Well it started last night, a bit lower-key than I thought. Most matches are being held across the country (yesterday, in 'San Cristobal' and 'Merida' wherever those are) with only the semis and third-place playoffs in Caracas. So excitable Brazilian fans are noticeable by their absence at present.
Venezuela drew 2-2 with Bolivia, much to everyone's frustration, as they were denied a clear penalty at the end. This means Venezuela are still hunting for their first win in the tournament since 1967. This is a record that would embarrass even Scotland.
I watched the game live on a big screen in Plaza Chacaito. Excitable crowd, very excitable Latin commentator, but a bit sparse considering this is the host nation. I guess it's still a baseball country.
Some nice shots of Chavez kicking a ball around with Maradona (no, really) at the opening ceremony.
Mittwoch, 27. Juni 2007
I Still read BBC Online
This isn't really meant to be a political blog but...
Blair is gone. Niall is happy. Rejoice.
Blair is gone. Niall is happy. Rejoice.
Donnerstag, 21. Juni 2007
Things Students Say.
Sometimes the strangest things come out in class. One of the things we do with a new group of students is get them to fill out a questionnaire in English which asks such penetrating questions as ´What is your favourite ´pig-out´food ´and ´What kind of animal would you like to be if you could?´. Judging by some of the answers, some of the students are stuck in a dark and frightening place.
Anyway, one of the less screwy questions is ´What is your favourite childhood memory? I was interviewing a senior researcher for P and G who develops soap to be marketed all over the continent. He told me his favourite memory was swimming in the Apura river (near the Colombian border) with his brothers. Apparently their parents banned them from swimming in the river but they used to sneak out and do it anyway.
The river was considered dangerous because it was infested with piranhas. Undeterred, my brave student, in his 10 year old incarnation, got a canoe with some friends and turned it upside down, trapping air inside and getting into the river with it, pretending it was a submarine (I suppose this might just work if you actually tried it). After messing about in the water for a bit, they get out and right the canoe, only to find piranhas flopping about inside. They never went back, particularly when the clothes of another missing child were discovered abandoned on the riverbank some time later.
Apparently piranhas can reduce a cow to bones in about fifteen minutes. Nasty.
Anyway, one of the less screwy questions is ´What is your favourite childhood memory? I was interviewing a senior researcher for P and G who develops soap to be marketed all over the continent. He told me his favourite memory was swimming in the Apura river (near the Colombian border) with his brothers. Apparently their parents banned them from swimming in the river but they used to sneak out and do it anyway.
The river was considered dangerous because it was infested with piranhas. Undeterred, my brave student, in his 10 year old incarnation, got a canoe with some friends and turned it upside down, trapping air inside and getting into the river with it, pretending it was a submarine (I suppose this might just work if you actually tried it). After messing about in the water for a bit, they get out and right the canoe, only to find piranhas flopping about inside. They never went back, particularly when the clothes of another missing child were discovered abandoned on the riverbank some time later.
Apparently piranhas can reduce a cow to bones in about fifteen minutes. Nasty.
Dienstag, 19. Juni 2007
Everybody hates Chavez
Well, I do feel that I have been wasting your time somewhat, dear readers, inflicting the empty banalities of my daily existence on you when what you probably really want to hear about is the world-historical epoch-making political developments in Chavez' Venezuela, right? right? Or maybe not.
Well to start off with, my field of reference right now is unfortunately narrowed by the aforementioned problems of not speaking Spanish and only working with clients and fellow teachers drawn from the professional upper middle classes. Perhaps unsurprisingly, given the class divisions in Venezuelan society, these people hate Chavez with a passion.
I've never been to Cuba, but according news recent BBC reports dissent there is discouraged and very hard to find - people need to be pressed to venture any criticism of the government. Well, such is not the case here - quite the opposite in fact. In my short teaching career, I{ve heard Chavez referred to as 'that crazy man' and blamed for the state of the roads, for 'manhandling the queen of england' (I missed that one) and for the country's slow decline into social collapse (alleged). One student asserted that life expectancy had steadily declined every year since Chavez came to power. Another claimed that although she agreed with some of the social programmes, and that Hugo 'may be the man of the future', she didn't agree with his policy of abolishing private property and moving strangers into her flat. Apparently this was 'announced last week'.
