Venezuela and Hugo!

The first thing I did of course before leaving Colombia for Venezuela was to knock off all of the tiles on the corner of the hotel I was  staying in Maicao, Colombia. On the morning of my departure I was taking Coco out of her overnight storage area and cut the corner a little sharply. Maybe 16 or so tiles hit the sidewalk and boy did I feel like an idiot when her rear storage case caught the corner. Not only because so many people gathered to watch the aftermath all shaking their heads but because this hotel had been so nice to me with everything they had done. They even remembered me being from Minnesota. So I got on the bike and drove away as quickly as possible! Not really. 

I told them that I would definitely pay for my mistake even though upon inspection I couldn't figure out what was really holding the tiles up to begin with. After about an hour of negotiation, which entailed several calls to the owner and the opinions of many of the Colombians on the street, the desk clerk looking rather apprehensive told me the charge would be $9.50. I paid the $9.50 enthusiastically, got on the bike, drove off while everybody waited to see what I was going to hit next. Ya! Like many things that  corner came right out of nowhere.

I drove straight to the main plaza. Here amidst a market were the currency traders. By the way, this town Maicao has the reputation of being the smuggling capital of Colombia. Goods going back and forth to Venezuela and Central America, coming in by boat everything seemed to make their way here. Electronics, clothing, shoes and of my interest, currency trading. The town has a very rough physical presence with trash and garbage seemingly everywhere. I watched a semi pull up with its flat bed loaded with bags of cement. I estimated maybe 1000 bags all unloaded by two sweating guys. But I was here to do some serious money changing. I would be in Venezuela lets see, maybe 30 days. Gas is cheaper than water, so that's not an expense ( 28 cents my first 8 gallon tank full). So I estimated I would need 40 bucks a day, plus a little extra or $1500 dollars worth of Bolivars. Currently the official rate was around 4000 to the dollar or the amount you would get using your ATM card.

 

When we were here before Kristi managed to coerce almost 8200 Bolivars from the pockets of the traders. Me, well I only rated 7200. So after consulting with a half dozen of them I resigned myself to the fact I just wasn't quite as good looking. The deal was struck amidst a flurry of solar powered calculations and a number was shown to me.  The number filled up the entire calculators screen and had to be recalculated several times before I was assured it was correct. It was so hot the sweat was pouring off my head and the calculators. Ten million Bolivars and some change were soon to be coming my way. I asked for big bills which I think he understood to mean a lot of bills.

The trader opened his table drawer and realizing he didn't have enough Bolivars started shouting around the plaza for more money. So much for the discreet money transfer I was hoping for. The bills started arriving from about 6 sources and when all were there the stack was a good 5 inches high if I pushed on it. Was anybody watching? Here I was going to trade 15 very clean Benjamin's concealed in my palm for 10 million Hugo's which were so worn they felt like thin cloth. I counted and counted, held every fifth bill up to the light to see the watermark, packed up and had a 13 scooter escort to the border. Bye, Bye Colombia.

Venezuela, you have to let it grow on you. Most tourists won't even venture a foot into the country. With all the reports of crime, especially in Caracas, a city of 6 million where last weekend there were 66 homicides, I too was somewhat apprehensive. There isn't much tourism infrastructure in place to help you along. Also Venezuelans are not as extroverted as Colombians so it takes a while to warm up to them or they to you. It is also hard because their Spanish is spoken so quickly its difficult to understand.  Restaurants are few in some areas and more time has to be spent finding decent food. Most Venezuelans seem to be fairly unhappy with their current government. Hugo Chavez they say has made a noble effort in promoting his Bolivarian Missiones. The missiones promote social welfare through education (many new schools), health (new clinics and hospitals staffed with a cadre of Cuban doctors), and work cooperatives. There has been success with the first two. Access to health care and literacy rates have all improved. 

