Ciudad Bolivar to Santa Elena de Uiaren. Monday, January 10th, 2011

It is 425 miles to Santa Elena and because Route 10 through La Gran Sabana is so well maintained it could be driven in two days with one overnight stop. But who can rush through the absolutely spectacular terrain of La Gran Sabana? This vast rolling savannah is completely magnificent, with numerous waterfalls and rivers, amazing pink and red tinged sandstone rock formations, indigenous native Pemon settlements with thatched roofs and mud walled dwellings, huge tepuyes (“mesa-like” structures) and stunning views. Leaving Ciudad Bolivar, we first pass through Ciudad Guayana which is the headquarters of Venezuela’s heavy industry. Huge steel, iron and aluminium plants using hydroelectric power from the Guri Dam, dominate the city. Our first night’s stop is the village of Guasipati at an abandoned horse ranch. After a quiet and early night we set off at about 9am. Our intent is to be settled by early afternoon on the savannah. Not long after, we begin the steady climb to La Gran Sabana which eventually levels off at about 4,500 ft., bringing with it the welcoming breezes and cooler temperatures. After passing several signs for settlements and camping, we eventually see a sign for Salto Kawi (salto meaning falls) and pull in to check it out. Just a short drive from the road is a Pemon settlement and a beautiful waterfall. We see a couple of tents and a group of the local Pemon people. “Can we park and camp overnight?” we ask. “Of course” we are informed. We find a level spot for the RV and with Winston running here and there making friends with the local dogs, we head for the falls. Swimming is allowed but no soaps or shampoos, says a large sign. Our first taste of La Gran Sabana and we are entranced. That night we went to bed with the doors and windows open to the night air only to be awakened at about 3am by…cold. I was shivering. We have gotten so used to the heat and humidity that the higher elevation has caught us by surprise. Another surprise was when we got up to find a blanket. The sky was clear and filled with more stars than either Tom or I have seen. It is a wondrous sight. We try to find the familiar constellations of back home...The Big Dipper, North Star and Orion’s Belt but find new ones we couldn’t identify and the Milky Way stretches across the sky as vividly as a celestial rainbow. Awesome. Wednesday morning we would like to stay another day in La Gran Sabana but want to get to Santa Elena. Tom needs a visa to enter Brazil and so we want to get to the consulate to get the process going as it can take 24 to 72 hours to get approval. Americans must have a visa issued by a Brazilian consulate not more than one month prior to entering the country; citizens of the E.U. (European Union) do not. I, as a British citizen (with permanent residency in the US) do not need a visa, go figure. As we are driving we pass rock formations glistening pink in the morning sun, spot fires in the distance started by lightning strikes (we think) and a hitchhiker. We stop. Marilu is Cuban and is a real estate agent who has spent the last 5 years living on the Isla Margarita. She is staying in Santa Elena but has been on the savannah, travelling around for a past few days. We talk about Isla Margarita, Cuba and Venezuela. She has relatives in Miami and would like to visit one day. We decide to stop at Quebrada de Jaspe, a beautiful waterfall made up from bright red Jasper rock. There are plenty of people playing and splashing in the falls and we join them although Winston did not like the water falling on him. Marilu met some people that she knew from Santa Elena and decided to stay longer with them. We needed to get to town to work on Tom’s visa, so with promises to stay in touch we hit the road again. Santa Elena is a typical border town, a little run down and neglected but since it is a starting point for many tourists going to La Gran Sabana and the nearby tepuyes, particularly Roraima there are plenty of foreigners and backpackers. We spend the night by the roadside at the edge of town and plan on an early assault on the consulate. Thursday morning after asking some local military for directions we find the consulate. Imagine our surprise when, after filling out the paperwork, are told that the visa will be ready by 1pm. Luck is with us as that means we can enter Brazil on Friday instead of waiting until Monday. Winston is not a problem we are told. Since it is so close we decide to go back into La Gran Sabana for our last night in Venezuela. We had passed numerous camping spots and decided on one at the Sarowopo settlement. Just a short distance from the road and there is a beautiful camping spot with plenty of room of the RV and for Winston to roam. And so it is, I sit and type and watch the night sky, again filled with stars. So many stars. And I reflect on our stay in Venezuela, the places we have seen and people we have met. This country has an amazingly untapped tourist potential and it would be a shame if vacationers stayed away simply because the media deems it undesirable and unfriendly. Ciao to Venezuela and Viva La Revolucion.

