and McDonalds clearly wasn't serving so we paid and left.
Another McDonalds is within driving distance, down in Las Mercedes. We headed in that direction, passing only two stoplights on the way. Neither functioned, but neither carried much traffic either. The drive was quick and easy, until we faced Las Mercedes.
We live up on a hill, a rather suburban little hill. Its covered with high rise condominiums but it is primarily residential and doesn't carry much traffic. But at the bottom of the hill is Las Mercedes, a neighborhood of shops and restaurants which carries too much traffic fairly often. Althouh the area is small, it has taken over 30 minutes to cross on a regular day. We approached the area and faced gridlock. Of the four streets in the intersection we faced, we could only drive into one and it was not moving. No traffic lights created a mess, and the mall in the center had people streaming out. We made a quick U-turn and headed back home.
We enter our gate with a remote control, but today our vigilante stood guard and opened the garage gate for us. We walked up five flights of steps to reach our apartment and scrounged for food. We split three hard-boiled eggs and 2 granola bars for lunch. The bread had raised nicely, but we had no oven to bake it in. And after a weekend at the beach, our kitchen had no leftovers to nibble off of.
Annika went down for her nap, and I grabbed a very quick shower (remember, stop #1 was the gym). Quick partly because the hot water is powered by electricity. Also quick partly because the water pressure is powered by electricity. But quick mostly because the condominium stores water in the basement, using a pump system to bring water up to our apartment. An electrical pump system. My fast, weak and cold shower used all of the water in the house.
If you recall, the plans for the afternoon involved baking and lesson planning. Baking wasn't going to happen without an electric oven, so I moved the pans quickly into the fridge. Lesson planning couldn't happen today without a DVD player. I could have used the computers, but once I learned that most of the country had lost power I worried that we would be without power for days and left the laptop with its little bit of juice. Its always funny to realize how connected we are to the power grid. That I couldn't cook lunch is no surprise. But I had no contact with the school, either. Our home phone didn't work, and my cell phone had only sporadic service. I was notified in person by another friend (listed as our emergency contact with the school) that busses left early and every child was on them. I had no access to news, making me awfully curious about this country-wide blackout rumor.
So, I took a nap. And I snacked on a chocolate bar dipped in peanut butter. And as I waited for the bus to arrive, the power came back on. The bread was saved and I was still able to spend the evening baking snacks for Lilly's birthday celebration in class tomorrow. Such a disaster we would have faced if that could not have occurred!
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