Zelma’s Trip

I woke up in the morning surprisingly refreshed given the disturbed night´s sleep I had had.  I found an internet cafe and, having discovered that the Paypal transaction had not worked, I had to go and organise more cash.  Actually it was pending but, somewhat annoyingly, I didn´t have any of the information with me in order to ´validate´the account.  One thing that has been annoying in Venezuela is the whole money situation.  For some reason my bank turned into idiots and decided to restrict my accounts.  Added to this is the complicated situation with the money here.  They have changed currency and are still operating both in parallel currently.  There is also a wealth (excuse the pun) of difference between the so-called "official exchange rate" given by banks and the like and the black market exchange rate for US dollars.  Anyway, I wandered around trying to find a bank to sort it out and ended up on a mammoth trek in the heat.  I was slightly concerned that I was due to be being picked up at eleven o´clock and also that I had no watch.  Eventually when I got back to the hotel I was hot, tired but basically on time.  I sat outside the hotel for some time, had a drink and a cigarette and got approached by numerous men.  The first was from some bus company, I think and, having got the wrong end of the stick, tried to check me back into the hotel I had checked out of.  At least I think that´s what he was doing before I took my bag off of him and walked away.  Then one of the many Army guys walking about took a shine to me and asked a number of lewd questions which I pretended not to understand.  In the end he wrote it down for me and, albeit in Spanish, the word "sex" was quite clear in the middle of the sentence.  I told him "no" thinking that would be the end of it and was then in the difficult situation of not being able to explain why not when he asked.  To be fair that´s a relativley tough one even in English.  If I was at home and someone randomly came up to me in the street, asked if I wanted to have sex with them and then asked why not when I said No I think I would be slightly thrown.  Now add to that trying to explain why not in Spanish with my lack of language skills!  It was all relatively harmless though and I figured that I might at least get some protection if there was a street riot!  See, positive thinking, glass half full etc!

In Venezuela there are kind of impromptu phone places on the streets where vendors set up tables with mobiles on, often attached to chains, and charge you to use them.  They also, rather helpfully, sell single cigarettes which you can presumably smoke whilst you make a call.  I used one of these to call the tour company to see when I was being collected.  By this point I had been waiting for about two hours I think and they told me that the guys due to collect me were just around the corner.  To their credit they were and they arrived with Rainer, a lovely German guy and Ian a quirky English guy who were also on the Los Llanos trip.  After getting lunch we headed to the rafting camp where I had been previously.  I thought this was meant to be the last night of the trip but apparently they had switched it around!

Back at the camp the French owner recognised me and found it quite amusing that I had returned.  I spoke to him in French and wished that my Spanish was even remotely as good.  Ian was evidently not particularly keen on rafting so went for a walk whilst Rainer and I went rafting, him for the first time and me for the third time in three days, with a recent jab to the arm!  There had been a lot of rain and the river was considerably higher than it had been which led to Junior deciding we should not take the small boat, much to my rather vocal disappointment.  The rafting was fun again and the river was very fast.  The final section was really good and then we got to the bridge.  Once at the bridge we walked back where we body rafted (i.e. floated  in the rapids in our life jackets) down river.  That sounds a little more tranquil than it was actually, but it was great fun.

Back at camp we changed and headed out for dinner in town prior to getting a few beers to take back to camp.  We sat round and chatted and were amazed at the extent of Junior´s knowledge about the wildlife in the region.  He took us on an impromptu night safari where we saw Caimans´ (as in crocodiles) eyes glowing in the reflection of the torch.

The following day we had a huge breakfast.  Meals in Venezuela are generally large, often heavy and often involve most ingredients being fried or deep fried and this breakfast was no exception.  Arepas are a staple here which are a kind of doughy, eliptical lump which you cut open and stuff things like cheese or eggs into.  A lot of people make jokes about being able to knock people out with them which isn´t all that far from the mark!  We dropped Ian off at Barinas airport then went to the bus station car park where we waited for the other jeeps in the group.  We waited for some time and Junior decided we should go and get supplies for the trip from the supermarket.  Having done so we went back and waited some more until eventually the other groups arrived.  One group was a German couple, Ute and Olaf, who were both lovely with Olaf being a real character.  The other group was a large group of people from Slovakia of all places.  I´m only saying it like that as, not only have I not met anyone traveling from Slovakia, I don´t think I´ve -ever- met anyone from Slovakia.

The drive to the camp in Los Llanos was meant to take four hours but took slightly longer.  This -may- have had something to do with the fact that, after the alcohol stop, we had to stop about every five minutes for various Slovakians to get out of their van and relieve themselves.  We were getting slightly peeved by this after a while and talked about the reinforcement of the Easter European stereotype.

Eventually, several Slovakian stops later, the road became bumpier and we arrived at the camp in the dark.  The camp itself was cool and Rainer, Olaf, Ute and I shared a round hut with hammocks all attached to the centre pole.  We sat and chatted at the table outside and drank with the Slovaks, albeit at a much slower rate.  At one point one of them told me there was no point in drinking my beer as it was, "very weak like water".  It was fun and the three Germans, locals and guides were lovely.  Some of the Slovakian group seemed amiable, others less so.  I decided it was time to call it a night when one of them told us that his friend was going to kill two people that night.  The following morning I was told that, after I had retired, he tried to pick fights with everyone.