Canaima National Park & Angel Falls (Salto Angel)

After spending a few days at the posada to regroup, we talked to Peter about a trip to Canaima and Angel Falls. Luis had changed the oil in the motor and our generator and the ladies that work here have been taking care of our laundry. Besides basic RV upkeep, we have lazed by the pool and read and Winston has gotten acquainted with everyone. Now we are ready for some action. There are no roads into Canaima so the only option is by plane. We opt for the one day trip. A flight to Canaima where a guide takes us to 3 of the smaller waterfalls, lunch and then a plane ride over Angel Falls before coming back to Ciudad Bolivar. That way we don’t have to have someone watch Winston for too long and accomplish what we want, which is to view the falls. At first Tom had wanted to see the falls via helicopter but the price over $1000 per hour, ouch! was prohibitive, so, by plane it is. It has been raining off and on all week and we are hoping for a clear window to view the falls. Friday morning we were up early. Luis, who is driving us to the airport, is also going to take care of Winston whilst we are gone. We leave with two other guests who are going on the 3 day tour. Luis shepherds us through the airport process and makes sure we are checked through. “See you at 4”, he says “and have a great time, I will take good care of Winston”. Winston is back at the RV with the windows and door open and the fans going, only the screen door is closed. We feel very satisfied with the security at the compound and have no worries about leaving the RV unattended. There are about 30 people milling around the airport and at least 95% are German. What is it about Germany and Venezuela? Does Venezuela actively advertize in Germany as a tourist destination? I vow to check Google the next time I am online. After about 20 minutes, our names are called. Along with two other couples we are escorted to an 8-seater Beechcraft and the pilot, with the airport guard look us over. They are deciding who will sit where so as to balance the plane. Tom goes in front with the pilot. I and another man sit directly behind. After that another man and woman and at the back the last lady and all the luggage. As it worked out no one couple sat together. As I glanced around I noticed the lady in the back looking decidedly nervous and blessing herself. “It’s ok” I told her “but if the pilot starts doing that, we should bale”. She laughed and I was glad I could take her mind off the flight. Truth is told I was pretty nervous myself. As it turned out, besides a couple of clouds and some slight bumpiness the flight was uneventful and an hour later we landed in Canaima, having flown over some amazing rock formations and vast flood zones. One disconcerting moment was when we realized the pilot, instead of landing on the tarmac runway elected instead to land on the dirt road off to the left. Besides for the excitement factor, we have no idea why. Canaima seemed like chaos but there is order in the madness and everyone gets taken care of. We are whisked away by bus to a reception area. While the others are briefed on the overnight stay and their itinerary for the day, Tom and I grab coffee and wait. Eventually a guide comes over. His name is Chemon and he is descended from the indigenous people of Pemon. He tells us that our schedule is flexible and is based on the weather, more importantly the clouds. The pilot will notify him when he feels there will be a break in cloud coverage and we will leave then for Angel Falls. It may be before or after lunch. For now, he suggests we will walk to the beach and take a dugout canoe to some lower falls. One in particular is Salto El Sato where we will be able to walk through the rainforest and go along the back of the fall. It will be wet, he warns us and I change into a swimsuit for the trip. The sand on the beach is gorgeous. Fine grained and snowy white with a touch of pink. The lagoon we will cross is also a mixture of blue with bright red swirls. The red, we are told is natural tannins from the surrounding fauna. The canoe is carved from a single tree trunk and thanks to modern technology is equipped with a motor. Staying close to land to get the full effect of the falls, we head for a small beach where we will hike to the back of the falls. They are magnificent. The torrents of water as they plummet into the lagoon send off huge sprays and the earth seems to vibrate with the intensity. And we did get wet. Drenched in warm cascading water. We stood underneath and felt the power of hundreds of gallons of water thundering into the lagoon as it massaged our shoulders. Chemon with his eye on the time guided us back to the boat. “Lunchtime”, he said. During the hike and at lunch he regaled us with stories of his people, the Pemon and their lifestyle. Things have advanced. They have satellite TV and the internet now. The local children who attend school not only learn Spanish and their own language Pemon but also English via virtual classrooms. Chemon converses in good English and speaks it with his three children at home. I remark to Tom how ironic it is. Here we are in the relative backwater of civilization by American standards, with access only via plane or boat and yet the children who go to school here will not only have a high school education but be able to converse in a minimum of three languages. And we wonder why American school children are getting left behind educationally regardless of how much money we throw into the school system. Lunch consists of chicken breasts with rice and cole slaw. Very good. The clouds are clearing. Chemon says that we will go to the airport and wait for our pilot to give the go ahead for the flight over Angel Falls. Excited would be an understatement along with our fervent prayer for clear skies and for me an extra prayer to keep us safe. During my lifetime I have flown thousands of miles and yet each time there is that slight gnawing of fear in my stomach. The pilot is 30ish, good looking and I watch him probably likes his life and wants to keep living. I assume he will take no risks! It is a 6 seater Cessna but only 4 of us, including a co-pilot will fly. As we leave Canaima we follow the river that others will travel in the canoes and fly over huge mountains and tepuis (flat mesa-like structures). We see countless waterfalls. As we get closer the pilot adjusts the plane to the right a little and the co-pilot turns around. “Just wait,” he says. Suddenly we are over the cliff and the pilot points the nose of the plane down and banks first to the left, then the right. We have flown directly over Angel Falls and as the earth plummets beneath us to the valley floor, the falls are immediately ahead. My stomach flips and I squeal with trepidation and excitement. Tom is grinning ear to ear. It is magnificent. What a rush. The pilot turns around and gives us thumbs up. You can tell that this never fails to thrill him also. We circle back and forth for about 20 minutes as we take photo after photo. Finally, after getting our consent, he points the plane back in the direction of Canaima. As we land we are cautioned not to go too far as the same pilot and plane is going to fly us back to Ciudad Bolivar. We take on two more people and with a full plane of 6, do the return flight to the city. Tom and I sit together, holding hands in silence. We are speechless and still awestruck. Luis is waiting on the tarmac as we get off the plane. We are grinning. “Good?” he asks. We nod, amazingly well. He has walked Winston a few times and fed him treats but we are still treated to a welcome that only a dog can give. We open a beer and look at each other. This day will go down as one of our most memorable to date.