Far from people self-censoring for fear of retribution, dissent seems alive and well - except that it takes a form which appears to me to be exaggerated out of all proportion to what is really going on. It's almost as if a kind of hysteria has broken out about the state of the nation. It makes you wonder about the kind of sensationalist material that recently-deceased RCTV was putting out there. In fact, there{s a kind of subtle social pressure in professional circles to be anti government, I think. I{ve certainly experienced the dubious benefit of coworker after coworker marching up to me and giving me their political opinions, unsolicited, and expressing confusion and horror if i even question a statement, let alone disagree.
Anyway, I'd write more but internet cafe time has run out on me. I may try and chat a bit more about the 'misiones' next time.
Take care y'all.
Well to start off with, my field of reference right now is unfortunately narrowed by the aforementioned problems of not speaking Spanish and only working with clients and fellow teachers drawn from the professional upper middle classes. Perhaps unsurprisingly, given the class divisions in Venezuelan society, these people hate Chavez with a passion.
I've never been to Cuba, but according news recent BBC reports dissent there is discouraged and very hard to find - people need to be pressed to venture any criticism of the government. Well, such is not the case here - quite the opposite in fact. In my short teaching career, I{ve heard Chavez referred to as 'that crazy man' and blamed for the state of the roads, for 'manhandling the queen of england' (I missed that one) and for the country's slow decline into social collapse (alleged). One student asserted that life expectancy had steadily declined every year since Chavez came to power. Another claimed that although she agreed with some of the social programmes, and that Hugo 'may be the man of the future', she didn't agree with his policy of abolishing private property and moving strangers into her flat. Apparently this was 'announced last week'.
Far from people self-censoring for fear of retribution, dissent seems alive and well - except that it takes a form which appears to me to be exaggerated out of all proportion to what is really going on. It's almost as if a kind of hysteria has broken out about the state of the nation. It makes you wonder about the kind of sensationalist material that recently-deceased RCTV was putting out there. In fact, there{s a kind of subtle social pressure in professional circles to be anti government, I think. I{ve certainly experienced the dubious benefit of coworker after coworker marching up to me and giving me their political opinions, unsolicited, and expressing confusion and horror if i even question a statement, let alone disagree.
Anyway, I'd write more but internet cafe time has run out on me. I may try and chat a bit more about the 'misiones' next time.
Take care y'all.
Samstag, 16. Juni 2007
The Wonderful World of P&G
So, back to Procter and Gamble for some more teaching adventures next week. The company is sited in La Trinidad, about half an hours drive from Caracas, which means that I have to add on an extra hour to a three hour class in order to use the free company transport, which leaves early to get there.
P&G is meant to be a powerful multinational, adept at exploiting economies of scale and willing to gut national markets and siphon the profits off with ruthless efficiency. Such entrepreneurial spirit is not often on show in their Venezuelan HQ. It is common practice to book three academic hours (in other words, 2 hours and fifteen minutes) of lessons, and not to turn up for the first hour. If the company would just get its employees to show up when they are supposed to, they could probably save about a third on their english language budget. However, ´meetings´and the like keep getting in the way.
Since I am paid a flat fee, it shouldn´t matter to me, as I can earn money sitting in a big chair at reception, but there´s something infuriating about having to break your neck to get out of bed at 530AM or thereabouts to race across town and be in time for a class, only for the student to take their own sweet time to show up.
However, we grin and bear it.
One plus side is driving back from La Trinidad in the twilight, the sunset over the hills as you approach Caracas is really quite special. At those times this really feels like Latin America.
P&G is meant to be a powerful multinational, adept at exploiting economies of scale and willing to gut national markets and siphon the profits off with ruthless efficiency. Such entrepreneurial spirit is not often on show in their Venezuelan HQ. It is common practice to book three academic hours (in other words, 2 hours and fifteen minutes) of lessons, and not to turn up for the first hour. If the company would just get its employees to show up when they are supposed to, they could probably save about a third on their english language budget. However, ´meetings´and the like keep getting in the way.
Since I am paid a flat fee, it shouldn´t matter to me, as I can earn money sitting in a big chair at reception, but there´s something infuriating about having to break your neck to get out of bed at 530AM or thereabouts to race across town and be in time for a class, only for the student to take their own sweet time to show up.
However, we grin and bear it.
