Saturday, April 16, 2011
Is Cervix Soft Before Period
Bill in Venezuela: Internet
Just went to the conference of the faculties of humanities and education at the national level in San Cristobal. We at the Institute of Psychology, Central University present our work and attended a few tables at the event. One evening we went to a colleague Capacho, a village nearby. We left the bus terminal in San Cristobal accompanied by the shrill voice of Madonna, go through mountain roads following the curves of the high hills which seem to cats sleeping in the sun, their backs turned and freshly baked breads.
San Cristobal is a curious mix: Old buildings have only two floors, and although the city is totally lacking in urban planning gives a sense of calm, except when you board a vehicle. The drivers are as if escaping an avalanche. There are streets that are reminiscent of San Francisco, where the straight slides cars scattered haphazardly to the back of the city. The new buildings are taller and promise to quell what is now pleasant. 
houses and roads are known, are the same across the Latin American lower middle class, especially in the Caribbean: a single-story houses painted in bright colors. The only difference perhaps is the cleanliness and order these ways of Táchira. 
The people always start when the concentration of housing and people rise and suddenly we find ourselves in the Plaza Bolivar Capacho. Peace is everywhere here. The bus dropped us off at the corner opposite the church and police headquarters. On the main street are beautiful and imaginative golden statues. Asked a man where there would be a tasty place for lunch, and he offered to take us to a nice restaurant. In that we do not feel calm fears to mount his chariot with his wife and daughters. So go back the hill determined to reach what was obviously a meeting place for local residents when eating away from home. We ate lamb.
walked back to the Plaza Bolivar. We feel a living habitat and non-tourist. Our street down but not as steeply as the side tracks: those were vertical and sudden, down on your heels would be a risky venture. In the distance were the mountains across the valley and the nearest row houses with their bright colors. We
back to the Plaza Bolivar which was colonized by young high school students in uniform, boys a side and the other girls. They ate bread and chatted. 
Next we went to church pleasing design which lay behind its mellow colors of wedding cake. Next there were small craft sales. 
Upon returning to the airport we passed the Torbes River, a beautiful bed pavement and almost no water but in times of heavy rain becomes a torrent. The driver showed us where the storm had lay a heavy cement bridge last year. In return, the airline we had packed so densely that the poor Cyrano de Bergerac would not fit between the seats. In the office next to me was an expert in aircraft and ship accidents. I was worrying as this expert made the sign of the cross when we took off.
Finally, we returned to Caracas and everyday life.
Reference: Source
Cyrano Photo:
http://divagamadrugada.blogspot.com/2010/04/ojala.html
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