...to exploring VZ and ending up a crash test dummy

Ohhh goodness.  Craziest. Day. Ever.  Yesterday started as a seemingly innocent trip out to the beach.  I joined my friend Yadri's boyfriend Jens, and some of his German compatriotas on a weekend day trip to a beach about two hours outside of Caracas.  It was raining as we drove, but cleared up more and more as we got closer to the coast.  By the time we were in site of the water, it was hot and sunny.  The beach was lovely, accessible only by terrible dirt roads, and tucked behind groves of trees and other general greenery.  The waves of the Caribbean were lovely, much bigger than those pitiful things up in the Atlantic.  It was perfect surfing weather: as I can't surf, it was perfect ride-the-waves-and-try-to-stay-out-of-the-way-of-surfers weather.

We passed the day drinking cervezas, Cuba Libres (rum and coke), lounging around on the sand, running into the sea for a quick dip every now and then, etc.  Vendors paraded up and down the sand, attempting to ply beach-goers with everything from shark-tooth necklaces to fresh fish and oysters.  Having been told that fresh fish at the beach was 'muy rico', I was sorely tempted.  Okay, yeah I totally ordered some.  It came out fried, with these delicious-looking platanos covered with cheese, ketchup and some kind of cream (side note: need to join a gym).  Fairly spectacular and completely fresh!

Choosing our fish

Que RICO esta comida!

Things started winding down around five (when I say winding down, I mean that the kids we were renting the beach chairs from came to collect them).  Most of the group opted to stay the night in a posada (like a hotel/hostel), while a few of us decided to return.  Jens and I hopped into his pick-up for the ride back.  It gets dark quickly in Venezuela, and by the time we reached the main highway a little before six, it was totally dark.  We're speeding along on the autopista, chattering away in Spanish (a second language for both of us, but I don't speak German, and Jens' can understand but doesn't speak too much English), and I was worrying that I was going to be a terrible passenger and fall asleep on my poor driver.  Needn't have worried. 

While consulting the iTouch to find out what the conversion of liters to gallons was (just one of those things that comes up when Europeans and Americans talk), I heard/felt this terrific hit, and before I knew it, we careened into the concrete barrier of the highway at about 65mph, and then the truck flipped onto the passenger side and suddenly my face was about six inches from the ground as my window shattered and sparks flew towards my face as we slid about 100 feet to a stop.  And all the while I'm sideways, just waiting for some final impact that's going give me that horrible injury that people who are in these accidents always get.  We shuddered to a stop, the underside of the truck facing traffic on our side of the highway, me, inches from the pavement, and Jens in the air about 3 feet above me, strapped in on the drivers side.  After ascertaining that (by some miracle) we were both okay, I was distracted by horn honking and screeches outside of the car.  We'd rolled over around a curve and drivers could only see our accident as they came careening around the bend.  Not a good place to be.  If this accident didn't kill us, there was a solid chance one of those other drivers might.

Jens hopped out of the car and then lifted me out and carried me across the highway (I wasn't wearing shoes and I think was a little too shocked to make it on my own).  Meanwhile there were cars stopping all around us, other cars whizzing by and honking, lights everywhere, etc.  And I'm barefoot, in a bathing suit and a wrap, on a highway.  With the help of about a dozen guys (who came out of nowhere, I think a bus stopped), Jens pushed the car back onto all four wheels and somehow (thank you American car-makers) managed to DRIVE IT off to the side of the highway. 

The whole episode is a blur but apparently we'd hit a tire in the road.  The tire was dropped by a bus (the same bus that was stopped?), that came back, took the tire, and sped off (maybe not wanting to get in trouble?).  All the while we're stopped with our VERY broken car on the side of the road, people kept telling us we had to keep moving, the area was very dangerous, we couldn't just stop, etc.  There was this wonderful guy from Caracas who stopped to help and was SO good, he made the Good Samaritan look like a selfish bastard.  He made us follow him (going about 10mph) until we got to a more brightly lit area, helped us with calling a tow truck, and waited until we were well on our way back to the city before leaving. 

There was the drama with the Venezuelan version of OnStar's emergency setting, which should've been activated when we said 'ayuda' (help), but put us on hold for about ten minutes.  We enjoyed some phone advertisements, got hung-up on a few times, and finally got on the phone with some woman who wanted the license plate number, chastised us for not being 100% sure what it was, asked multiple times for the mobile phone number we could be reached at, and then finally told us that she would send someone (never saw them).

See where that glass is missing?  Yeah, I was sitting there...

Then there were the bomberos (firemen) who stopped checked out the damage then told us we should get off the road because things were very dangerous (thank you, firemen).  They followed us for awhile then left.  Then there was the craziness with the tow trucks.  A bunch of them wanted money up front, which we didn't have since they were asking for hundreds of bolivares.  One of them took us about half a mile to a brightly lit area (some place slightly mas 'seguro').  We couldn't ride in the cab with that fellow, however; we rode instead in the busted up truck.  The one that ended up taking us the 45 minutes back to El Hatillo (right outside of the downtown Caracas area, where Jens lived) actually stopped us at a mall so we could get him half of the money (picture 10-minute frantic dash around a mall looking for the correct ATM, all the while deafened by LOUD live Christmas music.  Yes, it's the middle of November and there are daily Christmas shows). 

We made it back to Jens' house with the pobre pick-up truck finalmente at around 10:30.  I came out of the whole ordeal with a little rug-burn on my shoulder (from where the seat-belt bit into me when we flipped), and a bruised/scratched leg.  Both Jens and I woke up this morning with sore necks, but nothing that feels like anything more than strained muscles. 

I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life and I still can't believe that we both managed to walk away.  I've never been so grateful that I was wearing my seatbelt (which doesn't always happen in Venezuela) - there's no saying what would've happened if I hadn't been.  I'm feeling so lucky, and so blessed to be alive - major props to whatever guardian angel was keeping an eye out for us last night.