One plus side is driving back from La Trinidad in the twilight, the sunset over the hills as you approach Caracas is really quite special. At those times this really feels like Latin America.
More life in Caracas
Well, I went out to explore the Caracas nightlife last night. It was pretty impressive - most places stay open to 5AM and Caraqueños are famed for knowing how to have a good time. The one thing I really miss from home is the smoking ban. Most venues here resemble large, windowless sheds with security guards controlling entrance and exit, and, of course, stepping outside to have a fag is unheard of.
I really think you build up a tolerance to passive smoking. I don´t remember being too annoyed by it before it was banned in Scotland. Now, it gets in my eyes and everywhere, and I find myself really resenting the rest of the room for inflicting it on me. Plus, the inevitable ashtray smell of your clothes next morning...
Ah well. Music over here is a compendium of western dance classics and ´Latin Pop´. No Ricky Martin as of yet. Beer is a little weak but does the job nonetheless.
I really think you build up a tolerance to passive smoking. I don´t remember being too annoyed by it before it was banned in Scotland. Now, it gets in my eyes and everywhere, and I find myself really resenting the rest of the room for inflicting it on me. Plus, the inevitable ashtray smell of your clothes next morning...
Ah well. Music over here is a compendium of western dance classics and ´Latin Pop´. No Ricky Martin as of yet. Beer is a little weak but does the job nonetheless.
Donnerstag, 14. Juni 2007
How to torture small animals.
I might have mentioned the two little dogs I live with. They are approximately the same size and shape as the two china dogs that used to sit on Granny´s mantlepiece. I´d quite like to see these two stuffed and mounted on a mantlepiece, personally. They are the bane of my life at present. Very spoiled, their owner treats him like his children, and they never get outside (because we live in a gated community, of course) so they are bored as well all day. They own the house, and bark savagely at me whenever I come in, whenever I leave my room, whenever I try and sit down on the sofa (which is their territory). PLus, and this is one of those ´cultural differences´ that I can´t manage to leap over, the owner is apparently happy to allow them to shit on the balcony. At least it´s on newspaper, but the newspaper doesnt seem to get changed for weeks, and so I don´t feel able to go out on the balcony without shoes. (apologies for mentioning this, gentle readers)
Unfortunately, however, as they never go outside and as the balcony has a kind of fence thing enclosing it, chances of them meeting a nasty accident are minimal. So, in order to strike back, I had to be more subtle. Remembering how highly developed a dog´s sense of smell is, I decided to cook a delicious piece of steak and slowly savour eating it at the big table, just out of their reach. Oh, they liked me then, of course. Instead of barking,they developed the ingratiating little whine all dogs have, and tried to put their forepaws up on my knee. They looked as endearing as they could, which isn´t very endearing. Beef is very nice here (the government has an oil-for-cows deal with Argentina) and I don´t think they get very much, since their diet from what I can see in their bowl consists mainly of dry crackers.
Nothing doing however. I finished it, slowly, and went back to my room. Depending on
how they behave this afternoon, I might do it again tonight.
We do have some nice animals in the complex though. There´s a big multicoloured parrot in a cage just outside my door, though he doesn´t talk or move much... and a colony of tortoises that live on the wall next to the little garden. Reminds me of our college tortoise in Oxford. Ah, memories.
Unfortunately, however, as they never go outside and as the balcony has a kind of fence thing enclosing it, chances of them meeting a nasty accident are minimal. So, in order to strike back, I had to be more subtle. Remembering how highly developed a dog´s sense of smell is, I decided to cook a delicious piece of steak and slowly savour eating it at the big table, just out of their reach. Oh, they liked me then, of course. Instead of barking,they developed the ingratiating little whine all dogs have, and tried to put their forepaws up on my knee. They looked as endearing as they could, which isn´t very endearing. Beef is very nice here (the government has an oil-for-cows deal with Argentina) and I don´t think they get very much, since their diet from what I can see in their bowl consists mainly of dry crackers.
Nothing doing however. I finished it, slowly, and went back to my room. Depending on
how they behave this afternoon, I might do it again tonight.
We do have some nice animals in the complex though. There´s a big multicoloured parrot in a cage just outside my door, though he doesn´t talk or move much... and a colony of tortoises that live on the wall next to the little garden. Reminds me of our college tortoise in Oxford. Ah, memories.
