Where

Adventures
Begin

By Virginia Martinez

Virginia Martinez

Copyright 2015 by Virginia Martinez

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means,
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below.

Where Adventures Begin

For Alana

Virginia Martinez

Where Adventures Begin

Chapter 1

During the frantic commotion that took place downstairs, I

took a moment to glance in the mirror and look at myself.
My brown, unruly hair twisted itself into locks of curls. Observing the details of my face, I pushed my glasses up the
base of my nose and smiled to myself.
TIAAANNNAAA!! the powerful and commanding voice
of my mother passed through the floor and walls pulling me
away from my reflection.
Yes Mama?! I called back, returning to throwing clothes
into my suitcase.
ARE YOU ALMOST DONE?!
Yes, I responded hastily as I stuffed the last of my belongings into the case and pulled it down from my bed.
Downstairs, my mother was fussing and running around the
house, muttering to herself things like I knew we should
have...., Where did it go?! I swear I just had..., and
Shoot, I cant forget this!. I pulled my case to the front
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door and ran up behind my mother.
She turned quickly, exclaiming as she saw me standing there.
With her hand on her chest, she said Oh sweetie, you gave
me a scare. Are you all packed up?
I nodded and she began to list off things the things I needed; ...several pairs of socks, shorts, t-shirts, tank tops, your
camera, sunscreen, a hat, sunglasses... I had most of these
items, and anything I was missing I knew she would have
brought.
Okay, fantastic. What books are you bringing?
I paused for a moment, realizing I had forgotten something
my mother would not be bringing, and in a moment of panic
turned around and ran back upstairs. Arriving in my room,
I went to my bookshelf and gazed through all the titles. I
grabbed 4 books, two non-fiction and two fiction. For as long
as I can remember I have loved reading and once my mother
realized this she installed the first of many bookshelves in
my room. I never left the house without a book in hand and
so felt relief carrying them back downstairs in my arms.
Let me see, my mother said, reading each title aloud.
The Veterinarians Guide to Basic Animal Anatomy and
Care, okay good, she said nodding approvingly. Animals from National Geographic, mhmm, Bud, Not Buddy
great choice, and The Tale of Despereaux. Smiling, she
placed the books back into my protective arms and sent me
off to find my book bag.
Okay Tiana, lets get going!
I ran with my leather bookbag on my shoulder to the front
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door where she stood waiting. She carried several bags and
I rolled my suitcase as we walked out the front door to catch
a taxi on Broadway.
Driving through Brooklyn, I stared out at the passing buildings and people. As the leaves were changing color, I noted
the transition into deep autumn as remarkable.
People walked by with different coats on; it was cold enough
to need warm clothing, yet mild so the heavy winter layers
werent necessary. And on special days, the air was warm
so you could get away without a jacket and enjoy a warm
breeze rippling through your clothes.
We arrived at the John F. Kennedy International Airport
some time later. Id never been to an airport before, much
less flown, so I stayed silent keeping close to my mother,
observing the people around us.
Some looked busy and preoccupied, probably on business
trips, others with hopeful eyes looking through the crowd
anxiously to find their loved ones.
I clutched my bookbag closer to me and followed my mother
absent mindedly so I eventually bumped into her when she
came to a stop.
An amusing smile reached her warm brown eyes when she
looked down to me. Its amazing isnt it? The building
design and layout, the way people flow through here with
a purpose, with a story. Gazing around, you would have
thought she was at a large family reunion and was rejoicing
in distant family coming together, embracing their roots and
connections.
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My mothers hair is dark and curly, not nearly as tight as
mine, but loose and springy. She has a light cocoa bronze
complexion, angelic features, and intelligent mannerisms.
Come on, she said, pulling back from her daydream and
reaching for my hand. We walked through the airport and
waited in lots of lines, until eventually we came to a landing
where rows and rows of seats were laid out, various characters occupied in books or phones or other people. And to my
delight, there was a grand window that oversaw the runway.
While we waited for our boarding number to be called,
my mother sat reading through one of her books. Amazed,
I pressed my nose to the glass and looked out at the great
stretch of empty land that was the runway. The port lay beyond, blue and calm as usual.
Id never been out of Brooklyn in all my 9 years, and was
admittedly nervous to venture out now.
One of my favorite things about reading, specifically in fiction, was accompanying different characters on these amazing adventures, facing our fears or fighting for what we believed in. Today, I marked as the first day in a new adventure
for me. What Ill face, who Ill meet, what the outcome will
be, I dont know.
I dreamed and imagined different scenarios similar to ones
Ive read about. An energetic flow ran through me, and I
could hardly stay still. Restless.

