Travelogue Venezuela 2009

Day 1, Thu Feb 19 2009 DFW-Caracas: After stocking up on the complementary breakfast, took shuttle to airport. Changed planes in Miami and was surprised to find that MIA-CCS flight was only 3 hours long. Plane was pretty empty so I sprawled out on 2 seats and peered out at scenic and apparently uninhabited islands in the Caribbean. The idea of living the cruising lifestyle aboard a sailboat in the Caribbean seemed very appealing as we flew over one scenic beach-ringed island after another. We soon landed at the Caracas airport which is sandiwched between the substantial coastal mountain range and the sea. The immigration area was packed solid with deplaning passengers and it took over an hour to get processed. After grabbing my bags and exiting customs (both immigration and customes were hassel-free) I was approached by a uniformed porter guy who wanted to exchange dollars for local currency. I had forearmed myself with a printout from the "dolar paralelo" website which showed current open-market exchange rates at 4.7Bs/$ at airport and 5.6B/$ in Caracas. The guy was taken aback a little at my well-informedness but kept trying to screw me with a laughably low rate. Just as I was about to walk away, one of his English-speaking buddies jumped in. We haggled a bit and finally I exchanged some money at 4.5B/$. Guy #1 then asked me to pile my bags on his cart and tried to steer me towards the taxis, I told him I planned to take the bus and then Metro into town. He was clearly not happy and made some noises about metro being crowded at this hour and the size of my bags etc, but finally took me to the bus. I loaded up my bags and prepared to get into the bus, but not until he had exacted a fee for ferrying my bags the 100 ft. Clearly this place was similar to the tout-infested airports of Pakistan and I was ready to play their game. The bus was a lot cheaper at 25B/person compared to the $50US taxi fare. The bus wound its way through scenic hills and numerous tunnels into Caracas. The mountains of Avila Range looked impressively tall (I am guessing 4000-5000ft high) and everything was covered with lush vegetation. Weather was humid but not unpleasantly hot. Most of the people got off the bus at Gato Negro Metro station but I stayed on until the bus dropped me off at the Metro station in Park Central area. I made my way down to the metro, purchased a ticket and got on without any trouble. I asked people around me where to get off for Plaza Venezuela and they told me to get off at the next stop even though it didn't say Plaza Venezulea on it. I decided to trust the locals and got off. Eventually figured out that this was a place where 3 metro lines converged and the actual Plaza Venz. station was linked to this one by a tunnel. It was about 8pm when I emerged into the hustle and bustle of the city above the metro station. I wound my way around Plaza Venezuela area, using the LP book's maps and also frequently asking for directions. Even though the LP book calls this area unsafe, I didn't feel particularly threatened. There were tons of people around and lots of police presence as well. I looked into a bunch of hotels ranging in price from 200Bs down to 150Bs. The Hotel Plaza Venezuela where I had made a phone reservation turned out to be a big disappointment as the guy at the reception totally denied having a reservation and said hotel was full. I finally ended up going to a nearby hotel with the grandiose name "Hotel Ritz". The price was 150B and the room looked decent enough. However I had not exchanged a lot of money at the arport since I was counting on exchanging most of my money in Caracas at a decent rate. However the hotel guy wanted payment up front and I had only 120B on me. Despite assuring him that I would pay the rest tomorrow, he refused to give room without full advance payment. This is where things started getting a little dicey as it was now close to 9pm and the streets were taking on the foreboding deserted look. I left the bags in the hotel and ran around some fairly seedy looking parts of town looking for dollar changers. Some guys at the hotel's adjoining rest. steered me to a place called Cafe Franco. I managed to find it after some hunting around and stumbling over homeless drunks asking for "moneda". Unfortunately the guy at Cafe Franco refused to play ball and acted all ignorant when I asked him to change money. I was on the verge of going to a bank ATM but finally managed to find a guy at a nearby Italiaa rest. who was willing to exchange at 4B/$. I exchanged $10 and was finally able to check in to the hotel and get a shower and unpack. It was still only 9:30pm so I decided to see if could go out and grab a bite to eat. There was a Chinese rest. right across the road called "Gran Yen". On a whim I asked the Chinese woman running the place if she changed money and she offered 5B/$1 right off the bat. I wished I had known about this place an hour ago, it would have saved me a lot of anxiety and stress. I lost no time in changing some money. The menu at Gran Yen looked OK but I wanted something a little more authentic than chinese food for my first Venezuelan dinner. However it was close to 10pm and I wasn't sure if this was the best time or place to be wandering the streets flush with my new wad of Bolivars. The security guard sitting outside the rest. also seemed to warn against it. So finally I ended up eating the Gran Yen. The Chinese waiter spoke perfect Spanish but no English. Somehow he managed to screw up the order and brought an extra dish that I had not ordered. When I pointed this out, he made some noises like "en la casa" which mollified me as I assumed he meant it was on the house. However when the bill came he had put it on there again. Apparently his "en la casa" meant "you take this to eat at your home but we will bill you for it". I was getting pretty pissed at this point and marched to the front desk and remonstrated with the manager woman who had earlier changed money for me. She took it off grudgingly and I paid up quickly and made my escape before any more unpleasantness could arise.

