Margarita Island and Mochima National Park

Isla Margherita

We left Bolivia from its capital, frozen and with a great desire for sea and sun. Our next destination promised to satisfy our needs, Caribbean sea, white beaches and enviable temperatures: we were flying towards the Venezuelan paradise. The trip lasted quite a while also because of the technical stop we made in Lima. In the early afternoon we arrived at the international airport of Caracas still without a precise idea about what we wanted to do. Everyone had warned us about the extreme dangerousness of the capital and in general of the whole country. Perhaps also for this reason, aided by the falling darkness, we decided to move to the domestic airport to catch another aircraft with an unknown destination. As soon as we arrived at the new airport, we were stormed by the various tour operators and bombarded with news about the possible destinations.

The valid alternatives were essentially three: Canayman, Isla Margarita and the archipelago of Los Roques. We procrastinated and thought for a long time about the best economic and geographic solution, coming, with no small hesitation, to prefer initially a flight to Isla Margarita. No sooner said than done, the time to withdraw (with much difficulty) the money and we were in line for a new check-in: forty-five minutes later we were still in front of a baggage carousel, this time indeed at Isla Margarita. In addition to the flight, our trusted tour operator also offered us a night in a sort of holiday village, all inclusive. Even if the price was a little high, the alternatives at our disposal were in any case few and the desire to relax after the Bolivian cold won out.

Arrived at the airport we grabbed the cheapest taxi on the market and had ourselves taken as far as Playa el Agua, one of the best beaches in the north of the island. To reach the Porta del Sol resort we shot forty-five minutes by car with a Formula One ace, who heedless of pedestrians and traffic lights took us across the whole island from south to north in record time: reckless! The first impression of the resort justified the economic effort we had taken on: pool, buffet and cable television are luxuries we were not used to. It did not take long to adapt to the new situation and once the luggage was settled we were already seated at the restaurant since for us it would be the first meal of the day.

We forgot to add that the service included breakfast, lunch and dinner strictly buffet-style: greedy! Once the stomach was settled and after having watched dances and dancing strictly to the rhythm of salsa and merengue, it was time to rest our head on the pillow and take a well-deserved nap.

The following morning, fresh as a rose, we headed towards the beach. By now a month and a half had passed since the last time our feet were immersed in the sand and our nostrils breathed that pleasant smell of the sea: definitely too long! The wind or rather the bora ruled the day making it practically impossible to place our towel on the ground, even the sea seemed furious and we had no other choice but to go back to lie down at the pool. As usual time flies when you're having fun and in no time at all even this first day of sun and heat had reached its end. After the usual dancing show we headed towards our little room for a dose of cinema and bed.

For the following day we had set ourselves to leave the island since, despite the very pleasant stay at the resort, the things to do were not many. And so after the usual abundant breakfast we went towards the beach to gather information about the ferries. Our ideas for the next destinations had cleared up fairly well: after Isla Margarita, thanks to a ferry we would reach Puerto La Cruz, the starting base for the very renowned Muchima National Park. Right in front of the main entrance of the resort a bold big lad, who organised tours on the island, provided us with the information regarding the ferries to reach the mainland. Unfortunately for our pockets, luckily for our physical well-being we were forced to stay one more day at the very expensive Porta del Sol. The rest of the day we spent in complete relaxation among sun, cocktails and pool.

Mochima National Park

The following day, having prepared the luggage and done the usual check-out procedures, we headed towards the port where the ferry to the mainland awaited us. After an hour of ferry here is Puerto La Cruz. From here we had to reach the Mochima park and the solutions at our disposal were three: bus, taxi or super fast little boats. First of all as soon as we disembarked we were assailed by the taxi drivers who offered us various destinations at various prices. Also this time we had to make a decision and as usual we did not have clear ideas. One thing was certain we could not remain there like mummies otherwise the taxi drivers would have eaten us alive. We opted to take a taxi to the bus station and once there we would decide whether to continue our journey by taxi or take a bus.

Having got on the General Lee we arrived in a little more than five minutes at what was supposed to be the bus station: it took little time inside the city centre to understand what was in the air. The danger was clearly perceptible, perhaps for the first time in all our long wandering we can say we were afraid. The decision had become practically obligatory and having got back into our General Lee we continued as far as the park. The journey lasting about an hour wound between lush vegetation on our right and spectacular bays on our left. Our final destination was a small village that bore the same name as the park itself: Mochima. To get there one had to move away from the "Main Road" and go into tortuous and dilapidated little alleys that descended towards the sea. The more we descended the more we asked ourselves where we would end up.

The landscape became more and more desolate and once we arrived at our destination the situation had not improved; the village was made up of four houses, two souls, three boats and one restaurant: mystical! Our concern was first of all to verify whether among those four available houses there was one that could host us. On the suggestion of a local boatman we headed towards a posada that overlooked right onto the main square. After numerous rings of the bell here came out from behind an iron door, strictly double-locked, Juan Lemos, a deaf and likeable little old man who was approaching his century of life. He showed us that hole that he called a room and given the scant alternatives we accepted his offer.

Once the suitcases were unpacked there was not much else to do: in two minutes and thirty seconds we had done the entire tour of the village then heading towards the boatmen to negotiate a possible tour for the following day. Our trust, alas, fell on the same person who had recommended the Juan Lemos residence and after having fixed price and destinations we returned to our little house. It was still mid-afternoon but our daily activities could already be considered concluded; the frenetic life we had become used to had suddenly clashed with the peaceful calm of this small village. We recovered the four chairs present in the corridor and placed them alongside those of the landlord to try to have a chat with him.

As every good old man worthy of respect he began to tell us about his life and did not accept interruptions; to the few questions we managed to ask he always replied: "Tengo 94 anos"! The great and perhaps only daily event was dinner consumed in the only restaurant open after eight, an excellent fish and a very particular café offered us a boost of life. A digestive walk to fool the clock and at ten in the evening we were already in bed.

The following morning, trusting that the tour could fill our day at best, we reached our faithful boatman and set off towards Playa Blanca. The tour included an itinerary among the most "popular" bays and beaches of the park and then settle in the one we liked most. In reality the boatman, being a good boatman, fobbed us off with a sort of rip-off, taking us almost directly to Playa Blanca. The beach was very crowded even though the water was really very beautiful and crystal clear. Having disembarked we had to forcibly rent two deckchairs to get a corner of beach. After a couple of hours we began to get bored, feeling imprisoned in that paradise. Between one swim and another the agreed time for our pick-up had now arrived but of the boatman there was not even a shadow.

The sun was beginning to set behind the hills and people were beginning to board the little boats to return to the port while we were still there like three "dummies" waiting for who knows whom, who knows what. After an hour of delay we began to get alarmed: we were the only guests left on the beach! Asking for clarification from the owner of the only bar present (while he too was leaving), we managed to get a lift from two guys who we later discovered were friends of our reckless boatman. Arrived really tired at casa Lemos we took a shower and went to consume a well-deserved little dinner obviously based on fish in the same little restaurant of the previous evening.

The next day we woke up greeted by the rain; given the impossibility of going to the beach we had the possibility to work on our website. In the placid calm and in the spectral silence of that small village lost in the sea we once again appreciated the pleasure of writing and of losing ourselves in our thoughts.

The following day, national holiday of Venezuela (5 July), we left Mochima to head towards the capital.