Roraima

I have been very lucky in my life to have seen some astoundingly beautiful places. Family vacations were to the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, the San Juan Islands off of Washington state and all those scenic places that kids really don't find all that thrilling until they grow up into boring adults. Though despite being vastly visually spoiled there was no way I could have been prepared for what we undertook in the last 2 weeks in more way than one.

All I knew was that we (Hernando and I and our friends Raul and Luis Miguel) would be spending 6 days in Roraima, near Venezuela's border with Brazil. I gathered that meant camping when the list of things to bring from the company we booked the trip through included sleeping bags, sunblock and mosquito repellent. It was not however until we were in the 4x4 jeep on the way to being dropped off did I start to realize we were about to embark on 6 days of endless trekking through desert heat and ravenous blood sucking puri-puris to get to a mountain which we would then ascend carrying all the weeks necessities on our backs. Needless to say, the four of us didn't do any training whatsoever, unless you include the sunbathing we did on some gorgeous caribbean beaches before we got there.

Day 1, we got there late. One tour operator man said it was ok to take the later overnight bus arriving at 9am, but when we got there the other one was peeved off and stressing out to get us out on time. We did have over 4 hours of walking ahead of us and had to find a guide and reach camp by nightfall. The scenery was lovely, very desert like though spotted with rivers with lovely clean water. After my experiences in West Virginia where the coal companies have poisoned all the water so that the rivers are almost all undrinkable I appreciated being able to drink the water straight out of the river. We hardly made it to camp by nightfall though, we spent the last 40 minutes or so walking in the dark with cheap flashlights that all broke by the end of the 6 days!

Day 2, The guides are mostly native Americans from the nearby village. Ours was a quiet but relaxed guy named Sergio. Even though we were a bit lazy I think he liked our company. We were the last ones to leave camp at 8:30 or so with a 6 hour hike winding our way uphill in the heat without shade and with few rivers this time. The most amazing part was watching the ecosystems change as we walked through them, one after the other. Sometimes it only took one hour to start in one type of ecosystem and walk entirely through another distinct one. Trees changed, or disappeared, the flowers changed, the grasses changed everything looked different one moment to the next as we approached the table top mountain.

Day 3 should have been the hardest. This was when we spent 6 hours in sharp ascent up an essentially vertical "path" through the jungle (we spotted 3 different types of poisonous snakes). When we were almost at the end with only about an hour left to go the path opens up to a lovely view point of the valley below that we've been walking through for 3 days already and the bastard of a trail that's to come. We stood there and couldn't believe our eyes. A scratchy white path going straight up a treacherous looking mountain with little moving dots of people making their way over the boulders and sheer madness. One such dot was one of our guides, Sergio's sister, who decided we were too slow to wait for and legged it as easily as though it were a high school race track. It was beautiful though when you weren't concentrating our your footing. As it opened up to the top of the mountain we were climbing over massive oddly shaped black boulders that seemed to have been spilled there like marbles. That was our first introduction to what we were to behold once at the top. Beautiful, eerie, surreal are all understatements. It was absolutely unlike anything I've ever seen before as a human. It felt like we might discover the last hitherto unknown surviving dinosaurs, a place preserved secretly from a bygone era. No words will do it justice, I know I'll have to include photos but I should be packing right now! (not doing this.)

We visited a pool they falsely call the jacuzzi-- it's still freeeezing! but it was no dissapointment since the floor and surrounding area were completely covered in white quartz crystals! The plants are so cool like miniature cousins of palms, simple in design, resilient and stunningly geometric.

Day 4. Just because we felt like we had to we took the note: optional 8 hours of walking this day. We could have been recovering and preparing for the descent but no, we had to see what the top of Roraima has to offer. Of course it was amazing but an hour into it my legs hated me and I got a mean sunburn. We visited a viewpoint that rivals if not outdoes Yosemite's half dome view point. We watched the clouds below coming from Brazil and going over the mountain with a green valley below. We also took a dip in a difficult to reach pool in a cave and are now able to say we stood in the corners of Venezuela, Brazil and Guyana all at once- though that was hardly the highlight.

We saw tarantulas and 3 different kinds of carnivirous plants and the shapes the boulders were stunning. Perhaps now I should dedicate time to the photos-- or to packing!

There was a lot of bodily pain of course. Our blisters formed blisters of their own, our knees were shaky and we only wanted to collapse after setting up the tents. The worst though was after day 5. Six hours of going downhill apparently awakens very lazy muscles that hurt a lot the next day. But it was so worth it. I think it's one of the most amazing things I have ever done in my life.

We are concluding our trip and returning to the US tomorrow so it looks like this may be the last post. Hernando and I fly to NYC from Caracas via Trinidad-- random?? but cheap of course. Cheers for reading my rants whenever you've gotten the chance. We hope to see all of our friends in the US soon. Take care.


