Monday, February 28

My Spring Break Vacation part 1


We are in a car, seven of us: my sister, and I and this other Canadian girl we met at the resort. And also this beautiful Venezuelan girl who is sitting on my lap because we four girls are squeezed in the back seat of the car. She is one of the dancers in evening shows and she teachers all the tourists games and shows everyone how to dance on the beach during the day. On my lap she keeps bouncing around all bubbly, shouting things in Spanish to the three guys in the front sear who are also dancers and work at our resort. We are driving to one of the clubs in Playa El Agua, where the bar just backs out onto the beach.

Ahh I am in love with Margarita Island, Venezuela!

The bar we go to, Woody's, is so South American night club, dark and sweaty with everyone knowing everyone else almost, dancing better, in a very sexy in-your-face sort of way. The guys are not afraid to move. They love to lead the girls.

Which meant that my sister and I had to go through a bit of a dance lesson from the our resort guys but and also from the Venezuelan dancer- the curvy Venezuelian dancer, might I add, who had been sitting on my lap. Um, I felt like saying "I carried a watermelon," because it was just as awkward as that scene from Dirty Dancing.

But then we keep drinking, fruit specially-made blender drinks and of course a lot of beer because beer is cheap in Venezuela, less than $1 American a bottle. At one point some army-police soldiers walk through the bar, and they are decked out with guns and ammo- brandishing M-16s as they silently walk in between the swaying and grinding dancers and clubers.

Everyone ignores the soliders and I follow, and turn my attention to Ricky. He works at the resort, has been there since June. The best work he says is on Margarita Island, being entertainment staff at a resort. Ricky is 20 and from the capital of Venezuela, Caracas. He will be known as my Venezuelan Boyfriend, but more on that later...

So we dance and dancing with him just makes me want to be better, and he guides me and whispers how I should be moving in my ear. It's this that makes me move, or maybe it's just all the drinking and the idea I am at a bar beside the ocean. Ricky and I make out in the taxi on the way home.

Just like dancing, waking up early is also easy in Venezuela. The weather is beyond warm, it's always comfortably hot and the beach is always perfectly sunny. I tan, stretched out on a beachchair, all day long. Sometimes reading my second-hand copy of The Beach.