In the morning I headed down to the ´Gravity tours´office where I met Yssac, one of the guides, and also a lovely American girl who was also coming on the trip.  She was evidently studying in Merida as part of her degree.  I was pleased that there was someone on the trip other than staff to keep me company, and also for a fellow English speaker who was a really nice girl.  Although, to be honest she was also a particularly adept Spanish speaker and put me to shame.  After some sorting out of Paypal accounts and the like we headed off, Ysaac, myself, another guide and the American girl in one jeep, the Manager and his family in another and another jeep of guides and staff.  God, I feel awful that I can´t remember her name.  I´m hoping that it will come to me and I will be able to go back and replace all the "American girl" points before I publish this post but we´ll see.  The journey was entertaining, partly as Ysaac turned out to be a character and a real hoot and partly as he loved his Reggaeton.  Reggaeton has grown on me slightly, partly due to hearing better parts of it and partly having heard it with decent bass speakers.  Driving through the villages was amazing as the lines of people queueing up to vote was quite extraordinary.  After a little while we got into the mountains proper and the views were something else.  I had seen the Andes in Chile but the look of them was very different.  In Venezuela they were much greener but just as spectacular.  We also went right up into two of the highest peaks and I was pleased that I didn´t have any kind of altitude problems.  I think we were around four thousand metres above sea level at one point when we stopped.

Having stopped for lunch (where I had a gorgeous river fish cooked in garlic), and after around four hours driving, we arrived at the camp near the town, or rather city, of Barinas.  The camp itself was lovely, in lush green gardens and less basic than I had imagined.  After dumping our things we changed and headed out to the river.  We took the small yellow boat, which I always want to call a banana boat, but I guess technically they aren´t.  I prefer rafting in smaller boats whenever possible as you get thrown about a lot more which is fun.  The rafting itself was great.  There were a couple of awesome sections and, added to the appeal, was the fact that it was getting dark, leading to my hysterical joke about it not being, "white water rafting" but "night water rafting".  I think there must have been something lost in translation as no-one else seemed to find it anywhere near as amusing as I did!

At the bottom we loaded the boats onto the jeeps and headed back to camp where we had a much needed dinner.  After dinner we chatted and discussed the elections.  Prior to these elections there were grave concerns as it was possible that Chavez could lose a considerable number of seats which may lead to great trouble in the country.  In the evening the local guides were phoning friends and family to let them know that they were okay.  Apparently Merida was one of the contentious areas in the country and trouble had been expected.  We went and watched television in the house for a while and Manuel, one of the guides, reported back about incidents such as armed men arriving on motorbikes and stealing ballot boxes.  After all the talk of potential trouble, riots and the like my mind started wandering and I thought about military coups and being stuck in Venezuela indefinitely.  After all their talk they told me not to worry and that besides, as a British citizen, I would be whisked out by helicopter or something by the British army.  Most reassuring I thought!  So, after dinner, election talk and some rather nasty neat gin, we headed to bed.

The following morning we got up early and rafted the same section of river.  The main difference, other than being able to see where you were going, was that there was more bird life around including the most beautiful Kingfishers.  At one point we stopped and climbed up onto a small cliff where you threw yourself into the water, which was fun.  At this point there were what Manuel told me were, "monkey spiders" on the rocks, which were hairy beasts with very long legs and medium sized bodies.  I guess they were probably around the size of an outstretched hand.  Once back at camp we took the raft and some kayaks upstream where the guides practised manouvres and we faffed about on the beach, in the water and in the kayaks.  The river itself was stunning and the weather was magnificent, hot and sunny with beautiful blue sky.

We got back to the camp and drove to Barinas where I was going to be dropped off.  I had asked if this was possible so that I didn´t have to do the eight hour round trip to Merida prior to the Los Llanos safari the following day.  For some reason I was crazily tired and almost napped in the back of the van.  We stopped at a shopping centre for lunch and then I was dropped off at a hotel opposite the bus station in Barinas.  The place was okay, although it was next to a kind of bus park.  I explored a bit, grabbed some food and had an early night.  Well I tried to but the bus park next to my window was slightly distracting in terms of sleep.  I had almost got used to that until the entire wall started shaking next to my head.  At first I thought it was some kind of strange vehicle that had arrived outside and then I realised that it was actually the air conditioning unit from the room nextdoor.  Unfortunately this was on all night and, to add insult to injury I didn´t figure out how to get mine to work until the following morning.  It was particularly tricky, alright ….you had to flick a switch and everything!

After an overnight bus ride which took far longer than I had both expected and it was meant to I arrived in Merida.  I had an entertaining conversation with a taxi driver and then managed to share a cab with a girl heading into the city.  I was going to stay at Posada de Montana but it was full and I found a place a couple of doors down who gave me a reduced room rate.  After showering and sorting myself out a bit I went to find out about trips in the area.  I came to Merida principally for two reasons; to ride the teleferico (the longest cable car system in the World) and to go on safari to Los Llanos, purportedly one of the best areas in Venezuela to see wildlife.

I left the posada and went into ´Gravity tours´ where I found immensely friendly and knowledgeable staff.  One of my problems with my itinery in the country was the fact I had not managed to get my yellow fever vaccintation and the area around Angel Falls has a high prominence of this.  They were extremely helpful and, before I knew it, the Manager´s wife was taking me in her car to a clinic.  Unfortunately the innoculations department was not open until the next morning but at least I knew I could get my jab the following day.

Merida is known to be one of the towns for adrenaline junkies and travelers and also for its beauty.  When I headed into town it didn´t disappoint.  The streets were pleasant and, as you got towards the central square, the architecture was quite amazing.  I particularly liked the almost gothic style crows which adorned the end of the drainpipes, squirting water out of their mouths when it rained.  The centre also sports the second oldest bell in the World, at the Cathedral, which is rather funky.