Mittwoch, 13. Juni 2007
Teaching. A vocation?
Well, at least one person has emailed asking me how the teaching is going (hello, Maire), so I thought an update was in order.
It´s not too bad all in all. In some ways, quite easy a lot of the time, occasionally boring, rarely stressful, often quite enjoyable. It´s not necessarily what I expected. When I did that CELTA course in Edinburgh, the focus was on gradually encouraging us to prepare our own lesson plans, choose suitable material, structure classes ourselves and be creative in how we get the point across.
Inlingua, however, is a Swiss company that demands strict conformity to the rigidity of its method and lesson plans. It´s all very very clinically efficient - each course has 15 units, each unit has 3 key points, each teacher must progress methodically through the grammar and target language for each key point with the student before leaving a note for the next teacher to indicate where to continue. As we are rotated around different students each week (theoretically, to expose students to different accents from different teachers, but in practise, probably to keep down the hours of those teachers not on a flat fee) this requires a good deal of co-ordination and form filling (hence those office rhesus monkeys I was telling you about).
Now, this does cut down on my work, since every lesson is planned out for me, and ´free conversation´ (deviation from the lesson plan) is discouraged. Targets have to be met, and suchlike (feels a little like a Blairite education reform. I used to mock the people who complained about that). It is really depressing though, when you get a really interesting student who is keen to chat about where you are from, his dreams of travelling in Europe, recent events in Venezuela etc, and you have to break into this to bring him back to the mind-crushingly dull unit topic (which, since its business english, can be really, really bad. In the example I´m thinking of, I had to talk to the student about building materials and how reinforced concrete differs from ordinary concrete). I have been attempting to race through the key points, skipping random bits in order to facilitate more chat about the interesting stuff. Happily, since the students get a different teacher each week, accountability is minimal.
I probably would prefer more flexibility to design my own lessons, but since I have no professional self-respect, it doesn´t bother me that much. And some of the students, particularly the ones doing General as opposed to business english, can be really interesting. I´ve been chatting to a grandmother in an advertising company about the sinking of the Titanic, and she´s been showing me pictures of her family in Miami. I did five minutes on the Loch Ness Monster for a class of five workers from the American embassy (they asked. I didn´t bring it up. I did get to mime monster-hunting on a boat on Loch Ness though) And it´s been good fun.
Sometimes, however, I feel like I am in a conspiracy with my students to defraud their companies. Half the time, students are either late or do not turn up. It´s only Wednesday, but I have only got 3 more teaching hours left to do this week because the others have been cancelled. The Anglo-Saxon work culture really has not settled in particularly well this side of the Atlantic.
More on this another time...
It´s not too bad all in all. In some ways, quite easy a lot of the time, occasionally boring, rarely stressful, often quite enjoyable. It´s not necessarily what I expected. When I did that CELTA course in Edinburgh, the focus was on gradually encouraging us to prepare our own lesson plans, choose suitable material, structure classes ourselves and be creative in how we get the point across.
Inlingua, however, is a Swiss company that demands strict conformity to the rigidity of its method and lesson plans. It´s all very very clinically efficient - each course has 15 units, each unit has 3 key points, each teacher must progress methodically through the grammar and target language for each key point with the student before leaving a note for the next teacher to indicate where to continue. As we are rotated around different students each week (theoretically, to expose students to different accents from different teachers, but in practise, probably to keep down the hours of those teachers not on a flat fee) this requires a good deal of co-ordination and form filling (hence those office rhesus monkeys I was telling you about).
Now, this does cut down on my work, since every lesson is planned out for me, and ´free conversation´ (deviation from the lesson plan) is discouraged. Targets have to be met, and suchlike (feels a little like a Blairite education reform. I used to mock the people who complained about that). It is really depressing though, when you get a really interesting student who is keen to chat about where you are from, his dreams of travelling in Europe, recent events in Venezuela etc, and you have to break into this to bring him back to the mind-crushingly dull unit topic (which, since its business english, can be really, really bad. In the example I´m thinking of, I had to talk to the student about building materials and how reinforced concrete differs from ordinary concrete). I have been attempting to race through the key points, skipping random bits in order to facilitate more chat about the interesting stuff. Happily, since the students get a different teacher each week, accountability is minimal.