-Manali and Hernando

Thoughts from a gringa in Venezuela

Car bumpers, engines and the remaining parts of stolen vehicles are dismantled and displayed proudly for sale in storefronts as we pass, winding our way up a mountain on a two lane road thoroughly congested with traffic, as Caracas always is. A truck sells cheap groceries to people waiting in a huge line, thanks to the government. A girl with an ice cream cone passes a group of men watching her go. Orange traffic cones are placed at random intervals in the street, groups of young military police clad in army green with berets on their heads exchange jokes, lounge on their vehicles, and rest folded arms on their machine guns. Political graffiti depicts Uncle Sam being twisted by Venezuelan Socialists. We pass groups of people in red shirts holding banners applauding their president, Chavez is coming to town. Buses on the side of the road are pointed out to me, I am told they are bussed in and thrown a bit of money to show their support for Chavez. We keep winding. We, Hernando, his family and I are on our way to an old German settlement, a lovely tourist site, it's going to take a little longer than normal today but I don't mind it one bit. I love staring out car windows to begin with and there was so much to see today, it gave me a lot to think about.

Venezuela is one of those places like China that is steeped in political intrigue and is stupidly rich in mineral wealth. Obviously being married to a Venezuelan and hearing so much about it, from Hernando, his friends and family for so many years has lead me to spend a lot of time considering it but never have I felt like I've figured it out. I don't have any answers, and I might well make mistakes in my assessments, but I have been collecting lots of interesting tid bits that I'm starting to put together.

In a place where laws can change on the merest whims of the president you have no choice but to be political. The quarrels between the US's democrats and republicans pale in comparison, here you are either a Chavista, a proud supporter of Chavez often seen wearing red, or you are vehemently anti-Chavez, and never seen wearing red. Those with money almost always hate Chavez, unless they can accredit their recent wealth directly to Chavez giving them someone else's job. The poor have always been his stronghold for popularity but these days his popularity is slipping. He's a populist, his face is everywhere, on billboards, on TV, in graffitti, and he does his best to control what people hear. He shuts down TV stations he doesn't like and transmits anti imperialist American/pro Iranian adverts on the radio. He has his own TV show on Sundays where he publicly diverts any possibility of blame from himself when there are problems and pins it on officials, summing the affair up with a public firing. You can watch the man's face fall on your screen while in your underwear at home, just watching the telly. He gives Donald Trump something to live up to. He tries to divert attention from dissenters and makes a big show of silencing the ones that act up. Lately college student groups have been organizing big rallies against him bringing Caracas' crawling traffic to a halt. I'm all for the government offering affordable food to those in need as I mentioned earlier but it could become harmful when seen as part of a larger arching sentiment he encourages. With Venezuela's oil wealth the government should be able to take care of the people, he asserts. He starts work programs, inserts start up resources and then leaves them to wilt, wither and die a lingering death of political disinterest after some time. People are encouraged to put their trust in the government and the government will play god. Public schools for education and public hospitals for health are a joke, the independence of the individual is squashed. He pits the poor against the 20% with resources claiming they are the root of their problems. In keeping with this mentality he swoops in on companies, fires all the people with degrees and puts comrades without proper qualifications in charge. I assume that means he lowers the prices of utilities but I haven't remembered to ask that question yet. However couldn't he just impose that the prices be lowered without firing everyone who knows what they are doing? For the first time in the dry season in this hydroelectric run country there are scheduled water cuts and power cuts. Everything seems to be mismanaged. But at least Venezuela still has oil right? hmm... maybe.

Though the tolls booths on highways are gone, cool, and parking lots are locked in at a nice price that will never raise with the yearly 40% inflation, and the gas at the pump is cheaper than buying a pack of gum. To fill your tank will probably set you back 30- 50 cents in USD.

Back to Venezuela and her oil. Apparently, according to a credible source, Hernando's father who is an engineer for an oil company, the black gold is running out. The government set that price for gas at least 15 years ago when the going was good. When there was lots of high quality oil just waiting to be released from Venezuela's land. Well a year and a half ago it turned out that there is still high quality oil but the cost of getting it would be at least as much as the oil itself, making it inaccessible. This happens all the time with these companies. America's coal companies project they have enough coal to last 250 years but most of theirs too in tucked away deep in the earth and equally inaccessible. So Venezuela has had to move on to extracting fairly low grade oil but their refineries are for high grade oil. Of course they should be in the midst of changing those factories over to accept the new oil but there's some mismanagement going on. Therefore Venezuela ships its oil to the islands off it's coast where there are refineries for this type of oil but those are the Netherland Antilles, a different country. In order to get the refined oil back they have to pay the same price as all the other countries per barrel and so when Venezuelans pay 30-50 cents at the pump the government is ripping itself off. It cannot afford it for much longer but raising gas prices in an oil nation doesn't make you a very popular populist president. What a pickle.

