Caracas- Scene 1, Take 1

I've been in Caracas for about a week now. My life seems to have gone form stalemate to lightspeed within a matter of day. To briefly summarize, I was supposed to tranfer to Venezuela (no more VZ since the cat is clearly out of the bag here) a few weeks ago, but was held up due to visa delays. As per my last posting, I already had all of my stuff packed out, my car shipped, and my training was finished, so I was just stuck in DC. I was enrolled in some customer service classed while I was wasting away time. However, about a week and half ago I got an email from State saying my visa was delivered. I rushed over to pick it up, contacted post to ask if it would be logistically possible to arrive in Caracas in a few days, bought my airline tickets, packed my bags, mailed my remaining stuff to myself here in Caracas, and within 48 hours, was in South America. I feel like I may have set a record for moving abroad in the shortest amount of time, but I'm way to busy now to look it up.

Being single and moving by yourself if a challenge of immense proportions. Unfortunately, nearly all of my friends from DC had already departed for post, and the handful the was left over was in class, so I had to do everything by myself.
The day of my departure, I woke up early to start packing, and fortunately I did. It took nearly seven straight house to get everything packed up. I didn't realize houw much stuff I had accumulated since moving to DC. Once I sorted through everything that I wanted to take in my luggage and everything that needed to be tossed, I had several boxes full of stuff left over (everything that I didn't necessarily want to keep, but didn't have the heart to throw away). I lugged about 100 pounds worth of stuff down to the post office and shipped it at the slowest and cheapest rate possible to my self here in Venezuela. Essentially, everything goes down to Miami, where it is grouped together with everyone elses mail here in Caracas, then put on a plane and flown down a few times a week. Surprisingly, everything I sent took less than a week to get down here, however, was banged to hell by the time it arrived. I think whoever the sorter is has rage issues.
By the time I had everything packed up, the apartment looked like a war zone, but I could have cared less. I dropped the keys off at the front desk, then jumped in my rental car and headed to the airport. When I dropped the car off, it was obvious that there was no way I was going to be able to get all of my stuff, including my cat, from the rental car terminal to the departure area. The guy who checked the car in offered to drive me over to the airport, (would have been a 10 minute walk) and I happily accepted. A short while later, I was waiting at my gate.

The biggest headache getting down here, aside from the visa, has been my cat. No one was ever able to tell me exactly what I needed to do to get him here, so I did what sounded reasonable, from getting a health certificate and having it notarized by the USDA, and then I crossed by fingers. I packed 10 pounds of litter, about 5 pounds of food, the cat box, bowls and toys in my suitcase. Then, I prayed the weather would not by over 85 degrees anywhere on the trip, (Caracas was 86, but I cajoled the guy to let my cat on the plane). Finally, my apartment in Caracas is still occupied, so the embassy negotiated for my cat to be able to stay at the Intercontinental hotel, which the hotel was not happy about since they have a no pet policy. When I landed in Caracas, I picked by cat up in the baggage area, then had to figure out how to get through customs without being hassled. I was told even with all the necessary documentation, which I'm still not sure what that is, the customs folks will solicit taxes (i.e. bribes) or threaten to take away the animal. Someone else on the flight had a dog, so I got in the customs line behind them. When the customs agent started hassling the person in front of me, I casually walked around them both and headed for the exit without stopping. A guard at the door asked if I had clearance for the cat, and with a quick nod of my head, walked right by him. I'm not sure if I actually would have had any problems getting the cat into the country, but I decided not to risk it and just avoid the whole thing by walking right by everyone. Moral of the story is that there isn't one, but my cat is here with me now at a resort, chilling by the window of my hotel room, do-not-disturb sign on the door.

At the airport, I was met by my sponsor, a coworker from the embassy, who helped load my stuff into a waiting bullet-proof embassy vehicle. The road from the airport to Caracas is known to be dangerous, so the driver wisked us to the hotel at about 80 mph.

The next morning, I woke up, got dressed, and went to work...

M