I probably would prefer more flexibility to design my own lessons, but since I have no professional self-respect, it doesn´t bother me that much. And some of the students, particularly the ones doing General as opposed to business english, can be really interesting. I´ve been chatting to a grandmother in an advertising company about the sinking of the Titanic, and she´s been showing me pictures of her family in Miami. I did five minutes on the Loch Ness Monster for a class of five workers from the American embassy (they asked. I didn´t bring it up. I did get to mime monster-hunting on a boat on Loch Ness though) And it´s been good fun.
Sometimes, however, I feel like I am in a conspiracy with my students to defraud their companies. Half the time, students are either late or do not turn up. It´s only Wednesday, but I have only got 3 more teaching hours left to do this week because the others have been cancelled. The Anglo-Saxon work culture really has not settled in particularly well this side of the Atlantic.
More on this another time...
Privacy - not a Venezuelan Concept.
So today after much procrastination I went to buy a mobile phone (or cellphone, to use the ugly Americanism popular here). This was an odyssey that lasted approximately one and a half hours. Not for here the simple method of just picking out a phone and buying it, no. Here you have to pick out your phone, hand over a photocopy of your passport to the salesman (this is my equivalent of a Venezuelan ID Card and not something I can afford to lose), go and stand in line for twenty minutes, pay, go back to the first desk, stand in line another twenty minutes, be reuinted with my passport, sign a variety of sheets of paper (one of which is a guarantee), GET FINGERPRINTED (no, really), and finally get my phone and leave. Bear in mind that I´m only buying a handset on a pay-as-you-go plan. I´m not even taking out a rental contract or something they could lose money on. And they want my fingerprints.
I explained how incredulous I was to my Venezuelan colleague who was kindly interpreting for me and he just laughed. Apparently the phone company don´t really do anything with your fingerprints, but that´s not really the issue is it? I only spent the equivalent of 15 pounds. Thank Christ I´m not buying a house here.
I explained how incredulous I was to my Venezuelan colleague who was kindly interpreting for me and he just laughed. Apparently the phone company don´t really do anything with your fingerprints, but that´s not really the issue is it? I only spent the equivalent of 15 pounds. Thank Christ I´m not buying a house here.
Montag, 11. Juni 2007
Copa America
The most prestigious football tournament of the Americas is starting on the 26th of June and, as luck would have it, some of the worlds´ best players will be coming here to Caracas. Excitement has started to build before the event (it was a side plot in the closure of RCTV - with some claims that the tournament could be affected) and the government seems to be trying to use it to build pan-American unity of some kind. In Plaza Chacaito just outside my work, the government has been stoking the excitement with a series of display tents, one for each participating nation, each bearing the slogan ´Ecuador is America´ and so on as appropriate. The USA´s tent has been stuck in at the end and looks a little lonely with few visitors. The TV in that one hasn´t even been unpacked yet.
Each tent is stocked with some bored looking caraqueños - and they don´t seem to contain much other than photo displays of famous national attractions juxtaposed with pictures of each team in action.
Feeling is that Venezuela may not be rolled over this year as easily as in previous years. Unlike the rest of the continent, football isn´t the number one sport here, but I think the tournament will be great anyway, as, hopefully, lots of thrillseeking Brazilians, Argentinians and maybe even an adventurous gringo descend on the capital. Doubt I´ll get tickets to see Brazil, but i´m hoping all students will cancel classes so we can all watch in on TV together.
It´s the first time i have ever been in the same country as a major football tournament - and best of all, it´s one that England have absolutely no chance of winning! Venceremos!
Each tent is stocked with some bored looking caraqueños - and they don´t seem to contain much other than photo displays of famous national attractions juxtaposed with pictures of each team in action.
Feeling is that Venezuela may not be rolled over this year as easily as in previous years. Unlike the rest of the continent, football isn´t the number one sport here, but I think the tournament will be great anyway, as, hopefully, lots of thrillseeking Brazilians, Argentinians and maybe even an adventurous gringo descend on the capital. Doubt I´ll get tickets to see Brazil, but i´m hoping all students will cancel classes so we can all watch in on TV together.
It´s the first time i have ever been in the same country as a major football tournament - and best of all, it´s one that England have absolutely no chance of winning! Venceremos!
