Brotherhood of the Travelling Mankini (C)

The importance of carrying loo roll with you!!

nirmal — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 12:02:00 GMT

After 9 hours I get to Ciudad Bolivar. Staying at the Hotel Union which offers the best rates although not the best rooms in town. It's 4.30am I shower,arrange my things and lie down to watch an episode of ER and Friends on TV. Not been able to read the last two days..

At 7.00am there's a knock at my door. A tall, rakish brown man greets me with a smile. Yo soy Edgar.. He's from Connexion Tours who have an office at the bus station. On arrival I was accosted by his colleague - a Shakira look-a-like with peroxide blonde hightlights and slightly larger hips who triedto sell me a tour to Canaima. Had no money at the time so politely refused.. Anyway it seems that this outfit really homes in on potential customers and they were going to make sure that I wasn't gone get the chance to shop around.. Poor Edgar did his best to try and sell the tour to Canaima and Angel Falls but with both of us struggling with each other's languages his sales pitch was failing to persuade me to part with my cash. He even tried to use football to win me over. England were playing Slovenia but little did he know about my total lack of interest in the game. I managed to deflect his attempts of signing me up there and then. I mentioned that it was too expensive and he said he could offer a discount . I said Id head down to the office later that afternoon. He took me on my word if with a look of crushed defeat.. Phew! I closed the door.. Close shave!

Or so I thoughT, when I get downstairs im met my Carlos. A fast talking,extremely slick manager of Connexion Tours who has me eating out of his hands. He quoted me 2,500 bolivares and i told him I couldn't afford this. It turns out he needed a fifth person to make up the numbers for the flight across to Canaima National Park. He offered me 2000 bolivares with an additional night at the Hotel. Still at lot of money as I had to get money from the bank at the official rate - 400 quid!! The price includes flights, meals, boat trip to Salto Angel, accomodation but not the airport tax..I have to head down to the bank to withdraw the money as he refused to take a card payment saying he'd be saddled with huge commission fees.. Spend the day looking aroung Ciudad Bolivar - there really isn't much to see here - you could do it in half a day . Had brekkie in the commercial centre : arepas (deep fried) scrambled eggs andblack coffee..

Then I headed down to the Botanical Gardens at around 10.00am. Then i felt my stomach tighten and contort. It was about to happen sooner or later and here it was: Montezuma's revenge!! Having failed to go to the loo I was now aching to go and quickly. I tried to compose myself despite the apparent desperation. A few bemused park officials looked at me bemused as i ask Donde estan los servicios, por favor? I was directed towards a building site in the middle of the park with partial walls and pipes sticking out of the ground. This can't be it surely, I enter.. turn the corner and there is my salvation. A grimy toilet bowel - no matter unbutton, sit down quickly... Where is the toilet roll (donde esta le maldito papel) Quien lo utilizo!! I look around. There's a bin full of used paper - Could I posibly fish out a clean piece of paper or underused piece ? I bend forward to the bin and hear a movement .Oh my god has the paper mutated into an as yet unidentified life form formed of human waste.. The paper twitches and I see a tail swish and hit the side of the bin.. Phew just a tine lizard stuck in piles of shit stained toilet roll... Suddenly the idea of fishing out a piece of paper loses any appeal it might have initially had. I fumble around in my jeans - yes yes serviettes from the cafe where I had breakfast. Wipe drop try to flush but to no avail. I make a swift exit hoping no one has seen me.. Im now carrying loo roll with me everywhere..

I take a stroll around the park and walk upto Plaza Bolivar and take a photo of the Cathedral, statue of Simon Bolivar . To the west of the Plaza is rhe Casa del Congreso de Angostura. Unfortunately it's closed but this is where the Angostura Congress founded Gran Colombia (made of the territories of Venezuela, Colombia and Ecuador)

A little back history:

1500 Creoles are Spanish descendants born in the New World accumulate slaves, agricultural wealth and larger degree of autonomy

1749 - The Creoles prosperity is threatened by the Spanish corwn's granting of a trading monopoly to a Basque companyin 1728. The Creoles revolt under the the leadership of Juan Francisco de Leon. The revolt is suppressed but the rift between the Spanish and the Creoles widens

1810 - The Creole Francisco de Miranda, having attempted an invasion of Venezuela in 1806, tries again and succeeds in ousting the Spanish governors of Caracas. He declares independence, but less than a year later his efforts are thwarted by a counter-insurgency of Spanish and mixed blood pardos.