Day 2, Fri Feb 20 2009 Caracas: My plan for today was to just get my bearings and get some money exchanged and check out some local sights. To this end I made my way over to the Grand Cafe which is a prominent local bakery and restaurant. Every bakery in Venezuela seems to be equipped with a fancy coffee espresso machine but their "grande" coffee wouldn't even qualify for a small cup size at Starbucks. Anyway I ordered one of these grande coffees and a sweet chocolate filled criossant and consumed it in the pleasant shady road-side eating area next to the cafe. I had earlier established by asking around that this cafe was a good place for chaning money. I was able to negotiate a 5.4B/$ exchange rate and lost time in changing a major chunck of money I thought I would need for the trip. Next I headed for the Metro with a view to checking out some of the museums in Park Central. The trains were really full and I stepped on but couldn't fit so stepped out. As I was stepping out my camera bag and arm got trapped in the metro door. I managed to pull my arm out but the door closed around the plastic bad in which I was carrying my camera as well as my LP travel guide. I ran with the train as it picked up speed but finally had to let the bag go and watch helplessly as the train vansihed into the tunnel. Initially I felt shocked and stunned that this could have happened right at the beginning of this trip. As I was cussing and gnashing my teeth in stunned disbelief I was approached by a young man who had watched the whole episode. He spoke a little English and steered me to the metro police office and helped me translate my tale of woe to the two officers in the office. I had pretty much written off the camera at this point and was just giving the info as a formality when the woman called the next metro station and informed me that my bag had been given to the metro office at that station. I was amazed and relieved at this very stunning reversal of fortune. Everything from the LP book to other sources had been warning about the rife criminality of this city and yet here was incontrovertible evidence about the helpfulness and honesty of its denizens. I made my way abck to the platform and boarded the next train after carefully making sure it had enough room for me to step in. At the next stop (College de Inginero) I got off and made my way to the office where my blue Nordstrom plastic bag and camera were waiting for me. The officer filled out an incident report and handed me my stuff after cheking my ID. To say that I was relieved would be an understatement. I very much doubt that if I had lost my camera on the MAX in Portland, it would have been recovered at all. I made my way to the Bellas Artes station and got off, I was surpirsed to see a mosque minaret poking up nearby and walked over. It was indeed a very nice looking mosque with an imposing dome and mionaret. Apprently Caracas and indeed many cities of Venezuel have substantial Muslim presence. I also noticed some graffiti here and there supporting Palestinian cause and denounicing Zionism. A refreshing change from the extreme pro-Israel stance of the US Mainstream media.I was stopped by security at the gate of the mosque but allowed in after I assureed them that I was Muslim. The Friday prayers had just finished and people were hanging outside the mosque in small groups. I checked out the mosque, took a couple of pictures and then headed back towards the museums. Stopped along the way at a samll rest. to eat a lomito (thin beef steak, apparently fried). The weather was quire nice in the shade. The city looked pretty clean and traffic was not as crazy as portrayed in the LP book. There was a concert going on at the entrance of the Museum of natural science. I quickly hit the Museum of Nat. Science and another one of art that was next door. Both were free and staffed with helpful people. Somehow I exited into Park Carabobo and wandered around in it a bit. Startled a mother who was encouraing her kid to pee behind a railing. I noticed this public urination/defecation by kids a couple of other times as well, maybe a pattern emerging ? I had to ask around a little before finding my way to the Museum of Contemporary art. Right at the door of the museum, I got waylaid by a guy who looked professional and sane but for some reason button-holed me and kept jabbering about a fire that had ahppened a few years ago in the large octagonal tower building next to the museum. Finally I managed to cut the conversation short and enter the museum. Many floors were closed but about 11 rooms were open on the 5 floor building. There were some very nice photographs of South American indigenous populations as well as works by Picasso and other major painters. I found the museum to be quite comparable to the Tate Modern Art Museum in London. It was about 5 pm when I emerged from the museum and hopped on the Metro back to Plaza Venezuela. I was feeling extremely tired and my feet were killing me but since I had only allocated 1 day for Caracas so I decided to finish off with the walking