Post ahoy!

Sorry to bombard you, we wrote a few posts but haven't had access to the internet for the last few days. We're in Ciudad Bolivar, off on a 3 day trip to Angel Falls early tomorrow.

Relearning patience - Rachel

I realise I haven’t embraced the fast pace of London as much as I could have done over the last few years, but I’ve still gone up a few notches for me in terms of how fast I expect things to happen. Venezuela’s reminding me that for the most part, my concept of time and a schedule should be fluid. Several days ago, we caught a coach from Caracas to Cumaná, a sweaty port town east of the capital. The journey was scheduled to take 7 hours. It took 10. Half way there, a truck a few miles ahead of us toppled over and dumped its load of sand all over the road. And so we all stopped. The driver got out, threw his arms in the air and then got back in again. He did this several times over the next few hours. As is customary I think in Latin America, a few drivers got fed up of waiting in the queue, and so decided to drive past everyone to the front of the accident in the other lane. Much hooting and arm gesturing followed them but that was about it. Nobody complained on our bus or even looked put out by our delay. There’s a much greater degree of acceptance for things happening when they happen over here I think.

Getting used to things - Simon

You can soon get used to things in life. Already I’m beginning to relax into Venezuelan life despite it being so alien. The wildlife is a good example for me. On day two we were interested to see a large lizard in a Caracas park. On day four, now in Cumana, we were excited to see a two-foot iguana running from a riverbank. By the afternoon of day 6 (today) we had followed and fed thirteen two-foot iguanas around our feet, which are apparently common-place beach scavengers and even got to the point where we were completely ignoring them. Might take a while to get used to giant cockroaches though.

Feeling the pinch update - 11th Nov

The black market is the way to go. Official exchange rates completely diddle you. It’s taken us a while to work this out but if we do things in a certain way, we’re not as relatively poor. It’s the first time I’ve understood the power of exchange rates – coffee farmers have told me about it but I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t quite grasp it until I could relate it to my own terms (which is pretty selfish, oh dear). If we draw money out of a cash point, it’s value is literally at least halved, compared to tracking down local money changers or European posada owners, transferring money into their European bank account and getting them to withdraw the cash in Venezuelan bolivares. If we do this, apparently we get a rate of around 1 bolivar to $4.50 instead of $2.15 at the airport. Yippee. I’ve started drinking banana jugos which we can probably now afford to celebrate. We learnt this from a German backpacker today. I have now vowed not to snub the stingy traveller anymore - they’re full of useful information!

11th Nov 08 - Cockroach discoveries - Rachel

It is Tuesday evening and Simon has just captured his second cockroach in our bedroom in 3 days. Enormous brown, scuttling things. Ergh. They’ve caused quite a drama. We are in Santa Fe, a lovely little place on the coast. We’re staying in a posada which opens out onto the beach and more specifically in a painted breeze-block room with a corrugated iron roof. The room’s not very charming, but the owners are and it’s got air conditioning so we’re happy.

A Venezuelan version of a... - part 1

A Venezuelan version of a crab (plenty of them on the beach in Santa Fe in the evenings)


Venezuelan seagulls













The Venezuelan 242 bus to Liverpool St



























The Venezuelan squirrel (like a small, red squirrel with a natural diet of cheese crisps)

A Venezuelan black cab













The Little Chef













Starbucks













A park duck

Food to date and feeling the pinch - Rachel

Food is exciting and before arriving here, we were resolved to try pretty much anything the kitchens of South America could offer us. Until today, it’s been a disappointing lot. See below, our first evening meal in Caracas, before and after.

Oh the cheese, there’s so much of it, on everything. I’m amazed at the amount of American-style fast food there is for sale. We were defeated in finding a cheap, healthy, interesting meal in Caracas.

Night two seemed a treat when we tracked down spaghetti with tomato sauce (not ketchup I hasten to add) and a mountain of parmesan (which I removed and Simon gobbled).

