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Published: December 24th 2014
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Playa Pui Puy
These were the cute cabins we stayed in on our almost private beach. Crossing the border into Venezuela was much easier than expected. A nice Colombian helped us exchange US dollars for Bolivares at a rate of 1 dollar to 135 Bolivares. Then he helped us flag down a Venezuelan taxi driver that drove us across the border and through “customs.” A person stamped our passport; a guard checked through our big backpacks and we were in. There were a few more guarded checkpoints in which we showed the guards our passports. Our original plan was to fly from Southeastern Venezuela to Caracas, but the small, outdoor airport was too busy and stressful for us. People were jumping over the roped areas and pushing each other to talk to airline personnel. We quickly decided to take a freezing cold, yet comfortable, overnight bus to Caracas. Our second night in Venezuela Al, Kyle and I stayed in a dirty, loud, musty smelling hostel that was overpriced and may have had drug deals or other shady happenings at the desk. After dinner, we propped the door shut with a curtain rod and went to bed. At 1:00 AM we woke up to loud banging on our door and someone yelling in Spanish. Alsy and I scurried
into the bathroom and Kyle tried to understand what the man was saying through the door. After a few minutes we realized it was the hostel manager wanting the air conditioner controller. We slipped it through the barred window, there was no way we were going to open the door until morning. The rest of the night went fine, but we were all still a tad jumpy.
The next day Luis, an unbelievably generous and helpful Venezuelan man, about my Dad’s age, helped us exchange money, pick up Sophia from the airport, buy groceries and invited us into his home. We spent the rest of the day drinking Cervezas with Luiz and his wife, Ursela, on their patio and listening to Sophia’s adventures in Argentina. The following morning, they brought us to the bus terminal and we said our goodbyes. Allison, Sophia, Kyle and I took a “five-hour” bus, which ended up being eight hours, to Cúmana. Sophia and I listened to music together and giggled while watching the mountainous scenery go by. We spent the night in a pleasant, yet cat pee smelling posada. After one night in Cúmana, we took a
por puesto (shared taxi)
Playa Blanca
Our first of many beaches visited while in Mochima. to Río Caribe, an eastern beach town. The
por puesto ride was quintessential Latin America with Latin music blasting through the 1978 Dodge’s speakers, mountain views on our right and the ocean to our left. We stayed in the Arabian themed hostel of The Shalimar for a couple of nights and spent the days boating to different palm shaded beaches, with the help from the hostel manager, Alejandro. From Río Caribe we went to Playa Pui Puy, a sandy beach with a cluster of five buildings on one end and a resort of cabins on the other. We stayed in one of the cabins for five days at this tranquil beach where the only other guests included a friendly couple with their baby. There was no Internet, TV nor people to talk to so we spent our days reading on the beach, gawking at the chubby 6-month-old baby, napping and eating. The waves were huge and I was scared to swim too much. After our peaceful time on Pui Puy, we stopped by a local chocolate factory for a tour and some tasty treats. Then we spent another couple of nights with our friend, Alejandro before we started back west,
toward Caracas.
Next we went to the beach town of Mochima, which is on the border of Mochima National Park. The town is dusty, humid and small with a bazillion posadas (guest houses) and restaurants throughout the two streets that run along the sea. The town had no beach, but plenty of spectacular views of the sea with mountains in the backdrop. We decided to go cheap for this stay and spent seven dollars a night for all four of us in a posada with little light, and probably bed bug infested beds. Every time we wanted to wash our hands, shower or flush the toilet we had to go outside and turn the water pump on, otherwise the faucet would continue to run, had we kept it on. It was a little annoying, but hey for $1.75 a night per person, it was worth it. A tall, tan boat transporter named Vincente, quickly became our favorite person in Mochima. He brought us to different beaches each day, showed us an underwater cave, and jumped off a 25-30 foot cliff into the ocean with Sophia. He definitely had a crush on Allison, and they spent a lot of
time together. On our last day in town, Vincente invited us over for a BBQ at his house, which has its own posada along with pigs, chickens, turtles and the most adorable mother that sold us coconut oil and hand-crafted jewelry. Mochima was truly beautiful and a great last adventure with Allison. After Mochima we said fairwell to Alsy, who was off to the Florida Keys to spend Christmas with her family.
Sophia, Kyle and I continued west. We jumped a bus to Maracay and then waited in line for two hours before we were able to get on a packed bus to Puerto Colombia, or Choroní, as the locals call the area. The bus was hot, crowded, and there was no storage for our big backpacks so they sat in the isle and people had to climb over them. It was scary watching the guys hang out the side doors as the bus swerved through the mountains. The higher up and more into the clouds we were, the more beautiful it was. There were plants of every color. The road hugged the cliff with only a few inches between death and us. It was
well worth the dollar we each spent on the three-hour ride.
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