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Chapter 2

Calling boarding for Flight 92 to I jumped and faced my mother as soon as I heard 92. Thats
us right!?
She smiled and pulled our tickets out, handing me mine. I
held onto my ticket tightly, aware that it was my chance to
find my own story.
Pulling our luggage, we walked into a terminal and waited in
line until we reached the entryway, where a flight attendant
kindly took our suitcases. Holding tightly to my bookbag, I
followed my mothers example and handed away my ticket.
Have a good flight! the flight attendees called out.
I will! I responded with glee and a smile. We boarded the
plane, took our seats and awaited take off. My mother let me
sit by the window, so I gazed out as the plane engines began
to run, the entire machine vibrating with energy.
I could hardly hold my excitement; my heart was racing
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and I struggled to remain seated. Adults around me we calm
and patient, as if flying were a normal routine like driving
to work. My mother shared my enthusiasm, just on a much
lower level.
We started moving slowly, the black asphalt beginning to
pass faster and faster until it became a blur. The port was farther and farther away until the plane began to lift into to air.
My mother pointed to the great wings that hung out like a
bird and explained that we were lifting up because of the
way the wings cut through the air. I think the air passing
beneath pushes the wings up, which pushes the plane up as
a whole. Even though I barely understood the science of it,
I thought it was incredible. I mean the way humans can use
the laws of nature to our advantage, I think it is so incredible.
My curiosity stems partly from the books I read and my
own personal interests, but it is mainly from my mother who
probs me to have these thoughts. She is an architect, so it
is natural for her to have thoughts like this all the time. She
thinks aloud often, and asks me questions about what I am
thinking about.
Sometimes I think like this at school and I get weird looks
from my friends. But this doesnt bother me because I like
the way I think; it makes me slightly different from everyone
else.
Looking down to the ground, butterflies fluttered through
my stomach as we went farther and farther away from the
Earth. I calmed down and got comfortable in my seat. My
mother had a book pulled out, so I followed her example and
pulled out National Geographic.
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Eventually, we flew through the clouds and were flying
above them. Through the breaks in the white fluff, I saw the
green and bumpy brown Earth below which transformed
into dark ocean water.

