WEEK 15

Santa Marta, Colombia

- because the bus ride to Santa Marta is about 18 hours, we were able to enjoy a last morning in Bogota ... after some internet and some food, we packed up and checked out of Fatima's, and took a taxi to the bus terminal
- we lucked out on getting a bus that was just about to leave, so we didn't have to spend much time at the terminal
- the bus had the a/c cranked at maximum, but this time we were prepared ... I was hidden under my sleeping bag liner for pretty much the entire trip
- most of the 18 hour ride was fairly uneventful ... a couple of bad movies, and a lot of sleeping ... we stopped for dinner at some bus-stop diner deal ... but the highlight had to be this incredible lightning show we got for much of the night ... non-stop lightning all around us, almost constant enough to be able to read from the light ... and it was all silent (no thunder) ... I'd read about this phenomenon occurring in Maracaibo (Venezuela), but we were lucky to witness it on the way to Santa Marta (because we never did see it in Maracaibo)
- the next morning, we're sore and stiff from so many hours on the bus, but the sun in shining, the scenery is once again tropical, and the a/c suddenly seems necessary
- we get off at the Santa Marta bus terminal and avoid the taxis by catching a shuttle bus into town
- the town is pretty big really, and quite a lot of it is run down ... not exactly appealing ... especially around the area we get dropped off ... there are buildings in shambles and streets that look like they are under permanent construction ... not the best first impression
- we walk to the area where the hotels are (i.e. towards the ocean and the beach), and pretty much all the hostels we find are pretty dumpy ... and some of them are still very expensive ... so we settle on one recommended to us ... it isn't horrible, but it isn't great ... so-so beds and bathroom, but the bigger problem is we only have one stationary fan and the room is unbearably warm (at all times)
- worse still, right outside our hostel, the street is ... well it smells like it gets used as a toilet pretty often!!
- so ick eww, we're wondering why everyone raves about how great Santa Marta is, because we're just not seeing it
- we head towards the ocean, and things suddenly get better ... the town has definitely invested all their tourism dollars into the waterfront area ... a very nice long boardwalk and a nice beach ... decent sand, decent water ... lots of people ... and on the other side of the street, many nice bars and restaurants ... okay, maybe Santa Marta won't be so horrible after all
- we hit a restaurant and get huge and delicious fruit juice drinks (oh how we've missed the jugo naturelles!) ... then we walked around a bit more, getting a lay of the land (and looking for better accomadations - which we never found)
- the rest of the afternoon was spent at the beach ... the warmth of the sun, coupled with the sand and water ... it really made all the bad go away
- after the beach, we headed back to the hotel and chilled out for a couple of hours ... then we got ready to head out for the evening
- back to the waterfront, the atmosphere had changed considerably ... instead of all the people being on the boardwalk and on the beach (and all in bathing suits), the people had now all migrated to the other side of the street, and many were dressed up for a night on the town ... the bars and restaurants had transformed from empty to full, music was blaring, and street vendors were now occupying almost every street corner
- after walking the length of the waterfront, we found a little shop with a big patio full of people drinking and having a good time ... so we popped inside to check their prices on rum
- turns out that not only is a bottle of rum very cheap, but for just a couple dollars more, we can sit and drink the bottle on their patio ... meaning they will bring us ice and limes whenever we need, we just need to buy the Cokes to mix
- the deal was a no brainer, and next thing we know, we're enjoying a seemingly endless supply of rum and cokes on the patio ... the breeze is lovely, the music is good, the atmosphere is great ... and somewhere in all that, the bottle became empty!! ... oops
- we staggered happily back to our hotel (Santa Marta seems to be yet another place in Colombia that isn't as unsafe as some people would have you believe), and we crashed for the night
- next day, we figured we might go to a nearby town with a potentially better beach ... but by the time we actually got up and going, it was too late to do anything other than hit the local beach again ... but that was fine, the weather was perfect, the beach was somehow better than the day before (read many more beautiful women in bikinis) ... we wound up having a perfectly enjoyable day
- back to the waterfront that evening, we found a restaurant that had very good pasta for a fair price (they also had a big screen set up on their patio, and they were playing video clips from the 90's - fantastic stuff)
- we took our time enjoying the meal and the music and the atmosphere (until eventually the video and music changed to Donna Summer live in concert) ... and on that note we took off and headed off
- we walked around town a few blocks in, where there are several night clubs ... just people watching and checking out the nightlife setup ... eventually, we'd done the tour and headed back towards the waterfront ... completely by chance, we wound up in front of the bar with the full-service bottle of rum deal!
- it seemed like fate, so we obviously found ourselves sitting on the patio and enjoying another bottle of rum
- we met some locals, and they wound up taking us to a nearby club ... only it was empty and lame ... so shortly after, we headed home and called it a night
- next day was a bit of deja vu in that we once again got going too late to go to any other beach other than the local one ... we kinda knew that was going to happen though ... the scenery wasn't as great as the day before, but we still had a really good "last day" of beach (we had to leave for Venezuela the following day)
- we had to take it easy in the evening, because we had to get up somewhat early for the bus to Venezuela the next morning, so we returned to restaurant with good food, and then headed back to the hotel for an early evening
- so it turns out, the only reason we were able to sleep in our hotel room the past two nights was that we were too intoxicated to notice the heat!! Being sober on our last night was completely miserable, because it was seriously impossible to get comfortable ... it took hours to fall asleep, and even that was only for a couple of hours (at most)
- we got up early, feeling completely unrested ... we hopped in a taxi and headed for the bus terminal ... lucky us - another full day of travel to look forward to ... Venezuela, here we come!