After pottering about I decided to grab a pizza.  One of the things which I don´t particularly like about Venezuela, as you may have gathered, is the guns.  It´s not just the armed Police but also the military sporting their huge Russian affairs.  Security also often have guns and there is this weird kind of machismo thing which goes on where they grin at you whilst flicking their finger against the trigger.  I´d almost managed to get used to people in uniform having ridiculously oversized guns but when I was waiting for my pizza I had a cigarette outside and there was what looked like a completely random bloke in bullet proof get up, huge boots and sporting a gun basically a big as him.  I think I looked at him a bit too hard as he caught my gaze and wandered towards me.  Like a big wuss I tried to look nonchalent, finished my cigarette prematurely and rushed back inside.   After gorging myself on pizza I watched some trash on telly and had an early night.

The following morning I headed to the clinic to get my yellow fever jab.  When I say I headed, that´s exactly what I did, i.e. headed in vaguely the right direction.  When we had left the clinic by car the Manager´s wife (I´m just too good with names) had pointed at a sign and told me to remember the road.  I knew I wouldn´t so wrote it down, however I was also conscious of the fact that she had said this about three minutes after we left the clinic and that my written down road was not the road that the clinic was on but a road somewhere vaguley near it.  Regardless of this I was having a better day than average with my sense of direction and, after asking a couple of people, found the place with no problem.  I went into the clinic, told them I wanted a yellow fever jab (it´s literally fever of yellow in Spanish) and was sent to the end of a long corridor.  The staff took down my details, well they did so eventually after I tried to tell them I was British, a tourist, my name etc, when they actually wanted to know how old I was and then Iasked how much it was and they told me it was free.  Then they asked whether I wanted any other vaccinations or whether it was just yellow fever and, for a moment, I seriously thought about it.  Then I thought that I didn´t really want a live vaccine party going on inside me just before I was about to go out into the wilderness type parts of the country.  So, vaccination card in hand (technically I could have just walked out at that point without the vaccination but with proof I´d had it) I went into the cubicle.  The nurse was friendly and gave me perhaps the least painful injection I have ever had, in a very clean environment with a new sterile needle etc.  I wasn´t paranoid but you need to check these things right?  So, after about five minutes from walking in the door I had walked out with an injection and certificate.  One of the reasons for this elaboration is that I was shocked that, firstly it was free and at just how efficient it was.  I guess the reason for the shock is that yellow fever jabs are not free on the N.H.S and can you imagine walking into a random clinic asking for one and walking out five minutes later without some kind of fiasco?  I later spoke to a Brazilian jewellery seller guy in the square who told me that all health and dental care was free in Venezuela and that this was one of Chavez´ creations (well I guess he´s got to get something right).  Apparently this extends to all South American nationals and he had come from Brazil to get dental treatment, although even he was surprised that it appeared to cover everyone regardless of Nationality.  Go oil money go!

In the afternoon I decided to check the zoo out and, after waiting for too long for buses, opted for a cab.  Although there were some animals which should arguably had have more space, overall the zoo was good and there were some very cool animals.  One of the reasons I had chosen to go was that the zoo, set on a hill, also had waterfalls in the grounds.  It rained torrentially whilst I was there which meant that the walk to the largest falls was closed, but the other walks were lovely.

After exploring the zoo I got the bus back to town which was considerably cheaper (around 20p), although the taxi was hardly dear to be fair.  I opted for a huge portion of chips from a street seller for dinner which were gorgeous and just right for another early night at the posada with trashy television.

On the Saturday I was informed that the tour I was due to go on the following day had been cancelled and that they had tried to find another one with a different company for me but had been unsuccessful.  So I took it upon myself to find another tour myself.  I walked down towards the teleferico and went into all the places, none of which had tours going out on the Sunday.  One of the problems was that Sunday was election day so any tour leaders who were local had to vote.  FInally I found a company who did have a tour going out and booked it.  I went to get money, went back and was told that this tour had also been cancelled.  Slightly miffed to say the least, I went back to Gravity tours who said that they had a two day rafting group leaving the following day, that this was more of a staff outing but I would be welcome if I wanted to go.  By this point, although I loved it, I had seen enough of Merida.  The teleferico was also broken down.  I found this out when I asked a guy about it as I looked to see some signs of life.  He told me that it was broken and when I asked when it would be working…."tomorrow?"….he said, "not tomorrow, not the day after, not the day after that.." (see sometimes I can do Spanish).  I later found out that the French engineers who designed and oversaw the build of the cable car system had come for an inspection and insisted on its immediate closure.  Apparently the likely timescale for it to re-open is around two years.  Anyway, so I had seen enough of the town and around, was not able to go on the teleferico, so decided that two days rafting sounded like a good idea.

The following morning we headed back to the road where we had got off the bus and tried to beckon buses.  This is commonplace in countries like Venezuela and buses appear to stop just about anywhere to pick people up.  What you come to realise is that, just because somewhere doesn´t have a bus stop it doesn´t mean that the bus doesn´t stop there, or even that it is recognised as an informal bus stop.  This was one such place and we were pleased when two locals joined us to get the bus from there.  After a little wait we got on a crowded bus and headed to Valencia. 

Once at the bus station Reynold left pretty much straight away as he had a plane to catch from Caracas.  I headed to find out when buses left for Merida, a spot in the West famous for having the World´s longest cable car, its outdoor pursuits and access into Los Llanos to see the area´s wildlife.  I had read that there were night buses to Merida but was kind of banking on there being one during the day.  I was pleased when I got to the right place and there was one advertised at 11AM.  Unfortunately they told me that the 11 o clock bus was not leaving today, as did all the other companies I asked.  The next bus after that was at 6pm but, as it was a ten hour journey, this would arrive at the rather unhelpful time of 4am the following morning.  With a big sigh, and the realisation that this would give me more than twelve hours in Valencia bus station, I opted for the ten thirty bus to Valencia.