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Chapter 3

A few hours later I woke up and the sun was gone, replaced
by darkness. I looked down, seeing a faint glimpse of the
ocean; the moon was shining reflecting the waves ripples.
Mama? I said, turning to face her.
Yes? she closed the book in her hand, using an old receipt
as a bookmark.
What time is it?
You tell me, she said, gesturing to the silver watch wrapped
around her wrist.
Hmmm... I lifted her wrist to examine the watch, the short
hand pointing to an eight, the long hand pointing to a five.
Eight thirty! I exclaimed.
Right! she exclaimed as well, smiling proudly at me as if I
had won a Nobel Prize.
I thought for a moment, then said, How long will it take to
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get there?
About ten hours,
So we have... seven hours left?
Yes, good job!
I smiled with satisfaction. Later on we changed into clothes
more comfortable for sleeping and a stewardess brought us
plates of spaghetti for dinner.
A movie, WALLE, played on these little TVs that hung
above every few seats, and my mother and I watched it together. This was my first time watching it, and I really liked
it.
I fell asleep by the end of the movie, my head lying on my
mothers shoulder, her warmth keeping me comfort as cool
air passed through the plane.
Time to wake up sweetie, I felt my mother gently squeezing me awake.
Adjusting to the dim light of the plane, I rubbed my eyes and
stretched my back. Looking out the window, I saw a great
majestic sun peeking through the clouds, its rays of light
reaching out through the sky lighting up dark space.
Yawning, I asked what time it was. My mother gestured to
her watch, and I read, five thirty-five.
I thought about this, and I must have had a puzzled look
on my face because then she explained how travel and time
work, and how later on Ill probably have something called
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jet lag.
I made a mental note of the subject and decided to leave it at
that- for the moment at least.
We gathered our bags, my leather case secure by my hip,
and left the plane. A sign read Simn Bolvar International
Airport of Maiquetia. I tried to say it aloud, and my mother helped me pronounce the accents correctly. The words
sounded clunky at first, and although practice doesnt make
perfect, I thought I was pretty close after trying again for a
few minutes.
We walked through a somewhat busy hallway, which will
probably get busier as the day goes on. .
Look! I said, pointing down to the floor. Below me, there
were multicolored designs in repetition and sync, creating an
illusion of sorts.
That was designed by Cruz Diez, hes a very well known
artist here. They have more designs like this around the airport on the walls and floors, my mother spoke knowledgeably. She always seems to know everything about anything.
I followed my mothers experienced steps to a luggage gathering area, and followed her back around to another landing
area.
Where are we going now?
Well, to get to where we are going, we need to take another
plane ride. Dont worry, I had a look of confusion since I
wasnt aware we were taking two planes, this one is only
about an hour and a half. And we get to carry our luggage on
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with us, since it is a small and private plane.
She was right about that, it wasnt like the commercial line
we had taken initially. The plane was a rusty and faded yellow, much smaller, and this time we carried our luggage to
our seats, which were larger and roomier.
The unusual roominess made more sense to me after we
boarded since there were much fewer people on board. We
took our seats, this time my mother by the window, and
awaited take off. The plane was louder compared to the large
white plane we had taken, and had a rattling noise in the
background.
Taking off, I looked out over the foreign city and sparkling
ocean. The sun was stretching and rising, reaching out as if
to warm up the city. For the rest of the ride, I took to reading The Veterinarians Guide to Basic Animal Anatomy and
Care, asking for help from my mother when I couldnt understand for the sake of myself what a word or phrase meant.
Soon enough we arrived, and as soon as we had gotten off
the plane my mother hauled a taxi, making an effort to avoid
the small white cars with black and yellow checking on the
side reading TAXI, but rather selecting a brown, old and
rusty American classic. The driver, a man with dark skin and
a thick mustache nodded to us and quickly took our bags,
placing them into the trunk of the car.
Cunto hay que Guanta Muncipality? She asked quickly
and comfortably as we slid into the back leather seat.
He responded even faster, and I couldnt even catch a familiar sound. She nodded and we took off down a busy and
cracked street.
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We eventually came to a less busy stretch of highway, driving comfortably along the green scenery and occasional
housing. I felt my eyes becoming heavy and let my body
gently fall for support on the seat.
My mother must have been watching me because she said,
Go to sleep sweetie, there isnt anything new to see on this
road. I slid over to her so she could wrap her arm around
me, and I fell into a comfortable ease.
Chapter 4
Again, I awoke later to my mother gently squeezing me.
I got up with more energy this time and looked around. It
seemed we had arrived since we drove through a more populated area, where grey buildings scattered around the streets.
Que quieros comer? The driver asked huskily.
Ah no se, a donde esta bueno para comer?
The driver spoke again, although I wasnt paying attention
rather than looking around at my surroundings. We seemed
to be near a port since there were large metal machines in
the distance, the kind that are at the port in Brooklyn. There
were people walking through the street, students wearing
uniforms, women wearing long dresses with hair pinned
back, and men in ruddy jeans. Trash lightly littered the sides
of streets, pushed aside as if out of sight meant out of mind.
We pulled into a dirt parking lot when I asked, Mama, what
are we doing?.
Are you hungry?
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I nodded, and she said, Good, were here to eat before we
take the ferry. I opened my mouth to ask where we were
taking the ferry to, but my mother had a glint of mystery in
her eye so I left it at that.
We entered a shaded area littered with tables, the shade given by a faded blue tarp that was so old I was scared a breeze
of wind might blow through and dissipate the thing to dust.
The driver went straight to a counter, behind which an older
woman stood.
About half of the tables were occupied by working men in
stained t-shirts, their faces and eyes exhausted and empty
so early in the day. I felt like I could eat a horse and told
my mother so. She simply smiled and told me to wait there
while she ordered for us. I studied those sitting around me,
feeling a little out of place, similar to Despereaux in The
Tale of Despereaux.
Spanish fluttered around me; I tried to catch some meaning
in familiar phrases and sounds. I dont speak Spanish, but
Ive heard my mother speak it enough to be a little familiar
with it. Although I didnt understand any of what was being
said around me, they spoke too fast for me to follow.
My mother returned with two paper plates in hand, each covered with foil. Whatever it was, it smelt heavenly warm and
comforting and aroused my stomach reflexes, letting out an
expressive groan.
Hungry are you? she said with a sweet smile, Sorry it
took so long to get food but trust me, this is worth it.
She handed me a plate and a bottle of water. I removed
the thin foil and behold, a magnificent plate of food; beans
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and rice placed equally on one side, the other an intoxicating
seasoned meat with thin bread, similar to tortilla or pita. My
mothers plate held the same substances, and I took a first
bite of the dark meat.
Brooklyn is filled with all kinds of delicious cuisines, from
heavenly breads and authentic pizzas topped with fresh tomatoes to fresh seafood cooked into all kinds of wonderful
dishes.
But let me tell you, the food in my mouth was incomparable.
Spicy, peppery flavors sizzled my tongue. Flavors baptized
my taste buds to an improved palette, making me feel as if I
had never truly eaten good food before.
I turned to my mother, who was watching me with a smile,
and gave her a look of immense gratitude for presenting me
with this plate of ambrosia worth hundreds of hours of waiting time, the suspense fair placed. We ate for the most part
in silence and appreciation.
Sitting again in the back of the taxi feeling incredibly satisfied and content, I made myself comfortable with my mother, her arm wrapped around me.