Get-me-the-hell-out-of: Venezuela
- we grab a big bus from Santa Marta to the Colombian border town of Maicao ... unfortunately, it's an older bus, and the seats aren't very comfortable ... the a/c works at least
- about 4 hours later, we get dropped off in Maicao, but not at the bus terminal (as we had hoped) ... the guys on the bus kept telling us this was where to get off for Venezuela ... then they took off
- we'd read that Maicao was not very safe and we should NOT leave the bus terminal (no problem, you have to actually make it ot the terminal to leave it!)
- immediately, we have a bunch of guys all yelling at us at once, in Spanish ... one guy wants to exchange money, another two are saying come this way or that to go to Venezuela (usually, they are pointing to older broken down cars that do not look like anything we should be entering) ... after we ask around a bit, we're told things like there is no bus terminal, or it has closed
- everything feels beyond sketch, but our options are fairly limited ... passers by keep telling us we should deal with one of the guys who is hounding us, so we wind up talking to him directly
- he tells us the price to get all the way to Maracaibo (payable upfront), and he also exchanges our last Colombian pesos into Venezuelan bolivars ... I had researched the exchange rates in Venezuela a bit (enough to know there is a "black" (they call it parallel) market that gives a much better rate than the official one) ... and I could tell he was giving us a fairly decent rate
- we wind up paying upfront (after trying to negociate to pay on arrival in Maracaibo - that did not work), and next thing we know, we're climbing up the back (it's covered) of an old pick-up truck ... avoiding a bicycle and a tire, as well as another passenger ... and sitting on a wooden bench
- we drive for less than five minutes, and wouldn't you know it, we pull into the BUS TERMINAL!!
- now we're wondering if we got ripped off and we're going to get dumped off ... instead, the other guy, bicycle and tire all get removed from the truck ... and they get replaced by ELEVEN more people!! (and another two in the front)
- crowded doesn't even begin to explain the situation ... there is absolutely no movement possible ... can't cross your legs, can't stretch out your feet ... just locked in position
- and so we depart ... at least we figure out that we're all going to Maracaibo, and everyone else paid the same price
- this leg of the trip was "interesting" to say the least ... crossing the border was a breeze really ... we got out, lined up, got exit stamps, walked over to another line, and got entry stamps for Venezuela ... little did we know we would get stopped TEN more times by officials asking to see our identification ... we were even asked by the truck driver's assistant (who spent a lot of the ride up on top of the truck, with the bags) for some BRIBE money ... i.e. that's they system they use to hopefully avoid bag inspection ... we wound up having our bags inspected only one time, but this required untying them from above the truck, taking them to a scan machine, and they loading them up again
- about 6 hours later ... with my tailbone basically shattered, and the rest of my body pretty much in a full cramp from not moving for so long ... we finally reached Maracaibo ... already completely dark, but lacking any of the promised silent lightning show
- we get to the bus terminal, and almost everyone on the bus heads off to find night buses to Caracas ... our original plan was to overnight in Maracaibo, but the only "real" attraction was this weather phenomenon we weren't seeing (and we'd already seen on the bus to Santa Marta)
- Isaac threw out the idea of just continuing to Caracas, and it seemed to make a lot of sense ... so we exchanged a bit of money with someone in a secluded area of the terminal (for slightly higher than the ticket agents were offering), bought our tickets, grabbed a quick bite to eat ... and just like that, we were back on a bus, headed to Caracas
- thankfully, this bus was very comfortable, and we were able to get some decent sleep ... that was only interrupted three times for more official identification checks!
- morning arrives, and we feel somewhat rested, and less in pain than we were when we got off the truck in Maracaibo
- Caracas is a huge city ... it took us quite a while to get to the west bus terminal after we entered the city ... there, we took a fairly expensive taxi to the Las Mercedes area, where we hoped to find an affordable hotel in a safer part of town (the safest part of town supposedly being neighbouring Altamira, but all the hotels listed in that area were way out of our price range)