Puerto La Cruz to Ciudad Bolivar. 211 miles

The ferry back to the mainland was better for us than going out. We were on a cargo ship and so were allowed to stay in the RV whilst at sea. Sailing at midnight meant we got to sleep in our bed during the journey and Winston was not crated, much to his relief. Truck drivers set up hammocks and after showering, most settled in for the night. We soon fell asleep to the gentle rolling of the huge ship and were awakened at about 5am to the sounds of car horns and truck movement. We lined up and were the first on the elevator. The ship is two stories and we, along with other smaller trucks are on the upper deck; the huge semis are on the lower. Two trucks fit on the elevator at a time and are slowly lowered. After getting off the boat, we immediately went to the Gran Casino to park the RV and wait for daylight. I stayed up and read whilst Tom went back to sleep for a few hours. After a quick breakfast, we set off for Ciudad Bolivar. This is a two day trip with the first night spent in El Tigre at one of the many gas station/truck stops. We found a supermarket, replenished our supplies and Friday morning found us on the road early. It is New Years Eve and we want to be in the town and parked before it gets too crazy. As we approach Ciudad Bolivar from the mountains we can see the Orinoco River meandering its way to the sea and the Angostura Bridge, the only bridge to span the Orinoco as all other crossings must be by ferry. The suspension bridge is gleaming white in the sunlight and the city looks huge with high-rise office and hotel buildings. The city, made famous in the early 1800’s by Simon Bolivar as his base of operations has been thriving ever since. There is a spectacular historic old town and it is a starting point for the small aircraft that take tourists to Canaima and Angel Falls. We are trying to find a posada that we had read about in a guide book and after asking directions and getting lost and then hiring a taxi only to have him take us to the wrong place, we were beginning to despair. Tom went into another posada (small hotel) and asked if they could help. They made a phone call and then told us to go back to Via Aeropuerto and look for a travel agency. Once there, a gentleman called Peter would take us to the posada. As we were driving on Via Aeropuerto, an SUV overtook us, pulled up in front and a man got out. “Are you Peter?” we ask. “No, I am Luis but follow me” he said. We passed the airport, turned off the main road onto a series of winding dirt roads and after about 15 minutes we arrived. We would never have found the posada without guidance. It is an oasis. A beautifully maintained, grassy, fenced and gated area with about a dozen cabins. A swimming pool glistened in the distance. There were also about a dozen Germans and more than a handful of Venezuelans milling around. It turns out that Peter is the owner. He is German but has lived in Venezuela for quite a number of years. Most of his business is via word of mouth and he has quite a large following. He also owns the travel agency, has his own aircraft and conducts tours not only to Canaima and Angel Falls but also to the Orinoco Delta and Merida. We are shown where to park and plug in for power. It is 5:30 and getting dark. Tomorrow we will discuss travel arrangements, he said but tonight we party, it is New Years Eve. He also asks if we want to eat with them. There will be a traditional holiday feast comprising of pork cooked with a variety of spices, potato and a few different salads. Our mouths started to water. “Of course” we said. Dinner is at seven, the party has already started, join us whenever you want, he called as he headed towards a big palapa that serves as a dining hall and general meeting place. We cleaned up and went to join the party. Most of the people spoke English and once again Tom & I are struck by the fact that Americans are totally unprepared in the second language department. Introductions are made and we soon chat with a variety of guests. The Germans are excited and monitoring their telephone screens. It is almost midnight in Germany. The countdown had begun. The dinner was good and the conversation better. More Venezuelans arrive, they on vacation from Caracas. They have bought champagne for everyone. I found it hard to believe when Peter called everyone’s attention, five minutes to midnight. The evening had flown by. We were offered champagne and as we stood and counted down the final minute of 2010, I listened to the voices, in English, in German and in Spanish. Tom and I hug and kiss and we move around, hugging and kissing our companions, strangers until a few hours ago and now friends that we shared a memorable evening with in Venezuela as we usher in the New Year and 2011. How far we have come and we are not even half way there. And how lucky we are. Happy New Year and to everyone we wish a joyous, healthful 2011.

