Rodeo Drive

Blogger's Note: Many apologies for the extreme delay in posts. After my South American travels and a bit of a hectic homecoming week, I didn’t get a chance to write a proper entry. Anyway, this post is quite lengthy so if you want, you can just skip all the words and look at the pretty pictures. Also, for anyone that cares, the septic tanks at school are still broken. If I come home with some a horrible disease, we’ll all know why. (Just kidding Mom, I already had my vaccinations.)
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I took the opportunity over Easter break to travel a bit since there were parts of Guyana and South America I still hadn’t seen. The plan was to head to a quiet border town called Lethem for the Rupununi Rodeo, then over to Brazil and up to Venezuela.

Being a volunteer (and/or Asian) means two things when traveling: 1) carry a loaf of bread with you so you don’t have to actually purchase meals, and 2) use the cheapest form of transportation possible. In this case, it meant we had to travel by the retiring beaten busses that the neighboring Brazilians didn’t want anymore.

We had been warned by many about the lengthy uncomfortable ride with no air conditioning or toilets. The actual travel time is 12 hours, but can often stretch to 22 grueling hours depending on if you travel over the dirt roads during rainy or dry season. We were packed in claustrophobia-inducing seats with leg room that made flying coach feel like first class. Good thing I’m short, which means shorter legs and about an inch more space to breathe. I was assigned a window seat under the leaky roof, which splattered icy rain drops on me wearing off the drowsiness effect of my Dramamine. Luckily we had just ended the paved road portion of our ride and were entering the rocky dirt road. The bumpiness agitated my nausea even more, so I popped another Dramamine and soon enough fell asleep.

The best of part of the intermittent sleep was that every time I awoke, I felt like I had entered an entirely different country. First I was surrounded by tall thick canopy of trees in the rainforest, then shorter sparsely placed shrubs, then a peacefully flat savannah with a backdrop of rolling green hills, and finally the tall blue mountains.


(l) The red dirt road through the forest
(r) Blue skies and clear savannah


Halfway upon reaching our destination, we needed to cross the Essequibo River. The driver scantily woke up the sleeping passengers and forced everyone off the bus. In order for the bus to cross the river, it had to back itself onto a ferry, or what looked more like a small wooden raft. The driver explained to us naïve Americans that the bus has previously overturned in this process and for safety purposes asked us to stand by and watch.

I was woken up by the oppressive stale air when we encountered our next delay. A truck had fallen into the ditch and our bus driver had stopped to assist in the dilemma. As I got off the bus for some air, I had my own dilemma of needing to use facilities in the middle of the open savannah. Unfortunately I was surrounded by multiple other vehicles and men who were aiding with the overturned truck. I decided to save the chagrin for another day (which little to my knowledge at the time would have probably been one of the lesser humiliating moments throughout the trip), and eagerly awaited our arrival in Lethem.

We finally pulled into the small friendly town after 18 hours of magic, walked 25 minutes carrying our heavy baggage and happily greeted the Lethem volunteers we hadn’t seen since Christmas break.


(l) Yeah, this is safe.
(r) And apparently so is this.

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Since Lethem sits on the border between Guyana and Brazil, it’s influenced by Brazilian culture, music, and food. Reggae was left behind at the coast as we entered an atmosphere surrounded by Forro (pronounced “foe-haw”) music dominated by Brazilian artist Pepe Moreno. Sour, a peppery mango condiment, was replaced by starchy tasteless farine. Aromatic grilled meat on skewers filled the air and any personal claims I had of being a moderate vegetarian would immediately be dispelled upon entering the Rodeo grounds.

Once we made it to Rodeo, a twinge of Texas nostalgia overcame me with country music echoing in the background and Brazilian cowboys with big belt buckles riding barefoot in stirrups. Cowboy hats decorated many heads that passed by. There were plenty of drinks to go around, especially the dangerously delicious and highly intoxicating caprihinas. By nightfall, the dark sky was dusted with the brightest twinkling lights I had ever seen and I was surrounded by drunken white people- yup, I’m definitely back at home. The only thing missing was funnel cake and overusing the word “y’all”.

Rodeo continued for two days, with events such as bull riding, catching a greasy pig, and tug of war (dumb foreigners and over-dressed coastlanders vs. locals and non-English speaking Brazilians). I’m pretty sure the locals always win.


(l) Can't even get away from the advertising in Lethem.
(r) He lasted less than 10 seconds. Not bad for an untrained cowboy.

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After a long weekend of indulging in tasty meat on sticks and delicious hot dogs that would put Gray’s Papaya to shame, I swore off meat until I was tempted again in Venezuela. It was now time to leave the red dirt roads behind, pack up our hammocks and cross the river to Brazil. Since the blog is titled Adventures in Guyana, I’ll give brief highlights of the two countries.

Boa Vista, Brazil:
- Scooped and topped our own ice-cream and purchased it by the kilo. Genius! I’m surprised no one in New York has come up with this concept yet.
- Best greasy pressed sandwiches ever. (Seriously, how can Brazilians be so thin?)
- Bathrooms don’t have doors on them.
- Still can’t speak Portuguese.

Santa Elena, Venezuela:
- Toured through Gran Sabana where they filmed Jurassic Park.
- Hiked through the forest, swam in the waterfalls, whitewater rafted and body rafted down the river. Minimal scars and bruises acquired.
- Eaten alive by black flies making the mosquitoes in Soesdyke look like friendly pests.
- Still can’t speak Spanish.


(l) A view from the top of a waterfall
(r) Walking to take a dip in another waterfall

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After falling in love all over again with nature, it was time to head back. In totality, the bus rides from Venezuela to Brazil and through Guyana took over 30 hours. After traveling for two full days, each bus increasingly less tolerable and each road bumpier, we finally made it back home. I was exhausted, had only $10 dollars left in my pocket to sustain me for the next week and a half, but gained a profound piece of insight from the trip: when traveling long distances with no toilets or privacy, always remember to wear a skirt.