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Chapter 4

Mama, where are we going now?

Parque Nacional Mochima, she said, speaking slowly so I
could understand.
Oh, okay. I said thinking for a moment. Why?
Well, I thought it was time you saw what my home country
looks like, and I loved coming to Mochima growing up so I
thought it would be perfect for you to see. Venezuela is your
home too, She said, squeezing my arm.
I know. What does it look like?
Oh sweetie, it is so beautiful! The beach has glittering white
sand that molds softly to your feet, wavves that are laid back
and calm, warm, crystal blue water.
Ive always loved it there; I used to come when I was your
age. My mother would pack our bags, and wed stay overnight, for a few days sometimes. After a day relaxing on the
beach, wed visit the small shops and cafes that sell fish,
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pastries, and coffee.
And more often than not, the locals would throw parties
bringing visitors and natives together and we would eat and
dance all night. The rhythms overcome you, and even the
most pessimistic people would jump up and join the dance.
My mother was having a fit of passion, hopefulness fluttering in her eyes.
It sounds wonderful Mama, I said, remaining silent to
imagine it all. And it did sound wonderful to me, like a new
chapter in my adventure.
We arrived at a port of sorts, except it really was only a
cleared out piece of land overcoming the ocean with old
wooden docks. There were a few boats in dock and stands
selling fresh silver blue fish. The driver parked into an invisible spot and pulled our bags out of the trunk.
Gracias, my mother said, handing him colorful bills; I remember she told me the Venezuelan dollar is called bolivar.
He nodded to us and took off, leaving my mother and I on a
port on the coast of Guanta Municipality.
The sun shone pleasantly, and it was about eleven oclock
by now. Cool wind blew through rippling our clothes and
swaying our hair. With our bags in hand, we walked down
the wooden dock, awaiting the next chapter of our journey.

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Chapter 5

We rode a ferry, an old run down boat with about 20 passengers, across the water to an island. Living in Manhattan, Ive
never seen an authentic tropical island other than in pictures.
Seeing one for the first time was quite a shock to me, and I
became more and more excited. Coming closer, the island
only grew larger. It was great with majestic blue mountains
in the distance and luscious green tree tops that rose, living
to reach the sun. There were colorful villas placed along the
coast, and small row boats dragged up on the white sandy
beach.
Mama, its so beautiful!
It is, my mother said with a sad smile, drifting into a reminiscent flashback. The wind blew through her wavy hair,
pushing it back behind her, accentuating her chin and collarbone. Looking out to sea, she reminded me of a sailor
during the Golden Age of Piracy, searching out for the next
great adventure.
Mama, I said, and she shook herself out of the daydream,
Are we here also to see Grandma? Her face darkened a bit,
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and she rounded her shoulders.
Well she doesnt live here, but we are going to see her
soon.
What is she like? I had never met her, and my mother
didnt talk much about her about her presently. I know that
she lived in a small town where my mother was born and
raised. She was indigenous to Venezuela, living in one of the
few remaining settlements of natives.
Thats not to say that she lives uncivilized, as my mother explained to me once. Her people, the Kalina, werent savages
as natives are often portrayed, but instead remained to hold
onto their customs and traditions.
My mother shook herself from her thoughts and smiled to
me. Shes dedicated and conservative. Youll see. I wasnt
sure what she had meant by this, but accepted it as it was.
About an hour later or so, we were docked on the island, the
ferry boarding a few people to return to Venezuela. The air
was sweet and salty; a mild breeze swept through to sway
our hair. My mother led us through a small cobble street,
lined with colorful little clay buildings. People walked or
rode bikes, smiling to us and nodding to each other. The little
buildings held various shops. There was a florist, selling native flowers that bloomed wonderfully. The grocer had little
stands of produce; a bakery with lovely little pastries and
cakes.
We came to a multi-story building; in the middle of the courtyard a lavish fountain gurgled sparkling water. Modest palm
trees rose above the building, providing lapses of shade. We
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checked in with an old women behind a makeshift reception
desk. She was polite, her frequent smile causing her face to
crease into slight folds and wrinkles that were built up after
years of joyous times.
Our room was in a far corner with a large window overlooking the ocean. The first thing my mother did upon entering
the room was open all the windows, allowing cool air passing through the room and causing the thin curtains to dance
playfully. There was one large bed with a white and blue embroidered blanket, a small wooden desk, a decent bathroom
with little tiles lining the sides of the walls, and a makeshift
kitchen with a small stove. It was small but comfortable for
the two of us.
The rest of day we spent exploring the town, walking leisurely down cobblestone streets, eating sweet and juicy fruits
from local vendors, and buying a few outfits for ourselves.
I had picked out a white cotton embroidered shirt, and my
mother chose a flowy blue dress.
The rest of the day we spent on the beach wading in the
cool and clear water, as well as sleeping under the protective
shade of trees. We bought fruit and ate it in the sand, regaining energy after a long day of walking.
I woke later to the sound of waves gently crashing upon the
beach; the sun was about to set beyond the cotton candy horizon. My mother was reading, her new tan making her skin
glow.
How do you feel? she asked with a smile, putting her book
down.
I thought for a moment, then said, I feel... refreshed! En27

