I have not left here, but I am not imagining anything else really exciting happening. If it does I will edit this part of the blog to include it or add it to Brazil Part One.
We arrived in town and were immediately offered a cheaper tour. You need to be on the ground to get cheaper tours here, but again we declined because we had already promised someone else. I don't make a very good ruthless person, unless I hate someone. Starting to get a little tired now so this may deteriorate. Our tour guide was a mate of the guy who wrote that 'Travel writers go to Hell' book and apparently the guy is quite crazy so maybe its legitimate. He was middle aged but had a young local wife as his second wife. Normal down here sadly. We were a little uncomfortable handing over the money and being left with some unofficial looking plane ticket in the airport. Lots of things never quite look official here. Makes it difficult. We did eventually get handed over to a pilot of a small 5 seater CESSNA plane or however it is spelt. Hmm it was tiny. I no longer like flying and this did not fill me with confidence. We had met a Yankee guy in the airport beforehand. The pilot held the door shut with his arm as we taxied. Surely this was not right. He eventually shut the door and window as we accelerated and we were off. He handed out maps and proceeded to point stuff out to us. He looked sidewards, backwards. In fact anywhere but in front of him. He did not fill me with comfidence as he tilted the plabe ninety degrees left so Dom could see a iron mine. The plane bounced around as he jabbed at a map on the window. Who was this looney and how did he get his pilot's licence. Why was he up in the clouds anyway? All the other planes were much lower down. Ah there was some other thing he jabbed away at. Look, just get us to Canaima. I came here for one thing only. And it was not to die at the hands of a crazy man. My real time writing states "I wish the pilot would concentrate on flying the plane/banking for sites/ten minutes flying blind white in the clouds". Yes the idiot took us into a white fog. We flew blind for ten minutes. I did not think it was ever going to end. When you can't see, you want faith in your pilot. I had none. Sir Jabalot was too busy turning cogs. Idiot. He did get us out though and we eventually got to the approach to Canaima. We were a little to the left of the runway though. He must drift in then. Surely. Maybe not. Whats he doing? Ah fuck, he's going to land on the dirt. He narrowly missed a parked plane and landed us on the dirt. What was wrong with the runway like a normal pilot? I never want to fly with Sir Jabalot agian. He scares me. He grins like a maniac and looks like a crack addict on day release. We paid the local cartel their entrance fee and we were in Canaima. Our group was being assembled. The Yankee, us two and two couples. We were one short. Hopefully they would be young and fit. We weren't disappointed as the eighth member was a really good looking Brazilian girl. It seemed a good group. I managed to suss that the Yankee had spent time in Brazil and that his Portuguese was decent. This opened a door for the Brazilian girl to chat with him. Alex was his name, Juliana hers. I imagine the opportunities to speak your native Portuguese are as precious to her as the chances to speak Catalan are for Dom. So it was good for him that one of the guys was from Barcelona. The others were Venezuelan. We travelled for 4 hours by boat up river, with a brief hike in the middle. It pissed with rain all the time and Juliana and I were in t-shirts so we froze from the wind factor from the boat. We snapped the motor propellor on a rock on the way up. I got mainly chatting with Juliana and Alex. She is very cute and was travelling all around the north. Good energy and obviously a nice person. Very good company. Alex is a really cool and interesting guy. He hitchhiked with friends across Africa after university, had taken seven days of sailing lessons, bought a boat and sailed for six months across the Caribbean. I love American daring and positivity. The can do attitude is immensely powerful. Not many English would take thta risk. He now plans to sail for two years around the world. He's from Indiana originally and is another example of the superiority of the middle of the country. I also learnt he started the election campaing behind McCain and swung to Obama. Probably one of the group that put Indiana in the Obama box. He also became world famous when a photo of him eating an iguana in the Bahamas sparked an international search and court date where he was eventually ordered to pay a huge fine. Facebook can seemingly be as dengerous as it is useful. Still he was published in the metro for it and is still bombarded with hostile e-mails from environmentalists. The three of us stayed up latish talking about trust, travel and relationships. Mainly about those while travelling. Alex had been travelling with a yoga instructor on his boat and had a complicated situation, while Juliana had met a Swiss guy in Australia. I assume that's why she is now off to work in Zurich for a year. Meanwhile I was stewed on some of mine and teased by Juliana as to my attacheness. Truth be told I have no real attachments and the ones I like the most are those with whom nothing happened. She pointed out that i still think of some of them. Two more than any of the others and I randomly had contact with both of them today. Ah the ironies and twists of fate. I think I was quite taken with the Brazilian but I never quite got the one to one time I wanted to get to know her properly. Hmm I just realised I got to the end of the night and I did not mention Angel Falls. Its not even in my diary. Wow thats awful. We hiked to see it and got to about one and half kilometres away. Juliana said you could see it but you could not feel it and it looked ok from a distance, but it felt like you could tick it off rather than experience it. Alex asked the guide if there was a trail to the falls and he said yes. We decided to go at 4am the next day. We asked our guide if we could have the boat at 4am. He said no, so I said we would have to swim it then. He laughed. I think he thought I was joking. We had bathed in the river that night as well. Juliana has a good figure. Alex and I tried to wade out to deeper water but there was not any. This fooled us into thinking we could wade it the next day. The Venezuelan couple wanted to escape Chavez and move to London. That seems to be the wish of everyone in this country. We crashed in for an awful night of hammock sleeping.
I woke up around 3am with full moonlight, That would help us with the hike. Eventually the alarm went off and Alex tapped me awake. Juliana and surprisingly Dom declined to join us. So we snuck off to the river. I was in my tracksuit. We tried to wade across but the river ripped us off our feet and my tracksuit filled with air so I got lifted like a sailboat. Shit. We paced up and down the edge looking for a way to cross. It looked to swift. I figured we were stuffed and then Alex leapt in and just went for it. He made the swim across relatively ok. I had fallen on my shoulder on the rocks and bruised it. I decided to strip off the tracksuit and swim it in my shoes. I abandoned the clothes and plunged in. My front crawl is awful. I manfully powered to the middle and whizzed down river. Bollocks I was not going to make it and get sucked down the river and drown going to Angel Falls. Luckily this was only the problem of crossing the middle fierce current. I struck my shoulder on a boulder and was then in the shallows and across the river. Alex had lost one of his shoes and would have to hike barefoot. It was a pair of crocs, so now you can say they really do have crocs in the water around Angel Falls. At least one anyway. We had the flashlight along with the moonlight and set off. The hike to the viewing point was easy and beyond the trail was fine. Obviously the trail had not been used much as we had to clear some of the stuff away. It eventually opens up onto a grassy hill that you traverse towards some boulders. We could now see our goal and we wanted to get underneath it. We remembered the boulders for the entrance back. The rest of the trail had seemed easy. We had to take it easy as we skirted the wet boulders as an injury would be dangerous. There were bits of a microlite and planes amongst the rocks. I imagined Sir Jabalot will end up in this debris at some point. Probably with his finger still pointing at Angel Falls as his plane had hit the rock face he was not looking at. You could feel the spray from 300m out. The water was dispersing from high. Alex put a video on. We entered and scrambled over the boulders and crags, right into the heart of the waterfall. We traversed the very beginnings of the river when it was a trickle, we slid and fell over wet boulders and the closer we got the heavier the water became. From mist, to a drizzle, to an English shower, to heavy storm, to monsoon, to heavy monsoon, to so heavy you can't breath easily. We were under the middle and the water was battering us. The dispersal over almost 1km of dropping meant that it did not crush us though. This was the best shower ever. Juliana was right when she said you can't feel it from a distance. You can feel it when you are under it. When it is all around you. When you look up into a mist of cascading white. When all around you run rivers of water in your sight. You are standing under the highest waterfall in the World. This made the tour money worth it. This was pioneering. This was why we travel. You felt the power if it. You felt its majesty. It was too risky to climb further, but we were engulfed. Alex reckoned it was the perfect birthday present. It was awesome. Its just a shame we had to disobey our tour guide to go. The hostel puppy has just paid me a visit. Now we had to get back. We scrambled over the rocks again. Alex managed to salvage some stuff for his boat from the wreckage of the microlite. It was worth many more times the value of his shoes so it was a good trade off. I rolled a huge stone into my ankle. That would cause me problems. We almost got lost coming off the grassy hill (which was a precursor of sorts) and then we went past the boulder overhang. Be careful on the way back as we got lost here. We slid down a granite boulder we did not remember and followed an unfamiliar trail for twenty minutes. Shit it was wrong. We tracked back and could not find the trail we had come by. Arse. We were lost in the jungle. We crossed across and found a dry stream. Maybe this was the way we came. We scrambled down moss covered rocks. It did not look right and we had some big drops and hard scrambles. Hell at least Alex reckoned it would go to the river. It didn't. It led to a huge drop off that he almost plummeted off. We were now very lost on two wrong trails. We had no water and food. Also if the guides passed us before we found the trail again then we could get back and they would still be missing. Crap. I joked at least Alex could find us some iguana to eat. We'd been too busy discussing politics, America and travel, that we had got ourselves very lost. I now understand thats why they say stick to trails in the jungle. Alex wanted to cut west to find the trail. I thought it was risky as we may be too low down. Doubling back was the better option. We seemed to compliment the other well. He was reckless enough to push me that little bit further and I was just cautious enough to hone the more serious recklessness. We doubled back but the climb was steep and we were losing energy. A moss wall was hard so I opted to go round and ended up having to punch through a rotten tree and force my way through. We now looked like we had been on a rough hike. We were earning this. At this point, this blog entry was looking decidedly dicey, because we could not retrace properly, could not find any way out but sheer drops and no concept of the trail. We got back up to the big boulder and found a path like trail on the left. It had boot prints. It was the trail. Thank fuck for that. Now how late were we. Alex reckoned they would set off around 7.30am or 8am to find us as that was when they had planned to leave. We were both limping back slightly injured. Then we came across the guide past the lookout. He was very pissed. He stormed off after finding us and we made it back at 9am, after embarassingly getting lost briefly off the main trail. Not sure how we did that. The timing must have been right as we met the guide half an hour from the end. We boated across and gathered my clothes and breakfast. The others had had to wait and the guides were pissed we had gone off. I did not care as I am always disobeying the guides and it was worth it. I just hoped the group was not pissed off and Juliana assured me they were not. We took the long four hour boat ride back to camp without the hike on the way down and Alex and the Venezuelans left. In the afternoon we headed out for the other waterfalls with a new group (Polish honeymooners, Canadian couple and a Romanian). Juliana did not join us which was disappointing.