Isla Margarita, Pearl Islands

The largest of the 3 Pearl Islands, Isla Margarita is about a 4 hour ferry ride from the mainland. Christmas Eve: We woke up around 5:30am and Tom immediately went to inquire about tickets. Already there were perhaps 100 cars waiting to board. As the time passed and cars continued to arrive, I began to wonder if we would be able to leave. Eventually, about an hour later Tom came back. Sold out. Not only this ferry but solidly booked until the 28th. We sat and considered our options. There are supposed to be some great beaches further east in Venezuela and we could check those out until Tuesday or we could forget the whole island experience and head straight to Ciudad Bolivar and Angel Falls. We knew there was another ferry company and decided to try them before making a decision. Conferry. Not only could we get tickets but we got them for the 2pm ferry. But there was one at noon and as we were waiting, one of the guards signaled to us and said they may be able to fit us in. Even better. As we lined up, we were in awe of these gigantic barges that can take 400 to 600 cars. At the last minute we were waved aboard and parked at the stern with barely enough room for the huge ramp to close behind us. The voyage was comfortable for us but unfortunately Winston was crated in a separate area with about 8 other dogs that people were taking on vacation. Yet another difference in societies. In Central America, pets are rare. People may have a dog or cat that hangs out in the yard but it is not a pet. It scrounges for food and is never trained or made part of a family but in both Colombia and Venezuela, we have seen more pets and responsible pet owners. Winston was not happy until he saw our destination. Beautiful, turquoise green and blue waters, white sand beaches and room to run. Tom and I were quite happy also. We followed our map to Playa El Yaqui, the first of the beaches we wanted to check out. It is a beach, world famous for wind surfing and we were not disappointed. It was dazzling. Christmas Day, it was absolutely packed with people, on the beach, in the water and at the nearby plaza. Fireworks went on until close to 11pm and then all was quiet. December 26th, we drove further north to Playa El Agua bypassing the busy city of Porlamar. Isla Margarita is a duty free island and people come here to shop. There are reckoned to be more than 2000 duty free stores and many of them are located in Porlamar. I much preferred EL Agua to El Yague. For one there were only about a tenth of the people and you could actually walk on the beach without tripping over a chair, umbrella or someone’s feet. We were also able to park closer to the beach and restaurants. We had intended to also stay on the south side of the island which is a lot less developed but when driving around soon realized that the road had been washed out and we could not reach the beaches we wanted so we decided to try Playa Parguito just south of El Agua instead. Oh my! When we first arrive the beach appears to be another idyllic Caribbean paradise except, there is a group of several men and a woman arguing which culminated in them beating one of the men with sticks and forcing him into the ocean until finally he swam out to sea and then rounded some rocks and we presume somehow got back to shore. In the meantime, several police cars arrived and were beckoned up a nearby hill by onlookers. Next came an ambulance. A family walked by and we asked what was happening. Oh, there was an armed robbery and someone stole $600.00 and escaped via sea. By now there were boats in the water, looking for said suspect, I guess. We park with some trepidation and consider if we should really stay the night, but it is beautiful. Around 7pm, just as we were settling in and clearing the dinner dishes, we are suddenly surrounded by three police cars and there is a knock on the door. We open it and Tom steps out. Several officers are waiting. It is not safe here, they tell us. There are armed robberies and shootings most nights, very dangerous and we need to move. We concur. Playa EL Agua is the closest and that’s where we’ll go and spend our remaining time. Here we can play in the waves and relax. On December 29th, our ferry back to the mainland is scheduled to depart at 11pm. I think about our time here. The island is truly beautiful and although throngs of Venezuelans visit, it is not well travelled by foreigners. Yet it is as idyllic as Aruba, Trinidad, Tobago and Curacao, all of which lie not too far from the coast of Venezuela and are well known for Caribbean travel. Lucky us for being the few foreigners who came here. I also look at the jewelry I have purchased. A necklace, bracelet and earrings in gorgeous, pink colored natural pearls and at a fabulous duty free price. Yes, this is one island I would visit again.