Some more chat
Well this blog appears to have become considerably more popular all of a sudden. That´s nice of you all. Thanks for looking in and for the various nice comments about my writing - really I just fling words at the screen more or less in an attempt to finish the post before my internet time runs out. At 2,000 Bolivares an hour, I have to ration myself.
Anyway. I´ve had quite a nice weekend exploring a bit more of the city. Caracas is kind of set in a bowl-shaped valley, with the slum areas (the barrios) stretching up the hillsides on all sides. In a lot of cases, they exist side by side with the richer parts of the city, like Altamira, which explains why we all live in gated communities (hence, the aforementioned annoying yappy little dogs that live in my house sit in the lounge ALL DAY and never get outside to the yard or for a walk, since there is nowhere for them to go)
I had a relaxing Saturday and Sunday mornings watching the womens´ and mens´ French Open Tennis finals over a cup of average coffee at a little cafe/bakery type place right next door. All the staff know me and seem to enjoy shouting their 3 or 4 words of English at me as soon as i come in. Nice to be appreciated.
I´ve been wandering aroud the historic quarter as well. Saw the Cathedral of San Francisco, where Bolivar, the Liberator´s, funeral was held. It was more or less as you´d expect - very Spanish, lots of gold and dark wood and white stone. There seems to be considerable devotion shown to individual saints here, with San Onofre´s statue always having one or two rapt pilgrims in a trance in front of it, for example. As well as that, i stumbled across a ´Plaza O´Leary´ named after one Daniel O´Leary from Cork. Cork people really do seem to get everywhere.
Apart from this, I´ve been enjoying the phenomenon of open-air chess. In Plaza Venezuela just a few blocks from where I live, there are open-air chess boards which you can rent for a few thousand Bs an hour, and a gaggle of old men, alcoholics and students clustering around willing to play (I experienced the same phenomenon in Chicago also. The players there were scarily good). I have been trying my luck in Caracas this weekend. I think I lost about 20 games in a row. I used to be good at chess, but am now very rusty. The games are very tight up until about midway through, when I tend to make a small error which leads to a general collapse. I did manage, however, to win 3 games, one of which was against a nine year old boy.
Maybe some kind of little ´How To´ Chess book could be included in the next care package from home... I want to be able to win a few by the time I leave...
Anyway. I´ve had quite a nice weekend exploring a bit more of the city. Caracas is kind of set in a bowl-shaped valley, with the slum areas (the barrios) stretching up the hillsides on all sides. In a lot of cases, they exist side by side with the richer parts of the city, like Altamira, which explains why we all live in gated communities (hence, the aforementioned annoying yappy little dogs that live in my house sit in the lounge ALL DAY and never get outside to the yard or for a walk, since there is nowhere for them to go)
I had a relaxing Saturday and Sunday mornings watching the womens´ and mens´ French Open Tennis finals over a cup of average coffee at a little cafe/bakery type place right next door. All the staff know me and seem to enjoy shouting their 3 or 4 words of English at me as soon as i come in. Nice to be appreciated.
I´ve been wandering aroud the historic quarter as well. Saw the Cathedral of San Francisco, where Bolivar, the Liberator´s, funeral was held. It was more or less as you´d expect - very Spanish, lots of gold and dark wood and white stone. There seems to be considerable devotion shown to individual saints here, with San Onofre´s statue always having one or two rapt pilgrims in a trance in front of it, for example. As well as that, i stumbled across a ´Plaza O´Leary´ named after one Daniel O´Leary from Cork. Cork people really do seem to get everywhere.
Apart from this, I´ve been enjoying the phenomenon of open-air chess. In Plaza Venezuela just a few blocks from where I live, there are open-air chess boards which you can rent for a few thousand Bs an hour, and a gaggle of old men, alcoholics and students clustering around willing to play (I experienced the same phenomenon in Chicago also. The players there were scarily good). I have been trying my luck in Caracas this weekend. I think I lost about 20 games in a row. I used to be good at chess, but am now very rusty. The games are very tight up until about midway through, when I tend to make a small error which leads to a general collapse. I did manage, however, to win 3 games, one of which was against a nine year old boy.
Maybe some kind of little ´How To´ Chess book could be included in the next care package from home... I want to be able to win a few by the time I leave...