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ergy was restored even more to my body; I was seeing optimism and beauty in the world around me.
Good, we have plans tonight, her voice was energetic as
well, and I was excited for what else this wonderful island
had in store.
We returned to our rooms and rested for a while, reading
independently. Once the sun had set and began to retract its
rays from a blue sky, we changed into our new outfits. My
mother was braiding my hair loosely to keep it from my face,
weaving in little white and pink flowers we had picked earlier. My mother kept her hair loose as well, tied in a messy
bun.
We left soon and were walking down cobblestone streets,
going deeper and deeper into the city so shops soon became
little houses. When I felt my stomach grumble I glanced to
my mother for a moment and she gave me a look that seemed
to say Trust me, it will be worth the wait. She seemed to
know exactly where to go even though the streets and homes
became indistinguishable to me.
After about 10 more minutes of walking, I heard music play
in the distance as well as the rumble of joyful conversation.
The smell of meat cooking reached us and I was ready for a
fun night. We walked up to small home and entered around
the side, leading to a cleared out backyard.

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Chapter 6

Lights hung crisscross above creating a ceiling against the

dark sky; mismatched tables and chairs were spread about in
no particular order. There was one long wooden table where
food was set out in ceramic dishes. I could smell the meat
cooking, similar to the food we had eaten in Guanta Municipality.
Musicians stood on an elevated board playing together to
create fast rhythms. Children ran and darted through people,
playing an intense game of tag and shrieking with laughter.
Everything was informal and makeshift, but that was why it
was such a moving scene. Everyone brought what they could
and had no problem sharing with those around.
Hola! A woman came up to us, her blonde hair free around
her shoulders. She flashed her friendly white teeth and gave
my mother a warm hug and a kiss on the check as if they
were old friends.
Hola! my mother responded, going on to ask how the
woman was casually. She introduced me and the woman
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bent down to me and said, Hola, como estas?
I replied nervously and the woman bent down to me and said
slowly, Are you hungry? I smiled and nodded, and she
called out, Yaneth!
A girl with dark tanned skin ran through the crowd; she wore
a white cotton shirt and leather sandals.
The woman spoke to her quickly looking to my mother for
confirmation.
This is Yaneth, would you want to play with her? my
mother kneeled down to focus on my face, looking for even
the slightest glimpse of discomfort. I sure was nervous meeting these people for the first time, but I was comfortable after
our day in their town.
Sure! I exclaimed, ready for a new experience.
Yaneth approached me and said warmly Hello! She took
my hand and we ran off into the night.
My mother was right to remember these parties so well. The
food was splendid; a buffet of seasoned tender meats and
fresh tortillas that would warm your heart was laid out for
everyone and anyone.
Yaneth was very friendly; she showed me the best foods to
eat and asked me about my life where I was from. The other
children Yaneth introduced me to were just as welcoming.
They didnt speak English, and I dont speak Spanish, but
the language barrier was meaningless. We ran through the
house and yard, shrieking with delight.
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Later in the night I ran into my mother who was standing
with a crowd telling a story, everyone attentive to her motions and whims. With everyone laughing on cue, she took a
moment to check in with me.
How are you feeling?
Great Mama! My heart was racing, and I felt energetic.
She let me run back into the crowd, chasing my new friends.
I noticed the music pick up tempo as adults began to hoot
and cheer since as many began to join in a rhythmic dance.
The music grew louder and beats quickened. Men and women joined together and moved in sync, a common rhythm
forming between all.
I noticed a whirl of blue pass me and realized my mother
was dancing. A young man spun her round, their faces full
of delight.
Yaneth ran up beside me and said, Its amazing, isnt it?
It is!
Come on! She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the
crowd. In general I struggle with dancing, and to this unfamiliar beat I decided to stand in the crowd of dancers awkwardly.
Yaneth laughed and grabbed my hands, spinning me around
and moving me from side to side.
Just do what feels good! she yelled, her hair whipping
around as she moved flawlessly with the crowd.
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I took a deep breath, observed those around me, and slowly
began to move along with Yaneth. I relaxed my shoulders,
and holding each others hands, we danced to the harmony
of the moment.