I was considering heading into the city but it didn´t look too exciting so I conceded that I would do exciting things like update my blog so that it wasn´t a complete waste of a day.  I am also now the World´s expert on buses in and out of Valencia, their times, the services of Valencia bus station and the surrounding areas and shops.  I know that none of those sound like the most exciting things in the World and in reality, they weren´t.  I spent so long at the darn bus station that I began to blend into the place, to the extent that locals starting asking me questions such as directions.  That´s when I knew that things really had got bad when I lost my identifiable gringo status.  So I spent the day exploring, woohoo, online, eating, drinking coke and smoking cigarettes.  The mean ones of you out there may be thinking that this is not unlike my normal kind of day but, in all fairness, I normally don´t dedicate -quite- as much time to such pursuits.

When it came to around the time for my bus I was actually quite excited.  This was partly as it was a double decker coach and I was at the top, partly as I always like going to the next place and largely as it meant I was actually going to get out of Valencia bus station.  Typically, after telling myself that  I only had two hours to wait, one hour to wait, etc, the bus was over an hour late!  Once on the bus I was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable, clean and safe it felt.  The only problem was it kept stopping, firstly so people could buy food and drink and then a number of times possibly or possibly not for reasons known to the driver.

Miraculously we managed to get up and leave early in the morning and we took the subway across town to the bus station.  Reynold´s guidebook had stated that the metro station was not next to the bus stop and that there was a 350m walk through an unsavoury neighbourhood in order to get there and that you might want to consider getting a taxi.  We thought this seemed slightly ridiculous for such a short distance especially as it was early in the morning.  As we walked through the “dodgy neighbourhood” I couldn´t help but think how much nicer it felt than the neighbourhood where we had been staying.

Once at the bus station, having spent a long time crossing a busy road, we couldn´t find the ticket office but found the buses with the men shouting out destinations.  We got on a local bus heading for Valencia and I was pleased that none of the windows had gunshots in them.  That wasn´t actually a completely random comment, you saw several buses in Caracas with ominous holes in the windows but this one seemed nice enough.  As the bus ploughed through traffic out of the city I must say I was pleased to be going somewhere else.  In a lot of ways Caracas had not been as bad as I had envisaged but in some it had and after my terrible night of paranoid sleep I was glad to be continuing on my travels.

Once in Valencia we got a local bus to Las Trincheras.  It was busy and we weren´t entirely convinced that they had understood where we wanted to get off as the journey took longer than we anticipated.  The place the guidbook said to get off was, “the bridge over the freeway”, which was slightly ominous and far from helpful.  Fortunately the conductor had understood, proably largely to Reynold speaking to him rather than me, and we stopped at the right place.  It was a short walk to Las Trincheras but it was hot and we were carrying our bags so we stopped at a cafe for a drink.  After Reynold´s drink never transpiring I finished my Pepsi and we headed to Las Trincheras.  When we got there the only rooms they had left were for five people and, as such, were slightly out of our price range.  We headed back the way we had come and passed one posada which looked decidedly shut.  After investigating Reynold asked a guy painting a fence if he knew whether it was open.  Very sweetly, but rather unhelpfully, he then did exactly the same as us, i.e. pondered the padlock and shouted, “Ola”, before telling us that noone was there!  So we continued down the street and found another posada.  This one looked, in my mind, like a giant cake.  It was very darkly painted brown wood and was covered in Christmas decorations.  It was pleasant enough though and a decent price so we checked in.  Having showered we headed back to Las Trincheras.  Along with the thermal pools there was a “mud bath” and that´s where we started.  When we bought our tickets Reynold had asked if there was a mud bath and had been told, “No”, in no uncertain terms.  When we saw people with mud on we thought the guy was mistaken but, in a way, it transpired he was not.  When we got into the water (yes it was water and not mud) it turned out that in order to get any mud you had to kind of scrape your fingers along the ground.  Then, what you dredged up was a handful of stones, leaves, sandy mud of sorts and bizarrely a lot of human hair.  It wasn´t the most attractive mix and it certainly wasn´t going to be doing any “healing” anywhere near my face.  We tentatively put some of the mud, with the least amount of human remains, on our arms and backs and then showered and left the gravely, hair pool.  As we sat by the side of the pool there were several monkeys playing over the fence at the side and they were not like monkeys I´d seen before.  There were also the most beautifully bright yellow and green birds. 

The thermal baths proved to be a lot more pleasant than the mud bath and we spent some time both in and out of them relaxing.  The hottest bath was so hot it was unbearable though and I normally like baths super hot.  It was hot to the extent that when Reynold got in he refused to go passed a certain point commenting that he hadn´t had childen yet!  There were, however, people who were going into the pool and we commented that it´s amazing what people will do if they´re told it´s good for them.  There were also a lot of people around the place who seemed a long way beyone therapeutic redemption!

After a nice time being cleansed we headed back to the posada and then went out for dinner.  The only place open was a local restaurant where we both had an amazing seafood soup type paella thing. 

When I woke up on the Saturday the World had, unfortunately, not worked my life out for me or, at very least, my plans in Venezuela and how to best travel around and get out of Caracas.  It became obvious very early on that people do not really stay in Caracas on their travels.  A lot of people tell you to get out of there as soon as you can, as do some gudebooks.  Many recommend bypassing Caracas altogether by, for example, staying closer to the coast rather than heading into the city.