tour. This involved taking the metro to Capitolio/Silencio stop and then following a road past the imposing Capitol, Iglesia and down an old cobbled street on which the house where nation's founder simon Bolivar was born is located. The place was bustling with people and had many jewelry shops. I checked dollar exchange rates but most of them were not willing to go above 5B/$. I was also approached by a shifty guy who promised 6B but then took me to an empty shop where the guy wanted to close the door and then offer 5B. It made me very nervous when he tried to pull the closed-door stuff so I stuck my foot in the door and beat a hasty retreat after rejecting his 5B/$ offer. The final stop on the walking tour was Simon Bolivar's tomb. As I was approaching I heard some gunshots which seemed to be very close by. As I was getting close to the monument a cop came by and told me to put my camera away as this area was not safe to be out and about. He kind shooed me back from the monument which was apparently closed. I took heed of his warning and beat a hasty retreat back to the metro station. Along the way I noticed some ugly graffiti on some jewlery shops' (closed) doors marking them as being owned by Jews/Zionists. While I am no fan of Israel, it seemed like a nasty and appalling tactic to intimidate the local Jewish population. I took the metro back to Plaza Venz. and decided to eat at a chicken joint called "Estacion de Pollo". The place was doing a roaring business and I figured if the locals liked it , it must be doing something right. One thing I discovered was that almost all restaurants tack on a 9% tax and a 10% service fee so the final bill is quite a bit more than the menu prices. I ended up ordering some roast chicken and a tomato salad, both of which were quite tasty and accompanied by a spicy sauce and a guacamole-looking green paste that was probably yucca. I left what I thought was enough cash but was chased down by the waiter who insisted it was short a bolivar. Turn out that I was using an older 100c coin that is actually a dime and not a dollar. All the currency notes have been moved to the new Bolivar Fuerte but coins still confusingly come in old and new denominations. Also many vendors still quote prices in old form like "mil quiniento" for 1.5B.f. Made a few calls to various Posadas at the beach and almost all of them had no availability because of Carnaval. Clearly this was going to be a problem since I had originally planned to spend most of the vacation at beach towns. Room was very noisy at night as some punk kids in the adjacent parking lot played loud latin rap music, drank beer and danced with each other. Finally had to deploy ear plugs.

Day 3, Sat Feb 21 2009 Caracas: Up early, usual breakfast at Grand Cafe, tried the Pollo Pastry and found it to be pretty decent. Took metro line3 to Las Banderas terminal and walked 1/4 mile to the bus terminal along a very busy road. Hundreds of people were streaming towards the bus station with roll-slong suitcases, giving the impression that the city had been hit with a calamity forcing mass evacuation. The scene at the station was even more chaotic with lines stretching the length of the building and many buses sold out. I managed to find the company selling tickets for Merida and established that they had seats on "buscama" sleeper buses leaving at 7 and 9pm. I called a posada (Guamanchi) in Merida and was relieved to find that they had room. The woman spoke good English and sounded very welcoming. I warmed up to the idea that going to Merida was a good option while the Carnaval madness played itself out on the coast. Returned to hotel, packed up and then left my bags at the reception and went back to Grand Cafe to exchange some more money. The guy from yesterday was not there but his underling gave me the same rate after some persuasion. Collected my bags and took a taxi (35Bs) to the bus station. The 7 and 9pm buses had sold out but they were running a new bus at 5pm. Got the ticket (78Bs) and boarded the bus after buying some fruit and water. They charged an extra 10Bs since I had two pieces of luggage. The bus was single story whereas the 7 and 9pm ones were supposed to be double-deckers (doble-piso). It also seemed a little dirty. They had made a big deal about showing up in time for the bus departure but then spent 45 minutes sitting at the terminal as late-comers straggled in. Finally we got underway just as it was getting dark around 6pm. The bus trundled slowly through the congested roads leading out of Caracas. They played an extremely peurile American movie with Spanish subtitles in the bus followed by "The Nanny" sitcom's first episode featuring the nasal braying of Fran Drescher. I pulled out my MP3 player and tried to sleep but it was not easy. The bus stopped a couple of times in the night at non-descript gas-station/restuarants where I got out and walked around a little. given the reputation of cold buses in Venezuela I was wearig fleece and had a small blanket. Both of these really came in handy as the cold AC blasted all night long.