Breakfast is a mixed bag, good coffee but soggy, deep fried empanadas filled with chicken one day and stale pastries the next. This is a far cry from the melon, papaya and passion fruit of my memories and dreams.

You may be wondering why we’re subjecting ourselves to this and not splashing out on a better offering. It’s been very interesting and a bit disconcerting. Usually coming from the UK, bar Copenhagen, I’ve felt financially wealthier in every other country as the pound has been so strong. I know it’s been unfair, but it’s made travel very easy. Anyhow, this is not the case for us in Venezuela at the moment. Prices for us are equivalent to London. As I can’t see how wages can be comparable to the UK for most people here, it must be something to do with a very bad exchange rate. Does anybody know anything on this? Anyway, probably good to have a better concept of value in a different country for a change instead of everything just being cheap.

On an 8 hour coach trip east from Caracas (which turned into 10) yesterday it was strange to stop at a roadside set up and see all the locals on our bus tuck into big meals and yummy juices which went way above our budget. I realise we’re sounding pretty stingy but I don’t think it’s that – I’m very anti the traveller bargaining down to the last 30p. All the treats are out the window (Simon cites ice-creams costing £2), £10-20 for a main course and really basic accommodation for £35.

We’re thinking we’ll have to cut short our time in Venezuela, fingers crossed that Colombia is cheaper, and check out our couchsurfing options.

I can imagine the lack of sympathy for our cause so I won’t go on. Except to say that we had delicious fish in a market for lunch and jam cobs for tea.

8th Nov 08 - My first impressions - Simon

The view from our balcony window onto one of the fancier apartment blocks in Caracas

The most striking thing from my first few days in Latin America is just how different things are. This may sound obvious but I guess flying into a big capital city I’d assumed there would be at least some measure of familiarity, but really, everything is different – from the yelling from taxi drivers, money exchangers and general lack of organisation as soon as we came through customs; to the bus we took into town, dark with curtains drawn and music pumping - more reminiscent of an 80s youth club in décor. The airport road to Caracas climbed steeply the whole way as we passed pedestrians in the middle of nowhere following the dual-carriageway, whilst people without helmets undertook us on motorbikes.

The cars are hilarious, new and old, American, Far-Eastern and European, every car ever made appears to still be on the roads in Venezuela, some miraculously so, like the taxi we took. People stand in the street selling snacks in the middle of 3 lanes of traffic or beg on crutches. We pass shanty towns of houses on sticks and decrepit concrete tower blocks, crumbling with bars on the windows and yet full of life.

Food, plants, shops, hotel rooms, everything is different. And this is all tremendously exciting. Just peering over a balcony or from a bus window is a joy. South America is hot, chaotic and unfamiliar, and I’m looking forward to every minute of it.

We've arrived

Contrary to what most people, including ourselves thought, we have arrived without hitches having remembered all our stuff. Fairly spectacular landing into Caracas, pretty much sea at the start and end of the runway and a backdrop of mountains climbing steeply from the shore. We had resolved to check into a luxury hotel for our first night and take a taxi there. However, reality kicked in and we ended up on a local bus, missed our stop to get to the backpackers hostel (oh double dear) and ended up under a dual carriage way bridge where the bus terminated. We decided to splash out at this point on a taxi and got into the most dilapidated car imaginable, cockroaches on the floor (by Rachel who was bundled into the back with the bags), the driver sat on a beer crate, the whole machine rattling like thunder over every bump. There are many finer vehicles rusting in scrap yards throughout England. The one positive was that it ruled the crazy roads as the right of way goes to the oldest, most beaten up vehicle (new cars nervous). The backpackers hostel was a hole, brown stains down the walls and marks on the sheets and a fan that sounded like a plane engine. After a brief Rachel distressed moment (Simon's words at this point) we upped camp and moved to a slightly less salubrious hotel (with balcony - good to watch world go by)