I got up and went for a wander now that it was relatively safe to do so in daylight.  To be fair I was actually pleasantly surprised by the areas close to the hostel.  The large main road was pedestrianised a lot of the time and full of restaurants, street performers and even children´s games and face painting.  After pottering around the area and having lunch I went to an internet cafe closer to the hostel where I tried to figure out the best plan.  After a little while it began to feel like the whole World was conspiring against me and that someone, somewhere wanted me to stay in Caracas indefinitely.  One of the problems is that I needed to get my yellow fever vaccine.  Yes, I know this is something I should have got done in England but when I went to the Doctor´s to get my various jabs I had the others and then didn´t have the cash on my to pay for the yellow fever one.  I thought it was odd that they wouldn´t take any payment other than cash or trust me to come back and pay, even when I said I´d leave my passport as security.  It was beyond me why someone would get a yellow fever vaccination for the hell of it and not leave England, but they assured me that my passport was not sufficient and that it was “policy”.  The first place with a risk that I have travelled to is Venezuela and notably the areas of the rainforest around Angel Falls.  For a while I considered risking it and then I read several things online which suggested if I contracted the disease I had quite a high chance of dying so I decided it possibly wasn´t the best idea in the World.  The other added dimension is that I had planned to visit Trinidad where you apparently need evidence that you´ve been vaccinated.  So, this added to the problem.  Oh, and the vaccine also only apparently becomes effective ten days after you have it also.  Then I spent some time planning my route and figured that the best way to get around and see a lot of the places I wanted to was by car.  This is a particularly effective way to travel in Venezuela due to their petrol prices with it costing less than a dollar to fill an entire tank!  Then when I looked into car rental the rental websites were either in Spanish or rubbish.  The last one I looked at only let you put rentals in for 2068 and then told you there were none available, surprise surprise.  Of course when I was trying to formulate plans it was also Saturday so nothing was open in terms of tour places, clinics and hire companies.  

So, after realising that I was destined to spend the rest of my days in Caracas I headed back to the hostel and felt sorry for myself.  Grrrrr, if the A key comes out of this keyboard once more when I use it the whole keyboard is going out the door I swear.  I thought it was bad enough that the shift key works sporadically and then sticks down but Oooooh Nooo!  So back at the hostel I was lying in my bed when there was an almighty bang.  Now in Caracas there are loud noises all the time, including lots of bangs, but this was something else.  It went straight through me and echoed around the building.  Then, when I was wondering if I had somehow imagined it there were two more in quick succession.  I was really shaken and decided to go out to the terrace to see if anyone else was about for some kind of reassurance.  Once out there Reynold arrived and offered me a Venezuelan beer which was surprisingly nice.  No-one was able to explain the bangs or dispel my fears that they were infact gunshot.  Reynold also helped by telling me about hs encounters with the Police.  He had been exploring the city and was stopped twice within the space of an hour.  Apparently it was not sufficient for the Police that he had a photocopy of his passport with him and he was threatened with deportation for not having the correct documentation.  Shortly after hearing this, two worried looking German guys arrived on the terrace with a greater tale of woe.  They had also been stopped by the Police with one of them having their passport on them and the other not.  They were interrogated strongly, accused of dealing, then taken to the Police station where they were strip searched, convinced that they were going to have drugs planted on them and then released hours later having had to pay for the privilige.  Caracas was growing on me like a distinctly unattractive tumour! 

So, as I got further reassured about my personal safety I chatted to Reynold and we decided that, as it was a Saturday, it was only right that we go out.  He found a place in the guidebook which was basically several bars and clubs at a shopping mall complex and we asked one of the guys who worked at the hostel to get a taxi for us.  Now what we expected here was for him to use a driver or perhaps even call a taxi.  What we didn´t expect was for him to wander up the road trying to hail any old taxi which, in all fairness, we were quite capable of doing ourselves.  Once in the taxi we headed the opposite way out of the street to where I had been and I hoped that we wouldn´t have to stop as we went through really freaky areas with no street lighting.  Other than being stuck behind a random van in a thin street for a while the journey was fine.  We got to the centre and I discovered that, despite letting me have money at the airport, my cash card didn´t work.  Fortunately Reynold had cash on him and I found out relatively early on that I was still able to swipe my card at bars!  After a while at one bar we went for a wander and headed into a more club like bar.  One of the reasons we left the first bar was that I was getting decidedly sick of the music.  In Venezuela Reggaeton is huge; it´s a form of music merging hip-hop with a hybrid of reggae, dancehall and traditional Latin beats.  It sounds quite cool and some of it really was and is.  The problem is that there does not seem to be much discernment going on about what is good Reggaeton and what is pants reggaeton with everyone just getting very excited at reggaeton per se.  Anyway I wasn´t excited so we went to another bar which, shortly after we arrived, quickly reverted to reggaeton tunes.  We headed to a third, slightly underground looking place and Reynold commented that he didn´t think this was the kind of place which would play reggaeton.  I told him not to speak so soon and, needless to say, the reggaeton arrived.  The place was quite funky though and we danced until dawn.  Another added bonus about the final place was that I didn´t pay for a single drink.  No, I wasn´t blagging all night.  Basically they kept your card and then you had to sort of go and line up to pay.  The thing is, when I went up and they gave me my card to pay a great tune came on so I went to dance gesturing to them that I would come back and pay when I could tear myself from the dancefloor.  Then, when I went to pay later they said I didn´t owe anything.  Then, do you know what???  The same thing happened every time I tried to pay!  Damn those pesky tunes!  Seriously I wasn´t being purposefully evasive, I even tried to settle my tab when I left but no-one seemed very interested. 

We left the club when the cleaners came in and walked out into bright sunshine.  That´s always a very odd feeling, a little like when you come out of the cinema and it´s dark, very disorientating, although in all fairness you don´t normally spend quite so long in the cinema or drink in there, well not vodka tonics anyway.  Well not in my cinema!  So, we got a taxi, headed back and went to sleep.

Following the previous night, or rather morning, Sunday turned into a very lazy day.  I ventured out to get food and in the evening Reynold and I had a few drinks at a bar near the hostel which was okay but appeared slightly seedy.  I also spent a lot of the day looking at my guidebook without really taking much in or figuring out how to get out of the capital.