Maracay to Puerto La Cruz, 320 miles.

Returning back over the mountains from Cuyagua, our engine started making rather weird noises on the hair pin turns which is not very comforting when you are on remote mountain passes. Tom thought it might be the motor mounts or the bushings or the fan hitting something or God knows what else. Regardless, we decide to have it checked out in Maracay before going further. After pulling into a Goodrich repair shop, we were surrounded by people wanting to help. Fernando, who works there and spoke English, has a mechanic friend who could look at the motor and may be able to help us. Another gentleman, who is an Army General and also spoke excellent English, chatted with us and when we told him our expected route through Venezuela said that he was a General based in Ciudad Bolívar and gave us his contact information for when we arrive there. It is always so much fun meeting people who instantly want to help and who are as interested in us as we are with them. Following Fernando through the chaotic streets of Maracay, we were glad he offered to show us instead of giving directions to his friend’s shop. His friend, Frank verified that yes, our motor mounts and bushings needed to be replaced. We had had this work done before we left home but the road conditions have given the Ford engine a beating. It was getting late and he told us to return the next day and he would have the parts ready to do the work. Needing a place for the night, we remembered that a grocery store we had shopped at in El Limon had a huge guarded parking lot, so we headed there. The security guard brought over the manager who said we could not park overnight but instead directed us next door to a military substation. We pulled in and the militia came over. Smiling, they told us; yes we could park in their lot and showed us to an area not too far from the armed guard point. We were so pleased, this has been a long day and we are tired. Imagine our surprise and gratitude when, not 15 minutes later, a soldier tapped on our door, smartly saluted us and presented us dinner in the form of chicken, rice and plantains. “Thank you so much” both Tom and I said. Later as I gave Winston his last walk of the night, it was comforting to be surrounded by armed military watching over us. The next day, we got up early, said good-bye to the soldiers and we went back to Frank’s shop, getting lost only once on the way. The repairs took all day so it was back to the military station for another night. They waved and called out to Winston as we drove in. Yes, no problem, of course we could stay another night. Finally Wednesday, December 22nd, we were on our way to Puerto La Cruz, the port terminal for ferries going to Isla Margarita which is where we wanted to spend Christmas. It took us two days to drive the 320 miles and bypass Caracas - by the way Venezuelans do not pronounce the S, making it sound like Caracka. We found the terminal and decided to park overnight as the ferry leaves at 7am and we still need to purchase our tickets but there was one more important thing to do. Our family was having their Christmas get-together today and we needed to find an internet to Skype them. The Gran Casino and Hotel filled our purpose. We were able to go to the lounge, have a glass of wine and use the internet. Two security guards in the parking lot kept an eye on our RV. Skypeing our kids and family is so satisfying as we can see as well as hear them. I especially, am feeling a little sad because of the holidays and being so far from the kids and the rest of the clan but as the computer in Sacramento was passed around and we spoke with everyone, for a little while it was as if we were there, sharing in the joy of Christmas. Happy Holidays.