Day 4, Sun Feb 22 2009 Merida: Arrived in Merida around 9am. The bus unceremoniously came to a halt and I woke up and stumbled out to collect my bags. The bus station was a lot less chaotic than Las Banderas but still pretty busy. I managed to flag down a taxi to the Posada (12Bs). The posada stuff welcomed me in, showed me to my room and cautioned me to keep the window locked as things could "walk away" if it was not locked. I took a shower and then collapsed to take a nap. It was pretty hot in the room and there was no fan so I left the window open with the curtain drawn. When I woke around 1pm, I decided to go out and grab a bite to eat. It was at this point that I noticed that my Panasonic FZ20 digital camera was missing. This was the same camera that I had so narrowly avoided losing in Caracas. I looked through my stuff carefully but no camera. Went to a nearby burger joint called "La Nota" and had a somber burger while wondering where I could have lost the camera. Went back to room and emptied out everything but still no camera. Asked staff (tall bald guy) who had earlier helped me with luggage and advised me to keep window closed. He basically said that if it was missing I could kiss it good-bye since it would probably never be recovered. Took a city bus to the the main bus terminal (Terminal de pasajeros), asked at the ticket office of the bus company (Merida Expresso) but they had no camera. The helpful guy at tourist info desk spoke some English and he tried to help track down the taxi I had taked in the morning but it was clear at this point that the camera was lost. Whether it was stolen as I got off the bus, at the staion by a nimble pick-pocket , the taxi driver, or at the hostel, I will never know. This had been my main camera, with a 12X zoom stabilized Leica lens,that I had purchased for almost $300 just before my Chile trip in 2006. It had served me well since then on many a hike and trip, allowing me get very nice close-ups of distant peaks. I mourned its loss like the death of an old friend, but consoled myself with the thought that I still had a small backup digital camera and a camcorder. I also ended up losing all my pictures from Caracas. The posada was located next to a park (Parque Heroinas) and the base of the (non-operational) teleferico. There were dozens of stalls there selling kinck-knacks and food.It seemed liked all of Merida had turned out in this park to celebrate Carnaval. Venezuelans idea of partying seems to revolve around putting a beer cooler in the trunk of their car, driving over to a public place and then blasting music on the pimped-up stereo, guzzling beer out of the cooler and hanging out with their buddies. I walked around this place a little and then had a merengada (fruity milkshake) before returning to the posada with a heavy heart and hitting the sack.

Day 5, Mon Feb 23 2009 Merida / La Culata : Up early. I was determined not to let the loss of the camera ruin my trip. Saw a day tour being offered next door to some of the nearby attractions like Laguna Mucubaji and signed up for it for 70B. Cooked up some tuna helper for breakfast in the kitchen and then walked over to the Calle 19/Ave 2 bus stop. There were a bunch of people waiting there for por puestos but I kept asking them but none of them were going to La Culata. As I was wandering around disconsolately a helpful dude told me to wait next to a guy in a red jacket who was also going to La Culata. About 20 minutes later the bus to La Culata showed up and we all piled in. I managed to snag the front seat and had great views as we left the city behind and climbed uo into the Sierra La Culata hills. I finally managed to glimpse the glacier-clad peaks of Sierra Nevada (Pico Bolivar etc.). There were lots of hotels and vacation homes along the road as well as rustic villages and farms. The hills were covered with dense forest which seemed mostly intact. After about a two hour bus ride the bus dropped me off at the end of the road in La Culata. The fare was only 1.5Bs for a 2 hour bus ride which surprised me since even the short bus ride in the city cost 1B. I was expecting a deserted spot with maybe a tea-stall but found it to be a bustling spot with a hotel and numerous knick-knack stalls. Kids riding ponies and tourists scarfing down cups of strawberries and cream. Reminded me a lot of the Pakistani hillstaion of Murree in summer. I shouldered my backpack and headed up the mountain along a gated road. The starting elevation of this hike was about 9500 ft so, with my unacclammatized lungs, I was gasping for air in short order. The road was crawling with pony-riding tourists but I soon came to a second gate with some stairs on the side for hikers. After this point the tourist dropped off at an exponential rate and I was finally able to enjoy some peace and quiet. The trail wound past a couple of farms where farmere were ploughing their fields the old-fashioned way with a wooden plough and oxen. Many of the farmers seemd to be growing carrots. The trail soon reached a stream near a big boulder. I ran into numerous parties with backpacking gear who were returning from overnighters. It was nice to be in hiking country again. The trail paralleled the stream and climbed steadily. I ran into a Park Ranger (Ramirez) who told me to stick to the trail as it was the only trail in the area. This trail eventually leads to a 4600m peak called Pico Pan de Azucar (peak of bread and sugar) but that requires an overnight stay at a refugio. I ran into many