Waking up with the pelicans ... sleeping with the crabs

---

Intercity buses in Venezuela: not particularly punctual, unfriendly staff, and a stupid obsession with having to keep the curtains closed. I thought we had scored with our seats at the front on top of a double decker. But when the lady wouldn't let me open the curtains we were horrified. Maybe it would get too hot or maybe it would make watching the tele difficult. Whatever the reason, we were not amused. I popped a Dramamine and we had a marathon game of Monopoly on Pieter's phone. And the lunch stops are generally at disgusting dirty restaurants where you have to pay first and get a voucher to present for your food. And the cashier would often be a bottleneck, making the whole process time consuming and unpleasant. It took most of the day to get to Puerto La Cruz and we were directed to a corner for catching the Por Puesto to Santa Fe. These were small clattering buses and we had to hold our bags to prevent them from falling out the open door. It was a lovely drive on the windy coastal road to Santa Fe but the tinted windows spoilt the view.

At Santa Fe we walked about 1 km to the beach. The beach, Playa Cochaima, wasn't as big as we thought but it was lovely and tranquil, kids playing in the water, brightly coloured fishing boats, lots of pelicans, and an artist standing in the water while painting. It was also relatively clean. Next to the market men were sorting and loading the catches for the day into a truck. The pelicans hung around close to shore waiting for bits to be thrown away. They were perched on the boats and on an old pier.

It wasn't high season so we hadn't booked ahead (another difficult thing to do in Venezuela but I will save that story for later). At Cafe del Mar we found a nice room for only $40,000 (US$10) but as we handed over the money Pieter noticed the cats licking the pots and pans. So after a drink and a quick dip in the warm ocean we marched off to check out other posadas for tomorrow. We were hoping to find someone who could speak English so we have assistance in planning our escape from Venezuela but found no one. Eventually we settled on the Quinta de Jaiba next door. No Frills, just 4 rooms. We went for the nicest room for $50,000 which had a bunk bed as well as a double, a fridge, table and chairs, and plastic chairs for outside. We had our own door out onto the beach and a window facing the beach as well. Ideal for an extended stay. When we returned later that evening to confirm we found the owner, Miguel, was in fact European, born in Belgrade, lived in Holland and definitely now a Venezuelan. The guy who had showed us the room earlier was a helper and builder, they were currently doing things up. Miguel warned us we would have to keep the door closed after sunset as very big crabs wandered up the beach at night. Indeed, a couple of times arriving at our door after dusk we had visitors waiting to go inside. We chased them off without getting our toes nipped.

There appeared to be only one restaurant open on the beach, nicely done with carved wooden chairs. But the old fella serving us was a bit grumpy and obviously a bit blind. The hand written menu us unreadable and he would point at one thing while describing another. But I had a lovely fish - Catalan - and Pieter had chicken. After going back there just about every evening he did warm to us. And they made a nice Pabellón Criolle, a national dish of shredded beef, rice, beans and fried plantain.

The next day, after moving Posadas we went to the market for breakfast. It was grubby and smelly in the market but lovely sitting on little plastic stools in front of the stall enjoying our small black sweet coffee and fresh greasy empanadas. We would be back here almost every morning.

We arranged a boat trip for this morning with Tomas. At $25,000 each it didn't matter much what we were getting. His colourful little boat was covered and we chugged to Isla de Arapo and La Piscina. We stopped over some coral and jumped in with snorkels. The coral was beautiful and colourful although we understand many had been removed by locals. And we saw an abundance of brightly coloured fish - big fats ones, big long ones, little flat ones. We saw a beautiful eel sparkling green and blue. We were then dropped on a beach on an island. It was a bit grubby and so was the water. The coral here was not as nice but we saw more pretty fish. The restaurant was OK and we were soon giving tips to a couple of German guys. They were told that Venezuelan woman were beautiful but so far they hadn't found any. We had Tomas pick us up again at 1 pm but Germans had made no arrangement with their boatman. They didn't get picked up until 4 pm. The restaurant people had left for the day by then, ignoring their pleas to be taken along, and the guys had a bit of a panic being left alone on the island. They had even started rummaging in the cupboards to see what they had to survive on. They were not pleased with Venezuela.