Freitag, 8. Juni 2007
Victory for Common Sense
After a heated (hohoho) discussion, my boss is allowing me to wear nice light airy t-shirts to work. I celebrated by buying six at 20,000 bolivares (about 5 quid) each.
IN other news, I´ve accidentally given the address of this blog to my mother after thinking I´d leave it until I stopped posting about the dangerous stuff. Oh well. Welcome family - it´s all exaggerated for effect. Really.
PS You know, I set up the comments function so that anyone could post.. you don´t need a blogger account... just saying y´know....?
IN other news, I´ve accidentally given the address of this blog to my mother after thinking I´d leave it until I stopped posting about the dangerous stuff. Oh well. Welcome family - it´s all exaggerated for effect. Really.
PS You know, I set up the comments function so that anyone could post.. you don´t need a blogger account... just saying y´know....?
Mittwoch, 6. Juni 2007
So very very tired....
... the heat is a real struggle here. I´ve never been good with high temperatures at the best of times, and having to wear business dress while I dash around the city to different jobs makes it even worse. Transportation in Caracas plumbs amusing depths of inadequacy. It´s all Chavez´fault, again, apparently (for giving the poor low cost loans, which they had the temerity to spend on cars) but infrastructure just aint up to it. The bridge coming into the city from the airport actually fell into a ravine about a year ago, so now international arrivals have to come in the long way round, which takes about an hour and a half.
the metro is similarly problematic. In a city of about 6million, it gets a fair amount of use, but there´s only one main line and two subsidiary lines, which means that every train that comes in, particularly during rush hour, is overcrammed with people. You have to be brutal to get onto one of these things ' pushing, shoving, trampling the weak and elderly underfoot in a Darwinian manner. . there are actually queueing stations to get onto a train with guards and lines drawn on the station floor and everything.
Meanwhile, I am up and down. I´m living in Las Palmas, a really nice part of the city and sharing a house with a folk band who are big all over Venezuela and Colombia (apparently). On the other hand, work is tough. We have ´support staff´who do fuck all and never prepare the teaching materials for us like they are supposed to. Had Chavez not brought in stricter labour regulations, I suspect great efficiency savings could have been made by replacing them with a colony of trained rhesus monkeys. That, however, is socialism for you.
the metro is similarly problematic. In a city of about 6million, it gets a fair amount of use, but there´s only one main line and two subsidiary lines, which means that every train that comes in, particularly during rush hour, is overcrammed with people. You have to be brutal to get onto one of these things ' pushing, shoving, trampling the weak and elderly underfoot in a Darwinian manner. . there are actually queueing stations to get onto a train with guards and lines drawn on the station floor and everything.
Meanwhile, I am up and down. I´m living in Las Palmas, a really nice part of the city and sharing a house with a folk band who are big all over Venezuela and Colombia (apparently). On the other hand, work is tough. We have ´support staff´who do fuck all and never prepare the teaching materials for us like they are supposed to. Had Chavez not brought in stricter labour regulations, I suspect great efficiency savings could have been made by replacing them with a colony of trained rhesus monkeys. That, however, is socialism for you.
Montag, 4. Juni 2007
Niall vs the Venezuelan Police
So, I got stopped and searched for the first time over here on Saturday night. I was in Plaza Venezuela, about 9:30PM, lots of people about, and got taken aside by a member of the ´Guardia Civil´who asked for my passport (we all carry around photocopies as ID). He took it and immediately started leading me out of the square. I had visions of being led up a dark alley and beaten soundly and robbed, as the police here have reputations for being corrupt. However, it turned out I was being led to some kind of ´ civil post´(basically a set of red plastic chairs and a table under an awning), where I got interrogated and searched. In pidgin Spanish, I repeated that I was British, a teacher of English and resident of Las Palmas. In return, and in an authoritative if not quite aggressive manner, I was subjected to the most rigorous search ever - more thorough than airport security - it involved pulling up my socks to check the folds and lifting up my tshirt to look under my belt.
Along comes another policeman and gets me to take off my shoes. The first one keeps repeating ´Drogues.... Ecstasy???´. I attempt to channel my most firm anti-drugs expression and insist that I didnt´ have any. Next he asks (I think) if I had ever taken ecstasy, and, discretion being the better part of valour, I insisted I hadn´t. At this point I am explaining my civil status (again) to the second policeman while the first rifled eagerly through my wallet. I had already mentally resigned myself to losing the money contained therein and was hoping he would leave my bank card alone - but in fact I was more worried that the function of the second guy was to distract me while the first planted drugs or some other such contraband in my wallet - thence to use the discovered evidence as the basis for extortion or worse.
