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Published: January 25th 2006
caroline
here´s caroline sitting next to the chair I was to break later onby tim
Buenos dias, como ustedes,
Thats about the extent of our spanish which we´d discover was going to be a bit of a problem here. Isla Margharita is an island in the Caribbean sea off the coast of Venezuela.
We had decided to come here to take it easy after what we knew would be a fairly hectic couple of weeks previously.
We had booked a hostel (hotel Casa Maria) about a year in advance and was met at the airport by Romolo the guy who owned the hostel with his mum Maria. The hostel is situated in a town called Pampatar and at $15 a night for both of us its a great place to stay.
Romolo spoke good english as did one or two of the other guests, but outside the phrase book became essential. Whilst we had been in Peru and Equador we had had a guide with us most of the time which had made life a lot easier and although i knew enough spanish to be able to eat, drink and get the laundry done, to do or ask for anything else was quite difficult because we simply could´nt understand the reply.
Because the
emphasise was on chilling out we can´t tell you what a fantastic island it is because we just didn´t see any of it but it is meant to be lovely. We did however get invited to join Romolo and some of his freinds for a night at their local sports bar. The place was an open air bar with a couple of tv´s showing a footy match involving Liverpool against some team in the super cup. They also had baseball in nets, not unlike cricket nets. You paid 1000 bolivares (30p) and a machine hurls a ball at you at 70 mph. It was great fun but bloody hard to hit anything. Caroline and I spent a lot of the evening talking to a guy called Hector a Venezuelan taxi driver who doubles as a political activist in his spare time. He said he is considered a traitor by his government so he has to stay away from the mainland and consequently his wife and kids who live there. He also claims to be a Scotsman in a previous life due to a recurring dream he keeps having where he is being chased in the Sottish Highlands whilst wearing a red tartan kilt. I explained to him how each tartan represented certain clans so the next day he decided he was going to find out what clan he belonged to. We never saw him again so therefore I can only assume he had been commited or was watching another rerun of Rob Roy.
The next day Caroline managed to buy some peroxide at the supermarket so she´s a natural blonde again.
Later that evening we went for a pizza. The restaurant only had tables outside on the pavement which was fine right up until the heavens opened, so we found ourselves eating pizza wearing our raincoats. The locals thought we were a bit odd but we thought it was fun watching the waiter get wet.
The next day was our fourth and final day before we flew to Caracus to start our next trip around Venezuela. I decided to stay at the hostel and get on with my journal as I had got a little bit behind but the seat of the 25 yr old bamboo chair that I sat in collapsed leaving me with my arse stuck in it and planted firmly on the floor. Maria has now renamed me ´gordo nino'( fat boy ), at least she saw the funny side of it.
sorry theres not many photos on this blog but we could´nt be arsed to take many but we promise a lot more on the next one
bye for now
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The Taylors
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The Island
As you may or may not know we stays at a resort on the Island and We would return in a flash. We spent 3 days just eating, drinking and being by the pool. Nie to here from you guys.