Maracaibo to Henri Pittier National Park – 374 miles

It took us two days to drive the 374 miles from Maracaibo to Maracay, which is the starting point for the park. There were detours, military and police checkpoints and of course the ever present pot holes. We are stopped at most of the checkpoints and after checking our paperwork and with much goodwill and handshakes, we are sent on our way. The countryside is lush and verdant with banana plantations and small villages which sell their handmade crafts of woven baskets, carvings, hammocks and paintings. From Maracay, we start our journey through Henri Pittier National Park to the Caribbean Sea, which since 1937, is Venezuela’s oldest protected environmental zone. It is noted that over 550 species of birds live here, making it popular with birders from around the world. For non-birders, it’s winding scenic routes over 3 mountain ranges, are surrounded by enormous bamboo growths, cloud forests and huge vine covered trees which provide plenty of amazing views. The first mountain range brings us to the town of Ocumare and the last place to buy gas in the park. As we passed over the second mountain range we were rewarded with a breath-taking view of the Bahia de Cata. This spectacular bay is very popular with weekenders from the city due to its calm, sapphire blue water, white sand and a variety of small hotels and restaurants. However, we wanted to get to the outer reaches of the park and the beach town of Cuyagua, which is famous for its surfing. It took us more than three hours to transverse the 60 miles from Maracay to the beach town of Cuyagua and is not for the faint hearted. The roads are narrow and the drop offs steep and unguarded but what waited for us made the trip worthwhile. We were able to park right on the beach, with an unobstructed view of the ocean. It was not too crowded although we were told that the week between Christmas and New Year is extremely busy. We decide to stay for a few days and enjoy the beach. Everyone we met was friendly and helpful. Miguel who was an electrical engineer from Valencia who was vacationing with his girl friend, introduced us to more of the local food by bringing us breakfast of arepas filled with chicken accompanied with rice and fried plantanos. Very good. Tom caught some great waves boogie boarding and Winston was able to roam free. We played and read and chatted with other campers. What a neat place.