On the Monday I did little to further my plans for some time.  Every time I figured out a route it turned out not to be possible.  The guys in my hostel had given me convoluted descriptions, in Spanish, about how to get to the clinic but it didn´t really appeal.  Eventually I decided to head to the place I wanted to drive to originally called, “Las Trincheras”, a small place renowned for having the second hottest thermal waters in the World after Japan.  Reynold was also keen to see something of the country other than Caracas prior to his flight out on the Wednesday so we vowed to have an early night and leave the following morning.

For my last night in Caracas I was, how shall I put this,…..terrified!  It all finally started getting to me, I wound myself up and was seriously jumpy.  I can´t really explain the noise of Caracas to you until you´re there and hear it for yourself.  There is constant beeping and car alarms but then also all these bangs, unlike anywhere I have heard.  On top of this was the constant noise of the crazy people screaming, singing and shouting in the street below.  I managed to freak out, convince myself that I would be woken by someone with a gun to my face and, as a consequence slept very badly.  It´s sad to say this but I actually slept with the light on all night.  I can´t remember doing that since I was a kid, and even then I think it was a ladybird nightlight and not the full on light!

I woke up to the sound of the alarm in the morning glad that Jose had booked the taxi for the airport the night before.  I headed to the airport, got there in plenty of time (I know, unusual for me) and bought a guidebook for Venezuela.  I also managed to board the plane at the correct point, without them having to call my name out and with the correct documents – see I must have learned something on my travels!

Once in the plane I sat and read my “Lonely Planet” which I had bought at the airport and got really excited about the prospect of traveling in Venezuela.  There was also a function to set up your own playlist on your personal terminal which really excited me, sad I know but they had such classics as old Madge albums and Belinda Carlisle.  Other than being very relaxed and happy, the other thing which was of note about the flight was the absence of seat-kicking gremlins to my rear!  Although the woman sat next to me did cross herself as we were about to take off which was reassuring.  I also experienced people clapping and cheering when we landed which was something which I thought people had made up previously.  It does beg the question, as people have pointed out, what the opposite would be.  I mean are they sat there going, “right so we´re in agreement, if we crash we´ll all boo, right?”.

So after a flight which passed pretty much without incident I arrived at Caracas airport.  I went through customs and asked about taxis to the hostel I had picked from my guidebook.  I was quoted some horrific prices for taxis and bargained them down.  Prior to arriving I had read both in my book and online about how unsafe the airport and the area between the airport and the city was and I decided to opt for an “official” cab as recommended.  The problem with bargaining here, which I have had far too often it has to be said, is that I didn´t actually know the conversion rates.

After some haggling I got in the taxi.  I´m beginning to think there´s some label attached to me which tells the first taxi driver I get in each country to scare the living daylights out of me and this ride was no exception.  Actually I think it might have been the worst taxi ride I have ever had, and that includes Asia!  The guy was possibly insane, jotting out infront of huge vehicles, paying no attention to signs or lights and using lanes as if they were going out of fashion.  Actually insane is possibly a bit harsh, I think he was slightly blind.  No seriously!  When I looked at him after his first, “you will regret coming to this country young lady”, manouvre I noticed specs with lenses as wide as a small bus.  Then, at periodic stages he would take them off, scrub his eyes profusely and rub the lenses or swap his glasses for another pair which, presumably, would allow him to see and thus make him a better driver.  They didn´t and I had several heart attacks.  Well nearly.

As we got closer to the hostel I spent a while hoping that we were on some shortcut and that I was actually about to arrive at the correct place in some air of calm and tranquility but it was not to be.  We pulled up in a street with enough prostitutes for King´s Cross and Amsterdam combined to be proud of, along with several other shady individuals and buildings with security doors, bars and electric fences.  To be honest I think I should have expected this to some extent when the guidebook said that it was the worst part of town, possibly with the exception of the suburban slums at the outskirts of the city, but it was a bit of a shock after Santiago.

So I got out of the taxi and went into the hostel.  Well after they had buzzed me in through the security gates that it.  Although the guy on reception spoke no English he was sweet enough and I managed to get my point across.  I headed up to my room on the first floor and was not overly excited when I walked in.  In hindsight I had spent a lot of my time prior to this in rather nice accommodation, but at the time, tired and a bit overwhelmed I wondered what on Earth I was doing there.  Granted the toilet rarely flushed, the shower was just a pipe squirting out cold water and the room always stank of manky drains, but the place was clean-ish, light and, erm, had a window which is more than can be said for a lot of the places I have stayed in.

After checking in I headed out to find an internet cafe.  I went to a local mall where I was confronted with enough people who refused to understand my crappy pigeon Spanish to shake a stick at before finding a grumpy girl in an internet cafe who grunted and pointed at me.  I then sent one of my most depressing emails from my trip so far to my mother which is now actually relatively amusing.  I noted that I had left things in my room which I was convinced were going to get stolen as I had to leave the key with the receptionist and the lovely smog. 

When I got back to the hostel I met a couple of people on the terrace, which was very nice actually, the terrace and the people.  Actually the first people I met might or might not have been nice as they disappeared very quickly when they realised just how crap my Spanish was.  I did meet Reynold though who was a very friendly South African chap.  After chatting to a couple of people and figuring out that my plans out of the city were anything but clear, I decided to sleep on it and had an early night.

If you haven´t gathered by now I positively loved Chile.  I think this may have been enhanced by sharing the majority of my travels there with my parents but regardless of that it was really a very special country.

