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

Kidnappings, Push-Up Bras and Little Horsies???

It has been a while since we crossed into Colombia from Ecuador. I must say that initially it was with a bit of apprehension. Expecting all types of personal and physical calamities to befall us at any time. Murder and mayhem. Bullets to whiz by, random kidnappings three  times each day and countless searches by the ever present military.

Well, none of that has happened fortunately and we continue riding  from the south to the north and are currently approaching the Guajira Peninsula. The northern most peninsula in South America. Home to the Wayuus. A hot dry place where you can eat Iguana stew with coconut. The Wayuus are extremely independent and like to remove their road signs to stay that way.  The children have string roadblocks and request candy to allow you to pass. How can you refuse!

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We have discovered in Colombia one, if not the most beautiful countries in South America. The landscapes we have driven range from 15,000 foot Andean peaks, cloud rain forests, lower coastal mangrove wetlands, savannahs and deserted Caribbean beaches. Waterfalls, rivers, jungles are all present in great quantity. Flowers and butterflys line the roads. It has all been spectacular. I wish we could redrive many of our routes again and again. You wanted to get up each morning just to ride.

The people of Spanish, African and Indian descent are somewhat divided between the Andean areas of Bogota, Cali, Medellin and that of the northern Caribbean coast. Cartagena, Santa Marta and the small fishing village of Taganga, all beautiful places that are difficult to leave. Everywhere throughout these areas we have met a fun, friendly, family loving, industrious people who seem to live by one purpose in life, that life is about living to its fullest. Music, song and dance are everywhere.

The woman are beautiful in Colombia and lets just say the men are interesting. After Kristi left I found myself spending more than my normally allocated time gazing into the windows of the many lingerie shops. I would find myself asking, can you really do that with a piece of wire? or What could I carry home from the market with that one. Just honest red-blooded American male inquiries. Anyways my behavior had to end, I was being shooed away from the windows of some of the more upscale shops. So I decided I would crunch some numbers and do a little research. The original push-up bra company in Colombia called the Hold Em High LTD (roughly translated from Spanish) is sadly now out of business. Its demise was attributed to the lack of the proper gauge wire and competition from companies using more Frenchified names. But the industry still thrives. In just the last decade alone enough wire has been used in the manufacture of these bras to go back and forth thru the Panama Canal 1248 times. If that statistic doesn"t amaze you I have also found that a full 37% of the GDP in Colombia can be in some way attributed to push up bras. Believe me it shows!

Driving in Colombia though is another matter, especially in Bogota. I call this new style “Advantage Twitch Driving.” First off the city is going through a massive public transport redo called the Trans-Millenio. Double length buses zooming around in their own lanes in order to reduce congestion. And congestion there is. This is where the twitch driving happens predominately. You are in wall to wall traffic, stop and go maybe sometimes getting up to 25 miles an hour for a couple of blocks.

A small one half of a car space opens up in front of you and suddenly the driver on you left or right twitches his wheel and his car is now in front of you. This practice annoys the hell out of me. No blinkers, no can I please share your limited space just whop! Here I am. I find in reality you do not own any part of the lane except the exact space your tires are on. In the country driving is much better with the occasional pothole that you drive into and emerge from twenty minutes later.

So I have to tell you a little story. We left the town of Pijao that Kristi told you about and had a perfect drive to Salento and the Valle de Corcora. Kristi’s makeup looked perfect too! This valley is famous because it has striking vistas to the east of the Los Nevados mountains and is also home to the Palma de Cera or wax palm. 

Not only is this tree the national tree of Colombia but with its natural setting it is breathtaking to behold. The trees sit in a mist shrouded valley reaching upwards of 60 meters or close to 200 feet. The entrance to the valley was lined with horse stables.

You know it was a beautiful day and Kristi loves to go horseback riding and  to be truthful, I just love to watch horses go by! I really do prefer something with a motor between my legs that I can control.  Well, Kristi wanted to ride.

 I was hesitant at first, but as we do at times in life I consented and not so willingly got on top of “ Loco”. Name not to be confused with “ Poco “ which in hindsight I think would have been a whole lot better. The first thing that wasn’t quite right were the stirrups. The place where you try to get your extra wide motorcycle boots placed into, to help, I guess control the horse. 

Mine just wouldn’t fit. No matter how hard myself, the guide and the other riders tried, the stirrups were to narrow. Well not knowing how important stirrups really are or even how you used them and not wanting to really look more stupid than I already felt, we left with ½ of an inch of my boot sole touching in the front of each stirrup. 

The setting was absolutely stunning open meadows, cows grazing in the valleys with the wax palms higher up stretching into the mist. I was really getting into it. Then suddenly the terrain changed and so did Loco. We began an hour of straight forest climbing. The path all but disappeared, only now being sensed by the horses wanting to get us off their backs and return home. Back and forth straight up over stream boulders in piles like 2,000 watermelons all heaped together we rode. 

“You have to be kidding“ I said. “I wouldn’t even climb these structures on foot“. The horses crossed the stream we were following maybe 30 times while trying to navigate these wet slippery boulders. At this point Loco knew there was a somewhat scared Gringo sitting on his back and must have decided it was now his turn to dole out the abuse and totally control the situation. He would jump extra hard over the streams, land on one foot, spin on top of the boulder, slip down the other side and run as hard as he could toward that tree branch a little lower than my head. Luckily at this point of the ride I was starting to keep my eyes open so I was able to duck in time. Well we finally made it to the top, maybe 30,000 feet up.

 

“Where are the oxygen tanks” I asked the guide as we were handed a cup of hot chocolate with cheese floating in it. Hummingbirds sucked the nectar from wild orchids all around us. After a short stay the guide said it was time to go down. Down!! Is that the same as going up? No, he said it is not, its a little harder. Can’t we go horizontal for awhile? Please! No! Well going down was harder and I will have to tell you about it another time!

So if you are ever in Salento and visit the Valle de Corcora and wish to participate in a new sport, I have one. It’s called “ Extreme Horseback Riding”. Just ask for Loco when you arrive for the time of your life.

P.S. What Kristi mentioned in her blog about my excessive consumption of Aquardientes one night in Pijao, Colombia. Well it just isn't true. Here is a photo to prove it!

Talkie Soon!