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Chapter 7

We had walked home that night laughing and feeling joyful.

The streets were quiet and the air as cool.
Lying in bed next to my mother, I replayed every moment of
the night. The flavors, feelings, movements, and conversations. I held them close to me as precious memories.
The moon was full and shone gently through the curtains,
enlightening the room with soft shadows. The waves crashed
down on the beach, the tide pulling in and out.
Mama, that was amazing. I whispered.
What was sweetie? she said softly.
Everything.
Im glad you enjoyed it Tiana, she turned on her side to me
and smiled.
We were quiet for a while, thinking about the past, present,
and future.
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Why did you leave your home? I asked her. My mother
never really talked about her past, so I had no idea why she
left.
Well, when I was a little girl I knew that when I grew up, I
wanted to be smart and learn a lot. But that required a proper
education, and where I grew up kids stopped going to school
when they were 14 so they could get jobs and help support
their families. I realized this early, so I decided that for all
my life, I would spend most of my time reading any book I
could get my hands on. I taught myself a lot of things, and
when I was 17 I was able to apply for school in the United
States.
My mother was furious when she found out I was not only
accepted to several schools, but many offered me scholarships to come to their school. She grew up in a culture where
kids didnt leave home so young, especially not to another
country. she spoke quietly.
Oh, I said. I wonder why Id never thought about her past.
Is your mother still mad?
Im not sure. Ive written letters to her, and I received a few
replies from her. In fact, she said that she cant wait to meet
you.
I was in love with Venezuela within my first day here, so I
was excited for anything else involving this wonderful place.
I love you Mama, I whispered as I felt my eyelids begin
to droop.
I love you more sweetie. she pulled a blanket over me and
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the last thing I remember is her telling me to sleep.

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Chapter 8

The next few days we spent exploring the island. We hiked

through the forest and found amazing waterfalls to swim in.
One day we made it to the top of a mountain on the island,
and ate a light lunch while gazing out to the beautiful island
and ocean.
Soon it was time for us to move onto the next great adventure; reconnecting with my grandma.
She lives on Isla Margarita, an island in the Caribbean sea
north-west of Venezuela. After leaving Mochima, along with
all our new found friends, we took a 3 hour ferry from Guanta Municipality to Margarita Island. This time the boat was
larger with more people on board.
On the way there, an old wrinkled man sat across from my
mother and I. Our noses were buried in books; I was reading The Tale of Despereaux, one of my most favorite stories
about a mouse that is different in many ways, my favorite of
which is the fact that he can read!
While I was reading, the old man said to me, You like storys, do you?
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I smiled and said, Yes, very much actually.
My mother looked up from her book and said, Puede que
le cuente una historia?
He nodded with a toothy smile and said with a strong accent,
Do you like pirates?
I nodded and he continued, You know these waters were
once filled with all kinds of pirates? A long time ago there
were lots of boats sailing through here and onboard were
explorers from Europe looking for goods and places to claim
as their own.
I gasped and looked around, half expecting to see great
boats, and half imagining them.
Yes, these waters once were a place of opportunity and
great adventures. And amongst this was Red Legs Greaves,
a notorious pirate.
Was he a good or bad pirate? I broke in.
He was a good pirate, as he was known for his morality and
humility. He was born to slave parents in Barbados, and after
his parents died he was sold to another owner who would
beat Greaves as a teenager. He escaped by swimming across
Carlisle Bay and stowed away on a merchant ship. But little
did Greaves know... he had stowed away on a pirate ship!
I gasped again, leaning forward to hear better.
Yes, and this ship belonged to a pirate named Captain
Hawkins. Captain Hawkins was known as an unusually
mean and cruel pirate in the Caribbean, who often tortured
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prisoners and showed no mercy to the ships he captured.
Hawkins forced Greaves to sign onto his crew, and even
though Greaves didnt like Hawkins, he had no choice but to
join since he showed such promise to be an excellent sailor.
But Greaves knew what it meant to be a slave and prisoner,
and grew to resent more and more Captain Hawkins. So one
day Greaves couldnt take it anymore. He disobeyed the
captains orders, and they fought in a dual. Greaves killed
Captain Hawkins, and the crew elected him to be their new
captain.
He rewrote the Ships Articles, which are rules the ship
obeys, so that they would never torture anyone again and
would allow other ships to surrender. Greaves became very
well known as a justifiable and humane captain, and was
respected by most.
My mind filled with wonder and I imagined what it was like
to live during this time and what Greaves was like as a person.
The old man proceeded on to tell me about how once Greaves
had captured Margarita Island by storming into the town. He
took a lot of gold and pearls, but he didnt loot the town, and
no harm came to its inhabitants. The man wasnt shy with
details and kept me engaged.
What a story! And what a character! Greaves was a pirate
and stole from others, but he remained honorable in a way,
and I admired that about him.
My mother gave the old man a gratifying smile, and he continued to tell me about the islands history and riches with
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inspiration in his eyes until the ferry came upon a port and
it was time to continue on with our journey. He told me to
continue loving stories, and to be sure to pass them on. I
thanked him and gave him a hug for his wonderful stories
before we parted ways.