Bizarrely, however, not only does this not happen, but after inviting me to put everything back in my pockets (and waving away this crazy old woman who had come up to harangue the police about something) the first policeman shows me a 1000 peseta note and asks me how much it was worth. That´s Spanish pesetas - the kind that have been worth nothing for six years. Either some canny Spaniard bribed this guy with a worthless note, or it really has been sitting in his wallet since 2002. Unwilling to risk losing my 5 pounds sterling as a replacement, I pretended it was worth ten dollars, and went on my way.
I hope this does not become a regular occurrence. The police didn´t do anything they were not entitled to - but nothing makes you feel more vulnerable than being searched and interrogated in a language you don´t understand.
Along comes another policeman and gets me to take off my shoes. The first one keeps repeating ´Drogues.... Ecstasy???´. I attempt to channel my most firm anti-drugs expression and insist that I didnt´ have any. Next he asks (I think) if I had ever taken ecstasy, and, discretion being the better part of valour, I insisted I hadn´t. At this point I am explaining my civil status (again) to the second policeman while the first rifled eagerly through my wallet. I had already mentally resigned myself to losing the money contained therein and was hoping he would leave my bank card alone - but in fact I was more worried that the function of the second guy was to distract me while the first planted drugs or some other such contraband in my wallet - thence to use the discovered evidence as the basis for extortion or worse.
Bizarrely, however, not only does this not happen, but after inviting me to put everything back in my pockets (and waving away this crazy old woman who had come up to harangue the police about something) the first policeman shows me a 1000 peseta note and asks me how much it was worth. That´s Spanish pesetas - the kind that have been worth nothing for six years. Either some canny Spaniard bribed this guy with a worthless note, or it really has been sitting in his wallet since 2002. Unwilling to risk losing my 5 pounds sterling as a replacement, I pretended it was worth ten dollars, and went on my way.
I hope this does not become a regular occurrence. The police didn´t do anything they were not entitled to - but nothing makes you feel more vulnerable than being searched and interrogated in a language you don´t understand.
Freitag, 1. Juni 2007
More protests
Today is Friday, and huge protests are expected over the weekend. Anti-government protesters are carrying RCTV placards and wearing black tshirts or ribbons. Pro-government demonstrators, or ´´Chavistas´wear red tshirts and baseball caps.
I am wearing blue.
This article gives some idea as to why I am not yet convinced by the global media´s condemnation of Chavez´s action as an attack on free speech. I think that at the point which the media starts playing an active role in fomenting unrest against a democratically elected government, serious questions need to be asked of its role. Apparently, some reasonably well known people in Britain, including one candidate for Labour´s deputy leadership agree with me.
Venezuelans I work with seem keen to come up and give me their tuppenceworth. RCTV did nothing wrong, this is dictatorship, and so forth. When I ask whether or not the TV station´s role in the coup concerned them, I get very strange answers, ranging from ´Yes, but all the other stations backed the coup as well, so why single out this one´?´to ´ Why punish the comedy and drama departments for something the station executive did?´ No-one denies RCTV´s role in the coup or defends it... so far.
Anyway, more on my fledgling teaching career soon.
I am wearing blue.
This article gives some idea as to why I am not yet convinced by the global media´s condemnation of Chavez´s action as an attack on free speech. I think that at the point which the media starts playing an active role in fomenting unrest against a democratically elected government, serious questions need to be asked of its role. Apparently, some reasonably well known people in Britain, including one candidate for Labour´s deputy leadership agree with me.
Venezuelans I work with seem keen to come up and give me their tuppenceworth. RCTV did nothing wrong, this is dictatorship, and so forth. When I ask whether or not the TV station´s role in the coup concerned them, I get very strange answers, ranging from ´Yes, but all the other stations backed the coup as well, so why single out this one´?´to ´ Why punish the comedy and drama departments for something the station executive did?´ No-one denies RCTV´s role in the coup or defends it... so far.
Anyway, more on my fledgling teaching career soon.
Abonnieren
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