Free coffee to whomever can come up with the most original name for a web design company.

(You have to be in Montreal to claim your prize).

Well, we made it through yesterday as if it were a completely normal day. I worked out, sunbathed by poolside, read a lot. At some point in the afternoon, my bored colleagues and I decided to check out the march. We followed the noise through smelly streets to the protest. A million person gathering is an impressive thing, and it looked more like a happy festival than an angry revolt.

El Presidente has been given until Wednesday to leave office, or else the whole country goes on general strike. This is bad news for me, because I’m supposed to leave Wednesday, and a strike means no flight out for days on end. I’m thinking of jumping the gun and leaving on Tuesday, if I can change my flight. I’m probably not the only one wanting to leave the country that day. Sigh.

Once again landing in Montreal will be rapture.

Six months ago today, there was a coup here in Caracas. Soldiers dressed as civilians opened fire on people protesting against the government, killing at least 16 people. A further 25 were killed in subsequent marches, and president Chavez’ rule was overthrown, then reinstated within two days.

Today, on the six month anniversary, it is expected that one million people will take to the streets, over three times more than in April. Yesterday, we debated with our Venezuelan colleagues whether it was safe to go to work, as the march would go by our office building. The man I am training showed me a newspaper picture of himself at the coup. He was carrying a man who had been shot in the back of the head.

It was decided we would go to work, worried as we were of remaining stuck in the building if things turned violent by day’s end. As we returned to the hotel, soldiers and military vehicles lined every street. My colleagues heard gunfire during the night, but I guess I slept too soundly.

This morning, the normally bustling city was quiet. As we were having breakfast at the hotel before leaving, we got a call informing us that the Venezuelans neither wanted to go to the office, nor come to the hotel. They either wanted to take part in the protest or stay with their families.

And so I get a day off. It’s surreal to be here, in the middle of a revolution, reading my little book, watching my little DVD. Sometimes I try to understand the situation on the local news, but the Spanish spoken in the angry speeches of protestors, generals and ministers is unintelligible to me. I’ll keep you posted.

I just realized that ever since I stopped training about four months ago, and basically stopped watching what I eat, I’ve dropped eight pounds. Hmmm… Works for me.

After yesterday’s false start, I finally made it to Caracas today, and it’s been very surprising so far.

First, I’d kind of forgotten that the Andes reached all the way up here. Not only were they impressive in their sheer height, but it was absolutely breathtaking to fly over one jungle-covered, cloud-topped lush green mountain after another.

Then I met my escort and he drove me to the hotel. The drive was insane, even by my standards. I noticed only three red lights he went through, but I’m sure it was more. Our car was in okay shape, but some of the ones we passed on the road (often driving on the shoulder) were falling apart in rust, often missing both head and taillights. Even some city buses were in this state.

We drove through more of the hills, but this time they were crowded with shabby, corrugated-iron shacks and enormous trash piles. We weaved through small streets where crusty, sick dogs and cats sniffed around abandoned, stripped cars, and children came up to the stopped cars in traffic to sell anything from chocolate to lottery tickets.

(Anyone still think we have it bad in Canada?)

Then I get to the hotel, which easily rivals the Montreal Ritz in its level of luxury. They’ve been expecting me. A uniformed beauty escorts me to the manager’s office, who asks me to choose between seven different types of pillows. I am then shown my room, which includes a Jacuzzi, eight types of body lotion, fruit, cheeses and breads, truffles, slippers, bathrobes, etc.

I know it’s a huge cliché to point out the difference between haves and have-nots, but clichés are after all based on truth. And sometimes, like today, the truth behind a cliché reaches out and impresses you with the full force of a completely original idea.

Sleep tight in your comfy bed, reader.

I went to HMV with Bill to pick up some earphones for the trip, and I finally found that rare article for which I’ve been searching high and low. Yes, the Swing Kids DVD. At last. And of course, I find it the night before I go on a fifteen-hour trip with a portable DVD player, my laptop. Life ain’t bad at all.

The kicker is, it’s been so hard to find, I expected to pay about 40$ for it. Nuh-uh, hepkitties: 11.99$! What a joke! I’ve actually never seen such a cheap DVD.

I know this isn’t blogworthy to most of you, but sometimes you just have to share the joy, even if no one understands it.

I was supposed to be on a flight to Venezuela at 6:30 this morning. I was awakened at 6:00 by a frantic, “where the hell are you!!?” call from my colleague, only to notice the flashing LED display on my alarm clock. Shit, outage. I hate the weather. I hate Hydro-Québec. I jump out of bed and into my clothes, and run out into the cold.

After an incredibly fast drive to Dorval, I wait about 40 minutes in line at the American Airlines checkout counter. I’m told I have to take the same flight tomorrow. My hair and teeth still not brushed, I slowly make my way back home. I’m going to have my breakfast, and my heart attack now.

I’m sure there’s something to be said for starting a day in a moment of panic like this… I’m just not sure what it is.

You know what the best part of this picture is? That lightspeedmom probably took it.

My folks are so cute.

E-mail from Bill:

“I was just looking at T’s portfolio site again - I see it’s been expanded from when I first saw it.

(How’s that for a birthday present? I gave him a GROUPIE! “

Last Saturday I was checking my yahoo mail, and saw an ad for the yummy Chrysler Prowler, which I’d never even heard of before. Cars really don’t turn me on, but there was something so compelling about this one I just had to click. A quick tour of the gallery and I fell in lust.

The next day, I’m coming out of swing practice and guess what’s parked right in front of the studio? A silver Chrysler Prowler. A few admiring turns around the beast and I fell in love. I must have one.

A couple of months ago I blogged about this idiot, who ran up a 20000$ (US) credit card debt, and set up a web site simply asking people to help pay it off. Oh, how incredibly immature and irresponsible, I said. What a deadbeat, I said. Well, her debt is now only 2794.94$, so I sit corrected. She’s no idiot. Her supporters are idiots. She’s brilliant.

So here’s the deal: I’m looking for a rich idiot who’s feeling generous. I’d like my Prowler to be red. In return, you get absolutely nothing. Okay, let’s be clear on this: N-O-T-H-I-N-G.

I’m waiting right here, fluffing my fuzzy dice, with images of roadburn dancing in my head. Thank you for your support.