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Chapter 9

Least to say, Margarita Island is very large. There are mountains running from north to south that contrasted beautifully
with the light blue sky and puffy white clouds. From the
port we took a taxi to another part of the city where the great
buildings and tourist attractions were weeded out until they
became a distant memory. Soon enough, the city became a
neighborhood, and the neighborhood became large pieces of
land that belonged to single homes.
We were driving on a dirt road cleared out from grassland
terrain and occasional palm trees. It was a few hours of following this single dirt road, which would break off into two
paths sometimes, and driving in and out of thick forest that
we came upon a small settlement.
Brown wooden homes with chipped paint lined the side of
the road; string hung between homes and poles for a clothes
line. People in modest clothing walked about and children
ran through and between homes. There were a few rusty cars
parked on the side randomly, and some people stared as we
drove though.
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Mama, is this it?
Yes sweetie. I was silent for a moment before she continued, I know its much different than what you are used to,
but trust me: this is part of our culture. Its a different life
here, but it is worth getting to know and understand.
It was a culture shock to me. Ive seen images of similar
towns in National Geographic, but to actually be in a place
like this... I was silent for a minute thinking about what to
make of the town. I didnt feel better than the people here,
I mean they are technically my distant relatives. Yes it was
different, but I would try to learn as much as I could about
my culture and gain a stronger identity.
I knew there was a lot I could learn being there, and I knew I
would remember this trip forever. So my mind was made up:
even though I come from a different world, I would enjoy
my time here and learn as much as I can.
I turned to my mother and smiled. Im ready to learn as
much as I can!
She returned my smile and relaxed a little with relief.
Our taxi pulled over to one side and my mother paid the
driver, setting up a date and time for him to pick us up. A
few people stared at us, and some children came up and said,
Hola, quein es useted?
Somos de United States They looked to one another in
amazement. Sabes dnde vive Mayr?
Aqui! they yelled, running down the street. My mother
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grabbed our bags and smiled to me, Come on!
We ran down the dirt road, going down other less used paths,
until finally we were walking through a grassy field. We
came up to a brown home, this one slightly smaller than the
rest. My mother thanked the children and gave them coins.
They took them excitedly and gave us hugs before running
back the way we had come.
Are you ready? my mother said, still laughing from the
warmness of the children.
I nodded and we walked up to the home. A womans strong
voice came through the walls, singing an emotional song.
We went around the back and there stood a tall woman in a
cotton dress and sandals hanging clothes on a line. She had
dark tanned skin and her hair was partially wrapped up in
a scarf, although some curly locks fell out around her face.
Hola Mama, my mother said slowly, as if this woman may
not have been her mother. But the resemblance was outstanding; they both had dark wavy hair and the same brown eyes.
The woman put the clothes down slowly and turned to us.
She gasped and ran up to my mother, tears flowing down her
eyes. They embraced in a long hug, saying things to each
other that I didnt understand.
They let go of one another and my mother introduced me.
Ahh, Tiana, my grandmother said, smiling down to me. I
hugged her comfortably even though this was our first time
meeting.
Ella es muy bella, she said to my mother.
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She said youre very beautiful, my mother told me. I
smiled to her as a thank you.