People

The people in Chile were friendly, almost without exception.  From the random stranger who went completely out of his way to show me the van hire place to people who served you in restaurants to the likes of staff at Colbun and Felipe and Jose in Santiago, you really couldn´t have asked for a more unquestioning friendliness.  Similarly artisans and store holders wanted to tell you about their crafts but there was no aggression or even perceivable upset if you didn´t subsequently go on to buy something.  The relationship between men and women seemed to be very good and you often saw men taking sole car of children.  The men in Chile were not effeminate and yet they seemed to be very happy to display traits which one may initially assume as being feminine.  The jobs that people did also appeared to be on an equal footing with professions seemingly not being gender specific.  It was common for example to be stopped at roadworks by a woman holding the stop sign.  There was also a lovely thing with the Chilean people both wanting to help you and also wanting to understand you.  This was useful when you were far from fluent in Spanish with a desire to work with you rather than simply switching off being evident, which is not uncommon in some countries.

Dogs

I´ve already mentioned the dogs but I did think that they were lovely.  If I´m reborn as a dog I want to live in Chile with my little posse of pedigree like pals roaming the streets and taking ourselves where we please.  Note to God, that was not a request to be reincarnated as a dog but, should that be your choice, please can I reside in Chile, or at least have a pet passport!

Other animals

Again I´ve mentioned the wildlife in Chile but it was amazing.  There was a real diversity and animals which I think of as truly special, such as pelicans, were commonplace.  We felt so lucky with the animals we saw from the wild foxes to the endangered sea otter.

Scenery and fauna

I hope this isn´t getting repetitive.  Actually I doubt it is as I expect few of you have memorised every blog entry for the country.  Having said that if you haven´t managed to gauge that the scenery in Chile was something else may I take this opportunity to tell you to go back and re-read?  In one way you expect variation in a country so long and so thin but nothing prepares you for how quickly the country changes.  In the same day you can see arid desert, snowy mountains and beautiful coast.  Infact at some points you can practically see all of them at once!  With such a change in altitude and climate it´s not surprising that there´s real diversity in the vegetation but, again, the plants you see really take you by surprise.  The huge cacti were unlike any I have seen and the huge lush palms blew me away.  It was lovely how even in the driest areas you could find tiny little flowers on plants determined to make a go of it and use any water source they could.

Money

Guidebooks, and other travelers, will tell you that Chile is not a cheap place to travel.  In some ways this is true and in others it is not.  Perhaps compared to some South American countries Chile is not the cheapest but I have met travelers who have compared it favourably financially to the likes of Venezuela and Brazil. Granted there are some things which aren´t cheap such as car hire.  It´s weird actually cars are astronomically expensive in Chile.  According to Christian in Colbun the average car, for example, is more expansive than the average house.  Overall though I don´t think that Chile was a hugely expensive place to travel, particularly for those from the West.  Although I guess travelling with my parents may have helped somewhat here!

Food and Drink

Chile is largely famous for two types of food; its meat (notably its steak) and its seafood.  Mum and Dad both raved about the quality of the steak and the seafood was exceptional.  The food, even in remote areas, always proved to be fresh and of a high quality.  With its reputation it hardly almost seems worth mentioning that the wine was excellent but it was.  A final word of warning here about the spirit measures…..they are BIG!

Weather

The weather was amazing when we were in Chile.  It was a great time of year to go as it was lovely and hot but not overbearing.  Due to it being Spring there was also an abundance of flowers.

In summary Chile ROCKS and I would highly recommend it.

I woke up early as I was planning on getting a lift with Christian and his father who were heading into town for a meeting.  When I went down for breakfast I met Christian´s cousin (Felipe) who said that he was driving to Santiago and asked if I wanted a lift rather than having to get the bus.  I was extremely pleased for the lift as it meant that the journey would be quicker and that I would not have to contend with small children practicing their football skills on my back!

I was sad to leave “Chez L´Habitant” at Lake Colbun (www.ecoturismolagocolbun.cl) and would wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone and everyone.  The place was perfect for rest and relaxation but also a great spot for trekking, watersports, riding and outdoor activities.  On top of that the place was beautiful, the food was awesome and the family were absolutely lovely – and they spoke English which helped me no end.  I´m not a great fan of the whole product placement thing in my blog but credit where credit´s due and all.

So we set off in Felipe´s car, at great speed it has to be said.  For some reason he didn´t make me nervous though, perhaps it´s because it was one of those huge trucks which make you, somewhat artificially, feel like you could drive into a cliff and the cliff would come off worse.  At one point on the motorway there was this horrendous high pitched noise.  He was very excited and, after giving me a high five, it transpired that the noise meant that some high-tech gizmo in his car had just blocked a Police radar.  He was quite a character actually, a bit insane but a friendly sort.  En route to Santiago we stopped at his son´s school so that he could pay his fees.  I got out, lit a cigarette and paused at the school gates to finish it.  He beckoned me in saying that it was fine.  Evidently it wasn´t as, after he went to pay, I was rather strongly told off by a matron, school teacher type.  That -really- did make me feel like a naughty school girl which is somewhat ironic as I was so good at school and besides I didn´t smoke until I was older.

After more rapid driving we arrived in Santiago.  Felipe asked where I was going to stay and I showed him somewhere in my guide.  As we got into the city he spoke to one of his friends on the phone and then told me that it was in a bad area of the city.  I wasn´t too fussed as I planned to just use their free internet and have an early night prior to my early flight but he didn´t seem to think it was a great idea.  So we went to an area where he was visiting a friend and I met Jose.  We checked out a local Residenciale which, along with being quite expensive, was full up.  We went to Jose´s flat come studio and I soon realised that Felipe was not lying when he said his friend was a very talented artist.  The place was amazing with the most beautiful giant canvases everywhere.  The piece he was working on was a huge canvas of fishing boats and it was exquisite.  We went out for lunch at a salad place, akin to Subway but you bought a basic pot of lettuce type leaves then added loads of things to it.  It was a great idea and I think I´m going to export it!  When we got back to his flat Jose said that I was very welcome to sleep on the bed in his lounge and I thanked him telling him I may do but would decide later.  Felipe left to go and see a friend and suggested we could meet for drinks later and I went to use the internet and to leave Jose to finish the fishing boats painting.