We got to the lake and took a boat over. We went walking behind two waterfalls (one was impressively strong) and over the top of another one. Someone found more plane wreckage (it is the world's most accident prone flight). They were cool, but all a bit meh after the morning hike. It seems that the best parts of tours are always when you disobey the guides and go off on your own. I need to just start getting random topographical maps and shooting off to random places and seeing what I can find. I got so wet this day my feet resembled those of an 85 year old man. Very wrinkly and my shoes were fucked as well. I had received a fake $10 from the Ecuadorean cash machines. I hate that country even more. How fucked up is somewhere if the cash machines are giving you fraudulent notes. We had some cool conversations and chats at the dinner table that night, but noone wanted to come for drinks. The village of Canaima is not that impressive though. We found a sweet girl who served us in a shop and an indiot who had to make three phone calls, one walk and two consultations to find out that we could have a hot dog if we wanted. Bare in mind that we had asked for chocolate so it was not quite what we were looking for. This was Ecuadorean levels of incompetence. The room fan made sure that my shoes destroyed the air in the room. Bit like Rome on inter railing. Dom and I chatted for a bit and he reckoned I was enamoured with Juliana. Quite possibly. He claimed I am just a 'tramp with money'. Thats probably the best and most accurate description of myself I have ever heard.
We grabbed breakfast and said our goodbyes. We shipped off to the airport and I finally got some one to one time with Juliana. I did this at the expense of conversation for Dom and it was a little shitty of me. She is very cute, has a great positive energy (which all Brazilians seem to possess), is clearly a good person, shares some interests and I think I was a little taken with her. Oh well. She's off to Switzerland. Maybe we'll meet at another time. I hope so. The plane was late. As usual. Who would be our pilot? Ah fuck it. Its Sir Jabalot. Anyone but this madman. At least if I die, I will die in good company. I had managed to worry Juliana with my assessment of his flying last time. Crap. He ended up bouncing the plabe all over the place. At no point with him did I think I might not die. He will be the death of someone. His plane should be decommisioned, but I imagine that will only happen when he plows it into something. Maybe he could jab the ground and cushion the crash. We bounced all over the place, even after he kept his theatrics to a minimum. His unique way of landing was to switch of the engine, glide in, barely clear the fence and land on the tail. I am never flying with him again. Though we survived the worst safety record. Next week I fly down the Amazon (the second worst safety record) and I would not be surprised if Sir Jabalot turns up again as my pilot. I forgot to pay for my lunch in the aiport as we left so if anyone says 'there is no such thing as a free lunch', you can inform them they are wrong. Juliana's tour agency was not there so she used my phone to get a taxi. Private planes and private taxis. I suspect she is secretly someone very important in Brazil. She left with a great parting line. 'I enjoyed metting you. Not all of the time, but most of it.' Thats cracking honesty. I can appreciate that. Its probably true for most people around me. I hope I catch her again somewhere and can iron out the 'some of the times'. Dom was pissy I made him wait until her taxi came and we checked into Posada Don Carlos. I am currently sitting here typing, sweating and listening to Guns N Roses. Was supposed to meet someone but it did not work out so I stayed in and typed. This place is good though they change the dollar for a shit rate. I believe its 5.5:1. Awful. We took a long walk in the incinerating heat (and I like heat) to the bus station and were given tickets by some shifty looking man. He did not seem legitimate. i don't know why we gave him money. But apparently he is legitimate and Dom seemingly took his bus today. We found a restaurant in town that was open (but padlocked. An interesting concept of open). Dom hated the food and we got chatting with an English girl before we ended up drinking in the hostel bar (where you serve yourself) with a Russian/Polish fisherman and a Hungarian. Both of them and the two Italians later thought I was from Chile or Argentina. We bantered about in Spanish, the Italians showed us their Cuba photos and the Polish guy explained how he runs fishing trips in the interior. 10 days work earns him enough to live for 6 months in Isla Margarita. Working for yourself id the only sure fire way to make decent money and not hate your boss most of the time. He got smashed on a bottle of rum and showed us a fishing site in Polish. We drank for a while. Dom turfed in early and I followed eventually.
So little happened today that I have accidentally combined it with yesterday in my diary. We got up and grabbed breakfast with the English girl. We sorted out stuff online, wandered down to the river and chilled there. We had two lots of schwarma (though its not real schwarma and not picante enough) and chilled in some hammocks while we chatted away for the final time. I went with Dom to the bus station and saw him and the Canadians off. The bus tickets look legitimate. I walked back thruough the dark, shady streets and settled down here for a long time of typing up Venezuela. I wrote to a few people today on various things and it should be interesting to see the responses if I get any. Ah well that wraps up Venezuela, unless something amazing happends tomorrow. Its been fun if frustrating. Roll on Brazil. I head for the mighty Amazon.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Venezuela Part 2: Caracas
Bastards. I leave London and they go and open a second blues club on Charlotte Street. They have needed one of those for ages and now I am no longer there they create one. Oh well. Its somewhere new for whenever I get back, assuming it stays open. Charlotte Street Blues is the name. Would love to know if anyone has been and if it is any good. I got this news from a random mailshot from Guanabara. Ironic. Brazilian seems the flavour of the day. Met one in Angel Falls who was really cool, tomorrow I head into Brazil (the country I have most wanted to visit since I was a kid), chatted with one today from Manaus and now even Guanabara is telling me about new blues things. Its a shame I will only get to spend a week and a half total nipping in and around the Amazon, but when I finish up in Argentina I can spend 2-6 months there with some Portuguese I will have learnt. But for now I will have to mumble by in Spanish and subsequently get a haircut here. Here is a brutally hot and sticky Ciudad Bolivar. Half ten at night and topless with a beer, I find myself sticking to my diary. Original Sin is on the tv. Angelina Jolie is still one of the best looking women around. My mind is buzzing with drink and general things. Ana contacted me for the first time in ages. She still has a part of me for herself somewhere. Dom has left and so I am travelling solo properly for the first time in ages. Ah a fan has kicked in. Light relief. Mayra contacted me and is seeing a Bulgarian guy in Washington DC. She may as well cut lose her fiance. Caracas job is up in the air. Doorman has turned off Angelina Jolie. I can only assume he is trying to punish me for stopping him from listening to random crap on youtube.
Anyway Caracas or first a bit of Maracaibo. I said nothing much would happen. I was overcharged for the internet, some bitch refused to serve me at the restaurant because I was a tourist and made up some bullshit about believing I was with the other girl. Then I accidentally smashed a bottle all over the station floor. It looked petulant. It was only incompetence. I have written fuckhole other guy. My time here in the bus station passed as unpleasantly as expected. The Brazilian I just met was also not served. I can only assume they don't want to make any money. Hmm we have some weird dubbed stuff. I wish the night porter would just fuck off. We left Maracaibo eventually and were in the process of being cryogenically frozen by the airconditioning when we stopped abruptly on the bridge. We had to unload all our luggage and as the bus company would not do it, we did it ourselves. We filed it through an electronic scanner and put it all back again. I wish they would stop wasting my time. They did however foil my plan to blow up the Maracaibo bridge. So it had some purpose. Dammit they don't have msn messenger.
I arrived early in town and used the tube to get to the rendezvous point with Dom. I have started to use the word subway. I think I am slowly being Americanised. I waited for ages for Dom and in tangled Spanish I think I implied to the woman at the hotel that we were a gay couple and she was not keen on renting us the room. I asked how much for two beds and then for one. I meant in case Dom did not turn up, but I think she read it differently. She mentioned to carry my passport and beware the police (oh she was right on that one) and eventually an internet cafe opened up. Dom was very late. He had read the older of my messages about meeting at 10am and so I waited two hours and he eventually found me in the internet cafe. Ah Springsteen's complete New York City concert. Should be good to write to. We left the internet cafe and went to check in. A short whistle and the police had us. Off we went. A complete bag check. They searched everything. We had our passports so that was ok. They wanted drugs. I told them drugs were bad. Dom had a spare aspirin somewhere. They were satisfied with his explanation. They wer concerned with my multivitamins and took a sniff of my socks. These guys just will not learn. They emptied everything and then asked us if we wanted to contribute some money. We politely declined and went to check in. Dom's Spanish convinced her we weren't a gay couple and we got a room that we eventually took for six nights. It was a sex hotel, but not as active as the ones surrounding it. Albeit Sabana Grande is apparently dangerous and the hangout for the transexual prostitutes. We had a bit of a crack pot assortment of fellow travellers. There was a Dutch guy who figured I was too loud but it probably meant women liked me. Then he discerned I was a capricorn and I am not sure what relevance that had to anything. He worked for the BBC, criticised us for interrupting his phone call with his lawyer and then abruptly disappeared. Next came an American who worked for IBM. He had been changing his money at the official rate of 2.1:1 with taxes making it 1.98:1. He was badly uninformed. He had also been out to the strip clubs the night before and paid 820 Bolivars Fuertes for one hour with a prostitute. That equates to $410 for one hour. I think he's put Original Sin back on. Thats a lot of money. For one hour. He could have had 10 prostitutes in Colombia. He's mental. She must have been a supermodel. Except he thought one of the prostitutes on the street was stunning. 'She' would come to the hostel later in the week sporting a two day old beard. It's possible he's a closet homosexual or he may not even have realised they are transexuals given the fact he is changing his dollars on the official rate. Either way he was a fool and an idiot in the same breath. For that one hour he could have seen Angel Falls and climbed Roraima. Using prostitutes is a desperately sad pasttime anyway, but paying that much is damn stupid. Especially when you are incapable of telling the difference between a man and a woman.
