Venezuela: where the Andes meet the Caribbean

Everything is way too slow and relaxed in Venezuela. No one in rush, and there is not much of an effort from anyone. Life is just happening there by itself and time doesn't have a measure. That all was just killing me. I couldn't simply relax. I needed to be in move, I needed to go places, I needed to see things.

Slowness (and hence irresponsibility) - that's the word for Venezuela. Buses are slow, tours are too long, people take their time, even to get a fresh juice was taking way too long. In most of the towns life begins with sunrise and stops with the darkness. "Take it easy", that's how the system works in Venezuela.

Food. Venezuela has summer all year long. They could grow pretty much anything and  reap a crop twice per year. But they don't. They sell fruits and juices imported from California...seriously?! They don't eat healthy. Arepas and empanadas that's pretty much all they eat. And coffee con leche of course. That's another thing that was killing me. I don't drink coffee at all. Tea every day was a must for me. But Venezuelan tea is something that tastes like boiled grass with a strong plastic taste because they boil water in plastic cups in a microwave.. I started to drink coffee. I had to.

People. Mostly very nice, friendly and helpful. I was always getting extra help with directions or buses. I was getting rides if I looked way too desperate. You just need to pick 'good' people from the crowd.

Nature. Venezuela has almost everything when it comes to natural beauty. White sand beaches by the Caribbean, northern part of the Andes, spectacular sand dunes, table mountains, waterfalls, huge Gran Sabana where only the horizon stops your sight. Venezuela is naturally beautiful, I admit it. And all those fools who don't go to Venezuela because of safety issues are missing a lot. Maybe I was lucky, or maybe it's just me and my common sense but I felt safe everywhere in Venezuela. I've heard stories of robbing, bus attacks and such but that's what people talk. But locals do say it is unsafe to travel there so I won't

All in all, everything is good, Venezuela, but something is missing. I enjoyed it, I truly did, I saw what I wanted, I did what I planned, but I didn't get that 'wow, I definitely want to come back' feeling. But maybe..not, most likely, its just me. It was the very first country of my long trip and at the beginning I couldn't get in a travel mode and then after I was a bit stressed out with all those protracted bus rides and the necessity of getting tours. Plus homesickness. Yes, I was missing a lot my family and all you, my crazy friends.

I can put a check mark for Venezuela. I have done things I planned, I have seen places I wanted. The Caribbean beaches, Coro sand dunes, Angel Falls and hike to Roraima - that's the high points of my Venezuelan adventure. Yep, it was such an adventure, and I loved it.

PS: I wouldn't be a math addict if I didn't do some numbers:

• 21  days
• 6 long-distance bus rides
• 4 nights on Couchsurfing couches, 5 nights in posadas, 6 nights in tents, 3 nights in hammocks, 3 nights on buses
• Budget: $730 spent total
• tours (Angel Falls and Roraima trek): $474
• intercity transportation: $94
• food: $92
• city transportation: $30
• accommodation: $22
• other (fees, Internet, sim card): $18

Venezuela is considering being one of the expensive countries on the South American continent, which is true, but note, I'm travelling on a budget meaning I'm happy with sleeping in dorms and eating street food.

/January 10-31, 2012/

Trek to Roraima, or how I nearly died

I have never been so god damn tired and exhausted...like physically exhausted, like when all you want is to lie down on this grass and never stand up ever again. This 6 days hike was the hardest and toughest sh!t I have ever done so far for my 24. I thought I was in shape but cruel reality slapped me in my face. I asked myself so many times why in the world so I need to claim Roraima Tepui?! But I'm so proud of myself now that I did it. If a 55-years-old Argentinian couple, a 60-years-old porter, a group of 32 Russians and another group of 10 Czechs in their 50-60s could do it, I guess I could do it too.

Day 1.
We started from a small village Paratepui at around 1pm instead of planned 11am. A group of 5: a very nice young Argentinian couple who offered me a corner in their tent, another nice Argentinian couple in their 50s, and me. We still look clean and smell nice. There were other groups starting at the same day as we were: Brits and Germans, and as I soon discovered a group of 32 Russians...like those typical Soviet Russians I could easily recognize from a mile away.