interesting people on the hike including a couple from Maracaibo where the girl was hiking in flip-flops. I also lost my hat temporarily but a group of teenagers found it and called me to retrieve it. There were strange plants alonmg the trails and beech trees lining the stream. The only familiar thing I spotted was a clump of blooming lupine flowers near the top. I eventually huffed and puffed my way to a level area at the top at about 11500 ft elevation. The views from here were great. Classic paramo landscape with desert-like vegetation. I could see down into the lower valleys we had driven up earlier. Ahead was a rugged looking relatively flat area called Valle Muerte. To the left was a river valley in which a substnatial creek was flowing. Across the creek was a large moraine left behind by along-vanished glacier. In the distance I could see very rugged peaks that looked a lot like the Colorado Rockies. The book said to return by 4pm as that is the time the last bus leaves for town. However the bus driver had assured me that last bus left at 5pm. It was about 3pm so I decided to start heading down. I was a little concerned that the book might be right so I really booked it downhill and arrived back at the bus stop by 4:05pm. It was still as crowded as ever with music, tourists milling around and vendors selling their jewelry and tourist junk. I waited for a bus for about 15 minutes then started panicing a little and asked a stall owner about the bus. A guy overheard this exchange and offered me a ride down in the back of his pickup. His young daughter spoke excellent English. Turned out they had spent time in US living in North Carolina and Miami and ahd just recently returned to Venezuela. I hopped into the back of truck and we headed down. The family seemed in a jovial mood and sang loudly. The father seemed in a particularly expansive mood and offered a whole family a ride a little farther down the road and they all piled intot he back with me. The guy dropped us off at a bus stop where a bus to Merida was waiting. The trip into town was quick and I got off at the same place where I had boarded the bus earlier in the day. The family who had hitched the ride in the truck also got off here and the father generously payed my bus fare as well. All these helpful gestures that I experience during the day did much to restore my faith in humanity and in Venezuelans in general. I wandered back to my posada at a leisurely pace, grabbing a little icecream along the way and checking out the Plaza Bolivar and the church next to it. Took a much needed shower at the Posada and then had left over tuna helper for dinner along with a fresh salad.

Day 6, Tue Feb 24 2009 Merida / Pico Aguila : Up early to get some coffee and a pastel queso at nerby bakery. Called a couple of posadas in tucacas and made reservations at the Posada El Ancla which was offering 3 nights for 300b. The tour bus ( a Mercedes van) showed up around 9am and I grabbed the front seat. We started off by 9:30. The road paralleled a river called Rio Chama for almost the entire trip all the way out of Merida. The bus driver tried to communicate some info on the sights in Spanish but it went mostly over my head. We made several stops. First we stopped at a picturesque plaza in Mucuchies, then at a roadside stand where I had some strawberries and cream and then haggled over and bought a windchime with parrots. Next stop was at a stone chapel and museum in the small town of San Rafael. The hills around here looked very similar to the brown hills one sees at the East end of the Columbia Gorge except these are at 10000ft elevation. Next stop was Laguna Mucubaji-- a scennic lake at 3500m altitude. Here we stopped for about 30 minutes and I made a quick circuit of the lake -- pausing frequently to admire the rugged peaks that surrounded this area. Vegetaiont was classic paramo mix of yucca like plants and scrabbly bushes. We continued climbing up past the observatory and finally topping out at a monument at 4100m called "Pico Aguila" or Eagle peak. Here the tour bus stopped for over an hour so the tour group could wander around and have lunch. The place was thronged with tourists who were posing in fornt of a monument and a chapel located on opposite sides of the road. It was quite chilly despite the brilliant sunshine and views were pretty expansive. The dim and dingy restaurant was serving some very pathetic looking foods at exorbitant prices so I decided to skip eating there. This was the turnaround point and after this stop we headed down, stopping briefly at an interesting bronze statue of a woman pointing at the mountains and a castle-like hotel. We finally pulled into town around 6:30 pm. Tue is supposed to be Mardi Gras so I expected the nearby park to be a madhouse. Instead it was eerily quiet and deserted. I was really hungry and sick of eating crappy food so I walked almost the entire length of downtown to a famous rest. called Abadia which is tricked out like a monastery with waiters dressed like monks. I ordered the mixed grill sans chorizo and it had the best beef I had eaten so far in Venezuela. After gorging myself and using the complementary 30 mins of internet at Abadia, I wandered back though fairly deserted streets back to the Posada. This anti-climactic Caranaval ending had surprised me a quite a bit as I was expecting unbridled rivalry and all the local populace could muster were a few fireworks. On the other hand it was nice to be able to sleep in relative peace and quiet.

