Venezuela by Daniele Somenzi

Venezuela by Daniele Somenzi posted by iviaggididaniele [24/01/2009 16:14] I land from the Caribbean in Caracas with American Airlines. The first impact is violent, since after changing the local currency, the bolivar, I discover that the taxi driver, for 5 km, just to the outskirts of the airport, took a huge amount of money from me, having understood that I was a naive newcomer.

Moreover, the hotel — if we can call it that — was depressing, worse than a hostel; the room, without pictures, mouldy and dark. Just as well I was near the airport, ready for the escape, and in any case I had to stay only one day in Caracas; my programme foresaw that.

A few steps outside, just the time to see the degradation on the Naples model, with dirt everywhere. I feared they'd steal the camcorder I'd left in the room; I ate quickly and off to bed.

In the morning a taxi takes me back to the airport without cheating me this time, and there I buy for just 10 $ a plane ticket with the Aeropostal airline, MD80, for Ciudad Guayana on the Orinoco river, and here too the guy at the ticket desk didn't want to give me the change from the ticket; then at my shout he gave it to me. But what kind of place is this? Everyone wants to cheat you; just as well that, being Italian, I'm, so to speak, a bit used to these things.

Here I discover for the first time in my life that the seat on the plane is not assigned in advance on the boarding pass, but is free.

Like Ryanair. The crush when they opened the gate, though, I didn't expect; everyone started running towards the plane door to grab the best seats, which then I didn't understand which they are — some like to sit in the middle and others at the window, like me. Absurd. Moreover, I could understand it if the flight were 10 hours, but this one is an hour. Mah.

Finally we take off. Bye Bye Caracas; I also learned that the day before, in the centre, there had been violent demonstrations because the government had raised the price of bread.

Arriving in Ciudad Guayana, in a taxi like the soft-sprung American cars of the 1930s, I have myself taken to the long-distance bus station. You should know that throughout South America there are fairly efficient international connections from one capital to another. I buy a ticket that takes me as far as Manaus in Brazil, passing through the Trans-Amazonian.

A shame that it was 10 in the morning and the only bus leaves in the evening; anyway I already have the ticket in hand and I'm calm, it's just a matter of waiting a few hours.

Finally, in almost darkness, the bus arrives and I immediately realise that this isn't the departure station because it was already full — no, what am I saying, packed, so much so that as I was getting on the driver tells me get off, it's all full. WHAT?

Can't you see all the seats are taken? Two Scandinavian European guys were getting on with me, and they like me didn't want to leave 24 hours later, so we sat down on the floor in the aisle. And I must say that we, with our backpacks as pillows, were the most comfortable and stretched out. Just as well. And so we travel all night to the Venezuela-Brazil border, where we stretch a bit to show our passports to the customs officers.

There we discover that our bus doesn't go beyond and that a little further on a Brazilian is waiting for us.

On that one I find a seat, and besides the 2 Scandinavians I meet a Swiss guy who also speaks a little Italian — so much the better, a bit of company doesn't hurt; I also notice that the 2 nuns sitting further forward are Italian missionaries, but I don't get the chance to exchange words with them.

Having taken stock of my Venezuela, negative, I don't think I'll be back. bye