Maracaibo - Wednesday, December 15th, 2010

Located in the westernmost state of Zulia, this is the secong largest city in Venezuela and is the center of the nations oil industry It is populated by many of the indigenous Guajiro and Parajuano people. Lake Maraciabo is the largest lake in South America and one of the world’s most valuable containing vast oil reserves and providing about 40% of Venezula’s gas. The Rafael Urdaneta bridge, which conects the city to the road to Caracua was the longest pre-stressed concrete span in the world when it was constructed. It was also very good to us. We needed to find propane and since Mexico this has developed into a problem. Due to the connection, we have to buy direct from the plants, just like the large trucks that then disburse it to cylinders. Only the plants see us and either say (true or not)that they do not have the right fiiting, or they don't sell to the public. We had asked the guards at the restaurant and shown them what we had as a fitting. After some discussion between themselves and a couple of delivery drivers, they pronounced that we needed to go to the Industrial Zone, to a plant called Tony Gas. After replenishing our tanks with water and tipping the guards, we set off and it quickly became apparent that we were hopelessly lost. We adopted our now frequently used stand by plan and hired a taxi. This is far less stressful than trying to figure our own way and battling unknown streets and traffic. Also, it often times works out to be more economical than getting lost and using gas, not here, of course. We got to Tony Gas and the jefe (boss) looked at our tank. "We can't fill you" he said "but Regina Gas can". regina Gas is only about half a mile away and he obligingly drew us a map. At first Regina said they couldn't either but then another person came over and another lengthy conversation ensued. It turned out that they had the fitting but not a hose long enough to reach our tank. Another worker said he knew what to do and after attaching two hoses together, we had propane. A full tank lasts a month or so and without it we have no refrigeration and no stove for cooking, so whenever we fill up it is with a big sigh of relief. Tom also wanted to check the A/C that feeds the RV and we went in search of a shop. We pulled into one place and they only serviced cars but a gentleman had wandered over and was listening to the conversation. It turned out the Frank is an air traffic controller at the airport and speaks excellent English. We chatted. His brother serviced home A/C units and he offered to call him and see if he would check out the RV system. His brother drove over and looked at our system, climbing on the roof of the motorhome. He needed his compressor, freon gas and tools. "Come to our home", they said. They have a 2 story house in a nice neighborhood in the city. "Our house is your house" they said. They invited us the use of thir shower and use of computer for internet, also to plug into their power so we don't have to use the generator. Frank and his wife, Susan live in the house, along with his brother Maurice, Maurice's little 4 yr. old daughter, Natalie and their mother. Susan teaches 8 - 12 yr olds at the local school and is also an attorney. We offer to take them out to dinner, which they agree but only after decorating the tree. They had promised Natalie that the tree would be up today. All over the city, we have seen houses with lights and decorations and the city plaza and main street are also decorated. Seeing all the Christmas activities is making me a little homesick and I tell Tom that we need o buy some lights or a small tree for the RV. After a great dinner at Tony Romas, Frank directed us through the city streets. They are ablaze with lights and decorations and we get out to walk Winston and enjoy the main plaza. It was beautiful. Susan loves the motorhome. "When we retire, this is what I want to do", she told Frank. Frank agreed. Susan's uncle lives in Atlanta and they have been trying for a while to get visas to visit the States. It seems the US Consulate is quite stingy giving out the required entry visas and most people are turned down for no reason. Once that happens, they have to wait 6 months before they can apply again. Tom and I felt bad for them. It seemed unfair that our government should punish the Venezuelan people by not letting them visit relatives just because of Chavez's rhetoric. If anything, we felt that we should invite the people so they can see that the majority of Americans are kind and generous, especially given our fantastic treatment, thus far by the Venezuelans. Oh well, politics! Wednesday morning, their mother made us a traditional breakfast. Arepes. These are a pancake like sandwich filled with meat (chicken, beef or pork), cheese and a slightly spicy sauce. Delicious. We said goodbye to the family and promised to stay in touch via email and the internet. Hopefully, one day we will meet them in the United States and return their generosity. For us it is on to Henri Mettier National Park (on the Caribbean Sea) and then to the Pearl Islands and Isla Margarita. Adios or as they say in Venezuela "ciao".