- we actually got the taxi to drop us off by an internet cafe (according to the Lonely Planet), so we could hopefully research which hotel to go to ... but the building was closed (it was 9am and it didn't open until 11am) ... so we instead walked around, trying to find a place to eat
- it was a Sunday, and pretty much everything seemed closed ... we eventually found a bakery that was open, and we got a little bite to eat ... and then we just hung out in their eating area until the internet place opened
- so we walk back to the internet place, and it turns out it's an electronics store, with a couple computers set up for the internet upstairs ... except when we go there, we're informed the connection is down, so there is no internet available!!
- well that didn't work out ... but there was one hotel listed in the Lonely Planet that we could easily walk to (Isaac wasn't too keen on the place, because it was listed as a "love motel" ... meaning it is frequented by hookers, and you can pay by the hour)
- we get there, and the place is shady through and through ... the room stinks of smoke ... and the price is way higher than was listed in the book (which was already a price more than we were hoping to pay)
- so suddenly Las Mercedes wasn't looking like it would work for us ... we instead looked up Sabana Grande in the book ... there was a string of hotels that didn't look too far away, so we decided to hike the 30 or so minutes to get there (we were already hot and sweaty from the heat and the backpacks, so it really didn't matter at this point)
- MISTAKE ... walking any great distance in Caracas ... especially on a Sunday ... especially with backpacks on ... we had huge targets on our backs
- we actually got to about 5 minutes short of the hotel before it happened ... two cops on a motorcycle were cruising down the road, saw us, and drove onto the sidewalk to stop us
- we'd been asked for passports so many times on the trip from Colombia that we didn't think anything fishy was going on at first ... we just reached for our passports and handed them to these "metro police" (who quite possibly aren't real police, but they do carry guns - enough said)
- it all went south when they demanded to look through our bags ... one of them did the classic move of distracting both of us at the same time, while the other went through the bags
- I caught on after only a minute, but it was a minute too late ... the very first bag he went through, the very first pocket he checked was the one where I had some U.S. cash loosely exposed ... I grabbed the bag, checked for the cash, and my heart sank when I knew it was gone
- I asked him where my money was, to which they both immediately replied "what money" ... not good ... worse still, there was a lot more U.S. cash hidden throughout our bags, and they were still searching (you HAVE to sneak in U.S. cash to exchange on the parallel market, otherwise, everthing costs about three times more than it ever should)
- we became a lot more protective of our things, but there really wasn't much we could do ... they searched, but not too thoroughly (possibly because they'd already found some cash) ... eventually, they just stopped, hopped on their bike, and took off without a word ... leaving us to pack up our bags and get off the streets as soon as humanly possible
- we quicked the pace, and got to the hotel in just a few short minutes (head swimming in the clouds of just having been basically mugged by police figures)
- we check in to a place that is supposedly a love motel on the first floor and a backpacker hotel on the second ... it doesn't have the same seedy vibe as the last place we saw, and the price is much more affordable
- in the room, we do the full inspection to see what damage was really done ... turns out, ALL they got was the $65 USD I had in that front pocket ... considering we were carrying hundreds more, we definitely lucked out ... a sixty-five dollar lesson learned
- we stayed in for the rest of the day, venturing out all of one block to get dinner (a cheap little sandwich place) ... both the hotel manager and the waiter at the restaurant went out of their way to tell us, "if you go out, take little money with you, and always carry your passport" ... actually, in all fairness, most of the locals in Caracas were very nice, and almost all of them apologized to us for how unsafe and unkind to tourists the city was ... they basically blamed the government (while trying not to say Hugo Chavez too loudly)
- the hotel had a balcony patio on the second floor, and they sold cheap beers ... so we spent the rest of the evening drowning our sorrows and figuring out how to survive the rest of our time in Caracas and Venezuela
- next day, we headed out with the primary mission of finding a good place to exchange the rest of our US money (because if we didn't get a good rate, we didn't have enough on us to get us out of the country)