1813 - Simon Bolival (El Libretador - The liberator) a wealthy Creole landwoner from Caracas takes over the revolution and wins the support of the pardos. With British aid and the new found republic of Haiti, he wins several naval battles against the Spanish and liberates territory of Colombia..

Merida - Don't read on the bus !! Chahupas Heaven tambien

nirmal — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 11:00:00 GMT

This is the third day in Merida so I'll digest my journal for the blog. I got to Merida after a 14 hour bus ride from Ciudad Bolivar to Barinas and then a further 4 hours from Barinas to Merida. You woudl think that this journey is knackering but the coaches have extremely conforfortable reclining seats with padded leg rests. It beats National Express anyday and is cheaper than flying which is a less reliable way of getting round the country anyway.
I spent the first 12 hours of the journey sleeping as the bus sped through town citites and landscapes through the pitch darkness. My Spanish isn't good enough to converse with other passengers. There was lots going besides the initial scramble for seats as people ignored the seat allocation on their tickets. I followed suit and occupied a seat only to be moved by the disgruntled driver into a free seat which wasn't my own. Then at one poi nt during the journey there was a guy who started speaking and handing out multi-coloured beads filled with water. Maybe holy water and each colour represented a blessing or a quality. I was about to slip this into my pocket before I realised that i had to pay 15 bolivares for the pleasure. I promptly handed back the bead..
From Barinas the journey takes four hours. There's a sign on the back of the bus seats strongly advising passengers not to read during the journey. I could n't quite understand why. Was this some form of governement decree handed down by Chavez? As soon as we left Barinas it became clear why? The bus twisted and turned up and down perilous mountainside roads not conducive to reading and likely to induce vomiting over fellow passengers. The view of the mountain ranges covered in mist was breathtaking but I wasn't able to take any pictures as the bus ride was so shaky.
We stopped over in a mountain side village Mucuchies which according to Lonely Planet is worth a visit. Will have to do this from Merida later. Had a simole lunch - arepas filled with tuna and salad washed down with water. Set of again and got into Merida at 15.00pm
I booked into the Posada Yagruma which is near to the Park Las Heroinas. I was met by a very charming Scottish guy, Paul who spoke in Spanish. Rooms are cheap at around 80 bolivares a night (8 quid at the unofficial exchange rate and 16 quid at the official rate)

Got settled into my room, had a much need and long awaited shower and fell asleep. Hmm I tend to be doing this alot !! Was feeling peckish at around 6 and as I walked out of the hostel passed the Parque des Heroinas which commemorates 5 women who fought alongside Simon Bolivar and vanquished the Spanish in the War of Independence. There was a small park fete going on and I decided to try out chalupas (cornflour pancakes) with cheese and swimming in butter. It was sickly sweet popcorn taste cut through with the smoked and salty slices of cheese from cows fed on mountain air and grass. I move a little further from wearing the mankini everyday. Goodbye wasitline as each I felt guilty which each ambrosial butter-filled bite (at least its vegetarian as if to assuage my guilt!)

Transfer - It´s a waiting game Ciudad Bolivar

nirmal — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 06:31:00 GMT

It´s 16.00pm. Im sitting in Ciudad Bolivar´s central bus station in one of the many internet cafes that border the arrivals/departures area. Im having to do things in reverse so I start now on Saturday 26th June.

I got here about one hour ago after flying back from Canaima Village inhabited by the Pemon tribe who now make their living from tourism and visiting Salto Angel and staying overnight in a hammock camp on the border of the Rio Churuni. I`ll add the accounts of my adventures over the last few days later as Ive left my journals in the tour guides office (it`s more of a shack on the side of the street) but it`s secure than walking around the station.