It was just 14km untill the first camp, but the distance is not the issue here. Its hot as hell, you go up and down the hills constantly and you carry at least a 15kg backpack - thats what makes the difference. I had no any difficulties walking/hiking for days but when you carry a 1/3 of your weight.. By the time we reached the first camp (after 4 hours) I was nearly dying. Like a zombie I helped with setting up a tent, dinner and I continued dying in a tent.

Day 2.
I woke up with a stoned numb back after the previous day and because of sleeping on the ground. Catwashing myself in the river, breakfast and another 6 hours up/down the hill walk till the next camp.

7pm and I went to sleep lullabying by 32 Russians singing Russian gypsy songs around the imaginary fireplace. And I asked...not any God, not anyone specifically, I just asked for help because tomorrow was supposed to be the hardest day climbing up the mountain; and I got that help. I slept like a baby and in my dreams that night I saw my old good friends from Irkutsk and New York, I saw my parents and my brother, and I felt so good and warm, I felt all their support. Might sound silly but that's what matters when you are about to climb a mountain for God knows what reason.

Day 3.
I woke up full of energy ready to climb. Surprisingly how I was literally dying at the first two days and how my body could adjust for toughness just within 2 days. 3km and 2 hours up from 1873 to 2650 attitude through rain and mud and we were at the top. YAY.

My happiness was endless when I saw our camp for the next 2 nights. It was just a cave, or hoteles how they call them here.

Day 4.
But my happiness easlily vanished when it rained the whole night and didn't stop in the morning. It wasn't just raining, it was pouring. They said Roraima sent the rain because the night before 32 Russians were singing and dancing. Roraima doesn't like any noise and you better keep your mouth shut once you reach the base camp and on the top of the tepui.

We were supposed to walk around but our guide told us to wait for rain to calm down a bit. We waited...and waited, and waited for some more, then a little more, and then a bit more. It finally kinda sorta cleared and we decided to go.

Its like another planet there. Thats probably how the earth looked like at a dinosaurs age. Ancient plans, ribbon waterfalls, graceful arches, strange rock formation, valleys brimming with quarts, crystaline pools in a massive sinkhole. Even with pouring rain it was Wow. I could only imagine how magically beautiful its there with sunshine.

We got soaked to the skin. I had only my underwear dry. I took off the wet nastyness, didn't wait for dinner and just hybernated in my lovely sleeping bag.

Day 5.
I opened my eyes and could still hear the damn rain. Oh well we had to start getting down. Because of 2 days of non-stop rain we had to cross a bunch of waterfalls on our way down (they weren't there on our way up) and 2 rivers that now were up to to my waist on our way to the first camp.

First river...there is a robe accross the river, the stream is damn strong, and we took our boots off to cross the river just in socks. I was somewhere in the middle of the river fighting against the rapid stream when I felt that something fell off the side pocket of my backpack...my boot...my beloved hiking boots I especially bought for this trip. My mortification was deep and endless when I was following with my eyes my lovely boot taking away from me by the river. I teared up when I realized that I had another full day of walking barefoot now because those were the only shoes I had with me for Roraima trek. My grievance changed to anger...for the weather, for the rain that made the rivers go up, for me not securing my boots good enough. I showed the middle finger to Roraima and that was my good bye. My face was Mexicanish brown. My legs were muscly and covered with puri puri bites (little invisible motherfuckers literally ate me; 2 weeks after the trek and I still suffer from those bites). First thing I did once we returned to Santa Elena...I bought myself a bigass box of extra chocolate galletas. Because I deserved it.

/January 25-30, 2012/

Kerepakupai Vena or the waterfall named after a gringo

A small plane took me and 4 other exploreres to a remote indigenous village Canaima that is the closest population center to the Angel Falls. Canaima is actually half a tourist camp as well, a bunch of hammock-strung lodges. Ohhh hell I did beg God for that old tub would fly and take us safely through that 40min flight.

The terrain outside the plane is mind-blowing; Gran Sabana got my approve. The tepuis are on all sides - the enigmatic flat-topped mountains that inspired Conan Doyle's dinosaur-hunting classic The Lost World.