We spent the rest of the day looking for money changers and in my desperation I accepted a deal of 5.6:1 from a random guy in the shopping centres. Its a fun game, although its very time consuming. At 5pm we went to meet Valentina at Altamira station for a street party. My God the women of Caracas are stunning. They were streets ahead of the women from the rest of Venezuela. Puerto Rican levels of good looks all over this party. The street party itself was really good, even if a lot of places sell 220ml beers. What a pointless size. We went out for the street party. DJ's and live bands all over the streets. Live theatre, art deomstrations, skateboard ramps. The whole area was really buzzing. Streets were alive with people kicking back and drinking. The nightlife of this city looked amazing. We met a lot of her friends and went drinking with them. They even had pints in one place. Most of them had lived in London at some point. The skateboarding was really bad but fun, the theatre involved people walking around with lemons in their mouths. The techno was good. We ended up having to go back for reinforcements of money and then we decided to head to Greenwich Bar to meet Gabriela. We walked all the way there but she had left before I got there. Still the bar was good. Like a Camden bar. English and American rock music and a sociable crowd. Dom was offered to change Euros at the bar, some ugly local girl latched onto us for dancing and a local gay guy propositioned Dom to go back to his. Another guy ended up trying to stick his finger up Dom's arse. He ended up pulling a random curly haired Venezuelan girl on the way to the toilets and so incurred the wrath of her boyfriend and two other guys. He figured we would end up in a fight. Luckily we did not as I ended up on my own at one point and the three of them looked like a fair match for the two of us. We were picking up a lot of numbers as everyone seemed to love London. Some random capped guy made friends with me and wanted to introduce me to everyone. The gay guy was trying to get us to come to his beach house for next weekend. Dom ended off somewhere with some short blonde girl. Cap man introduced me to some croupier girls from a local casino and then to a local journalist for the tv called Mafer. Me and her got talking for ages even though it was in Spanish. Dom ended up not finding me and left around 5am. Gay guy told me he had gone, cap man disappeared and then Mafer offered to give me a lift home. It was 6am and the sun was up. Ah at last a city with London esque nightlife. All the people in the bar still believed Dom looked more English than me. Dom had ende up going home alone and walking across Caracas randomly. No trouble besides being offered a cup off coffee buy a random tramp. Mafer drove me back and after both of us had a piss in the streets we carried on chatting. We ended up listening to a massive Beatles omnibus and I remember pulling in the car to the tunes of 'Yellow Submarine'. Bit surreal to be pulling a Venezuelan journalist, in a car, outside a sex hotel, at 8am, listening to the Beatles. She wanted to have sex but we had nowhere to go. Did not occur to me we were right next to places that rent by the hour as its so unusual in the UK. We arranged to meet up later and it felt like a clandestine tryst, only it never happened. Stupid of me to postpone stuff. Should have acted when we were both in the mood. Oh well you live and learn, only to repeat the same mistakes with more panache. Ah the mosquitoes are upon me.
We slept in very late the next day as is understandable really. Ah apparently I am missing 100 pounds on my credit card, but it was a false alarm sounded from home. Was my Panama-Colombia flight. I know have a new place to stay in Korou though I will need to watch the rocket launch on the beach. Oh well. Needs must. We tried to sort out the rest of Venezuela and realised we were in trouble for both time and money for Roraima. We would end up missing it and have to come back after Brazil. I texted Mafer for meeting up in a random hotel that night. Felt quite creepy really and she cancelled so it was an unproductive day. We watched some hobos eating leftovers in one shopping centre, did some washing, went out to San Ignacio shopping centre but everything was dead. Some weird red and blue chemical erased the pages of my notebook and some e-mail addresses. Unsatisfactory day, but at least the Fed finally won at the French Open. Congratulations. Could not have happened to a nicer guy. I hope Nadal now wins the US open.
Monday morning came upon us. We had a cultured day. First we went to Museo de Belles Artes. Lots of the rooms were shut, but those that were open were good. Afterwards we went to the Museo de Aret Contemporaneo. There was a lot of stuff on Brazilian architect Niedermayer (which was interesting for Dom as most of his stuff is in Sao Paolo), some weird stuff focusing on water and some really good modern art. The art galleries in Caracas have a high reputation on the continent and they did not disappoint. Both of us were beginning to think that Caracas would be a funky place to live and maybe I would live there before I left the continent. We went to a tower. The viewing point was shut for refurbishment, so we illegally took the elevator to the top. Security did not challenge us because we don't look like tourists. Neat trick. The elevator guard got bollocked by the tower guard for this oversight. We walked all around the plazas and churches in the centre of the city. They are pleasant but nothing special. You don't go to Caracas for the architecture but for the gritty urban nightlife and energy. A bit like a South American Bucharest. We did some clandestine black market trading in a jewelry store opposite the theatre for 5.9. Best rate so far. In the evening we met Suhail and her friends to go to some stand up comedy. Should be interesting. Comedy is usually the hardest thing for another language. We learnt some interesting things about the Bolivar under Chavez. When he handed Obama the book on 'US Imperialism' the exchange rate jumped from 5:1 to 7:1. You are only allowed to get dollars if you have a credit card and you have an allowance of only $2,500 a year for travel. Any more and you have to use the black market. The comedy bar was an interesting place. Chique lounge bar. I have no idea where we were but we got rum and mixed up some cuba libres. There were women in skin tight silver catsuits on the door. Very sexy. Ronnie, one of Suhail's friends runs a language school. He has to go to New York for one month in september and offered me the use of his flat for free for one month and a salary of 1000 Bolivars a week. I can't take my money out of the country but as its paid fortnightly I can at least live well for two weeks and then go on a huge shopping spree. Nothing is confirmed yet, but Dom reckons my luck is unbelievable to always stumble into good things. If he confirms I will live in Caracas for one month and then go to Bogota for two months afterwards. Everyone loved the comedy. I only understood bits of it but it was a fun productive night. Shame there appaers to be some bastard in the hotel who snores like a whale every night. So loud its almost intentional. Every damn night. Someone needs to execute him.
We sorted out a tour for Angel Falls in the morning and got a price of $250 or 1450 Bolivars. Now it depended on the exchange rate for which we would use. We wanted to go to El Avila national park. The police had other ideas. Some cock followed us all the way down the road shouting to us. We ignored him but he caught us at last. They took our passports and claimed we had errors. Dom did not have his passport but only his Spanish ID card. I had mine. Apparently my departure card said next country to be Brazil which was wrong. I informed him politely that as its a departure card, Brazil is indeed the next country. He then claimed we needed vaccination cards for Tetanus at the borders. Firstly we came in at two different border crossings and neither of us had one. Secondly if it was true, it was the fault of the border officials. Thirdly it was bullshit. I said I wanted to call my embassy. They threatened to deport Dom and said they would take us to prison. We sat back. We could be fucked here. They wanted money. I refused to offer any in case they charged us with bribing an official. We refused to pay. I was happy to call their bluff as my stuff was in order. They kept us there for an hour or so and still no car. The guy asked us fro 6,000 Bolivars. We thought he meant Bolivars Fuertes as in $3000. We refused to pay. They sat there for ages and eventually let us go. Brinksmanship won the day as they had nothing on us. They had not aggresively stolen anything and so obviously lacked total corruption. The hotel owner later pointed out they meant Bolivars and it would have been $1 for us. We had risked prison for one dollar. Still it was the principle and you always need to stand for your principles. They probably thought we were nuts for refusing to pay such a small amount and got frustrated with us. They threatened Dom with prison if he did not carry his passport. I think they realised they were buggered. They were going to have to release me and I could have produced the passport to fuck up their only possible case. Useless stupid, fuckwit bastards. I started prepping for my interview on the thursday (Dom had to help me with the grammar categories as other countries actually study English grammar, unlike the natives). We went to El Avila and decided to take the cable car up, after other options proved fruitless. I did not want to risk walking on the highway (illegal), when they fuck us for legal stuff. The Brazilian girl had problems her first day in the country when they said her visa had expired and an English girl here was given an entry stamp from 2007. Police are bastards here, though those guys were the only ones we had problems with. We got student rates for the cable car and headed up to the park. Was a long, cool journey, although I am not particularly fond of cable cars. Its up in the mountains surrounding Caracas and there is good hiking along with great views. When we came back we were stopped by the same police again. At least they are persistant. This time they looked for drugs. We had nothing. At this point we decided to keep taking the long route too and from the hostel to save the hassle. Its a sad state of affairs. They say Caracas is dangerous. The only danger seems to be from the police. We went looking for good exchange rates for Angel Falls. We looked through jewelry stores and then we found an expensive export/import business. They sent us across town to their other store. In this centre we bumped into the gay guy from Greenwich. His Gadar must be immense. How did he find us in a city of 5 million? This time he invited us a movie night with his female friends at the university. Sounded good, but he never actually contacted us. We found a jewelry store in the floor below the ground level that changed for 6.2:1 but we had to come back the next morning. Suhail's friend was offering 6.3:1 but we had just made the deal with the shop and were changing $540. This is the best rate we have seen and is definitely a place worth visiting if you want to change your Bolivars on the black market in Caracas. That sentence was phrased to be tagged by search engines. Karen's sim card was attracting weird attention. I got a text from some random pregnant girl who could not text properly about me abandoning her. Dom wanted to know what I had been upto in Venezuela. I swore it was nothing to do with me, but it took 4 texts before she realised I was not who she was looking for, but I wished her luck searching for the errant father. We ended up going to Greenwich Bar that night but not much was happening and we had to make it to the exchange in the morning and then head to San Francisco De Yare.
We safely enacted the money transfer and avoided the police in the morning. They were happy with 6.2 and you may be able to squeeze a higher rate. We made a profit of 160 Bolivars paying for the tour in Bolivars so we confirmed that. It was too late to go to San Francisco de Yare so we slept in a bit and then did some prep for the interview the next day. We ended up eating pizza on the roof and I went to see Terminator Salvation. Its quite good. Better than the third one but not as good as the first two. Uneventful day really.
The next day we got up and Dom went to the festival with an Aussie guy from the hostel. I passed the interview. It was late to start as they did not realise Chavez has been fucking around with the clocks. Will mean I have to adjust by half an hour in Brazil. I got on the fucking course. Now I have to balance up Caracas with Bogota somehow. Makes most sense to continue travelling Peru and a bit of Bolivia after the Galapagos and then come back up north for three months. Will see how it goes. All hangs on the Caracas job now. Had to wait so long for the others to come back I almost died of boredom and lost the will to live. They had met some Venezuelan guys and had gone drinking with 4 local girls and paid for nothing all day long. They did not see any dancing devils, but they did get hammered in an apparently excellent street party. Shit. I got to hang and eat food with the old guys in the hostel. Damn interviews. We went out to five different clubs in Sabana Grande that night. The famous salsa club was awesome, but useless if like us you don't dance salsa. Too much salsa lol. Clubs were decent. The last club switched to all sorts of music and had some awesome live dancers. One looked like Mayra which was odd. Not sure if it was a club, a whorehouse, a mix or a school disco in Spanish. They told us we had to leave unless we bought a drink. Dom snuck off to the toilets and pissed in a bottle. This fooled noone, as both me and the bouncer had watched him walk all the way round the outside. We were turfed out. Rough end to an ok night. I had struggled to motivate myself out of the funky mood of boredom. It ended as a damp squib for the final night but was still funny.