Day 7, Wed Feb 25 2009 Merida : Up late. I had nothing on the agenda today except packing up and leaving for Tucacas. First order of the day was to go to the bus staion and buy a ticket to Valencia for 60Bs. Then I went over to the teleferico. The city looked calm and picturesque after the Carnaval madness of the last few days. Schools and businesses were open and things had an air of normalcy. I puttered around Park Heorinas and the teleferico before making my way over to the bus "choros de milla" route to the zoo. Got off along the way to have lunch at Casa Andina, another place recommended in the book. Lunch was cheap but not very filling and was further marred by a bawling baby. This baby was surrounded by 3 women who looked like his mother, aunt and grandmother respectively but were totally oblivious to his disruptive crying, busily stuffing themselves and chatting as if the kid didn't exist. After lunch I hopped back on the bus and got off at the zoo. The zoo was dirt cheap admission (3Bs)had some interesting animals as well as a couple of waterfalls on the river (Rio Milla). Around 4pm I made my way back to the centro area, Had a quick dinner at Abadia and then walked back to the Posada via the Plaza Bolivar. Today was Ash Wed and lots of people in the plaza were sporting black crosses on their foreheads. I picked up my stuff from the posada reception and took a cab to the bus station. I had made sure that the bus was a double-decker and got a seat on the upper floor. This bus was a lot cleaner. They showed X-files 2 not once but twice but unfortunately the volume was so low that I was forced to figure out what was going on by trying to read the Spanish subtitles.

Day 8, Thu Feb 26 2009 Tucacas : Up at 6 am woken by the a guy who got on the bus to sell coffee. It seemed like we might be in Valancia but it was disturbing that none of the bus staff bothered to inform me of the stop or ask me to get off. If it wasn't for my vigilance I might have ended up in Caracas. Got my bags off the bus and paid a helpful porter to carry them to the platform where a bus to Tucacas was about to leave. I barely managed to load the bags and get on the bus before we pushed off. It was still fairly dark as sun had not come up yet. We made our way through deseterted city streets to the main highway. The road crossed over the coastal mountain range to the busy industrial city of Moron before finally coming out at the ocean. The beaches looked pretty enough but nothing like the turquoise picture-perfect beaches of Cancun or Aruba. There was a string of high-rise condo buildings lining the beach almost all the way between Moron and Tucacas. The bus unceremoiously sumped all passengers off the main intersection in town. I took a cab to El Ancla. The woman running the place welcomed me in even though it was pretty early. A couple of mangy-looking dogs were moping around the screened-in porch. Apparently there were only 3 rooms in this small posada. The room I got was pretty decent, clean, with 3 twin beds and with AC. The only catch was that the bathrooms were shared and so were the showers. The price was 300Bs for 3 nights. All this sounded good to me at the time but when I made it over to the bathroom/shower I realized that all was not roses in this picture. The bathroom area was infested with mosquitoes and the showers had no hot water and the cold water had a stinky smell. While I could live without the hot water, swatting mosquitoes while showering with stinky water was a little too much to take for 3 straight days. I decided to go out for a quick recoineteuring trip to see if there were any other hotels in the area that offered a better deal. The heat relly hit me hard after Merida. The place was chock-a-block with posadas and hotels not to metion touts pushing boat tours of the Cayos. I hit about 5 or 6 posadas/hotels in quick succession. All had room now that the Carnanval crowds had left and prices ranged from 120B to 200B. I narrowed it down to a fairly nice hotel right on the water called Hotel Punta Brava for 120B/night with private bath. Also found a dive shop "Submatur" whose owner , Mike, spoke very good English and was able to give helpful advice. I signed up for the Sat and Sunday dive tours as a snorkeler. Getting a ride to the cayos is expensive if you charter the boat by yourself, so at 40Bs for the ride it was a great deal. The El Ancla owner, Marlene, was not too happy when I told her I was not going to stay the 3 nights and jacked her rate up to 120B for the day. I quickly changed into swimming trunks then headed into town to grabe a bite to eat. The place recommended in the LP book is "La Reina del MAr" bakery and for once the recommndation was spot-on. I had a couple of spinach pastries along with some coffee and then headed off to the bridge that links Tucacas to the closest island -- Cayo Punta Brava , which is inside the national park. The bridge was gated and staffed by Park Rangers who told me they close it at 5pm. I made my way past some interesting magrove forest and finally emerged at the picturesue beach. There were a lot of people