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!!