We had to get up early to buy bus tickets for Ciudad Bolivar. Oh yeah on wednesday we had wanted to go and see Venezuela play at home in the world cup qualifiers, but sadly they play in Puerto Ordaz. Its the twin of here and I can only assume they play there because it is sappingly hot and would fry any Andean football team. I went to meet Stephanie in Altamira and she was an hour and a half late while I burned. I had left after an hour though, so we did not get to meet. I think it may have been revenge for me not naming a time on the monday. Why does this computer not have msn messenger? We had some Chinese food for lunch and it was heaven sent as we had been living off Wendy's gypo menu for days now to save money. We killed some time before the bus by watching 'The Unborn'. It was ok and a bit boring like most horror films. We chilled in the bus station afterwards and took another ice box to Ciudad Bolivar. Caracas was a class city. I hope the job offer comes through and I get to come and live here for a month. Would be good fun if I was earning money and I now know how much I need to get by in this country. Can also do the newly reopened cable car and Catatumbo Lightning in Merida when I pass back and forth from Bogota.
Anyway Caracas or first a bit of Maracaibo. I said nothing much would happen. I was overcharged for the internet, some bitch refused to serve me at the restaurant because I was a tourist and made up some bullshit about believing I was with the other girl. Then I accidentally smashed a bottle all over the station floor. It looked petulant. It was only incompetence. I have written fuckhole other guy. My time here in the bus station passed as unpleasantly as expected. The Brazilian I just met was also not served. I can only assume they don't want to make any money. Hmm we have some weird dubbed stuff. I wish the night porter would just fuck off. We left Maracaibo eventually and were in the process of being cryogenically frozen by the airconditioning when we stopped abruptly on the bridge. We had to unload all our luggage and as the bus company would not do it, we did it ourselves. We filed it through an electronic scanner and put it all back again. I wish they would stop wasting my time. They did however foil my plan to blow up the Maracaibo bridge. So it had some purpose. Dammit they don't have msn messenger.
I arrived early in town and used the tube to get to the rendezvous point with Dom. I have started to use the word subway. I think I am slowly being Americanised. I waited for ages for Dom and in tangled Spanish I think I implied to the woman at the hotel that we were a gay couple and she was not keen on renting us the room. I asked how much for two beds and then for one. I meant in case Dom did not turn up, but I think she read it differently. She mentioned to carry my passport and beware the police (oh she was right on that one) and eventually an internet cafe opened up. Dom was very late. He had read the older of my messages about meeting at 10am and so I waited two hours and he eventually found me in the internet cafe. Ah Springsteen's complete New York City concert. Should be good to write to. We left the internet cafe and went to check in. A short whistle and the police had us. Off we went. A complete bag check. They searched everything. We had our passports so that was ok. They wanted drugs. I told them drugs were bad. Dom had a spare aspirin somewhere. They were satisfied with his explanation. They wer concerned with my multivitamins and took a sniff of my socks. These guys just will not learn. They emptied everything and then asked us if we wanted to contribute some money. We politely declined and went to check in. Dom's Spanish convinced her we weren't a gay couple and we got a room that we eventually took for six nights. It was a sex hotel, but not as active as the ones surrounding it. Albeit Sabana Grande is apparently dangerous and the hangout for the transexual prostitutes. We had a bit of a crack pot assortment of fellow travellers. There was a Dutch guy who figured I was too loud but it probably meant women liked me. Then he discerned I was a capricorn and I am not sure what relevance that had to anything. He worked for the BBC, criticised us for interrupting his phone call with his lawyer and then abruptly disappeared. Next came an American who worked for IBM. He had been changing his money at the official rate of 2.1:1 with taxes making it 1.98:1. He was badly uninformed. He had also been out to the strip clubs the night before and paid 820 Bolivars Fuertes for one hour with a prostitute. That equates to $410 for one hour. I think he's put Original Sin back on. Thats a lot of money. For one hour. He could have had 10 prostitutes in Colombia. He's mental. She must have been a supermodel. Except he thought one of the prostitutes on the street was stunning. 'She' would come to the hostel later in the week sporting a two day old beard. It's possible he's a closet homosexual or he may not even have realised they are transexuals given the fact he is changing his dollars on the official rate. Either way he was a fool and an idiot in the same breath. For that one hour he could have seen Angel Falls and climbed Roraima. Using prostitutes is a desperately sad pasttime anyway, but paying that much is damn stupid. Especially when you are incapable of telling the difference between a man and a woman.
We spent the rest of the day looking for money changers and in my desperation I accepted a deal of 5.6:1 from a random guy in the shopping centres. Its a fun game, although its very time consuming. At 5pm we went to meet Valentina at Altamira station for a street party. My God the women of Caracas are stunning. They were streets ahead of the women from the rest of Venezuela. Puerto Rican levels of good looks all over this party. The street party itself was really good, even if a lot of places sell 220ml beers. What a pointless size. We went out for the street party. DJ's and live bands all over the streets. Live theatre, art deomstrations, skateboard ramps. The whole area was really buzzing. Streets were alive with people kicking back and drinking. The nightlife of this city looked amazing. We met a lot of her friends and went drinking with them. They even had pints in one place. Most of them had lived in London at some point. The skateboarding was really bad but fun, the theatre involved people walking around with lemons in their mouths. The techno was good. We ended up having to go back for reinforcements of money and then we decided to head to Greenwich Bar to meet Gabriela. We walked all the way there but she had left before I got there. Still the bar was good. Like a Camden bar. English and American rock music and a sociable crowd. Dom was offered to change Euros at the bar, some ugly local girl latched onto us for dancing and a local gay guy propositioned Dom to go back to his. Another guy ended up trying to stick his finger up Dom's arse. He ended up pulling a random curly haired Venezuelan girl on the way to the toilets and so incurred the wrath of her boyfriend and two other guys. He figured we would end up in a fight. Luckily we did not as I ended up on my own at one point and the three of them looked like a fair match for the two of us. We were picking up a lot of numbers as everyone seemed to love London. Some random capped guy made friends with me and wanted to introduce me to everyone. The gay guy was trying to get us to come to his beach house for next weekend. Dom ended off somewhere with some short blonde girl. Cap man introduced me to some croupier girls from a local casino and then to a local journalist for the tv called Mafer. Me and her got talking for ages even though it was in Spanish. Dom ended up not finding me and left around 5am. Gay guy told me he had gone, cap man disappeared and then Mafer offered to give me a lift home. It was 6am and the sun was up. Ah at last a city with London esque nightlife. All the people in the bar still believed Dom looked more English than me. Dom had ende up going home alone and walking across Caracas randomly. No trouble besides being offered a cup off coffee buy a random tramp. Mafer drove me back and after both of us had a piss in the streets we carried on chatting. We ended up listening to a massive Beatles omnibus and I remember pulling in the car to the tunes of 'Yellow Submarine'. Bit surreal to be pulling a Venezuelan journalist, in a car, outside a sex hotel, at 8am, listening to the Beatles. She wanted to have sex but we had nowhere to go. Did not occur to me we were right next to places that rent by the hour as its so unusual in the UK. We arranged to meet up later and it felt like a clandestine tryst, only it never happened. Stupid of me to postpone stuff. Should have acted when we were both in the mood. Oh well you live and learn, only to repeat the same mistakes with more panache. Ah the mosquitoes are upon me.
We slept in very late the next day as is understandable really. Ah apparently I am missing 100 pounds on my credit card, but it was a false alarm sounded from home. Was my Panama-Colombia flight. I know have a new place to stay in Korou though I will need to watch the rocket launch on the beach. Oh well. Needs must. We tried to sort out the rest of Venezuela and realised we were in trouble for both time and money for Roraima. We would end up missing it and have to come back after Brazil. I texted Mafer for meeting up in a random hotel that night. Felt quite creepy really and she cancelled so it was an unproductive day. We watched some hobos eating leftovers in one shopping centre, did some washing, went out to San Ignacio shopping centre but everything was dead. Some weird red and blue chemical erased the pages of my notebook and some e-mail addresses. Unsatisfactory day, but at least the Fed finally won at the French Open. Congratulations. Could not have happened to a nicer guy. I hope Nadal now wins the US open.
Monday morning came upon us. We had a cultured day. First we went to Museo de Belles Artes. Lots of the rooms were shut, but those that were open were good. Afterwards we went to the Museo de Aret Contemporaneo. There was a lot of stuff on Brazilian architect Niedermayer (which was interesting for Dom as most of his stuff is in Sao Paolo), some weird stuff focusing on water and some really good modern art. The art galleries in Caracas have a high reputation on the continent and they did not disappoint. Both of us were beginning to think that Caracas would be a funky place to live and maybe I would live there before I left the continent. We went to a tower. The viewing point was shut for refurbishment, so we illegally took the elevator to the top. Security did not challenge us because we don't look like tourists. Neat trick. The elevator guard got bollocked by the tower guard for this oversight. We walked all around the plazas and churches in the centre of the city. They are pleasant but nothing special. You don't go to Caracas for the architecture but for the gritty urban nightlife and energy. A bit like a South American Bucharest. We did some clandestine black market trading in a jewelry store opposite the theatre for 5.9. Best rate so far. In the evening we met Suhail and her friends to go to some stand up comedy. Should be interesting. Comedy is usually the hardest thing for another language. We learnt some interesting things about the Bolivar under Chavez. When he handed Obama the book on 'US Imperialism' the exchange rate jumped from 5:1 to 7:1. You are only allowed to get dollars if you have a credit card and you have an allowance of only $2,500 a year for travel. Any more and you have to use the black market. The comedy bar was an interesting place. Chique lounge bar. I have no idea where we were but we got rum and mixed up some cuba libres. There were women in skin tight silver catsuits on the door. Very sexy. Ronnie, one of Suhail's friends runs a language school. He has to go to New York for one month in september and offered me the use of his flat for free for one month and a salary of 1000 Bolivars a week. I can't take my money out of the country but as its paid fortnightly I can at least live well for two weeks and then go on a huge shopping spree. Nothing is confirmed yet, but Dom reckons my luck is unbelievable to always stumble into good things. If he confirms I will live in Caracas for one month and then go to Bogota for two months afterwards. Everyone loved the comedy. I only understood bits of it but it was a fun productive night. Shame there appaers to be some bastard in the hotel who snores like a whale every night. So loud its almost intentional. Every damn night. Someone needs to execute him.