out and about enjoying themselves. Plenty of families and a few couples enjoying themselves, it looked pretty safe and wholesome. There was a little more litter on the beach than I cared to see, especially since trash receptacles were generously scattered all over the place. I spent a pleasant 2-3 hours chilling on the beach, swimming in the mostly calm waters and exploring the beach. Towards the end a trail meandered into the magroves. I followed it for about 10 minutes but it only emerged at an even more polluted small beach instead of the pristing nirvana I was hoping for. Furthermore it was aboutt his time I started getting bitten by small irritating flies called "puri-puri". I beat a hasty retreat to the main beach which was beginning to wind down as it was getting close to 5pm. I walked back at a leisurely place to town, stopping along the way watch people catching fish off the bridge. A quick shower and then I made way into town. I had done some calculations earlier and discovered that I was running a little low on bolivars. The LP book mentioned no way to change money around here but Mike suggested talking to some of the Arab traders in town. I amde my way to "flor de Palestine", "AlKaram" etc. They were all willing to change money but at considerably less favourable rates than Caracas. Finally I managed to find a place that gave 5B/$ and exchanged some cash there. Grabbed a shawerma sandwich at a roadside eatery before returning to the posada and curling up with a book ("A million little pieces" by Frey). It rained heavily at night but only for a short duration.

Day 9, Fri Feb 27 2009 Tucacas / Cayo Sombrero : Up early since Marlene had mentioned a firm 9am checkout. Grabbed a cab for the short move to Hotel Punta Brava. Once ensconced in the new digs, went to the La Reina bakery for breakfast, tried the mushroom & cheese pastry along with the "espinoca y queso" from yesterday. Stopped at Submatur on the way back to check if Mike had any tours going out. I didn't expect any since he had mentioned that weekdays were pretty slow, but much to my surprise he said there was a bunch of Argentinians going on a dive tour and I could join them if I hurried over to the dock. I rushed over to the hotel, grabbed some snorkeling gear and made it over to the dock where they were loading up the boat. I was planning to go out today anyway no matter what the cost, but it was nice to be able to ride along rather than chartering the whole boat. I was even more delighted when I learnt that our desitination was Cayo Sombrero -- one of the more distant and prettier cayos. The launch ride was fun as we wound our way through mangrove-covered small islands (cayos) to more open ocean. The launch was powered by a large 75hp Yamaha and easily planed on the water making for a choppy wet ride in the ocean swells. There were only 2 divers on this boat, the rest of their group had apparently squeezed on to the first boat. It took about 45 minutes to get to Cayo Sombrero. Its a very sceninc island with a picture-postcard white beach with turquoise waters gently lapping away. The dive master dropped me off and said he would return around 4pm. There were plenty of people around but it wasn't quite the mob scene from the Punta Brava beach yesterday. Some vendors hawking crappy jewelry were making the rounds, a few guys in a boat would pull over to the shore every half hour and invite the tourists over for a free taste of ceviche and then a bowl for 70Bs. I found a shady spot to dump my stuff. Luckily I found yet another Argintine named Esteban who was napping in the same shady spot. We struck up a conversation, turned out that he was quite the world traveler and had been to Pakistam. He was currently engaged in a multi-month roadtrip in his car all over South America. He promised to look after my stuff so I donned my snorkeling gear and hit the water. There was plenty of brain coral and lots of interesting fish right off the beach. I spent the rest of the afternoon on this heavenly cayo, taking small beach walks, snorkeling and just lounging around in the shade. There was another equally nice beach on the backside of this cayo which was lined with beach umbrellas. The two beaches were linked by a small trail next to the dock and ranger office (closed). The hours went by too quick and soon it was 4pm and the lancha returned. On the way back the guy stopped at a shallow spot and encouraged me to snorkel around. Aparently this was a great spot for starfish and I found several large orange and brown ones within touching distance. They are called "Estrella del mar" in Spanish. This was an unexpected bonus and served as a fitting end to a great day on the beach. I did get some bad sunburn on my shoulders and back from all the snorkeling. After showering I rolled around to the dive shop to pay my 40B fee and also confirm a spot on tomorrow's dive trip. Mike mentioned that the upcoming trip would be going to Cayo Sur, a relatively off-the-beaten-path island. The usual shawerma dinner, yielded to temptation and bought a pack of cigs too and then off to hotel and eventually bed.