Border Crossing Colombia to Venezuela. Monday December 13th, 2010

Venezuela. It was with trepidation and a lot of thought that we added it to our itenerary. Travelwise, it made sense but the politics, Chavez and anti-American sentiment made us wary. We decided that if, at any time, either one of us felt uncomfortable at the border, we would return to Colombia and head south through Ecuador. The worry was for naught. When we arrived at the Colombian border, I stood in a long line at immigration, while Tom went to take care of exiting the RV and Winston. He was done in record time and my line had not budged an inch. There was one man hanging around who had said he could get our exit stamps immediately for $15.00 each. Hmm. I ignored him but we knew we would have at least an hour wait, possibly more. In the past, we have tried not to use tramitadores and work on crossing by ourselves. The main reason being that there is many borders and if you keep using these "helpers" then you never learn the process yourself. Also, border crossings are part of the travel experience. The officials are the first people you meet and it's nice to get a feel for the personality of the country through them. We have found profound patience and lots of smiles go a long way to helping the process. The man came back. $10.00 each. I looked at Tom, "let's do it". "You sure" he said as usually I am more adament than Tom at autononomy. "Unless we want to be here for the next 2 hours, yes". We handed over the money and followed him to the back of the immigration building, where we were told to wait. Tem minutes later he was back and as we walked to the front where our RV was, he showed us the stamp. I looked at Tom in surprise. "Guess what today is?" I literally shriek at him, laughing. Everyone looks. Tom runs the month of December through his head. "The 13th?" he quizzes. "Yep!" I squeal "and we forgot". It is our wedding anniversary. I explain it to the people around us and suddenly everyone is cheering and clapping. "You must kiss her", said one of the crowd. "I didn't even get you a card" Tom told me. Travelling, the days and dates roll together and neither one of us had realized. "Me neither", I commented but I could not stop laughing. To the sound of cheers and handshakes for Tom, hugs for me, we climbed into the RV for the short drive to the Venezuelan side. Surprise #1 - The Officials. We were greeted to smiling, helpful officials and directed to immigration. After filling out a slip of paper for the reasons we were visiting and where we would travel, our passports were stamped. We inquired about Winston. Everyone looked puzzled. The dog is ok and requires no processing. Customs for the RV is a 3 mile drive into the small town of Guarero where we need to look for a large building named SENIAT. The SENIAT building was easy to find and again we were shown where to park. Inside, we were told which window to go to but it was 12:40, lunchtime. At 1pm, a lady came up to us. After some halting Spanish on our part and English on hers, she told us to wait. Five minutes later, a man, who spoke English started asking us some questions and filling out our paperwork. Within 30 minutes he handed us our import permit. "Welcome to Venezuela", he said smiling and shaking our hands. Welcome indeed. As we drove the 60 mile to Maracaibo, we could see the devastation and ravages left behind by the flooding. Water came up to the side of the road, at times even swamping it and on more than one occasion was up past the wheel wells. At every junction, large and small, groups of military personnel stood to direct and assist traffic. We surmised, correctly, that the government had sent the military to help in the cleanup. Surprise #2 - the Military and Federal Policia. At all points, they waved, smiled and as we wound down our windows, directed us to the correct roads to get to Maracaibo with handshakes and good wishes. What about all that hype with Chavez and ill will? about surly officials who do not like Americans? Our RV has California license plates, so it is obvious where we are from and yet they seem kindly disposed towards us and genuinely happy to have us as guests in their country. It takes us 3 hours to complete the 60 mile drive and it is almost 4:30 before we arrive in the city. We need gas. Again, due to the flooding, gas trucks had not been able to reach these areas yet and our RV sucks up the petrol. Surprise #3 - Gas. We pull into a gas station and fill up, Almost 20 gallon. "5 bolivares" said the attendant. 5! We already knew that it was roughly 4 bolivares to a dollar and that gas in Venezuela is amongst the cheapest in the world but $1.25!! Yes, read it and weep. Gas in Venezuela is about 8 cents a gallon. Unbelievable. As we are driving the streets we are looking for likely spots to park for the night. Tom wants to go out for a "nice" meal (read splurge) for our anniversary. We come to an intersection. Pizza Hut, McDonalds, Burger King and also a gas station and a "nice" restaurant. We park in the gas station and as I give Winston a well deserved potty break, Tom goes on a scouting mission. Just as he returns, the manager of the station approaches us. He asks if we have a problem. "No", Tom said, we just need a place to park for the night. Surprise #4 - the people. The restaurant has a large parking lot and the guard has said we can park there. Two issues solved, where to park and where to eat. The restaurant looks like a high end steak house. The manager at the BP station also told us that if it didn't work out, he would open a gated side lot for us to stay. There are 24 hour guards in all spots. At both places, we were greeted with a warm, easy friendliness. We settled the motorhome, fed and walked Winston again and cleaned up for dinner. As we went into the restaurant, we noticed that it was closed. Two private parties, one downstairs, one up. We were disappointed and it must have shown. The manager came up to us and told us to follow him. We squeezed past the cordoned off area and went upstairs. He showed us into the bar/lounge and said he could set us up in there. Perfect. And so we sat and toasted our anniversary and this day with wine, we recalled our misgivings about Venezuela and we were once again glad that we had ignored the hype. They might prove to be true but on this day, we could not have wished for a better first day in a country and Surprise #5 - the food. Excellent, though a little more ezpensive than that gas.