Maybe that's the best way to describe this place, pickly and confusing-- that's a technical political science term of course. It's also unsafe, as I have mentioned before. Paranoia is a way of life here. You're always looking over your shoulder to see if you're being followed, always prepared to do another loop around the block, and watching the electronic garage door close behind you, making sure you haven't attracted any unexpected guests. Though I have thoroughly and absolutely enjoyed frequenting the beautiful Caribbean beaches. And not to rub in anyones face but especially while I know most of our friends are suffering the worst snow storm in years on the East Coast-- though wasn't last year one of the most horrendous in recent history? Is it just me or is global warming catching up to us? Hmm... ok, well conspiracy theorist Manali will be signing off soon but before I go, an update.

Tomorrow we begin the last leg of our adventures. We will spend two weeks seeing this insanely beautiful country before coming back to Caracas to fly back to the US. It turns out that the US government could have grounds to screw us over in our application for Hernando's citizenship if we were gone longer than 6 months. Since we are lawyerless and just about moneyless we're heading back. However we only need to be in the US, not necessarily back in LA as we had always planned to go back to. So we'll be making a visit to our East Coast friends (yea! soo excited!!) before we go back to having jobs that wont give us leave. We arrive in NYC on February 28th, and Boston March 6th and finally LA on March 13th. And then San Francisco a week or 2 after that. So we'll be doing a lot of old friend seeing soon. Hope you'll be in one of those cities! Please email me if you will and want to hang out.

The wheels on the bus...

I would love to write a book about the ridiculous bus rides I've taken in my life-- all so different and all so ridiculous. I don't know why I keep doing it to myself-- oh yeah, because it's the cheapest way to go, by far. Or sometimes it's the only way to go. When you have time rather than money and you're supposedly young and able then you just gotta do what you just gotta do.

Let's travel back in time to 2005 to 2 memorable ones. You know you're in for it when the guide book says don't take the bus tours crossing from Bangkok, Thailand to Siem Reap, Cambodia. But then you ask yourself what are my other options of getting there? Some highlights of the journey were getting ripped off at the border, of course, watching drivers crossing the border figure out when to switch to the other side of the road-- left side driving in Thailand, right side driving in Cambodia. Finding that Cambodia's roads were unpaved and pockmarked with crater sized potholes, leaving one to wonder how many mines might still be in the ground 25+ years later. A dazzling 2 hour lightning display in the distance, adorable begging children throwing bracelets at you and manipulating you to give them money. Passing another bus of tourists just like ours that had broken down at night in the middle of NOWHERE, and villagers removing planks from their bridge to force the bus driver to pay them to put them back and the strong willed bus driver driving on anyway, the bus lurching from plank to plank, the locals banging the sides of the bus in warning. Easily the most dramatic of all bus experiences.

Australia 2005, leaving Dingo where I was a bar wench for outback coal miners and loggers. One of the loggers had a big rig driver taking a load of huge logs up north drop me off 14 hours later in Cairns. That is one of my favorites- no stress, beautiful scenery-- as with all of them actually, and I got to sleep in the little compartment behing the driver's seat. I'd always wanted to do that ever since I learned they had them when I was a kid!

Recently in India, 14 hours on a local bus, a rickety contraption form the 70's that probably hasn't been cleaned since then, and being stared at literally in my face or inches from it by the men who would fill the seat in front of me one after the other. I had to ride with a shawl over me for most of the journey like a bright shroud. And despite how many stares that would get in the US, it doesn't turn a head in India.

The 36 hour bus ride from Bogota, Colombia to Caracas, Venezuela of course brings new offerings to the table. A ride with an eccentric gypsy family past 100's of a dictator's checkpoints throughout the night. This family is a world unto itself, completely free from the shackles of reality that the rest of us are obviously being held back by. And though I don't intend to mock them because they are of course very nice and fascinating people, I wont be able to refrain from doing so. I have never seen anything like them. After 5 weeks of being in Colombia, the land of stylish, clean and presentably dressed people we're waiting for the bus at the Bogota terminal and along comes the dirtiest family I've ever seen. Dirtier than homeless parentless beggar children who live in shanty huts on India's train tracks and bathe themselves in polluted ditches of sewage and rain water, well maybe about equal. The mother and children's fingers, feet and faces were caked in brown trails of dirt and their clothes looked like they hadn't been changed in a month. With them they had tons of luggage and an adorable little puppy. I thought they were a gypsy family and said so within earshot of them safely assuming that people like that wouldn't have access to learning English. Their luggage though struck me as very odd, 2 of their many suitcases looked dirty but new, brightly colored and well made like designer luggage. Well of course this family turned out to American! with a Colombian dad-- which was a shocker for big mouth Manali. And guess where they live-- the Berkshires, Massachussetts. For those less familiar with the East Coast, that's one of the most upscale towns in New England, think mansions galore. Who knows if they live in a mansion or not, I'm willing to believe anything with this crazy family. All that said, they were very friendly and interesting company on the bus for 36+ hours. It was cute when the 6 year little girl developed a crush on Hernando for playing with her for an hour and spent the rest of the journey tapping, prodding, poking and eventually head-butting him. Though their labrador puppy they picked up in Colombia and are taking with them on their overland voyage to Trinidad via Venezuela, before they make it home to the Berkshires was of course not potty trained so there were a couple of accidents during the 36 hours. Without them the bus ride would have been a little less stinky but undoubtedly been much more dull. Until of course we reached Venezuela which makes sure to keep you on your toes.