The coops though have been plagued with corruption. Venezuela is an extremely wealthy country. Oil, gas, gold, cattle, diamonds make Venezuela one of the richest countries in South America. New cars, huge malls, sometimes you would think you were in Bloomington. The people I have spoken with say that's all great if only we had better management of our resources, a government with a clearer vision of the future and the ability to teach people new skills to get them off of welfare. Sound familiar? It seems that people everywhere want just about the same things.  

Funny story! I am driving down the Autopista towards San Carlos at about 65 MPH and Hugo Chavez pulls up alongside me in a 1972 Impala. A 427, duel exhaust, triple deuces, flake metallic paint, slicks on the rear, four speed, in mint condition. He says to me, ¨Gringo welcome to my country, you are from the Estados Unidos, correcto? All i could answer at the speed we were going was Si! He glanced ahead at the road thought for a moment and said.¨How is Mister Bush?¨ I couldn´t answer before he said, ¨Tell Mr. Bush hello from his friend, who is Still President¨ With that he downshifted, laid a little rubber and was gone. Afterwards I thought, why didn´t I get his picture?

As I was traveling through Venezuela's Andes the roads in the mountains were very prone to mud and rock slides. Some old slides and some new. On one road that approached 15,000 feet a mud slide occurred up a few blocks as I was riding.  It was a little unnerving. Water would be gushing over the roads trying to get to the other side. Sometimes carrying mud, rocks and small animals. I was trapped one day between a mud slide and a newly formed river. I had to wait until dark when the rains subsided to get through and cross the river. Here are a couple of photos.

On a different subject finding a restaurant with decent chairs is an entirely different matter. I have been struck in South America that the comfort of a chair is never a foregone conclusion. Ergonomically speaking maybe I just don't have the right body type. I always thought I had a number 8 head on a number 9 body. Well the designers of these chairs didn't take that type into consideration. 

They protrude, contort and bend in the worst possible combinations. Once I pulled a chair up, thinking that's odd and when I sat down, my head just about touched the table. Another time I hurriedly finished my meal because the wire comprising my chair seat was lacerating my buttocks. It seems that the chair designer felt three wires forming the seat were enough.

I'm not complaining. I have learned to demand little and accept less.  Right now I am sitting on a mile long stretch of palm strewn beach, surrounded by misty mountains all close to a small fishing village of 1500 people. Everybody already seems to know my name after 2 days. There is a lot of action around 5 AM when the fishing boats take off for several hours. Then they return and everything goes back to being quiet and sleepy. 

There isn't even a restaurant here just peoples homes that you walk into. Flowers are blooming everywhere and you can hear the waves crashing all day and night. It is quite idyllic? I have only been to one other place quite like this and that was Varkala, India. You could sit and read or write here for a month. 

It is called San Juan de Las Goldonas over on the Paria Peninsula in north eastern Venezuela. A little populated area of uncompromising beauty. Hiking trails and small forgotten villages are peppered throughout the peninsula. Small single lane roads snake their way around giving you gorgeous ocean and mountain views.

After leaving the northeast coast I began heading south towards Ciudad Bolivar. Along the way was a small mountain town called Caripe. Famous for coffee, oranges and cacao I stumbled onto their main attraction. The Cueva Del Guacharo. This cave in 1949 was declared Venezuela's first natural monument. The cave is 10.2 kilometers long but you are only allowed into the first 1200 meters. Unlit, the caverns are filled with up to 15,000 guacharos or oil birds. The oil birds are nocturnal and have enormous whiskers, a 3 foot wingspan, radar like navigation and a penchant for devouring fruit. 

They fly out at dusk and return before dawn to the first chamber where their endless screeching creates an unsettling eerie atmosphere. The second chamber is called El Silencio because it suddenly becomes quiet and provides relief from the birds. I made a tape which you can listen to here.

I am waiting in Ciudad Bolivar to catch a small plane heading for Angel Falls. Will write more after that trip and a visit to Roraima in the Gran Sabana.

All the Best,

Todd