We sorted out a tour for Angel Falls in the morning and got a price of $250 or 1450 Bolivars. Now it depended on the exchange rate for which we would use. We wanted to go to El Avila national park. The police had other ideas. Some cock followed us all the way down the road shouting to us. We ignored him but he caught us at last. They took our passports and claimed we had errors. Dom did not have his passport but only his Spanish ID card. I had mine. Apparently my departure card said next country to be Brazil which was wrong. I informed him politely that as its a departure card, Brazil is indeed the next country. He then claimed we needed vaccination cards for Tetanus at the borders. Firstly we came in at two different border crossings and neither of us had one. Secondly if it was true, it was the fault of the border officials. Thirdly it was bullshit. I said I wanted to call my embassy. They threatened to deport Dom and said they would take us to prison. We sat back. We could be fucked here. They wanted money. I refused to offer any in case they charged us with bribing an official. We refused to pay. I was happy to call their bluff as my stuff was in order. They kept us there for an hour or so and still no car. The guy asked us fro 6,000 Bolivars. We thought he meant Bolivars Fuertes as in $3000. We refused to pay. They sat there for ages and eventually let us go. Brinksmanship won the day as they had nothing on us. They had not aggresively stolen anything and so obviously lacked total corruption. The hotel owner later pointed out they meant Bolivars and it would have been $1 for us. We had risked prison for one dollar. Still it was the principle and you always need to stand for your principles. They probably thought we were nuts for refusing to pay such a small amount and got frustrated with us. They threatened Dom with prison if he did not carry his passport. I think they realised they were buggered. They were going to have to release me and I could have produced the passport to fuck up their only possible case. Useless stupid, fuckwit bastards. I started prepping for my interview on the thursday (Dom had to help me with the grammar categories as other countries actually study English grammar, unlike the natives). We went to El Avila and decided to take the cable car up, after other options proved fruitless. I did not want to risk walking on the highway (illegal), when they fuck us for legal stuff. The Brazilian girl had problems her first day in the country when they said her visa had expired and an English girl here was given an entry stamp from 2007. Police are bastards here, though those guys were the only ones we had problems with. We got student rates for the cable car and headed up to the park. Was a long, cool journey, although I am not particularly fond of cable cars. Its up in the mountains surrounding Caracas and there is good hiking along with great views. When we came back we were stopped by the same police again. At least they are persistant. This time they looked for drugs. We had nothing. At this point we decided to keep taking the long route too and from the hostel to save the hassle. Its a sad state of affairs. They say Caracas is dangerous. The only danger seems to be from the police. We went looking for good exchange rates for Angel Falls. We looked through jewelry stores and then we found an expensive export/import business. They sent us across town to their other store. In this centre we bumped into the gay guy from Greenwich. His Gadar must be immense. How did he find us in a city of 5 million? This time he invited us a movie night with his female friends at the university. Sounded good, but he never actually contacted us. We found a jewelry store in the floor below the ground level that changed for 6.2:1 but we had to come back the next morning. Suhail's friend was offering 6.3:1 but we had just made the deal with the shop and were changing $540. This is the best rate we have seen and is definitely a place worth visiting if you want to change your Bolivars on the black market in Caracas. That sentence was phrased to be tagged by search engines. Karen's sim card was attracting weird attention. I got a text from some random pregnant girl who could not text properly about me abandoning her. Dom wanted to know what I had been upto in Venezuela. I swore it was nothing to do with me, but it took 4 texts before she realised I was not who she was looking for, but I wished her luck searching for the errant father. We ended up going to Greenwich Bar that night but not much was happening and we had to make it to the exchange in the morning and then head to San Francisco De Yare.
We safely enacted the money transfer and avoided the police in the morning. They were happy with 6.2 and you may be able to squeeze a higher rate. We made a profit of 160 Bolivars paying for the tour in Bolivars so we confirmed that. It was too late to go to San Francisco de Yare so we slept in a bit and then did some prep for the interview the next day. We ended up eating pizza on the roof and I went to see Terminator Salvation. Its quite good. Better than the third one but not as good as the first two. Uneventful day really.
The next day we got up and Dom went to the festival with an Aussie guy from the hostel. I passed the interview. It was late to start as they did not realise Chavez has been fucking around with the clocks. Will mean I have to adjust by half an hour in Brazil. I got on the fucking course. Now I have to balance up Caracas with Bogota somehow. Makes most sense to continue travelling Peru and a bit of Bolivia after the Galapagos and then come back up north for three months. Will see how it goes. All hangs on the Caracas job now. Had to wait so long for the others to come back I almost died of boredom and lost the will to live. They had met some Venezuelan guys and had gone drinking with 4 local girls and paid for nothing all day long. They did not see any dancing devils, but they did get hammered in an apparently excellent street party. Shit. I got to hang and eat food with the old guys in the hostel. Damn interviews. We went out to five different clubs in Sabana Grande that night. The famous salsa club was awesome, but useless if like us you don't dance salsa. Too much salsa lol. Clubs were decent. The last club switched to all sorts of music and had some awesome live dancers. One looked like Mayra which was odd. Not sure if it was a club, a whorehouse, a mix or a school disco in Spanish. They told us we had to leave unless we bought a drink. Dom snuck off to the toilets and pissed in a bottle. This fooled noone, as both me and the bouncer had watched him walk all the way round the outside. We were turfed out. Rough end to an ok night. I had struggled to motivate myself out of the funky mood of boredom. It ended as a damp squib for the final night but was still funny.
We had to get up early to buy bus tickets for Ciudad Bolivar. Oh yeah on wednesday we had wanted to go and see Venezuela play at home in the world cup qualifiers, but sadly they play in Puerto Ordaz. Its the twin of here and I can only assume they play there because it is sappingly hot and would fry any Andean football team. I went to meet Stephanie in Altamira and she was an hour and a half late while I burned. I had left after an hour though, so we did not get to meet. I think it may have been revenge for me not naming a time on the monday. Why does this computer not have msn messenger? We had some Chinese food for lunch and it was heaven sent as we had been living off Wendy's gypo menu for days now to save money. We killed some time before the bus by watching 'The Unborn'. It was ok and a bit boring like most horror films. We chilled in the bus station afterwards and took another ice box to Ciudad Bolivar. Caracas was a class city. I hope the job offer comes through and I get to come and live here for a month. Would be good fun if I was earning money and I now know how much I need to get by in this country. Can also do the newly reopened cable car and Catatumbo Lightning in Merida when I pass back and forth from Bogota.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Venezuela Part 1: Merida and Maracaibo
Hmm this computer decided to shut itself down. Fucker. And I am quite dehydrated. This will either make for a fun thrilled roller coaster of unpredictability (The French Open semi finals. Come on Federer) or it will be a damp squib of disappointment (Say hello England cricket team. I mean Holland really). I am once again marooned in a bus station due to awful timing. I arrived for an afternoon bus. The first one goes at half past eight tonight so I have some writing time. Its rare for me to write them while I am still in the place, but I can't imagine anything new and exciting happening in two hours. Two bits of news. I have just booked the internal flight from Manaus to Macapa, so I had better get to watch this damn space shuttle launch and secondly I have been accepted for interview to the CELTA. They have stuck it on Corpus Christi though so I have asked if they can move it around for me.
Initial thoughts on Venezuela. I like the country apart from two things. Everything shuts too early here. Damn Chavez has working hours fixed at French levels of laziness. Its not Anglo friendly business hours. Secondly the currency is ridiculous. Chavez in his wisdom decided to fix the currency exchange rate at 2,100 Bolivars for one dollar. He has also introduced a new currency called the Bolivar Fuerte which is the same as the old one divided by 1,000. The exchange rate for this beast is 2.1 for one dollar. Now some private citizens will exchange for as much as 7:1. Thats a massive difference and makes Venezuela over three times as expensive for stupid tourists. Unfortunately you need a huge stockpile of dollars to travel through here, so you either have to do a double exchange, bring them from home or you can do what I did and draw them in Ecuador (where its the currency) for Venezuela. They have both currencies in circulation so you have 50's that are half a Bolivar Fuerte and 50's that are 1/20th of an old Bolivar. Odd combinations of quarters and 500's. The notes are the same. They have just emboldened the main numbers. Its a nightmare for change. Four days in and I am still not 100% with the currency and certainly not fast on transactions. The locals either make mistakes or try to con me. I will give them the benefit of the doubt as I teach maths and its hard. Heaven help any Ecuadorean tourists that wander into this country.
Anyway after being successfully cryogenically frozen on the bus from Bogota to Cucuta I had crossed the border. The usual surly indifference from military people you want directions from. I got an exchange rate of 5,700:1 which at the time seemed reasonable given the real one is so shit and most gringos seem to get 4,000 or 5,000. Now the locals have told me I can get 7,000 I am going to hold out for 6,000 plus as they still need to make a profit. I only changed $100 at the border as i had no idea what the rate was and wanted to find out from some friends. Locals say I got a decent rate. I sorted stuff out and got a bus to San Cristobal. All the towns in Venezuela are very neat and clean. Except Maracaibo. There is lots of obvious public housing in tasteful red brick and it looks like Chavez at least takes care of that. On the way I even got my routine total search due to the Colombian stamp in my passport. This is going to be a frustrating recurrence. They even wanted my shoes and pockets. They stopped short of a cavity search, though I learnt a bunch of male and female tourists were forced to strip down together in a room in Caracas airport for a full probe. Unfortunates. I have noted the people are not as friendly as Colombia. They are not but its a generalisation. I know feel 50% are very friendly (especially if they known you are English and not American), which 50% are plain hostile. I assume the hostile ones are the Chavez supporters. The women are legendarily good looking and at the top end in Merida they rival Puerto Rico, but I think pound for pound Colombians are better looking. Will have to see when I get to Caracas. I figured it would be a toss up between here and Chile for 4th and 5th best countries in South America. The cities are very well sign posted, everything runs smoothly, everything is clean, American influences are everywhere and everything is priced. Ironically it is the most American of South American countries so far. I wondered if Chavez was actually an American puppet ruler from the good old times. The country is kept secure (which was the old aim), the oil still flows to the US and trade still booms despite the rhetoric (the main concern in old times) and maybe America realised by having anti American strong men the person maintains credibility with their people, trade is kept and the superficial is of conlfict, while the reality is business as usual. Quite far fetched but not impossible and it makes more sense the more you think about it. It definitely benefits both sides a lot.