A not-sober-looking local guide met me by my arrival and assigned me to the group: an Austrian couple and 2 stalwart Norwegian brothers. I probably will never stop to be surprised by the crazyness of some people; crazyness in a good way. That was 60-years-old couple from Austria, they got a sabbatical from work (just like me, lol) and decided to go explore the Caribbean. What would your 60-years-old parents/grandparents do in this case? Right. They would get 'all inclusive' cruise tour. But those Austrians were not of the 'normal' ones. They got a boat and crossed the Atlantic ocean within 3 weeks and by that day were boating from one island to another in the Caribbean for already 6 months. Just two of them on the freaking boat. They also told me that in the hippie times they got a small truck and drove all the way from Austri to India and back within a year or so through all Europe, Iran, Afganistan, Middle East and so on.. And I was like...I thought I'm crazy for what I'm doing now (that's at least what every single person says once they know about my trip)...but if they can happily travel in their 60s proving that you are never too old to travel, then I guess I have plenty of time for the rest of the world.

It was a 3-days tour. We got to Isla Anatoly on the first day to see and mostly to walk behind and under the Salto Sapito and Salto Sapo. Have you ever walked behind the waterfalls? Oh man...that's just unbelievibly incredible! You see all that tremendous amount of water first and the next moment you are behind it feeling the power of the waterfall! It can easily spread you over the rocks, and thats frightening.

Next day, after a 3 hours banana boat ride, with the stoned like asses we arrived at our jungle lodge. Another hour walk through the rainforest...

...and here we are.. the Angel Falls in it's glory. Powerful...that's the word for it. We stay there in silent for a good couple of minutes. The Pemon believe that the waterfall is alive; I could understand why then.

You can fascinatedly see the physics of the waterfall cascade. At the very top its descent, the waterfall sticks together in traditional style. Then it breaks up and becomes a series of separate white bits of water shooting to earth. Then there are ringlets. And then it turns to dust, foaming out in all directions, some of which never makes it to the bottom at all, but vanishes into air.

The allure of Angel Falls is not just that it is the world's highest waterfall and they 18 times loftier than Niagara Falls. It's also all that folklore that surrounds them. Jimmy Angel, a first world war pilot and a gold-hunter flew to Canaima in 1935 in his Cessna looking for the mythical city of El Dorado, but instead discovered the longest bit of vertical river on Earth. Angel crash-landed his plane on the summit of Auyantepui, near the plunge-point of the falls, then spent 12 days slashing his way back to civilisation through virgin rainforest. The island in the Canaima's lagoon, Isla Anatoly, was named after a Russian gold prospector, who settled on the island in search for some gold but became a local witchdoctor. The island was then inhabited by Tomas Bernal, a Peruvian from Ayacucho who bought it from Anatoly. When Tomas first arrived at Canaima he lived for almost 10 years as a hermit in a cave next to the Sapo Falls.

Next morning we woke up in the jungle to see THAT; I swear I cried.

/January 21-23, 2012/

"Tranquilo, mami, the bus will come eventually."

Another bus story for you, my lovely friends. That's the part of the adventures I guess - you're either seeing places or you're on the road heading to those places.


So I haven't thought in the world that I would have any problems buying bus tickets in Venezuela. But I was silly to think so. Flight tickets are expensive and most of the flights uncomfortably fly through Caracas so buses are popular among the Venezuelan population.


After coming back from hiking around Mérida I desperately needed to get to Ciudad Bolivar that is pretty much across the country. Being sure that there are tickets with no worry I arrived at the Terminal de Pasajeros. But the lady at the ticket booth with no worry as well told me that "no hay boletos para hoy" ... - ":( ... y para mañana?" ... - "no tengo'.... - ":o" ... - "sólo para domingo" ...which is in 3 days. Crap! I don't have spare 3 days for vegging out in Mérida. Plus the buses to Ciudad Bolivar run only from Barinas which is another 5 hours from  Mérida. And its 12 hours on the bus to Ciudad Bolivar (well Venezuelan 12 hours that turned out to be 16 hours in real time-space continuum).


So I either just go to Barinas and try my luck there or I stay in Mérida for another 3 days blaming myself for being not organized enough (lol, not sure if anyone could ever be more organized than I am). In such cases the final word rests with the coin. I tossed the 50 centavos and it said to go to Barinas today; so I settled on that.