- Isaac put all our money under the sole-inserts of his shoes (even if a mugger thought to look there, the smell would have warded him off)!

- we started off looking for a nearby travel agency that was listed in the Lonely Planet (we were told they sometimes exchange money at a decent rate) ... it only took us about an hour of searching and retracing our steps and asking people before we found the building we were looking for ... the guy at the agency wasn't able to convert money for us, but he was very friendly and helpful ... he helped us figure out where and when to go to catch a bus to Guiria, and he suggested we try a big hotel to change money

- on our way to the hotel, we passed another travel agency ... we popped in and asked if they'd exchange money for us, and they said no, but there was a place just a couple blocks away

- we headed there thinking it might just be one of the cambios that uses the official useless rate ... but instead, we found two guys behind bulletproof glass ... they offered a rate a bit higher than we were even hoping for ... instantly making us wonder if we were about to get scammed

- we take so long to decide, they put us in a private room, with a side window to their operation ... so Isaac reaches into one of his shoes, and we give the guys a bit of money, hoping that we actually get some local currency in return

- they give us what they promised, and we count the Bolivars and then hold them up to the light to see the holograms, and then whatever other "authentic" check we could think of (keeping in mind we're clueless about counterfeit money)

- as far as we could tell, the money was real ... so we exchanged what we had calculated to be approximately what we needed to get out of the country, with a big extra for wiggle room

- we left we a lot of Bolivars in Isaac's shoe ... feeling pretty elated, especially when we made our first purchase (we went to an internet cafe) and the money was accepted as authentic!

- we decided to celebrate our success ... we found a bakery with affordable cheese and bread, and then we hit a liquor shop for boxed wine ... and we wound up having what felt like a gourmet dinner on the hotel's balcony patio

- after dinner, we just relaxed at the balcony for a while, and wound up going to bed feeling pretty good ... Venezuela had treated us much better this day

- next day, we took our time heading out ... we knew the bus wasn't leaving until the evening

- so we checked out of our hotel, and left our bags at reception ... then we headed out to the internet for some blogging and photo uploading and things of that nature

- after that, we grabbed a decent meal at a middle eastern restaurant, and then grabbed our bags and flagged down a taxi to take us to the bus

- the eastern bus terminal is pretty far out of the way from downtown Caracas ... as such, the ride was pretty long (especially when it started to rain), and pretty spendy

- the taxi driver was cool though, and he got us to the terminal without much fuss (although he did ask us to pay him a bit more because the rain was making the trip take longer ... we agreed only because we liked him and figured it'd count as a tip)

- at the bus terminal, we found out where to go to get tickets for the overnight bus to Guiria ... we bought them without any difficulty, but the bus wasn't leaving for another three or so hours ... meaning we had plenty of time to do a whole bunch of nothing

- the rain turned into a torrential downpour, which provided entertainment for a few minutes, as the sound of the water hammering the metal roof of the terminal was impressively loud

- we spent the rest of the time laying on a row of chairs and having a competition of who could find the shop with the cheapest snacks

- eventually the time came to board the bus, and we were on our way ... the bus was simple and comfortable enough, but not nearly as nice as the last one we were on

- one thing we noticed was that moving east away from Caracas, we were not stopped by anyone demanding to see our passports

- about five or so hours into the journey, we arrived at Puerto la Cruz (the stopping point for catching a boat to Isla Margarita), where at least half of the bus load got off

- once the sun started to come up ... the rest of the trip was warm (the a/c on the bus was only so-so), tropical (scenery) and quiet (hardly anyone left on the bus)

- another 4 to 5 hours after Puerto la Cruz, the bus stopped and we were apparently in Guiria ... a small town, somewhat rundown ... and already sunny and hot, even though it was still crazy early in the morning

- the Lonely Planet doesn't provide a map of Guiria, so we were pretty lost ... a cabbie came up to us and we agreed to pay him for a ride to the boat ticketing office ... turns out the office was only one block away!!! The driver felt no remorse for scamming us, but at least we didn't pay him very much

- worse still, the office was closed ... turns out this Wednesday is a holiday in Venezuela, so now we're freaking out a bit, wondering if the ferry is even running

- turns out we're just too early and the office winds up opening about half an hour later ... phew!!

