Venezuela though new eyes

I constantly say that there are very few places that I wouldn’t go, and until December 2004, Venezuela ranked very high on that list. With Venezuela ranked the murder capital of the world, making the State Department’s list travel advisory list, and just a month after the re-election of Bush (people I met in various parts of my pre-election travels had very informed opinions who I should vote for) and the controversial re-election of Chavez, I arrived in Venezuela prepared for the worst. The port where my ship docked was in La Jolla. A place where we were informed before debarking was in pirated waters and, within moments of getting off the ship, I saw an Interpol car sitting in the parking lot and I started to rethink getting off the ship.
I quickly learned that most of the warnings we were given about Venezuela should be taken with a grain of salt. Muggings happen because people are hungry. They want money and that’s it. If you are mugged, just give up your money and you’ll be fine. Oh, and the murders, well, unless you plan on pissing off the mafia you’ll be fine.

Quick Tips:

Venezuela, for me, was about seeing my own country though new eyes and overcoming misconceptions. My biggest suggestion is to talk to everyone.
Find a school to visit where you can teach English. I was surprised to find children whose English was comparable to any native English speaker. The best part is that they want to learn about you. They all wanted to know how to spell my name and what I did for a living. These kids are also as funny and warm as they are smart.
Get to know your tour guides. They will give you good deals if you keep using the same tour guide and will help you find a taxi even if you a doing a day independently. They gave me a perspective on Venezuela that I would have never seen without them.
Talk politics to everyone; however keep your personal views out of it. Venezuelans are passionate about politics. Even those who claim to be not very interested can talk for hours about Chavez. Keep your opinions to yourself unless you know very well who you are talking to. Bring up the subject while in a taxi. Rides can be long during rush hour so casually point out the graffiti that you see and ask what it says. All of the graffiti in Venezuela is political.

Carry money in various places (pockets, socks, bra, etc.). That way if you get mugged you wont be left somewhere high and dry.
Stay away from the barrios. They are the slums and even Venezuelans stay away. These are dangerous and can be found throughout the country especially in Caracas. At night, the taxis don’t stop. If you need one, go to the taxi pickups that can be found at malls. Once you get in, hold on because these cars won’t stop for anything including stoplight for fear of getting hijacked. This makes for an exciting ride, most of which takes place while flying though the air. This brings me to the next tip: don’t try to take a picture while riding in a taxi. Hanging out the window st the best way to get a concussion. Especially when you go over a bump at 100mph. However, if you can time the picture while being airborne then you’ll get an amazing picture.

Best Way To Get Around:

Taxis were the best way that I found to get around. However, each cab will charge you a different price. One ride from La Jolla to Caracas cost us per person, while another ride came to for everyone in the car. Negotiate the price before you get into the car and give them just that when you get out. Don’t let people pressure you for more money. If you can speak Spanish, it will help you get a better deal.
The bus system may also be an option. It’s extremely cheap, but much slower then a taxi. The schedule of pick-up and drop-off is also non-existent and random.
How I got around the most, outside of traveling between La Jolla and Caracas, was via tour guide. This was the best way that I found to get to a beach or other “off the beaten track” places to visit.

Squeezing 10 people into the back of a truck, we set off into the Venezuelan jungle for what our tour guide called "costal explorer." We drove though La Jolla and were given told a little about the history. In 1999 there was a horrible flood where 30,000 people went missing. Still to this day the damage that was done to the city can be seen. Five years later areas that were hit are still waiting to be declared by the government safe to rebuild. Many of the stops that we made were in areas that couldn’t be found on maps and the name was never divulged to us. The first stop was in the village in the middle of nowhere. We were taken to see Peppy, the town monkey. He was chained to a tree and looked sickly, but the locals took great pleasure in feeding him chips.

The next stop on the trip was a beach with houses on the sand. The one advantage about traveling with a guide was that he knew where the safest beaches were. The people who live on the beach open their houses up for the tourists to change and use the bathroom. I felt strange when I was told to use their house, but when I found out that they had an arrangement made with the tour guide I felt better, but I still didn’t go in. The beach was still dangerous, because the further you go out into the water the rockier it gets. The locals showed us what was safe. Regardless of how safe the beach was or wasn’t it was glorious and we were the only tourists there.

The rest of the tour we were shown out of the way destinations. The first being a waterfall that was only a 2 minute walk from the road, but not visible to passing cars. Lunch was in another town where our tour guide had a deal with one of the restaurants owners. The small, unnamed restaurant was in the home of a family of three. While our food was being prepared the couple’s toddler entertained us by hiding and running laughing from us. On a side note the food was amazing. We were served fresh fish and fried plantains. Dessert was in another town where our tour guide grew up. The guide got us all homemade ice cream that tasted much like Italian shaved ice.

Although most of the tour guides offer the same tour but visit different places I would highly suggest getting one to show you out of the way places. They know all of the great information that you just wouldn’t know if you tried to go at it alone. At one point of the tour the guide even had us get out of the truck so that he could point out all of the flora and fauna that we saw along the road.