Ah god Spock was on my bus again. The big haired American. Every time he talked I thought of the game Civilization. Weird man. The approach to Merida goes through some beautiful red and green mountain scenery. A scorching desert mountain colour. Very pretty. Merida itself is spectacularly nestled in the mountains. I could live there if it was not so small. I got into town late and checked into Posada Casa Sibana opposite Posada Suiza. This place is one of the nicest places I have stayed. I changed some dollars with a friend of the owner and asked if they had an internet cafe. They let me use their own internet in the downstairs part of the flat. I chatted with the children and the family. Unbelievably nice people. they deserve your trade and its cheap for very quality accomodation. I did not think the Venezuelans were living up to a hostile reputation. If you don't speak Spanish you might be in trouble and if they think you are a Yankee you can have problems. Everything in town was shut so I ate something and came back to watch Gladiator. After 4 nights of 2 hours sleep or night buses it was good to get a real bed for a night. This was where I found out I had an invite to go to the launch in French Guyana and decided to head there.
In the morning I got up and went to the teleferico. It was the longest and highest in the world and should be fun. It was broken. Till august. Shit. Maybe I will come back when I live in Bogota. Damn I got up too late to do anything else or any real climbing. So I walked around the pretty little town of Merida. Its nice enough. Smallish. Not much there, but pretty. I wandered out into the new town and had a look around. The river/creek that runs through town is quite good fun. Murray was knocked out of the French. Come on Federer. He needs this one. I found a flight for 160 quid. I eventually took one for 175 because it bounces all downt the Amazon river, rather than via Brasilia and should give more jungle views. Except my defauly expedia account has me down for an aisle seat. Dammit. I was supposed to meet Andrea at the cathedral. She never showed up, though the cathedral was nice. I did realise afterwards that Chavez is a dick sometimes. He has changed the time zone difference from one hour to half an hour. Why? I don't know. It did mean I was half an hour out in time and so was waiting at the wrong time for her anyway. I was half an hour wrong for 4 days before someone told me. I went to the famous bar in town. Its ok. Would have been better with company. Had a couple of beers and watched a life gig on the tv. When I was in front of the cathedral they were shutting. Someone pulled up in their car. The priest came out. They opened all the doors and he walked around blessing it. Very strange. Wonder if it ever crashed. Had a thought. They always say Sailors always have a girl in every port. Just a guess, but I reckon those girls probably have a sailor on every ship.
I got up early and went to get a bus to Maracaibo to be in time for the concert. I was there at 6.30 am but the first busb was 8.30 am. You have to pay a stupid little tax to leave the bus stations here. I know this, but I pretended not to speak Spanish and got away with not paying this time. Someone must have radioed ahead to here, because I was forced to buy one for Caracas. On the bus journey I finished Hunter S Thompson's 'Hells Angels'. Its a breezy, easy read but not as good as his other stuff. You can tell he was finding his style. Sort of like this for me. I saw the huge Lago Maracaibo from which 80% of Venezuelan oil is extracted. Its huge. I thought I might see the Catatumbo lightning, but apparently its only on the other side of the lake. Typical. At least I saw some silent lightning in Mompos. I had been told Maracaibo was different to Merida. Its the total opposite. Massive flat, very hot and laid out like a Texas oil town. It looks like it should be out in Texas, Merida looks like it should be in Alpine France. I arrived and checked into Hotel Caribe. It has tiles along narrow corridors. It feels like a prison crossed with a swimming pool. Shitty but cheap. I turned on the tv. Not many channels. Channel 13 Chavez's face, channel 11 Chavez's face, 9,6,5 and 4 Chavez's face. Hmm monotonous. Channel 3 hardcore porn. Ah one of those hotels. Channel 2 Chavez's face. So 7 channels of Chavez and hardcore porn. All it needed was for the guy in the porn to have Che Guevara's face and this was every communist students idea of orgasmic tv. I later found out that the other seven channels weren't the same. Chavez's face had just taken them over for a supposedly important announcement. I am surprised he did not overtake the porn. Even he has priorities it seems. I needed an internet cafe. All of them were shut (after all it was 7pm) and so were the phone shops. Some woman ripped me off to use her phone but I was desperate and I called Karen to meet her for the concert. I asked a kid (I still think kids and old people are the most honest) how much a taxi should be. He said 15,000. Taxi guy asked for 20,000. I said the kid said 15, he laughed and agreed. I got to the concert hall. It would be impossible to find someone here. I hoped my gringoness would stand out. I look too Venezuelan though and Karen did not recognise me. I stood by the entrance to look conspicuous. I felt like James Bond scouring a classical concert for a mark. I looked like a lost moron. The concert was really good and afterwards we met up outside. Karen and I walked and talked in the park until the police threw us out to close it. We then got remoevd from a succession of cafes, but it was a fun night. Concert had been good as well. Her university had been delayed for the week due to tear gas and political demonstrations. I asked what national elections. These were the student body elections. Apparently the first time the ballots had been stolen, then the next time their was fraudulent balloting. I can only presume they are being trained to work for Mugabe in Zimbabwe. When I left Karen I elected to walk home. She told me the city was incredibly dangerous. It did not feel like it. I set off for the lake, got lost once and wandered into some back alleys. Now it felt a little shitty. One dog jumped me and sent a shiver down my spine. Maybe this was not so wise. The streets were deserted accept for drag racers and mad dogs. Usually mad dogs are fine as you just run at them and they crap themselves. I had a problem with four though. They split round a pillar so I had two behind and two in front. Dogs will always attack and gain confidence in numbers and when someone runs from them. If you face them and advance, they realise they are a quarter of your size and one good kick would kill them. They stop and bark and wait till you back away. If you show them your heels they will have your ankles. I could not face both ways so struggled to contain them without being bitten. I had to run at two of them and then whirl on the other two. Cowards. I had no problems with people except one tramp who sized me up and realised he would lose. It was a long walk back.
In the morning I was supposed to meet Gabriela for breakfast but I overslept and had no way of contacting her. My alarm had been set for 8am. Or so I thought. I thought wrong. When I woke up I thought it was busy outside for earlier than 8am. There was also a pro Chavez demonstration out on the streets. Some shit yelled blanco at me. Tosser. I eventually found an open internet cafe and sorted out my stuff. The owner was cold at first. I had to go back and forth between there and a phone place to get Gabriela's address and when he found out I was English he was really nice. I grabbed a taxi to hers and we stayed chatting for a bit. She took me out to eat some typical Venezuelan food. All of their food is great except the shitty arepa. Gabriela is half Mexican and reminds me a lot of Yoana. Who coincidentally wrote to me about how 'El Monstro' was doing. Need to write back to her. Lots of energy and we got on well. Both share Bobby Kennedy as an idol. She had worked as a journalist, but had to quit because Chavez wanted them all to sign loyalty agreements as opposed to objective journalism. I like her stand on principle. Even if it means she heads to Europe with only $700 for 3 months. Thats ambitious. Will see if I can help her with a place to stay. Will probably go out with her and her friend in Caracas tomorrow as she flies from Caracas on sunday. Everyone here seems to want to visit me in Colombia. Should be good times in Bogota. I am spending too much here. Ooh my dad got engaged. I made him promise to fly me back for the wedding, so I may be back for a week sooner than I thought. I had a really good day and I had met two people from Maracaibo and liked both of them. Everyone here loves my country oddly though, they all hate Chavez (younger people) and they think everyone in Venezuela is too superficial. It really is quite American, but the arseholes are more Californian than anything else. I left Gabriela and got a bus to meet Karen in a mall in the middle of nowhere. We chatted for a while and then got stalked by some random girls who wanted to talk to me apparently but never bothered. Very funny. Apparently they thought I was Yankee maybe. They just kept staring and running round pillars. Like a one sided game of hide and seek. The Fed was playing tomorrow (today for writing purposes). He won just and made the final. I followed the game and England's surprising loss to Holland because I was stuck online. 20-20 is so clearly awesome and a great leveller. It will be the world's second sport after football. I still predict that. Dom enjoyed Galapagos somewhat, but said I only need 4 days on the boat and then could do day trips for the rest. Ecuadorean wrote to me again about meeting up. Probably will. Unless my dad has his wedding then which is best for me. I took a taxi back this time because I was miles away. Karen gave me a sim card which was useful and she will hopefully come visit in Bogota as well. Been helping her today with ideas for a European travel itinerary.
I overslept again today. I think I am ill and I have run out of listerine. Deadly. That stuff is the number one item (well number two behind a small pair of scissors) for travellers and the Colombian mulitvitamins are shit. Might get Helen to bring me good stuff from home. I went looking for internet (you have to hunt here. they don't give a shit about tourists. It is kind of cool to be the only gringo again though). I walked into a shop and the girl said I could use their internet for free. When she found out I was English she helped me out all over town all morning and wants to practice her English with me online as I am the first Englishman she knows. She also wants to go to England. Everyone does here. So strange. London is the best city though. 44 countries and its still the best city. Got to the bus station. Only buses are night buses. No parties tonight then. Saves me some money. So I was stuck here writing. Some bastards tried to sell me a nonexistant ticket (Anyway I did not want to arrive in Caracas until light. Was it really dangerous like Quito or overplayed like Guatemala City. Will have to see first). After that girl had helped me I was on my way to the station when someone shouted "Go home Yankee". I replied gracefully and with restraint "soy Ingles tosser". Should have used hijo de puta. The girl's friends had even got me free drinks. This country is Yin and Yang. On the one hand you have some of the nicest, most helpful people (Most of them hate Chavez) and on the other ahnd you have some immensely hostile pricks (I presume they follow Chavez's anti-American rhetoric. The Americans should pay me for the amount of repairing of their image I do. I even have to argue against their own god damn citizens. I want to read Obama's speech on Islam now as it sounds great. Roll on sunday. Want to watch Fed's match if I can. Roll on Caracas. Beaches and rock clubs tomorrow. And Dom gets in from Ecuador in the morning as well. Its the final two week push. Now I just need to pass the interview, get confirmation from the girl in French Guyana about the rocket launch and hope the river near Angel Falls fills up again.
Initial thoughts on Venezuela. I like the country apart from two things. Everything shuts too early here. Damn Chavez has working hours fixed at French levels of laziness. Its not Anglo friendly business hours. Secondly the currency is ridiculous. Chavez in his wisdom decided to fix the currency exchange rate at 2,100 Bolivars for one dollar. He has also introduced a new currency called the Bolivar Fuerte which is the same as the old one divided by 1,000. The exchange rate for this beast is 2.1 for one dollar. Now some private citizens will exchange for as much as 7:1. Thats a massive difference and makes Venezuela over three times as expensive for stupid tourists. Unfortunately you need a huge stockpile of dollars to travel through here, so you either have to do a double exchange, bring them from home or you can do what I did and draw them in Ecuador (where its the currency) for Venezuela. They have both currencies in circulation so you have 50's that are half a Bolivar Fuerte and 50's that are 1/20th of an old Bolivar. Odd combinations of quarters and 500's. The notes are the same. They have just emboldened the main numbers. Its a nightmare for change. Four days in and I am still not 100% with the currency and certainly not fast on transactions. The locals either make mistakes or try to con me. I will give them the benefit of the doubt as I teach maths and its hard. Heaven help any Ecuadorean tourists that wander into this country.
