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March 20, 2005
Merida, Venezuela
The first day you enter a new country is almost always extremely long, and usually very memorable. yesterday was one of those days.
i had boarded a night bus the evening before, departing sweltering Cartagena and leaving behind Aaron and Kristy, who with luck will catch a sailboat for Panama within a few days. They seemed thrilled at the prospect of learning some sailing techniques, and excited for the northward travel through central america and mexico back to the U.S.
the night bus was well air conditioned and i managed to sleep fairly well until 6 the next morning, when it reached the final destination at Magua, near the Colombian Venezuelan border. i disembarked in a sleepy haze, and quickly was approached by a man offering to find me a ride to Maracaibo, the first large city in Venezuela. i followed him to the parking lot of the bus station, and there sat american built cars from the 70's, Fords, Cadillacs, Mercury's, Chevys and Lincolns, all long as boats with enormous engines and huge trunks. i waited around with 4 other passengers until our driver found a fifth, and they we shoved all our luggage into the trunk of his black Chevy Caprice, and we tore out of the parking lot towards the frontera. i looked back as we sped across the flat countryside, thinking of how much i had learned about Colombia since i entered a month ago, all the turbulent and violent history that has shaped the culture into an emotional mix of bravado, frustration, despair and hope. some day for certain i will return, if not to live then at least to visit again some of the friends i have made and some of the natural phenomenon i didn't have time to see.
the border crossing was simple, and i hopped into the waiting black beast after getting my Venezuela stamp. the driver drove like a man possessed, with a mix tape of the same 15 latino songs i have been hearing for the whole time i have been down here in south america blaring through speakers behind my head. the country side turned arid and i observed the traffic, surprised that nearly all of the cars were huge gas-guzzling american monsters that hurtled past each other at startling velocities. speaking to the other passengers, i learned that in 1982 the oil market crashed here in Venezuela, and that importing new cars after that date proved difficult. they mentioned that due to their status as 4th largest exporter of petroleum in the world, national gas prices are about 500 bolivares a liter here, which addes up to less then a dollar a gallon. suddenly i understood why everyone was piloting such inefficient machines.
arriving in Maracaibo at 10, the feared heat had not begun to beat down, and i found a cheap bus for Merida. Merida is a highland town, between two cordilleras of the Andes, and is reputed to be cool and clean of air. after all my time in the heat drenched coast, i looked forward to having to wear trousers and a sweatshirt again.
the bus slowly filled, and finally we edged out toward the highway. as we neared the checkpoint where the busses get permission to leave for their destinations, a grungy man walked up and began speaking wildly to the ayudante (the driver's helper), who being a deaf mute, just sort of looked at him. the grungy man began hailing down people walking into the terminal, telling them that our bus was destinated for some location on the coast. quickly through his ramblings i realized that he was quite crazy, but the driver let him climb aboard for half a mile, and finally had to pay him to get off the buzz. the man wandered off with his 1000 bolivar note, mumbling about mudos (deaf mutes) y gringos.
the bus ride wasn't so bad, since i was in the very front of the bus and had my head out the window half the time. first we drove across the huge bridge across lake maracaibo, which had been full of oil rigs pumping oil years ago, but now just had several rigs out there draining the earth of the evil black gold. oil was good to this country at first, but later on it ended up making life really difficult for nearly everyone except the super rich. nothing new down here.
the country side passed by easy, changing from arid to lush and green. as befitting my travels in every latin american country, the bus of course had a flat tire, and we were stuck on the steaming side of the road for half an hour. the mute changed the tire like a champion, and we were on our way again. finally, around seven thirty at night, 9 hours after beginning, we rolled into Merida. having boarded the bus out of Cartagena at nine thirty the evening before, i had put in 22 hours of travel, and it showed. i dumped myself into a taxi and gave them the address of the hostel. it had a room, which was lucky since semana santa begins today, and the whole town is going to fill up with people from everywhere else in the east of the country. i spent today walking around and chatting with a mexican guy who has been traveling and selling artesanias for 9 years. he had some crazy stories. now i am headed to the bus station to reserve my ticket for tuesday night to Caracas, and then i am gonna go to the science and technology museum, which is said to have a cool dinosaur exhibit. tomorrow i take the telesferico, which happens to be the tallest one in the world, up the northern side of the Andes, and plan to walk 5 hours to this little mountain town, where i will sleep the night and then come down the next day.
i am getting used to traveling alone again, in a way i miss having folks to talk to, but i can always make new friends, and for now i have all the time i want to read and walk around alone. it's kind of nice.
more to come about my roundabout voyage towards suriname.
Posted by bendan at March 20, 2005 09:52 AM
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