Settling In (As Much As You Can)

After a little more than a week here in Venezuela, Brooke and I finally are getting used to the country's rhythm, its ebbs and flows, its nooks and its crannies.

We've seen the barrios in the mountains surrounding Caracas, where makeshift fortified brick structures paint the green hills a distinct reddish-brown. You should see the people there, endlessly scaling improbable staircases to reach their shantytown doorsteps.

We've seen the American Embassy compound in the affluent hills opposite the barrios, looking over the rest of Caracas with all the style and presence of a Charlotte banking complex. The people inside are a wash, too.

We've seen the supposedly cosmopolitan but actually quite provincial political capital, and we've now seen the calm yet still Venezuelan (read: loud and frenetic) cultural capital.

But most of all, we've noticed the oddities. We've seen commercials for Natural Bra, a pair of silicon cups that hook in front to give that acceptable level of Venezuelan cleavage. We've been in a cab in Caracas when all of a sudden our driver decided to drive 80 yards backwards up a highway off ramp at about 25 mph, while at the same time cars going about 40 zoomed by on the right, going in the opposite direction. We've been in Plaza Bolívar in Mérida, just strolling through, when our ears were at once assaulted by a song coming from a conversion van's speakers: Carlos León es decente/Carlos León es competente. Carlos León is running for mayor. He has a song that says he's a good guy. Maybe John Kerry needs that kind of tune. (In fact, although my time's running out here, that'll be the next post. A John Kerry song. If you have suggestions for a stanza or two, e-mail them to me or post them in the comments section of the blog.)

Anyway, you get the picture. In Venezuela, at least thus far, not much resembles home.