Date: Sun, 4 Nov 2001 10:25:47 -0800 (PST) From: "Court Demas" | Block Address | Add to Address Book Reply-to: court@acm.org Subject: loneliness To: "Roberta Marguerite Chavez" I spent most of the day yesterday working.. I worked late, it was ok, didn't accomplish too much, feeling somewhat melancholy. I got out around 8pm and went to find something to eat. I'd heard of a nice place Abadia and headed over there. A woman on the street saw me looking at the street signs and started talking to me. I didn't understand her.. but realized she was trying to help me, and showed her the name in my notebook. She pointed the way. I entered the place.. nice looking, maybe a little too nice, I had seen the cybercafe part of it earlier in the day and they wouldn't let me use my laptop there for whatever reason, but they had a nice view, a great view, so I asked for a menu and sat down. Moments later I regretted it. It was pricey. It was a nice restaurant. I heard people speaking English, Americans (which is somewhat rare here). The music downstairs was terrible.. a small band playing covers of cheesy American classics. But I was there and would have felt silly for leaving and though I should try it. I ordered a salad and began wrote this: "And loneliness sets in, trapped in cyberland all day, Carolina hung over and unavailable, Andrea left me for another Posada. Cheer up laddie! Months more of solitude to go! Don't lose the travellin' nerve yet." Carolina runs the hostel I'm staying at and is giving me Spanish lessons. My salad came, it was great, and I started out at the lights on top of Mt. Bolivar, a beautiful 15,000ft peak rising up before me, covered in darkness and clouds. I left and headed back for the posada. I was tired but thought that it was Saturday and I should try to find something fun to do. I had actually spent an hour or two on the web searching for house music, or any type of djs, as the places I had been to on Friday played latin music that wasn't doing it for me. I wanted to dance. Walking down the street, I see the same woman that had helped me with directions, standing there with a young boy and a girl or two. She asked me if I found it, or how it was, and I said great, thank you, mucho. She had a big smile and seemed to want to talk. "Estoy aprendiendo Espanol". I stuttered through a couple of phrases I had learned. Before I knew it, an older portly grey-haired man is in the doorway, and invites me in for a beer. I say sure and follow him in. It's a nice little house, tile floor, open courtyard, white stucco walls with hanging paintings, plants. There's many people inside. They're having a party they tell me. A birthday party. Here, have a beer. This is our family, they say, and this is our home, and this home is now you're home. This is all in very broken English and Spanish, and I'm barely understanding. They're extremely warm people. Sit down they say, relax, this is your home. We make it through the where-are-you-from and other basic questions, stumblings. A dark-haired man pulls up a chair in front of the couch where I'm sitting, and starts talking about the United States (I try to be careful to not call it "America", although they often do so!). He starts talking about Viet Nam, about Americans who came to Venezuela during the war, to avoid the war, that they were his friends. This takes quite a long time to get this all out, with occasional help from other family members, none of whom speak much English. I forgot to mention.. when I first walked in, there was a small crowd around me, including a beautiful young light-brown haired young woman. I try to get some names, hers first of course, and get the family name. These are the Abogados, and this is Vanessa. The older man tries talking to me repeatedly, interrupting, smiling, cajoling me to drink more beer, to try his whiskey, sip some rum, eat some toasted cake finger things. He jokes with the other man about the WTC crisis, about bin Laden, about the craziness of the war, about Bush. At some point they ask me "do you know mariachi? music?". I say "umm... yes". Within minutes a six or seven piece mariachi band in full regalia is walking into the foyer, singing and playing, and family members are getting up and dancing around. They are all stylish dancers, not showy or gratuitous, but clearly experienced and having a great time. I write "dl" on my hand to remind myself to take some dance lessons. The couples change around a lot, the darkhaired man dancing with a young girl, the older greyhaired man dancing with his wife (birthday girl), then another man cuts in, then another man cuts in, etc. After a half hour the mariachis leave. They call me into the other room for cake. They sing a song and light the cake. The song eventually breaks into something resembling the American-style Happy Birthday tune. Later I croak my own rendition in English, with much fanfare. They have all clearly been drinking a lot. The older man especially so, who starts asking me weird questions, which they instruct me to ignore. He and the darkhaired man accuse each other of being homosexuals, of being bin Laden, of being terrorists, etc. I start talking with Nicanora, who can actually speak a little English, and her friend Fabiula, who speaks almost as much. Both are beautiful and young and sweet. Fabiula asks me if I have a girlfriend, in front of the whole family, whose ears are now peaked, and I say "no", which I repeat when they ask if I'm married. They look quite surprised. The grayhaired man belts out "girlfriend?" and I say "per favor!!". I get emails from Nicanora and Fabiula. Grayhairedman asks me if I like the girls, and I say yes, and he asks me which one I like best, and I say I like them all "en todas" (Nicanora is translating for me). He makes a sign with his hands which they tell me means "sex". (He had been making the "homosexual" sign quite a bit earlier on.) The party is ending. I gather my things and walk outside. Most of them are outside, crowded around the entrance, so I slip through them and off to the side, and thank them again and again. They ask where I live, and I say nearby, very near, 3 blocks. They offer a ride, but I decline, I'll be fine, I'm close by. I'm disappointed that I didn't get to say more to Vanessa, or get her email, or to say goodnight directly, but I felt uncomfortable showing much attraction to her, and wasn't sure how she felt, but had been glancing at her all night, moments longer than would be normal, so I expected she knew at that point. I wave a final goodbye and round the corner. I walk down the street, and get half a block before I hear grayhairedman making a noise, calling me. I turn to face him and he walks over and walks me back to the corner, and I see everybody and shrug my shoulders, not sure of what's going on. They said they need to give me a ride. I say great. This is now a smaller group, 6 of them I think, with three young girls, who say they're all close friends, and from outside of Merida (originally). I talk to Vanessa briefly and get her email. A small SUV-style truck pulls up. There's clearly too many of us. I get in the back trunk-thing, although they try to get me not to, but the back seat is completely packed, and there's three in the front seats. We take off, make a right and a left, down a block, and they say "acqui", I'm home. We're blocking cars behind us, so I jump out quickly, and thank them again, and Vanessa says to write her, and we all say goodnight, and they drive off and round the corner, waving goodbye. love, court