Venezuelan Snapshot

The original plan was to return to Caracas from Rio, meet up with Michelle, and begin the South American leg of the journey. Plans have a way of changing though, often in situations completely out of one’s control. I caught the red-eye to Caracas and after fighting with taxi drivers at the airport who tried to charge me $100 for a ride into the city, I finally found the right bus which dropped me at the Gato Negro Metro station. From there I got a dose of unexpected hospitality when a gentleman in the Metro took me directly to the large bus terminal and found a ticket seller for the town I wanted to get to: Merida. The bus was not leaving until 6 pm that night so I now had a good 8 hours to kill in one of the least desirable cities in South America.
I made the best of it and took the Metro back downtown and checked out the obligatory Simon Bolivar statue and accompanying square and tried some local street snacks. Bolivar is a hero throughout Venezuela and Colombia, where every town has a Bolivar square and statue. It was Bolivar who began a revolution in the early 1800s and eventually led these nations to victory, gaining their independence over Spanish colonial rule.
I checked my email, something I had neglected to do for over a week as I had been enjoying my time with Eric and not wanting to waste it in an Internet cafe. I read with great shock that Michelle had decided it would be best if we parted ways for the rest of the South American trip. And just like that, a new game plan was in order. The ticket for Merida was bought and paid for and at least I’d be close to Colombia, as I’d been hearing some horror stories of blonde girls getting pulled off buses in Venezuela. Everyone thinks Colombia is the dangerous country, but recently Venezuela has been far surpassing Colombia. I covered my head for the entire night bus to Merida but the trip was uneventful and in Merida, I found a friendly colonial town, with colourful buildings on streets that climbed steeply up the surrounding foothills of the Andes. I stayed at a posada (home stay with a family) called Suiza and am given a large and wonderfully comfortable bed.
Life, just like plans, can change in an instant and I met a couple that morning at the Posada Suiza who would be responsible for a change in my life and general well being for the next few weeks. David and Tracey Couch, a couple from England who are a year and a half into a two year, around the world, backpacking honeymoon invited me for a walk into the local villages that afternoon and a fast friendship soon formed. We originally planned on taking the bus to a village called Mucuchies but didn’t make it that far, as the villages before it looked intriguing enough. Farmers sell huge strands of garlic on the side of the road along with fruit wines, honey, and strawberries covered in real whipped cream. We hitched a ride to a larger village named Tabay and had a local specialty, pabellon criollo (a plate of shredded, salty beef, rice, black beans, cheese, and fried plantain) for lunch.
The reason the three of us have come to Merida is to ride the longest and highest teleferico (cable car) in the world but we are disappointed to discover it is closed down indefinitely. Two German tourists died on it several years ago and now one of the supporting stations has a crack in it. I walked out to the platform and saw rusty cables and was glad it was shut down. The ride up the mountains would have been beautiful, however and there is even snow at the peaks.
With no reason to stay in Venezuela and as I’m getting broker by the day because of the awful exchange rate I got at the airport for my US dollars (I neglected to discover the black market rate is triple the official exchange rate) the three of us leave early Monday, March 2nd for Colombia. Leaving Venezuela the view is breathtaking. Villages sprawl on the mountains and steep cliffs line the sides of the narrow highway that leads us through the Andes. Crossing into Colombia, we walk across a long bridge with a mixture of cars, trucks, farm animals, and other pedestrians to armed guards waiting at the border. We get our passport stamped with no problems and at dusk, are officially in Colombia. Our destination is a small village about two hours north of Bogota called Villa de Leyva. As Tracey booked another night bus for us to the neighbouring town of Tanjay, David and I hunt down some dinner and our first taste of Colombia: arepas. The greasy concoctions are corn flour, made into dough and filled with a slightly bitter cheese and then either deep fried or baked and are a staple street food on every corner. It would take us a total of 26 hours and 7 buses through the Andes and surrounding countryside to reach our destination.