We went for a second day trip with a young fisherman called José Juan. Miguel arranged it for us. His boat wasn't covered and he only had one functional snorkel but we had a much better day out than the last boat trip. He took us much further away and we stopped at a little island for snorkeling. The coral was not as nice but the variety of fish was much greater. There were lots of schools of fishes and Pieter saw some really really big colourful fish. Pieter also went for a bit of a dive and came up with a conch shell. The shell had a resident and José indicated he would chop it up and eat it with lemon. Moving up the coast just a little José and Pieter jumped in. José had a hook on a stick which he used to pull a couple of unfortunate octopuses from their homes. Slimy stuff. Pieter dove for another conch and José came up with three. We then visited an area where bubbles rose to the surface from some underwater thermal activity. On the way to the next stop we saw a big pod of dolphins and we circled each other for a bit. That was fantastic to see them. A cave was our next stop and it was a bit odd with religious icons in it. José then took us to Playa Blanco, a most beautiful white beach where the water was very clear and blue. There were a number of restaurants but José aimed us at the one on the end. Food was good and we paid for José also. There were a couple of big tame Iguanas out the back. Our final activity for the day was to go fishing. Pieter caught 3 Cabañas and I caught 1. While fishing it started to rain which was quite refreshing. I had lobster legs and feet and Pieter also had bits stung by the sun. José gave me a present of an anklet. He was lovely, and while earning money sharing his fishing activities with us he also went home with the catch from the day which would provide for his 3 kids and x number of girlfriends. He did give a few fish to Miguel who passed them on to his helper who has 4 kids.

We took a couple of day trips from Santa Fe. One to Puerto La Cruz which is not a town worth visiting or talking about. The other trip was to Cumaná, the capital of the Sucre state. That is worth mentioning. Founded in 1515, the first city in South America, it has been continually regenerating after attacks by the indigenous people and a number of devastating earthquakes, I think the last was in 1929. But there is still some lovely colonial architecture to be found. The cathedral was built this century but is quite striking with its dark wooden interior. The Museo Gran Mariscal de Ayacuccho is a beautifully kept old building dedicated to Antonio José de Sucre, a leader of the independence that we have been hearing about since Bolivia. Turns out he was born in Cumaná and shared my birthday, the 3rd of Feb. We had to pay an amazing 500 bolivars (US 25 cents) to visit this museum. We also found the house of a famous 19th century poet, José Antonio Ramos Sucre, open to visit for free. And yes, he was a relative of Antonio José. In the midday heat we climbed the stairs to the fort and were rewarded by great views. We liked this town, the people were much friendlier than Puerto La Cruz. One big lady was our best friend after we agreed to eat at her restaurant in the market. Food was shit but it didn't matter.

Believe it or not we spent some of our week relaxing as well. We had one day where we did nothing by swim and read. Almost drove Pieter mad. I did a miraculous thing.. I started and finished a book in that week. Miguel had a copy of Papillon and I was absolutely gripped by it having recently visiting the prison islands in French Guiana. Henri Charrière had eventually escaped to Venezuela and landed at the fishing village somewhere in the same region and ended up at the prison in El Dorado which we had also passed through.

Even though we had a great time at Santa Fe we were definitely looking forward to leaving Venezuela. But we were also dreading it. We were not fond of Caracas. We had stayed previously at the Hotel Santiago, out near the airport, so tried them first. We got the number from the internet and asked Miguel to call for us. They couldn't accept a booking at that time and asked us to call back. Not hugely impressed we contacted a few others but they were full or wouldn't take reservations. One of them would only accept bookings via email and when our email got bounced by their antivirus software we called to tell them but they said we talking rubbish. It was like no one wanted us to stay with them! But we did call Hotel Santiago again and got a reservation with them. Even Miguel said that people in Venezuela have a habit of making reservations and not turning up. So even Miguel doesn't take reservations any more. Arriving in Caracas by bus we immediately took a taxi out to the Hotel Santiago. Caracas was avoided.

We left South America the next day. We had been there for 7 months and had visited all 13 mainland countries. It felt like an achievement. That day we departed, the 11th of October, was also our 10th wedding anniversary and we had a wee shopping spree in duty free. Unlike the last time we left Caracas our tickets included the departure tax. We had put aside 300,000 bolivars to pay for this. So rather than exchange it to US at a very bad rate we decided to spend it. And we discovered that having Bolivars exchanged from US dollars on the black market meant that everything was half price. The prices in duty free were in US dollars and Bolivars at the official rate of 2100-1. We had exchanged our US dollars into Bolivars for 4200-1. A usually expensive perfume made quite a nice cheap anniversary present.

---

Photos

Quinta de Jaiba
We stayed for a week