- we go to buy our tickets and the women starts quoting a price way higher than we were expecting ... two Colombian girls are waiting in line, and one of them speaks some English, so she steps up to help explain the situation

- turns out that the woman is telling us we have to be return tickets (by law), because we don't have proof of leaving Trinidad ... we were trying to explain to her that we were going to fly to Guyana, but it wasn't working ... we explained this to the Colombian girl, she rattled off some Spanish to the ticket agent, and just like that we were given the price of a one-way fare!

- much to our chagrin, the one-way fare was slightly more than all of our remaining Bolivars ... so we had to exchange a bit more U.S. money (at a pretty bad parallel market rate) ... still, the important thing is that we had our tickets, the ferry was definitely running, and we were getting the hell out of Venezuela!!

- once we had our tickets, we helped the Colombian girls out with filling in their Trindad and Tobago customs declaration forms (all in English) ... I can't remember their names (for reasons to be explained shortly), but I think the one who spoke a bit of English was Vanessa, and the other one was Maria (or so her passport said)

- we spent the rest of the morning at a nearby dive hotel ... the girls had a room there, and they helped us negociate a cheap "day rate" for another room, where we could shower and relax for the several hours we had before the ferry arrived

- we left the hotel feeling a bit refreshed (the intense heat of the day wasn't helping much) ... and then the four of us caught a truck-taxi to the ferry (there seem to be two types of taxi in Guiria ... either a truck where you sit in the back, or an old trans-am style muscle car ... usually with oversized wheels and blasting crazy loud music ... some in much better shape than others)

- we get to the ferry, and there are a bunch of people waiting on the side of the road (there is no office or building of any kind, just the boat, a small tented area with immigration officials and a couple of tables and chairs, and that's it)

- we find a spot on some roads by the side of the road, and wait for when the ferry is ready to board

- while we're waiting, 'Vanessa' asks us if we can help them with the customs officials ... I tell her no problem, I'd be happy to help her with the English ... but that's not what she wants ... she asks us if we could pretend to be their boyfriends!! RED FLAG, RED FLAG!! We politely say no, we can't do that (especially since we're having our own stress due to the fact that we don't technically have any proof of leaving Trinidad ... not that we would have pretended to be their boyfriends anyway)

- turns out Maria met a Trinidadian online, and she's going to Trinidad to meet him for the first time ... yet somehow she doesn't speak English and he doesn't speak Spanish (??), so Vanessa is going with her to act as translator (sketch!) ... Vanessa had also been in Trinidad the year before, to study (apparently illegally on a visitor's visa)

- so we get in line for immigration (leaving Venezuela) ... Isaac and I get through, and our bags get on the boat ... so far so good ... a few minutes later, the girls also get on the boat

- next, there is Trinidad and Tobago customs check on the boat ... again, Isaac and I get through without an issue ... the girls however have issues ... I get called over to help translate for Vanessa ... it seems they have an issue with how long she spent in Trinidad the last time (too long) ... there is also an issue with Maria's passport (quite possibly fake)

- the long and short of it is this ... eventually the girls go into another room, and Isaac and I basically disappear, i.e. disassociate ourselves from them in every and any way possible! ... anything to avoid further questioning in our direction (i.e. please don't ask to see our proof of departure)

- eventually, the boat starts moving away from land ... Isaac and I are still aboard, so we're happy ... it doesn't take long to discover the girls are NOT ... they were nice and everything, but better them than us - so while we felt sorry for their situation, we were mostly just elated to be off Venezuelan soil

- we were only in Venezuala for five days and four nights, the majority of the time we were travelling on buses, and yet our time there was some of the most stressful and memorable of the entire trip ... in hindsight, the experiences there were worth having ... but overall, the best part of Venezuela was seeing it disappear as the ferry sailed towards Trinidad and Tobago

- EoW