Anyway after being successfully cryogenically frozen on the bus from Bogota to Cucuta I had crossed the border. The usual surly indifference from military people you want directions from. I got an exchange rate of 5,700:1 which at the time seemed reasonable given the real one is so shit and most gringos seem to get 4,000 or 5,000. Now the locals have told me I can get 7,000 I am going to hold out for 6,000 plus as they still need to make a profit. I only changed $100 at the border as i had no idea what the rate was and wanted to find out from some friends. Locals say I got a decent rate. I sorted stuff out and got a bus to San Cristobal. All the towns in Venezuela are very neat and clean. Except Maracaibo. There is lots of obvious public housing in tasteful red brick and it looks like Chavez at least takes care of that. On the way I even got my routine total search due to the Colombian stamp in my passport. This is going to be a frustrating recurrence. They even wanted my shoes and pockets. They stopped short of a cavity search, though I learnt a bunch of male and female tourists were forced to strip down together in a room in Caracas airport for a full probe. Unfortunates. I have noted the people are not as friendly as Colombia. They are not but its a generalisation. I know feel 50% are very friendly (especially if they known you are English and not American), which 50% are plain hostile. I assume the hostile ones are the Chavez supporters. The women are legendarily good looking and at the top end in Merida they rival Puerto Rico, but I think pound for pound Colombians are better looking. Will have to see when I get to Caracas. I figured it would be a toss up between here and Chile for 4th and 5th best countries in South America. The cities are very well sign posted, everything runs smoothly, everything is clean, American influences are everywhere and everything is priced. Ironically it is the most American of South American countries so far. I wondered if Chavez was actually an American puppet ruler from the good old times. The country is kept secure (which was the old aim), the oil still flows to the US and trade still booms despite the rhetoric (the main concern in old times) and maybe America realised by having anti American strong men the person maintains credibility with their people, trade is kept and the superficial is of conlfict, while the reality is business as usual. Quite far fetched but not impossible and it makes more sense the more you think about it. It definitely benefits both sides a lot.
Ah god Spock was on my bus again. The big haired American. Every time he talked I thought of the game Civilization. Weird man. The approach to Merida goes through some beautiful red and green mountain scenery. A scorching desert mountain colour. Very pretty. Merida itself is spectacularly nestled in the mountains. I could live there if it was not so small. I got into town late and checked into Posada Casa Sibana opposite Posada Suiza. This place is one of the nicest places I have stayed. I changed some dollars with a friend of the owner and asked if they had an internet cafe. They let me use their own internet in the downstairs part of the flat. I chatted with the children and the family. Unbelievably nice people. they deserve your trade and its cheap for very quality accomodation. I did not think the Venezuelans were living up to a hostile reputation. If you don't speak Spanish you might be in trouble and if they think you are a Yankee you can have problems. Everything in town was shut so I ate something and came back to watch Gladiator. After 4 nights of 2 hours sleep or night buses it was good to get a real bed for a night. This was where I found out I had an invite to go to the launch in French Guyana and decided to head there.
In the morning I got up and went to the teleferico. It was the longest and highest in the world and should be fun. It was broken. Till august. Shit. Maybe I will come back when I live in Bogota. Damn I got up too late to do anything else or any real climbing. So I walked around the pretty little town of Merida. Its nice enough. Smallish. Not much there, but pretty. I wandered out into the new town and had a look around. The river/creek that runs through town is quite good fun. Murray was knocked out of the French. Come on Federer. He needs this one. I found a flight for 160 quid. I eventually took one for 175 because it bounces all downt the Amazon river, rather than via Brasilia and should give more jungle views. Except my defauly expedia account has me down for an aisle seat. Dammit. I was supposed to meet Andrea at the cathedral. She never showed up, though the cathedral was nice. I did realise afterwards that Chavez is a dick sometimes. He has changed the time zone difference from one hour to half an hour. Why? I don't know. It did mean I was half an hour out in time and so was waiting at the wrong time for her anyway. I was half an hour wrong for 4 days before someone told me. I went to the famous bar in town. Its ok. Would have been better with company. Had a couple of beers and watched a life gig on the tv. When I was in front of the cathedral they were shutting. Someone pulled up in their car. The priest came out. They opened all the doors and he walked around blessing it. Very strange. Wonder if it ever crashed. Had a thought. They always say Sailors always have a girl in every port. Just a guess, but I reckon those girls probably have a sailor on every ship.
I got up early and went to get a bus to Maracaibo to be in time for the concert. I was there at 6.30 am but the first busb was 8.30 am. You have to pay a stupid little tax to leave the bus stations here. I know this, but I pretended not to speak Spanish and got away with not paying this time. Someone must have radioed ahead to here, because I was forced to buy one for Caracas. On the bus journey I finished Hunter S Thompson's 'Hells Angels'. Its a breezy, easy read but not as good as his other stuff. You can tell he was finding his style. Sort of like this for me. I saw the huge Lago Maracaibo from which 80% of Venezuelan oil is extracted. Its huge. I thought I might see the Catatumbo lightning, but apparently its only on the other side of the lake. Typical. At least I saw some silent lightning in Mompos. I had been told Maracaibo was different to Merida. Its the total opposite. Massive flat, very hot and laid out like a Texas oil town. It looks like it should be out in Texas, Merida looks like it should be in Alpine France. I arrived and checked into Hotel Caribe. It has tiles along narrow corridors. It feels like a prison crossed with a swimming pool. Shitty but cheap. I turned on the tv. Not many channels. Channel 13 Chavez's face, channel 11 Chavez's face, 9,6,5 and 4 Chavez's face. Hmm monotonous. Channel 3 hardcore porn. Ah one of those hotels. Channel 2 Chavez's face. So 7 channels of Chavez and hardcore porn. All it needed was for the guy in the porn to have Che Guevara's face and this was every communist students idea of orgasmic tv. I later found out that the other seven channels weren't the same. Chavez's face had just taken them over for a supposedly important announcement. I am surprised he did not overtake the porn. Even he has priorities it seems. I needed an internet cafe. All of them were shut (after all it was 7pm) and so were the phone shops. Some woman ripped me off to use her phone but I was desperate and I called Karen to meet her for the concert. I asked a kid (I still think kids and old people are the most honest) how much a taxi should be. He said 15,000. Taxi guy asked for 20,000. I said the kid said 15, he laughed and agreed. I got to the concert hall. It would be impossible to find someone here. I hoped my gringoness would stand out. I look too Venezuelan though and Karen did not recognise me. I stood by the entrance to look conspicuous. I felt like James Bond scouring a classical concert for a mark. I looked like a lost moron. The concert was really good and afterwards we met up outside. Karen and I walked and talked in the park until the police threw us out to close it. We then got remoevd from a succession of cafes, but it was a fun night. Concert had been good as well. Her university had been delayed for the week due to tear gas and political demonstrations. I asked what national elections. These were the student body elections. Apparently the first time the ballots had been stolen, then the next time their was fraudulent balloting. I can only presume they are being trained to work for Mugabe in Zimbabwe. When I left Karen I elected to walk home. She told me the city was incredibly dangerous. It did not feel like it. I set off for the lake, got lost once and wandered into some back alleys. Now it felt a little shitty. One dog jumped me and sent a shiver down my spine. Maybe this was not so wise. The streets were deserted accept for drag racers and mad dogs. Usually mad dogs are fine as you just run at them and they crap themselves. I had a problem with four though. They split round a pillar so I had two behind and two in front. Dogs will always attack and gain confidence in numbers and when someone runs from them. If you face them and advance, they realise they are a quarter of your size and one good kick would kill them. They stop and bark and wait till you back away. If you show them your heels they will have your ankles. I could not face both ways so struggled to contain them without being bitten. I had to run at two of them and then whirl on the other two. Cowards. I had no problems with people except one tramp who sized me up and realised he would lose. It was a long walk back.
In the morning I was supposed to meet Gabriela for breakfast but I overslept and had no way of contacting her. My alarm had been set for 8am. Or so I thought. I thought wrong. When I woke up I thought it was busy outside for earlier than 8am. There was also a pro Chavez demonstration out on the streets. Some shit yelled blanco at me. Tosser. I eventually found an open internet cafe and sorted out my stuff. The owner was cold at first. I had to go back and forth between there and a phone place to get Gabriela's address and when he found out I was English he was really nice. I grabbed a taxi to hers and we stayed chatting for a bit. She took me out to eat some typical Venezuelan food. All of their food is great except the shitty arepa. Gabriela is half Mexican and reminds me a lot of Yoana. Who coincidentally wrote to me about how 'El Monstro' was doing. Need to write back to her. Lots of energy and we got on well. Both share Bobby Kennedy as an idol. She had worked as a journalist, but had to quit because Chavez wanted them all to sign loyalty agreements as opposed to objective journalism. I like her stand on principle. Even if it means she heads to Europe with only $700 for 3 months. Thats ambitious. Will see if I can help her with a place to stay. Will probably go out with her and her friend in Caracas tomorrow as she flies from Caracas on sunday. Everyone here seems to want to visit me in Colombia. Should be good times in Bogota. I am spending too much here. Ooh my dad got engaged. I made him promise to fly me back for the wedding, so I may be back for a week sooner than I thought. I had a really good day and I had met two people from Maracaibo and liked both of them. Everyone here loves my country oddly though, they all hate Chavez (younger people) and they think everyone in Venezuela is too superficial. It really is quite American, but the arseholes are more Californian than anything else. I left Gabriela and got a bus to meet Karen in a mall in the middle of nowhere. We chatted for a while and then got stalked by some random girls who wanted to talk to me apparently but never bothered. Very funny. Apparently they thought I was Yankee maybe. They just kept staring and running round pillars. Like a one sided game of hide and seek. The Fed was playing tomorrow (today for writing purposes). He won just and made the final. I followed the game and England's surprising loss to Holland because I was stuck online. 20-20 is so clearly awesome and a great leveller. It will be the world's second sport after football. I still predict that. Dom enjoyed Galapagos somewhat, but said I only need 4 days on the boat and then could do day trips for the rest. Ecuadorean wrote to me again about meeting up. Probably will. Unless my dad has his wedding then which is best for me. I took a taxi back this time because I was miles away. Karen gave me a sim card which was useful and she will hopefully come visit in Bogota as well. Been helping her today with ideas for a European travel itinerary.
