Hello from Porlamar Venezuela on the Caribbean island of Margareta, 

The past week has been one of the most irritating and aggravating of my entire nine month adventure. Up and down, back and forth, can do and can't do. Rotten overpriced hotels, impossible transportation schedules, little or no English spoken by anyone. If it hadn't been for the fact that through it all serendipity came to the rescue periodically, I'd be nuts by now... but I start on a low discordant note obscuring the really big story in Venezuela which is at the gasoline pump.  "Fill 'er up please." 

"You want the entire tank filled?" asks the attendant. 

"Yep. I feel like a big spender today." 

"That will be 4,300 Bolivares, please."  

"What? That's only about US$2.00 for the 15 gallons. That can't be right!" 

"Hey! Where do you think you are? This is Venezuela where the government treats people right!" So ends a conversation I could have had... if I had a car to fill with gasoline anywhere in Venezuela. To put things into perspective, bottled water at sixty cents a liter costs fifteen times more than gasoline at less than 4 cents per liter! Venezuelans take cheap gas (currently 70 Bolivares per liter @ 2150 Bolivares/$US) as a birth right, complaining bitterly anytime the government bumps the price up a fraction! Alert Entera in Santa Barbara sent me an enlightening article that appeared in the Guardian last week. Author Greg Palast put America's problems with the oil producing world including Venezuela into perspective for me. For your own personal oil shock read: Bush Didn't Bungle Iraq, You Fools .  

20-21 March: Caracas 

Within the Brazilian Amazon basin there is a storm brewing all the time somewhere day or night. Wild updrafts created by the weather insure planes flying across Brazil will treat their passengers to a bumpy ride at some point adding excitement to an otherwise boring six hour flight. To further distract us Aerolinas Argentinas screened two English language videos: The Legend of Zoro and Pride and Prejudice. That seemed strange on a flight were most passengers speak Spanish.  

The 13:30 flight from Buenos Aires got into Caracas about 19:30 and I just missed the last bus into town. The only option for getting into the city at that hour is an expensive cab ride: 80,000 Bolivares or about $36 (enough to buy 250 gallons of gas here!). As if the outrageous taxi fare were not enough, the 11 mile trip into town now takes an hour and a half. The problem is a recently closed bridge that forces all traffic onto a bypass road turning three lanes of normally moving traffic in both directions into creeping stop and go madness day and night.  

We arrived in the Sabana Grande downtown area of Caracas well after dark and not anxious to test all the worrisome warnings against walking darkened downtown streets, I grabbed the first hotel I could find. The $33 Hotel Gabial rents rooms "by the hour" and does not include a breakfast in the deal. In the morning I took my usual hike of exploration and did some hotel shopping. While looking for someplace to get a cup of coffee, the unattractive pedestrian mall made its appearance near one of the entrances to the modern French constructed subway system. At that early hour many doorways still serve as makeshift bedrooms for the city's derelicts. I saw no fewer than a dozen men sprawled under large sheets of cardboard, nothing but dirty blackened bare feet showing.  

While standing in a crosswalk waiting for the light to change a blind cab driver backed into me... at least I assume he must have been blind... either that or he just wanted to nudge me out of his way. Fortunately several nearby people screamed and I jumped back just as his bumper touched my leg, avoiding possible injury. The few alternate hotels I checked did not inspire enthusiasm and minute by minute my urge to leave this unpleasant place quickened finally leading to a snap decision to escape back to the airport for an impromptu flight eastward to someplace closer to Angel Falls and the Guyanas. The return trip in the airport transfer bus hit the same traffic jam we endured getting into the city last night, but the fare was only 5,000 Bolivares. At the airport I learned a flight boarding at that very moment would get me to the largest city in the northeast, Puerto Ordaz where I wold find good connections to both the falls and the Guyanas. A quick ticket purchase, airport tax payment, expedited pre-boarding security checks and I made the flight. 

Ciudad Bolivar

21-22 March: On landing in Puerto Ordaz and discovering only $170 to $250 hotels I grabbed a bus over to nearby Ciudad Bolivar the same day and spent the second night in the $20 Hotel Colonia, a really crummy place crawling with inch long cockroaches, the best in the riverfront area according to the locals.  A few hours the next morning were spent gathering information about tours and flights to Angel Falls. Ciudad Bolivar sits on the banks of the Orinoco and is revered in this part of South America as the place from which Simon Bolivar launched his campaigns of liberation. His original house is a shrine, located not far from a plaza that bears his name and next to the city's cathedral. Before leaving I searched for alternate hotel possibilities and located the airport and bus terminals in case I later decided to explore further south with Ciudad Bolivar as a jumping off point. 

