What do you call a waterpark where nothing is open?


Friday, the US students and a few Venezuelans all went to the waterpark called Vegasol. After waiting more than an hour and a half for our entire group to show up, we finally hit the road. It was supposed to be about a 40 minute drive in our buseta, but pending a delay per a bike race on the narrow mountian road, it took an additional hour. We finally got there, only to find that the go-cart track was closed, the “tunel del terror” gate locked, and the waterslide lacking water. The bar was open however, so all was not lost.

Things picked up when a fun bunch of Venezuelan fellas showed up and started dancing by the pool-side. After a few of us did a bit of dancing with ’em, they told us “Vamos a tocar tambores” which didn’t register as “We’re going to go play drums” in my head until after they got all their drums out and we had ourselves a little rump shaking fun while they got funky in a drum ensemble.

In all, it didn’t really matter that the other pools and the terror tunnel were closed, but we all got kind of offended when the woman running the snack bar seemed to have a vendetta against us gringos. Sure, at first she overcharged me the equivalent of $.50 for my ice cream, but she was ignoring the rest of us, telling us she did have any of the food to make burgers or sandwiches, that kind of thing.

I neglected to bring my camera for fear of it being stolen, so unfortunately I have no pictures of our dance pow-wow or the pool, or my roommate stealing some girl’s boyshorts to go ride the waterslide.

My roommate and I came home with a buzz on and chatted up our host mother for a pretty long time, all the while finishing off an entire pitcher of fruit salad that our host sister had made earlier that day, presumably for everyone’s dessert, not just mine and Andy’s.

 A good day, a good fruit salad. Because of his talkative state my host mom kept saying that Andres, my roommate, simply needed to drink every day to speak better – to “loosen his tongue” she said. I happen to think it was more the participation aspect that was improving his Spanish, but as P-funk say, “To each his reach, but if I don’t cop it ain’t mine to have. But I’ll be reaching for ya”