I overslept again today. I think I am ill and I have run out of listerine. Deadly. That stuff is the number one item (well number two behind a small pair of scissors) for travellers and the Colombian mulitvitamins are shit. Might get Helen to bring me good stuff from home. I went looking for internet (you have to hunt here. they don't give a shit about tourists. It is kind of cool to be the only gringo again though). I walked into a shop and the girl said I could use their internet for free. When she found out I was English she helped me out all over town all morning and wants to practice her English with me online as I am the first Englishman she knows. She also wants to go to England. Everyone does here. So strange. London is the best city though. 44 countries and its still the best city. Got to the bus station. Only buses are night buses. No parties tonight then. Saves me some money. So I was stuck here writing. Some bastards tried to sell me a nonexistant ticket (Anyway I did not want to arrive in Caracas until light. Was it really dangerous like Quito or overplayed like Guatemala City. Will have to see first). After that girl had helped me I was on my way to the station when someone shouted "Go home Yankee". I replied gracefully and with restraint "soy Ingles tosser". Should have used hijo de puta. The girl's friends had even got me free drinks. This country is Yin and Yang. On the one hand you have some of the nicest, most helpful people (Most of them hate Chavez) and on the other ahnd you have some immensely hostile pricks (I presume they follow Chavez's anti-American rhetoric. The Americans should pay me for the amount of repairing of their image I do. I even have to argue against their own god damn citizens. I want to read Obama's speech on Islam now as it sounds great. Roll on sunday. Want to watch Fed's match if I can. Roll on Caracas. Beaches and rock clubs tomorrow. And Dom gets in from Ecuador in the morning as well. Its the final two week push. Now I just need to pass the interview, get confirmation from the girl in French Guyana about the rocket launch and hope the river near Angel Falls fills up again.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Colombia Part 11: Transit y Fiesta
If this is your first time reading the blog, do not start with this entry. Its filler and not representative of the general quality of the blog (Long term readers will be fine and should read on). I would not recommend this part to anyone who is not a hardcore fan of long distance arse grinding bus journeys with Americans who sound like Spock, as thats primarily what it is. It is in here for completists sake. Oh yeah the pound needs to be tested for steroid abuse. A rise from 1.36:1 to 1.66:1 in one month is suspicious, but I am licking my lips over this Brazilian flight I am going to book getting cheaper as they can't keep up with exchange rate shifts. Also it will be fun to shaft the Galapagos Islands companies in august if it continues.
On the Colombian side of the border I sat in a collectivo for 30 minutes. That was shit. The cock kept waiting for more people to get in, but the passenger number remained about 5, because everytime he got someone new, someone else would leave from boredom. I can only assume he is still there waiting. I got a quote of $260 for Angel Falls. The river is now dry so we currently can't do it. Will se if things change. Its the same amount I will need to fly from Manaus to Macapa to get to French Guyana in time for the launch. Need to get Roraima cheaper, though cable car was broke here and everything is cheaper than expected, except for food. I was on a bus all day long. They must have been on a US military junket as I got 'Black Hawk Down' (great film, been hooked on the soundtrack since), 'Over There' (shitty) and 'Air Strike' (which they cut and I assume was shit). No food. Decided to go straight through as phone was not working and had not heard from Paula. I got some dinner and then a night bus to Bogota. Got a text from Paula a little too late. There was a police check. All the women had to seemingly do the hokey cokey. Not sure what the hell was going on there. Then they had to show their ankles. i can only assume that the policeman:
A) Has a foot fettish
B) There is a mysterious disease that only affects the ankles of women
C) He believed they were prostitutes and was searching for ankle bracelets
D) He is an idiot
E) He misses his childhood playground games
As this is not Ecuador I have eliminated option D. My moneys on C, but you never know. I arrived in Bogota. Over 30 hours on buses and I was not done yet. I checked into the usual hostel Sue, where the ensuing frozen in time table tennis was being played. I got my fourth room in the building. Woohoo. I am missing number 3 from the first 5. Next time, eh, next time. I finally applied for the damn course. It took all of that day and most of the next, but its submitted now. I need that to bail me out of my declining money lol. Raisa changed her birthday plans and I missed her initial text while I was drinking with some random English, Aussie and Danish guys/gals in the hostel. I went walking out to get a taxi and got bollocked by the taxi driver who eventually picked me up for walking in dangerous areas. I still don't find Bogota dangerous. Will see when I live there. Enjoyed walking around my future home again. Lets hope the application goes well. We ended up at Maroma. Another funky Bogota bar. If only they opened later. This one had a retractable roof and shot out fireworks in between openings. Class. Met a cool Indian guy working there for a year and I like all of Raisa's friends. Will be a good bunch when I get back. Spent a large part of the evening chatting with a half Brazilian/half Colombian woman. Good company and a good night. Now I only had 2 hours sleep before I had to dash to the bus station to get the bus that you already now I missed. Oh yeah the Ecuadorean has written to me twice now in totally too complex Spanish for me lol. Good job I have translators. They will have to get credits in the book.
Well the next morning was the infamous waste of time in the bus station due to missed tickets. I wrote up everything last time. Andy Murray has just been knocked out. It must be the year for the Fed if he does not cock it up like he almost did against Tommy Haas yesterday. Meant another night bus. Fucking hell. In 4 days I ended up sleeping for two lots of two hours and on two night buses. No wonder I slept in today with a real bed. It was a productve unproductive day and all the logistical stuff is taken care of. Just need to sort out French Guyana now. I submitted the form, have Cayenne accomodation, people to meet in most of Venezuela and an invite to the shuttle launch in Korou. Must do all of Brazil minus Macapa, Manaus and Boa Vista as one now. Need to find out about Surinam visas in Caracas or now I could just come up the Amazon if they don't let me in. There was a big haired man who sounds like Spock. He followed me everywhere and has popped up in Merida again. Weird man. I need to read Chile and Argentina for Agus so we can sort out Patagonia together.
I have decided I will learn Spanish, play football and learn Salsa in Bogota. In Buenos Aires I will perfect Spanish, learn Portuguese for Brazil, learn Tango and play rugby. These are my additional targets for these cities despite working, having fun and settling down. Venezuela here we come. No hassles at the border. Cucuta is a shithole and they froze me to death with the evil aircon from hell. Fuck those bastards. They have fucked up my health again. I was in. Country number 44. More to follow when I get to Caracas.
On the Colombian side of the border I sat in a collectivo for 30 minutes. That was shit. The cock kept waiting for more people to get in, but the passenger number remained about 5, because everytime he got someone new, someone else would leave from boredom. I can only assume he is still there waiting. I got a quote of $260 for Angel Falls. The river is now dry so we currently can't do it. Will se if things change. Its the same amount I will need to fly from Manaus to Macapa to get to French Guyana in time for the launch. Need to get Roraima cheaper, though cable car was broke here and everything is cheaper than expected, except for food. I was on a bus all day long. They must have been on a US military junket as I got 'Black Hawk Down' (great film, been hooked on the soundtrack since), 'Over There' (shitty) and 'Air Strike' (which they cut and I assume was shit). No food. Decided to go straight through as phone was not working and had not heard from Paula. I got some dinner and then a night bus to Bogota. Got a text from Paula a little too late. There was a police check. All the women had to seemingly do the hokey cokey. Not sure what the hell was going on there. Then they had to show their ankles. i can only assume that the policeman:
A) Has a foot fettish
B) There is a mysterious disease that only affects the ankles of women
C) He believed they were prostitutes and was searching for ankle bracelets
D) He is an idiot
E) He misses his childhood playground games
As this is not Ecuador I have eliminated option D. My moneys on C, but you never know. I arrived in Bogota. Over 30 hours on buses and I was not done yet. I checked into the usual hostel Sue, where the ensuing frozen in time table tennis was being played. I got my fourth room in the building. Woohoo. I am missing number 3 from the first 5. Next time, eh, next time. I finally applied for the damn course. It took all of that day and most of the next, but its submitted now. I need that to bail me out of my declining money lol. Raisa changed her birthday plans and I missed her initial text while I was drinking with some random English, Aussie and Danish guys/gals in the hostel. I went walking out to get a taxi and got bollocked by the taxi driver who eventually picked me up for walking in dangerous areas. I still don't find Bogota dangerous. Will see when I live there. Enjoyed walking around my future home again. Lets hope the application goes well. We ended up at Maroma. Another funky Bogota bar. If only they opened later. This one had a retractable roof and shot out fireworks in between openings. Class. Met a cool Indian guy working there for a year and I like all of Raisa's friends. Will be a good bunch when I get back. Spent a large part of the evening chatting with a half Brazilian/half Colombian woman. Good company and a good night. Now I only had 2 hours sleep before I had to dash to the bus station to get the bus that you already now I missed. Oh yeah the Ecuadorean has written to me twice now in totally too complex Spanish for me lol. Good job I have translators. They will have to get credits in the book.
Well the next morning was the infamous waste of time in the bus station due to missed tickets. I wrote up everything last time. Andy Murray has just been knocked out. It must be the year for the Fed if he does not cock it up like he almost did against Tommy Haas yesterday. Meant another night bus. Fucking hell. In 4 days I ended up sleeping for two lots of two hours and on two night buses. No wonder I slept in today with a real bed. It was a productve unproductive day and all the logistical stuff is taken care of. Just need to sort out French Guyana now. I submitted the form, have Cayenne accomodation, people to meet in most of Venezuela and an invite to the shuttle launch in Korou. Must do all of Brazil minus Macapa, Manaus and Boa Vista as one now. Need to find out about Surinam visas in Caracas or now I could just come up the Amazon if they don't let me in. There was a big haired man who sounds like Spock. He followed me everywhere and has popped up in Merida again. Weird man. I need to read Chile and Argentina for Agus so we can sort out Patagonia together.
I have decided I will learn Spanish, play football and learn Salsa in Bogota. In Buenos Aires I will perfect Spanish, learn Portuguese for Brazil, learn Tango and play rugby. These are my additional targets for these cities despite working, having fun and settling down. Venezuela here we come. No hassles at the border. Cucuta is a shithole and they froze me to death with the evil aircon from hell. Fuck those bastards. They have fucked up my health again. I was in. Country number 44. More to follow when I get to Caracas.
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