Long story short...I arrived in Barinas at 11:30pm and was told that there is a bus to Ciudad Bolivarnat 12am. 'Sweet', I thought. ...too soon, too soon.... "Tranquilo, tranquilo, mi amor", a ticket booth man was telling me when I was impatiently walking around bus terminal at way past 1am. I already counted all the cockroaches they had at that bus terminal when the double-decker finally arrived...at way past 2am.


After everyone got on the bus, I was told to go to the second floor that there seats available. But, alas, as was expected bus was full. Question marks in my eyes, and the ticket booth man pointed to the driver cabin. VIP seat?! Yay! I didn't even know whether I should be happy or disappointed. Oh well, I had no choice. I got a seat in the front row, more legs room, and 2 nice bus drivers, one of those happened to speak a very little English and was asking tons of questions about Russia, Putin, Russian women, politics and economics.. He was also talking a lot about Chaves, Venezuela in general and Estados Unidos while the smooth and even road were taking us to Ciudad Bolivar..

Oh and about Venezuelan bus drivers... two-storeyed bus full of people, serpentine road, manual transmission... and they talk on the phone, read, drive with one hand, eat (bastards ate all my cookies..). For those of you who know... guess they beat my yellow-cab driving skills, lol.

/January 20, 2012/

"Hay muchos turistas para Sierra Nevada?" - "No, sois unicos."

Arriving in Mérida with a refreshing mountain air at 6am was such a relief after a 12h night bus ride from Coro. Bustling college town Mérida and surrounding small mountain villages are a prime area for hiking, trekking and a wide range of other adventure sports in Venezuela.

Not being a hardcore climber myself (not yet?) and not willing to pay some extra hundred $s for a tour we just grabbed a tent nicely provided by our local friend, got some cooked goodies at a local supermercado and hopped on a bus to a nearby small town Barinas.

The road is serpentined and a view from a bus window is picturesque when we're passing by all those indigenous villages. Going up to 3550m I could already feel the blood rushing in my head and my heart beating faster.

The bus driver was supposed to drop us off at a tiny village Mucubaji where the trail starts. But as I  forecasted the fussy helper at the bus station got us on a wrong bus. 2 Venezuelan hours turned to be 4. It was about 4km left to Mucubaji from the place where the bus driver said to us good bye. We started to walk..up to hill..stupidly thinking it would be easy..but ha...the attitude and the damn heavy backpacks were doing their dirty jobs. Screw this sh!t. I raised a thumb and before we realized, we were in the back of the truck whirling away to Mucubaji. That was easy for a very first hitchhiking experience.

After a couple of minutes, here we were - at one of the three major spines of the Venezuelan Andes - the Sierra Nevada. We walked around by laguna Mucubaji (a small lake surrounded by the mountains); and we were on our way to Laguna Los Patos to find a spot for camping. It was a very wide valley with mountains on each side and with inquisitive wild horses grazing around.

A quick field dinner, we set up a tent and were ready to go to sleep...at 6pm. It was dark and there was no moon; tight fog slowly and ominously was coming down from the mountains to the valley. There were signs about los ojos... 'That is damn scary' thought I and buried myself deep inside my sleeping bag.

...I remembered this commercial and was begging this not to happen...

(every time my dad saw this commercial he would just silently point at me meaning something like "that's you one day", lol..)

I couldn't sleep because the headache was killing, my ears were popped and my eyes were in pain; plus even in my 30F sleeping bag it was slightly but still cold. I gathered myself up and went outside of the tent....and daaaaamn....los ojos you would think...but luckily (or unluckily?) no.... A crystal clean sky with millions... no, billions of stars! I have never in my so-long-already life seen such a ginormous sky full of stars! I sit there for a bit and could 'see' the earth moving. I just felt so small and vulnerable.

We woke up because of neighed horses; morning wash in the waterfall and we headed back.

It wasn't one of the 'wow' hikes (that hopefully will be Peruvian Andes), but it was good and pleasant enough for the very first time considering adjusting to the attitude and preparing my already surprisingly strong enough body to more hardcore hikes in the eastern Venezuelan highlands and later in Argentina/Chile and Peru.

