Clandestinos (Illegal Immigrants)

With our multi-ticket flight to Boa Vista on the Brazil - Venezuela behind us (along with a series of confused airline staff) we crossed the border into Venezuela coutesy of a local taxi driver/petrol smuggler. The petrol in Venezuela costs 97bolivars a litre - 2.5p or 7cents so his mind was obviously on other things as he sped past the Venezuelan immigration post carrying his now illegal immigrants. A long argument summarised as "I'm off to buy gas from a shifty guy down a back alley - yer on yer own" later saw us sneaking back to the border post in another taxi to get our passports stamped. The things we do...

Our first stop in Venezuela was Santa Elena, a dusty little border town on the edge of a huge national park famous for its Tepuis, ancient flat topped mountains which have trapped there own species on top (the basis for "The lost world"). The thought of the 7 day gnat-infested trek was a bit much so we opted for a days jeep tour of the waterfalls and swimming holes with our daft "professional photograper" guide Frank instead. Dodgy driving skills aside, and ignoring his battered Landcruiser "its 20 years old you know" we saw some beautiful sights. Kaz took a shower in a waterfall which cascaded onto a red glass like river bed, we swam in the solar heated pools in a river whose water flowed over a similar black glassy rock and dodged tall stories of 4m long anacondas, firing squads and all sorts of daft stuff from a Puerto Rican on the same tour.

After being away from the beach for far too long the only option available was to head to the carribean coast and Santa Fe. Despite an initial bum steer by the ticket desk in the bus station we felt pretty happy at the quality of the over night busses. Fully equiped with beanies and towels-as-blankets we settled down for the night. Five stops by the Venezuelan army to check ID (even if at times they were so bored they didn't even hold the passports right way up) averaging every 2 hours left us more than a little dazed. The things we do...

Never mind Santa Fe paid off with a boat trip past dolphins to a small island off the coast with beautiful snorkelling amongst the flashy powerboats of the local rich and the man pushing his floating icecream cool box.

With our first taste of Venezuelan beach life under our bathers, the choice was a tricky one, a bus-taxi leapfrog to a cave full of blind oil birds or a cruise to Isla Margarita for more sun, sea and sand... Well the birds got the arse predictably and we joined a beat up ferry for the 4 and a half hour sail to the Island the Venezuelans rave about. Think the captain held off docking until the world cup penalties were over, least said about the Italians the better we thought. Never mind off to Juan Greigo on the otherside of the island to check out the beaches and continue our sun therapy. Now Isla Margarita, the island paradise had its moments, but in true Brazillian style the weather was against us. After a thorough exfoliation/sand blasting on Playa Caribe we retreated before any tan we'd gained was sanded off, satisfying ourself with a cuba libre or two on well empty stomachs, hic!

In case you folks in the real world are getting a bit yawny at our tales of sand and booze a little low down on Venezuela's paradise. Isla Margarita is a tax free haven where rich Venezuelans come to gaze at marked down American brands, expensive bad whisky and 'is-it fake?' Asian exports whilst cabbies cruise in beat up cadilacs held together with religious icons, porno pictures and firm demands to close the door gently less it fall off. Not that we're bagging it, its just all part of the fun in the sun. Isla Margarita, like a big chunk of the Venezuelan coast is a national park but if you can see the scenery for the piles of tossed away lite beer bottles and all other manner of trash you're probably Venezuelan anyway and it doesn't bother you.
Ignoring the suggestions of a beatiful boat ride back to Puerto La Cruz, we plumped for the less spine crushing air ticket direct to Caracas to check out the salsa and organised some flights, ahh the naivety!

Stu and Kaz

Sight of the week: a muffled "helados, helados, helados" from underwater