Puerto Ordaz

22-29 March: Disheartened by the crummy hotels I found in Ciudad Bolivar and uncertain about my best option for a visit to the falls I returned to Puerto Ordaz thinking I was sure to find at least one decent hotel in that large city. Instead, fate provided two more nights in aggravating hotels. A hectic couple hours locating the $50 Embajador, a barely acceptable hotel followed by more hotel shopping without the encumbrance of a backpack and I finally found the $115 Rasil Hotel that seemed to be pretty good... except it had no Internet service and no one spoke English. You are unlikely to find Puerto Ordaz on most maps. The reason is that it is only half of twin cities officially called Ciudad Guayana... a name no one uses... except on maps!  

I'd seen a McDonald's Restaurant on my previous walk and desperate for something familiar to eat headed in that direction. Between bites of a Big Mac I noticed an unusual, unmarked building next door with a steady stream of people going in and out. Curious, I walked over and discovered the $124 Roraima Inn Bingo and Hotel, a brand new structure housing a large casino and... a deluxe hotel. I seem to be one of a very few guests in the place, no doubt because it is not identified as a hotel anywhere outside. After all the disheartening experiences of the preceding four nights, discouraged and disoriented I decided I needed some R & R and booked best room in the hotel, the $143 Golden Salon with access to an excellent three terminal Internet service right near my room. After three nights of being pampered and wanting to be near the airport for an early morning flight, I switched to the $136 Best Western located directly across the main highway from the airport. My first five nights in this aggravating country were spent in different hotels every night. 

Porlamar

29 March - 2 April 2006: An hour flight got me to the island of Margarita in the Caribbean Sea off the northern shore of Venezuela, a stopping point on the way to Trinidad. Why Trinidad, you might ask? Planes do not fly directly to any of the Guyanas, but there are flights out of Puerto Espana Trinidad going to Georgetown Guyana. The main city on Isla de Margarita is called Porlamar and while it is colorful, good hotels are hard to find. The really lavish places like the Hilton are far from the main commercial districts. Such remote resorts have their appeal, but not for me at this time. 

Princess Hotels have always been good values in the past, so when I saw the $55 Margarita Princess tower I stopped immediately to check it out. Far from the luxurious palaces others have been, this place made me think of the quality of construction used for prisons; concrete floors and noisy motors. But, as a first nighter it got the nod. The next morning early out I went sniffing around for other possibilities and found the $74(ha) Buena Vista Hotel boasting five stars on its rooftop sign. Sure enough, the lobby looked clean and elegant. The impressive grounds behind the hotel looked like a miniature jungle and ended at the shores of the Caribbean Sea. Flights of pelicans winged back and forth and fluffy clouds behind the hotel landscaping completed the impression of a Caribbean paradise. The spellbinding view from the room they showed me cinched the deal. The rate negotiations were awkward, but eventually it appeared we had reached an agreement I could accept.  

Little did I know the two guys behind the reception desk were con men! Speaking a smattering of English during my initial inquiries, they later could speak nothing but Spanish, feigning ignorance and the inability to provide even two star level service for this guest. Following several insulting encounters with the staff I decided to end my planned three night stay after only one night and reacted with shock when presented with the $98 bill containing a 33% overcharge and intransigent demands that I "must pay" it! "Call the manager" I retorted. Twenty minutes passed as I became more and more irritated and noisy. Finally, a pleasant "assistant manager" who spoke English showed up and haggled with the reception guys who reluctantly offered to accept only a 15% overcharge. Totally disgusted and exasperated I relented and paid the still wrong, but lower bill.  

Now, completely disillusioned with Venezuela I bought a ticket for Trinidad on the next available flight and moved to the nearby $41 Howard Johnson Hotel for the last two nights in the country. The next morning during the hour I spent having breakfast in the new hotel someone broke into my room and rifled my bag. Fortunately, I had put most of the really important stuff in the room safe, so nothing significant disappeared as far as I could determine. The manager, embarrassed by the incident upgraded my room for the last night and apologized profusely, sincerely and repeatedly. 

Nuff said about Venezuela. I have no interest in returning... and even forgive the US State Department for emphatically bad mouthing the country, though I suspect that has more to do with international politics than actual American citizen security concerns. Photos taken at various points along the rugged trail through Venezuela are here. 

Peace,
Fred Bellomy