/January 18-19, 2012/

Unesco World Heritage city and sand dunes

A small colonial city Coro welcomed us with pleasant sea breeze, pretty historical mansions and noisy students at the bus stop that couldn't stop asking me why I came to Venezuela, how much was the ticket from Russia, why am I so skinny, and why I want to see sand dunes los Medanos (because per them "eww sand will be everywhere").

Coro mostly visited only as the entry point to the magnificent sand dunes of the Parque Nacional Los Médanos de Coro. And we were not an exception. A short bus ride from the center of the bustling city and you can't believe your eyes...a spectacular desert landscape with sand dunes of 30m in height.

/January 16-17, 2012/

The Caribbean

How Venezuelan go to the beach? They take a tent, a couple of bottles of Rum and... that's it. A couple of good friends, 2 hours drive and you're at a nice coastal town Puerto Colombia; it's full of locals who came there to spend a weekend.

Night in a posada and a 40min boat ride to a remote beach next morning. Enjoying Caribbean breeze while passing by Playa Grande and Playa Chuao...but those are not for us.

A couple of minutes more and we reached the one we need - Playa Cepe..

..Bbg and arepas for dinner...

..fresh coconuts for breakfast...

..sleeping in a hammack under the sky full of stars that could be seen through the palm trees...

(except when you're waking up in the middle of the night because someone is throwing up very badly somewhere in the river close to you)...

..and jumping in the water from a cliff before we headed back to civilization.

/January 14-15, 2012/

Música, compa!

Ay dios mio..... that's all I could say after a 2-hours bus ride from a busy metropolis Maracay to a small coastal town Puerto Colombia through Venezuela's oldest national park, Parque Nacional Henri Pittier.

Ok, imagine. Maracay, quite big and busy typical Venezuelan city. After a lazy afternoon at the college pool where our host works we were picked up by another local couchsurfer to go a la playa.

We waited for a good hour for a bus at the chaotic, no-rules-whatsoever bus terminal that was supposed to arrive at some point and take us to Puerto Colombia. We were lucky; hippie looking bus with a sign 'Regalame una noche' arrived. And then there was a ride..

Bus goes through Parque Nacional Henri Pittier; paved road goes up the hill (1830m)...one way road and the darkest darkness. Friday night; bus is full and there are people standing. We barely drove off from Maracay when people start drinking. Venezuelan rum I believe. From the bottles. "Música, compa!" - we heard from the back of the bus. And that's when the fun began. Aventura, Calle 13, Tego Calderon and some other famous Venezuelan reggaeton and salsa bands. That IS fun you would think. But wait for the rum to kick in their bloodstreams. The whole bus was singing along every song. Standing people were even dancing. Add to  that a gorgeous view of night Maracay from the bus window and the winding curved road. Such a bus ride..

/January 13, 2012/

Caraqueños de Caracas

I've met only the sweetest people ever so far. At the airport, on the buses, in the hospital (where I got free Yellow Fever shot). Somehow they don't understand my broken Spanish (I wonder why), but they all think I do understand them though. Also I noticed that I talk Rusospanglish...or Sparusish...or Englishspasian...lol. Well, it's really just a mess in my head right now.

They also truly happy to know that soy Rusa, but they truly can't understand why in the world I came to Venezuela. "You either need to speak Spanish or to be strong and be able to defence yourself", told me a lovely lady who helped me to find el metro. And when I told her that I like those colorful houses on the top of the hill (el barrios), she said nothing, but I could read "Are you f-n' kidding me?!" in her eyes.

Caraqueños are beautiful.... very good looking and pleasant to look at. Especially señoritas. Oh my...stunning beauty queens with slightly choco skin, shiny hair and charming smile. They are not overweighted, they are with curves. Tiny waists and legit curves. Do I glance back? Yes. Do I lust? .... Oh lucky you, Venezuelan men. And since I've already been to a couple of cities in Venezuela I can be sure - my eyes will be pleased everywhere in Venezuela.

[insert here a picture of any Beauty Queen produced by Venezuela]

What else makes Caracas? Pollution. Terrible suffocated pollution. Yes, Venezuela sells gas cheaper than the freaking water (for $1 you get 70litres of gas or 1litre of water :O), but c'mon there is no air to breathe! After  the second day in Caracas I could feel my lungs filled with all that exhaust gas. Plus Caracas is not pedestrian-friendly at all. So in Caracas you either die from the gas poisoning or by a mototaxi running you over when you're crossing the road by a pedestrian crossing with a green light for you.