The flight back took an hour and ten minutes in a small 5 seater aircraft. The view of the landscapees defies believe. It`s mazing to see how the rivers meander and cut and line the ground. The shadow of the clouds cast ominous reptilain shapes as if the ground below was an unsuspecting prey at any moment about to unleash a torrential downpour as its the beginning of the rainy season.

Ive not mentioned the mankini once yet. Somehow this article of clothing has taken up far more interest than it deserved and at this point my vanity is such that there is little chance of it ever seeing daylight. A huge disappointment I hear you cry! Yes yes but I shall leave it it my friend Borat to sport his mankini far and wide. Besides the food here is not going to help with the waistline and i can`t think of anything more attractive than a slightly paunchy Anglo Indian clad in a fluorescent garment. Im attracting enough attention as it is for the time being. Rather than wanting to bin this particular traje de bano I`ll see how many uses there other than the obvious one of attracting attention to the nether regions. So far there have been none but surely at some stage I will be able to post multi-various uses surely worth a boo deal in itself. Im getting ahead of myself..

The bus leaves at 7.30pm so another three hours to kill. I`ve had some food the diet here is atrocious - fried to dry tastelessness so lots of sauce chucked on, high sugar and meat by the bucket load. It`s gonna be hard sticking to vegetarianism and i have to admit that the smell of chicken had me salivating. I resisted (i think I did) okay I lie I had to have some (the first time in 3 years!!) I feel like a fake and gobbled it up quickly before anyone i`d met on my tour saw me. I was just in time as the last morsels were swallowed down before Simon ( an English guy on the same tour veered round the corner of the bus station eatery)..

Signing off now...

Caracas - Dead dog tired but onwards I go

nirmal — Tue, 22 Jun 2010 11:27:00 GMT

So after 14 hours cruising at 40,000 feet my feet are well and truly on Venezuelan soil. With the revised schedule I landed at 2.00am and did n't get out of the airport till 3.00am. I had the good fortune ( I think!) to meet Jorge, an airport official who offered to take me into Caracas and to offer me a better exchange rate. I found out much later that his rate was in fact no different to the official rate!) At which point I was in no fit state to argue the my case both through fatigue and poor grasp of the language.

The road from Marquetia airport into Caracas was sllowed down by a large delivery truck and we were accompanied most of the way by a police escort, Guardia Nacional bordering each side of the highway which is supposed to be notorious for raids on unuspecting drivers and passengers. So this made me feel safer. Although I was told that they were there to slow down traffic as the highway claimed many lives through collisions at high speed with trucks. There wasn't much evidence of any wreckage at the sides of the road as you normally find in India. However I did see a dog in the middle of the highway that had been knocked down and killed and repeatedely flattened into the asphalt. I could n't help feeling that I was this dog and that this was a strange omen..

Jorge drove me to the bus stop at Colegio des Ingenierios but this was closed so I decided to stay in a hotel. I was taken to a so called 3 star hotel, Hotel Renovation - a complete misnomer. Basic, dilapidated, creaky lift, burnt sheets and a strong whiff of untreated sewage from the bathroom. I paid 40 pounds for the privilege and when I asked about what time breakfast was served there was a huge snort of laughter from the receptionist. I smiled politely I was too tired to care thankfully had my sleeping bag liner and tried to get a few hours rest.

Slept poorly thinking that there were insects and mosquitoes trying to infiltrate the sleeping liner. and switched on the TV to watch a Spanish/Venezuelan version of Jeremy Kyle. I attempted some exercice - 30 press ups. It was 8.30am showered, packed things grabbed an empanada.

I walk 20 mininutes to the bus station. I queue up for an hour and a half with a girl who is from El Tigre. She has molten gold molars, looks tough so when she asks if I can keep her place in the queue whilst she gets a coffee I don't refuse. I should have asked for a coffee in return. The ticket costs 85 bolivares. The bus is called and get on. Get of the bus as there's a problem and directed to another. Have to endue=re the dithering of a women in front of me as she thrusts her buttcoks clad in terry toweled tacksuit into my face. Get seated and am behind the girl with the golden molar tooth who turns out to be quite nice..

We set off with at 11.00am almost an hour behind schedule - or what I call Venezuelan time!!