Day 10, Sat Feb 28 2009 Tucacas / Cayo Sur : Up early since Mike has instructed me to be there by 9:30. Swung by his shop on ym way to the bakery but found his assitant there who said Mike was in Valencia. After the usual breakfast, returned to Submatur and sat around while the dive master filled the oxygen tanks. Mike had a couple of dogs who hung around the shop. One of them was a lugubrious-looking bloodhound with soulful eyes. Eventually the diver (a Swiss dude named Thomas) showed up and we all piled into the beatup old truck and trundled over to the docks. This time we left from a different route, going under the Punta Brava Bridge and heading out to more open ocean. The ocean swells made it feel like we were going up little hills. The boat would crest the "hill" and then fall into the "valley" with a lurch and lots of spray. The boat trip took about 45 minutes and we arrived at Cayo Sur. The beach here was a lot smaller but still very pretty and there were much fewer people here. There was another small island within a stone's throw of the beach and the area between these two islands was teeming with coral reefs and fish. We spotted a flock of squid with neon-blue eyes right from the boat. Unlike yesterday when he drove off after dropping me, the dive master anchored the boat to the beach and conducted dives right at Cayo Sur. A dive party in their own fancy boat showed up soon after we arrived and they suited up and dived with Mike's dive master. There was another boat from the Frogman Dive Center anchored here as well, so clearly this was a popular spot for diving. Once I started snorkeling around I realized why that was the case. Not only was there tons of good coral and snorkeling, there was a steep drop-off very close to the shore where divers could do wall dives. I spent the rest of the afternoon much like the previous day. It was slightly cloudier today so visibility was not as good as at Cayo Sombrero. Around 4 pm most of the people packed up and left leaving the beach deserted. The dive guys were still on one last dive so I went for a walk around the island. Once the beach petered out I continued in the shallow water and slippery rocks for quite a ways but finally got concerned about time and returned. Ride back in was nice but no snorkeling stops today. After showering I went to Mikes shop to pay up but it was closed. I went into town and had some extremely salty pizza at La Reina. Also patronized a pina colada stand where they made things from scratch starting by chopping coconuts with a machete and pouring their water into the blender. Had a mellow evening sitting out on the balcony looking out at the water. Since this was he weekend the hotel was a lot more crowded with vacationers from Caracas and elsewhere pouring into town.

Day 11, Sun Feb 28 2009 Tucacas / Caracas : Up late, leisurely breakfast then packed up and caught a bus to Valencia. The bus had some issue in Moron and dumped all the passengers out. I couldn't figure out the reson but most of the passengers were pretty pissed. To their credit they did find load us up on another bus within 10 minutes and we didn't have to pay anything extra to the new bus. There was a very nice mosque with intereting gauzy-looking domes at the outskirts of Valencia. The bus droppped passengers off near the main city bus terminal. There was yet another mosque next to the bus terminal but on closer examinataion it turned out to be a restaurant shaped liked a mosque. I was tired of the grungy buses so decided to go in the fancy air-con bus to Caracas. The one in the terminal was sold out but Rodovias a coupel of blocks south of the main bus terminal still had seats. I had checked out this company in Caracas when I was eploring transport options for Merida,and liked their buses and private terminal near Plaza Venezuela. I didn't want to go through the madhouse of the Bandera Bus terminal again if I could help it. The bus was very clean and of course the AC was going full-blast. Traffic was crawling on the highway with vacationing Caraqenos returning to town. I was again glad I chose this bus instead of sweating it out in one of the cheaper buses. They showed "Max Payne" but it was dubbed in Spanish so I couldn't follow the story too well and chose to look out the window instead. The bus oulled into the clean terminal near Collge of Engineers Metro stop. Since it was my last night and I had some excess Bolivars to blow, I took the cab to the now-familiar Hotel Ritz and checked in. Dinner at Estacion de pollo. I had promised myself I would try a Venezuela arepa before I left so I bought one at the bustling 24-hr areparia across the street from the pollo place. It was basically a cornbread tortilla floded into a conical shape and filled with chicken. Not bad tasting either but I was already stuffed I couldn't eat much of it.

Day 12, Mon Mar 1 2009 Caracas / PDX : Up early at 5am. The hotel guy had called a taxi for 5:45 am. The cab fare was a steep 120Bs to the airport. Once at the airport, the American Airline staff asked for another 40B airport tax. Apparently there had been a tax increase just recently which is why it had not been charged in the original ticket. Immigration and custom formalities were quick and painless and soon I was on the plane headed back home.