/January 11-12, 2012/

4 transfers? Yes, please.

Such a day...the longest flight commute I have ever taken: NYC - Atlanta - Aruba - Curacao - Caracas. 4 flights for only getting to Caracas. And 2 of them were badly delayed. And guess which ones? Right; the ones departing from Aruba and Curacao. I smiled unintentionally when I realized it, remembering that I have been told so many times that everything is slow and late in Latin America. When a guy in the check-in line asked a lady who works in the airport if it is fine that the registration time is over and that the plane leaves in 30 minutes and that there are still like 30-40 people in front of him in the line, the lady just told him that "its okaaaaay, the plane leaves whenever everybody finishes" =O Just like they say here in Caracas...they test your patience. And looks like no one ever in rush for anything.

After seeing such a stunning sunset trough the plane's window...

...I had been both cheered up and disappointed.

Two lovely señoritas at the customs were so happy to know that soy de Rusia and that estaré viajarlo por Venezuela para tres semanas that they told me after that I should definitely pruebe las arepas =)

But after getting to my host's home I couldn't find a nice metal water bottle that I stupidly stuffed last minute into the side pocket of my backpack that I checked-in in Aruba =( The world responses to our actions...if you act stupid you will get what you deserve.

/January 10, 2012/

On the Road again!

So here I am again…a pregnant hamster on the road. One backpack on my back, another one in front…for balance. 22lb behind, 11lb in front….almost one third of my weight. That’s right; my current weight of January 9th is exactly 99lb. As it might sound terrified to some people out there who beg the scale to show the little number, I’m gonna beg the empanadas, the arepas and the pao de queijo to do the opposite trick.

I'll tell you something. Packing skills do magic, kids. Not like real magic-magic…like Hermione with her magic handbag, but normal human being packing skills. Oh, and by the way, I adore Amazon.com. I didn’t have to go through this torture of shopping for most needed essentials for the trip. Have you ever packed for a 6-months worth of trip?.. My little pumpkin-colored 45L backpack is stuffed…seriously stuffed. I already regretted million times taking so much crap with me, but God bless my shoulders and my legs.

"Why the hell Latin America?"

"Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends, but is played out over and over again in the quietest chambers. The mind can never break off from the journey." – Pat Conroy

It was the end of January 2010 when the plane landed in the freezing cold Irkutsk taking me away from my blistering hot 2-month-long South East Asian adventure. And since then, just like Pat said, my mind could never break off from the journey.

The dream of 'Cruzando las Americas por la Tierra' has been sitting deep inside in my little head for such a long time. Since probably I stepped for the first time back in 2008 on the great land of Estados Unidos and got to hear alive, for the first time also, this mellifluous language called Español. After returning back to Mother Russia I studied Spanish for a good 6 months and was overwhelmed by the fact that I could actually speak it. But sadly the children' rhyme about Abuela y su Camello is all I can remember now by heart. The rest is buried somewhere deep inside the left hemisphere of my brain. So that's one of the answers to a "Why Latin America?". I want to speak Spanish, not to translate it from English/Russian, but talk in it.

Have you seen pictures of a flat-top mountain Roraima in Venezuela? Or sand dunes of Lençóis Maranhenses National Park in Brazil? Or el Perito Moreno glacier in Los Glaciares National Park in Argentina? Or clouds reflected in the Salar de Uyuni lake in Bolivia? Or sunrise in Torres del Paine National Park in Chile? Of trails around Huayhuash mountains in Peru? Or trekking to Ciudad Perdida in Colombia? Not to mention Amazon jungle with its wildlife and many other breath-taking natural wonders that are out there waiting for you?! That's another answer to a "Why?" question.

Indigenous cultural diversity of Latin American population with many ethnic groups… that just says everything for itself. I want to be among those people and to see their lives. Yet another reason.

I’m not doing this trip just because I want to travel somewhere. Here it's specifically my willing to explore [and preferably conquer] the Latin American continent.

PS: oh who am I kidding?!…The one and only reason is THIS.