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Chapter 10

Strangely enough, I was very comfortable staying with my

grandma. It was a bit awkward at first since I couldnt understand her and she couldnt understand me, but we both
learned a bit of each others language and we found other
ways to communicate when my mother wasnt around.
And although we were strangers, the hospitality of Venezuela
made us immediately comfortable with one another. Family
can mean a lot of things, like the people you grow up with,
or the people you love because you know you would if you
knew them. The way people trust and welcome with open
arms show the spirit of Venezuela, which I admired greatly.
I learned a lot about my grandma, like how she speaks Spanish and Carib, which is the language of the Kalina. Her name
is Mayr and she has grown up in this very town and has
only left a few times to go to the mainland of Venezuela.
It surprised me to find out she is very artistic; she enjoys
painting and drawing and singing. She did several portraits
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of my mother and I. She let us keep some, but others she
hung on her walls remember us by. In fact, she makes extra
money in the town from singing at local parties.
In the town itself, I found almost everyone to be very welcoming and kind to me even though I was a stranger who
knew little about them. But I learned a lot from the local kids.
They taught me games and phrases in Spanish and brought
me traditional food to try. In return I taught them a little bit
of English and read to them some of the books I brought,
drawing pictures in the dirt to try and explain the story.
Like in Mochima, they have parties here often. The first
night we arrived a party was held in our honor, celebrating
the children of the Kalina returning to their few original settlements.
I danced more comfortably here as my grandmothers booming voice carried on through the night. Some of my friends
taught me a new style of dancing that involved jumping and
stomping. They also taught me the steps to a dance that was
commonly danced as a group in sync.
My grandmother sang songs in Spanish as well as in Carib,
and one night my mother joined my grandmother, their voices booming melodiously together as they sang a traditional
Kalina song. They swayed and danced together enjoying
their reunion.
During the day, I would play with my friends and go exploring in the nearby tropical forest. I took a lot of photos, amazed by the beauty that lay in their backyard. They
laughed at me when I would get excited by the pretty views
or the animals we ran into.
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Once a colorful bird was pirched in a tree and I recognized
it as a Toucan from my National Geographic book, and I
couldnt believe my eyes. It was very beautiful in person and
remained gracefully calm, even as I stood close and stared
intently at it. The kids behind me giggled and I laughed as
well. I mean a quarter of Venezuela is tropical forest, so they
must have been so used to the wild life here. Parrots flew
through the village all the time, but I still remained excited
anything and everything.
Other Times my grandmother would teach me things she
knew well. I learned a few versus of songs in Carib which
were difficult for me to pronounce at first. My voice wasnt
as strong as hers, so we sung together as practice while we
did other things.
She taught me to make bread and let me help her cook and
clean. Every day I ate foreign food, but it was delicious so
I learned to be comfortable putting unfamiliar foods in my
mouth.

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Chapter 11

As all good things go, they must come to an end. I knew I

would remember this time for the rest of my life, and will
surely come back here as often as I could. But I was still sad
to leave, feeling as if I was leaving home forever. The day
had come when the taxi would arrive.
I was sad to see a car coming in the distance, but my mother
and I were ready. My new family and friends stood with us,
waiting to see us off.
I hugged all my friends and said goodbye to them. I hugged
my grandmother who handed me a silver chain with a little
blue rock dangling off the end. She put it around my neck
and said something in Carib. I translated it the best I could to
Never forget your family.

We entered the taxi, an old American classic with blue and

red rust, the seat lined with sticky white leather. My mother and I piled into the back, and my mother told the driver
which city wed like to go to.
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I turned in the seat, looking out the back window to the village. I smiled and waved as the driver started the car, the
engine rumbling and taking off slowly. The children were
running after the car, yelling after us.
My grandmother stood there, in her leather sandals and dyed
cotton dress, showing off her toothy smile full of good intentions. The wrinkles in her bronzed skin creased her face,
showing the years of wisdom and hope for the day when her
daughter and granddaughter would return.
*Sniff*
I turned to my mother and saw her facing the back window
as well, sentimental tears running down her cheek. I placed
my hand on hers and a smile broke through, her eyes lighting
up to me.
Im glad we came, Mama, I said softly, turning back to my
family. The children had stopped running, our car speeding
swiftly away, bumping along naturally to the dirt road.

The End
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