Immense Bolla de Mierde

this entry was originally going to be one line long, because it sounds so bizarre, but then i suppose i´m doing too much to justify that. either way, i´ll start with the aforementioned line, and then get into the details.

last night i went out for drinks with my host, a pole dancer and the most german guys ever, and watched venezuela´s version of ozzy osbourne cover iron maiden, led zeppelin, metallica and the stones.

and by gum it was hilarious. but we´ll go back to where it was left last i guess, which was friday night. we went out to a gig, and saw a band called los humanoides who were venezuela´s answer to kraftwerk, and a band called la vida boheme, who were as annoyingly indie as it gets, but begrudgingly good at the same time. it was a fun night, i was a bit worse for wear to be honest, and definitely felt it when i was trying to fall asleep. after all that, i planned to spend saturday doing absolutely nothing, to save some money after i had overspent the night before. it was going perfectly to plan, until francisco woke up from his nap. he just practically ran into the living room, told me i wasnt staying inside on such a nice day and that he was going to take me to a place called el hatillo.

thank the lord he did! the most delightful little town imaginable! it was a typical spanish colonial town, narrow streets, really colourful buildings, just absolutely beautiful. we walked round the entire town, and francisco bought me a pizza! jamon y honchos! it was lovely. being the crazy old dog he is as well, francisco managed to sneak 2 beers into the restaurant, what a man. whilst we were eating there was a big political rally outside, and some guy came into the restaurant all smily and shaking everyones hands. he said something to me, obviously i have no idea what it was. francisco then told me that he used to be the mayor of caracas back in the day. times must be hard for that sucka.

we got back to caracas at around 7pm, and i decided that again, i was going to stay in and save some money. again, very wrong. sandra came home at around 9ish, and i was napping. after being cajoled into going out on the premise that i only spend 10bolivars and come back early, we headed to town. it was me, sandra, a girl called cya (i think thats how its spelt), and 2 german guys, who´s names i assume were rudi voller and fritz schmelder. i dont know their names, but i cant imagine 2 more german guys in the world. they loved techno, danced like fools, and generally acted as if they had never seen a female before. very bizarre!

we headed out to a salsa place, and started drinking rum. after a couple of what were basically karaoke acts, a salsa band started playing. they were awesome. their drummer was a total machine, he looked like a venezuelan ozzie davis, i was mad happy. plus i danced like a fool. everyone was dancing salsa, and obviously being a fool, i decide that i´m going to create my own dance. so i did, and it was far too much for sandra and cya to handle. wimps! wimps! it would also seem that rum is a drink that encourages further partyage, so we then headed off to a place called Moulin Rouge. unfortunately there was no burlesque madness inside, but i could not have been happier with what was.

after a couple of hours in this place, i was ready to go. we´d been filtering between the dance room and the more rocky room the whole time, i was getting tired and obviously feeling bad for all the drinks cya was buying everyone. i saw some guys setting up on the stage in the rock room, and decided that i´d check them out, see what was going down.

it would seem that hair metal is well and truly alive in venezuela.

ps: again, todays title comes from a francisco joke, this time the victims being IBM.

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