Ah, Venezuela home to the most brashly outspoken dictator currently in power that I can think of. He's very fond of his military roadside checkpoints you know, pulling over buses at random throughout the night. We were stopped at least 6 times, for the military police to come on the bus and check all our passports and ID cards. And I'm sure I showed each one of them their first British passport, throwing one drunken one for a loop, wishing to cross reference it with a local ID as well. Silly confused 18 year old military police man with a small machine gun, drunk off the liquor seized from the last travelers bags he rifled through. And yes, not once but twice at different check points we were stopped and had all our bags removed from the undercarriage for these very official officials to inspect and remove the alcohol from for their little on the job parties. After a night of travelling in this fashion we finally made it to Caracas.

Being here though is really just about seeing Hernando's friends and family, otherwise it's kinda like being in the Detroit of Latin America but way worse than that. Did you know that Caracas sees more homicides than Baghdad? yeah... however it does have one saving grace. It's proximity to beautiful Carribean beaches. We've already been once and we're going again this weekend- yipee!

a freezing waterfall and a hot jacuzzi

We recently spent 3 days and nights in the quaint tourist town of Villa de Leyva 3 hours outside of Bogota, where we had one truly awesome day. We both unexpectedly went abseiling or rappelling down a waterfall. And it was a total breeze I could have done it in my sleep, um just kidding. So being a bit proactive can bite you in the ass sometimes. I asked for them to let us practice a bit before taking off down the watery cliff edge, so they harnessed me up and tied me to a tree and taught me how to let myself down on the rope bit by bit. Great, easy, no big deal-- when both of your feet are on solid ground! Then being already fitted up they rushed me to the cliff edge had me stand in the freezing water and were like "ok, go for it." So I´m on the edge looking down and they´re telling me to relax, lean back and go and I realize it´s all moving a little fast for me. Their patience was failing as they screamed "Vamonos, vamonos, vamonos!!" and I saw an exit to chicken out into concerned Hernando´s consoling arms. Which turned the pressure onto him to be the first down. He hadn´t practised a bit and also couldn´t believe he was supposed to go over the ledge when he was all kitted to go but being a man, it was out of the question to chicken out so he went. And after that it was all fine. The hardest part is getting started, especially for the first time. He even went twice, the second time without a guide, entirely on his own. When I went (4th person out of 5) I was scared like all the rest but also really enjoyed it, but I didn´t go a second time, that was enough for one day.

Oh and I forgot to mention that we had a crowd. We were doing this in front a family of 10 locals who live on the hillside nearby and their army of as many annoying barking dogs. One of which, a chihuahua, nearly lost it´s life to the waterfall gods. It was literally teetering over the edge and when they tried to grab it, it flinched away from them and I was sure I was going to hear little dog yelps down to the very bottom. Luckily however the rat dog did not fall because that would have ruined our day.

And what a way to continue our day but to be invited to a friend´s fancy hotel, have a nice lunch and enjoy the pool, jacuzzi! and sauna. That was amazing. This is a friend of Hernando´s cousin who we met once before who was terribly sweet to invite us riffraff to enjoy the hotel´s amenities. And if hadn´t been for Laura we wouldn´t have gone rappelling at all, wouldn´t have known we could.

We spent the night drinking beer and aguardiente, the local favorite liquor-- horroble sambuca like stuff, in the main square with the other 2 rappellers from Ireland we had spent the earlier part of the day with.

That was such a highlight perhaps we´ll go white water rafting next. But don´t tell Hernando´s mom because otherwise she might chain us up in the house to keep us from leaving. Tomorrow we leave on a 36 hour bus for Caracas, Venezuela. We are hoping to see the world´s tallest waterfall in Venezuela and we´ll keep you posted.

Cheers,
Manali