Jose lived in the Providencia part of Santiago which is meant to be the more arty, funky type area and you could feel that there were more businessy ´to do´types around.  The place had a good feel about it actually with some rather nice old architecture in parts.  When the first internet cafe I went to was shut I went to find another and managed to get sucked into a salon for a manicure.  All was well until she started putting the colour on.  I had asked for black nail varnish which I always think they must heave an internal sigh at and she promptly began putting it all over my fingers with some bits almost accidentally on my fingernails!  I´m not sure if it was her or the nail varnish itself but it was also really inconsistent.  The rest of the manicure was great though so I didn´t have a moan.  Besides I´m not quite sure my Spanish was up to it.

After using an internet cafe I headed back to Jose´s house.  He offered me some nice Chilean wine and we chatted about his art and various other things.  He was on the verge of moving from landscapes to more abstract pieces.  He showed me an area where he was experimenting with paint, almost like models.  He had dried collections of oils which he photographed close up, enlarged and then painted.  There were various lenses from tiny magnifying ones to large convex and concave pieces of glass which he used to look for the right pieces and angles.  Jose made me feel really welcome and I decided that it was both safe and okay to stay.  In my risk assessment (I can´t help it) I figured he had more to lose than I did as I could technically take anything from his flat and, if he tried anything, I could do untold damage with his canvases which represented several years of work.  So we had some wine and then Jose cooked some gorgeous salmon and vegetable tortillas.  For a while I was wondering why he was being so kind.  This was apparently largely as I had been introduced as a friend of Felipe´s and also, I think, a lot to do with the whole Chilean outlook and character.  After eating and chatting some more I needed something from the shops and we headed out.  Jose despaired at the modern, soulless tower blocks and pointed out the beautiful architecture that they were replacing.  On the way back we stopped at a very funky little bar for a drink prior to heading back and talking until too close to my flight.

On the Wednesday I got up, albeit not at the crack of dawn, and walked down for breakast.  It was the kind of breakfast you always hope that you will get when breakfast is included with freshly cooked bread, eggs, fresh fruit, yoghurt, cereal and homemade preserves and local honey.  I, very nobley it has to be said, tried al the delights on offer!

After breakfast I went for a walk down to the lake.  The lake itself was huge, one of many dammed lakes they seem to have in South America.   That was right wasn´t it?  It looks strange, like it should be damned lake, but I guess not.  Anyway, the lake was beautiful and there were loads of birds including flocks of green parrots.  I later learned that the parrots were burrowing parrots which are plentiful in the area.  This was really exciting to me as they were one of the birds which I had hoped to see whilst with my parents having read that they dive into their burrows at speed, bending their wings back so as not to come to mischief on their way in!

After a few hours I headed back to “Chez L´Habitant” where I had a suitably chilled out afternoon lazing by the lake and reading before a gorgeous home cooked dinner and an early night.

The following day I woke up early for breakfast as I had arranged to go on a full day ride.  We headed out with Christian´s horse in tow, literally next to the car, to get my horse before setting off.  The horses were lovely, forward going and had trekking type, Western saddles which were really comfortable.  They were also very good on their feet with strong legs which was lucky considering some of the terrain we ended up riding over.  After a little stretch on the road we headed into private land along a rocky trail.  Christian had a sat-nav, no that´s not actually what I mean is it?  Actually that would be hilarious, can you imagine the little thing attached to the horses head with an annoying lady´s voice saying, “at the river turn right”.  Yes, what I actually meant was a G.P.S. and he had only figured the routing for this day´s ride out about a week or so before apparently which meant I was the first person he had taken along it.  This did lead to a couple of comedy detours along the way and also a couple of places where I was amazed how trusting the horses were as we pushed them on through acacia trees and the like.  It did mean that it felt like we were riding on virgin territory a lot of the time though and I guess we were.  After a couple of hours we stopped at a farm type place, tied the horses up and went to look down over the lake.  Christian was slightly apologetic that there were clouds over half of it but, in my mind, this made the view even more magical.  When we got back to the farm the farmer had returned with his bulls in tow and we sat down with him.  He was a lovely guy and boiled water on his fire so that I could drink matte (pronounced Matay – if that´s not another Zelma error) which is a kind of tea with energy drink like properties.  You drink it out of a cup with a kind of tealeaf strainer, straw thing.  It was actually surprisingly good.  After a few sandwiches we continued on through more amazing scenery and a couple of rivers until we stopped at another farm.  When I say farm here I´m doing so loosely.  The places consisted of a couple of small areas for a few animals, some “guard dogs” (who normally wanted to lick you to death or mount your leg – or both) and a couple of makeshift type shelters and cooking things.  Anyway, the guy from this one also appeared and was also amazingly welcoming.  He showed us his place where he made charcoal, a kind of mud urn which was actually really complicated in terms of the vents and the way they had to adjust the heat and the fires so that it had consistent all over heat, and offered us bread and tea.

Afterwards we carried on the ride towards a waterfall.  Although the waterfall was not visible from above, the valley was and the views were stunning.  Christian called his father at this point and we headed back to the place where we had picked my horse up and his father was waiting.  All in all it was an absolutely awesome day.  Christian was a great guide, the horses were spectacular, the people we met amazing and the scenery spectacular.

Once back at the lake I had a much needed shower and a similarly needed dinner and early night.

On my final whole day at the Lake I decided relaxation was in order.  I went for a nice walk and did a sketch of the lake.  It was such a quite place and a great area to sit and contemplate the World.  For the rest of the day I pottered around, made half a friendship bracelet (presumably for my half-friend) and chilled out.  I also decided I should take advantage of the amazing homemede food and drink nice Fanta and Coke.