Nestled in the hills in the Central Mountains, Colonia Tovar takes you out of the beauty of South America and makes you feel like you have entered the Black Forest of Germany. The nearest city, Caracas, is 60km away. Although Tovar seems much like Germany, this is no accident. Germans founded it in 1843. German immigrants arriving in Venezuela were quarantined to the coast after diseases broke out on their ship. Once the quarantine was lifted, the Germans moved into the mountains to avoid the locals who were hostile to them. Until recently, the town has remained isolated in the hills.
Arriving at the entrance of the city, we saw horse-drawn carriages on the sides of the road. The houses had beautiful red roofs that reminded me of Heidelberg. Even some of the residents were dressed in German clothing.
Along the main street are stores packed with over-priced souvenirs for tourists. These stores are worth a look, but it’s the stores off of the main street where the amazing deals are. I happened into one store full of the most beautiful pottery that I’ve ever seen. The clay for the pottery came from a nearby town. They had everything from pots to incense burners. I picked up a beautiful vase with a handle. Around the neck was three clay flowers attached by hemp. Almost afraid of the price, I turned it over and found out that this vase was only $3.50. Most of the other clay items in the store were priced even less.
One of the things not to miss here is the hot chocolate. I didn’t catch the name of the place, but if you find the church—it’s off of the main street and everyone knows where it is—there is a little café across the street with a patio and chairs facing the church. The chocolate they serve is unlike anything that you’ll find in the US. They make it with much more cocoa, so if you’re addicted to US chocolate, the stuff you’ll find in Venezuela is enough to make a chocolate addict go through withdrawal.
It’s hard to take a bad photo in Colonia Tovar. Everywhere you look are lush mountains with farms cut out of the sides. The buildings are beautiful and well kept.

“Dead Man’s Path”: Anytime that I see a sign indicating that I’m soon to die, I know that it will be a good day. My group made the wise decision to stay away from the paths but, even still, we had a great deal of fun at Mount Avila. Just a note on the hiking, I was informed that these paths can be strenuous, hence the name. The paths go in various directions and go all the way from the top to the bottom of the mountain, while others wind around the top. Most of the sign are in Spanish. Many places offer tour guides who go to Mount Avila, so if you aren’t fluent in Spanish or an avid hiker, I would avoid the paths or get a tour guide.
Mount Avila around Christmas time is beautiful. Coca-Cola seems to sponsor Christmas in most countries, and Venezuela is no exception. Giant gift boxes were outside of the cable car station and inside there were cutouts where you stick your face inside a hole and you get a picture of your face on the body of a penguin or a bear next to Santa Claus.
The best way to reach the top of the mountain is by cable car. The ride to the top takes about 10 minutes and gives you an amazing view of the mountain and Caracas. The ride up was pleasant. The ride down, however, was another story. The wind picked up and the car was swinging and a, what I call a ‘danger-you-are-about-to-fall-to-your-death light began to flash.
On top of the mountain, there is enough entertainment to keep you busy for a good portion of the day. There are trails and ice-skating at the top, but we chose not to do that do to our time. The top was decorated in preparation for Christmas. There was a huge tree, decorated with Coke ornaments, and a German Village behind it with a house appropriately named the “Bier Haus.” I’m still trying to figure out the German-Venezuelan connection.
After walking around and watching kids play on a jungle gym, most of the stands started to open. I got a cheese charapa. These are wonderful. I got to watch the guy make them. They pour out a wrap that looks similar to a pancake and then they wrap it around a chunk of cheese. After that I got Hot chocolate. It tasted like a melted chocolate bar, thick and sweet, with the sweetest cream on the top.
If you arrive early, then you get to see the mountain covered in clouds, this is what they refer to as a cloud forest. As the clouds and fog lift, you do get a nice view of the mountains.

Before arriving in Venezuela, I heard enough bad things to make me reconsider what I was going there for. Only a month before Chavez won a very controversial election (think Bush-Gore election of 2000), Venezuela was one of the countries on the State Departments list of places not to travel to, and the airports were an area to avoid due to recent terrorist related activates. My ship was scheduled to arrive in La Guaira only four days after leaving Brazil. Warnings were broadcasted along the PA systems and during pre-port meetings. “Don’t talk politics to anyone”, “after 9pm cars don’t stop for anyone; it’s to dangerous,” and “under no circumstances never venture near the favelas.” On top of that came the ‘what not to do list’ which included; Caracas, the highway, the airport, any taxi, near the ocean where pirates lurk, to any tourist area, or anywhere in the shipyard where we were docked…this greatly limited my options for even leaving the ship.
When I arrived, I was determined to avoid Caracas like the plague. My first day, I was given the opportunity to teach English at a school in the middle of Caracas. I battle the idea for hours and almost turned back when I saw an Interpol car only a few hundred yards from my ship. I was about to break at least 30 of the 752 things on the list of ‘what not to do’; I got a taxi and set off to find the school. My group negotiated the taxi fare for a mini-van that looked like it came out of the war and took off on a 2 ½ hour ride from La Guaira to Caracas; this is where my reeducation began. Along every road, bridge, wall, or any surface for that matter I saw graffiti; not the average “T-dwag wuz here”, but passionate statements made for and against the current political direction of the country. After 45 minutes of avoiding the topic of politics we couldn’t help ourselves; we asked about the graffiti. This set the driver off onto a 2 hour speech about Chavez, his intentions, his victories for the people, the American backed rebels who were causing the resistance against the current presidency, the election, but most passionately how Chavez was a the pillar that kept Venezuela strong; that he was the breath, the pulse, the heartbeat of the country. His statements weren’t attacking us, but more of a plea for us to hear what Chavez had done for Venezuela. As we pulled up to the curve in Caracas our driver reassured us that he wasn’t a political man; his friends were much more passionate then he, and he rarely followed the news.
When the taxi stopped, I was apprehensive about getting out, but my group wasn’t turning back. I took a deep breath, held my bag tight, and stepped out of the car.
We found the school after a few wrong turns. Once inside, we were greeted by an employee of the school and were assigned to a classroom. Three of us quietly entered the room and sat in the back. We were in an advanced class, where we got to observe the students. At the end of the class the teacher asked them if they could go anywhere in the world where would they go and why? They all had different answers, but one group talked about how they wouldn’t go to New York because it is twice the size of Caracas and much more dangerous. I was surprised that they thought this. I was constantly warned about Caracas, “the murder capital of the world”, and my mind started to turn.
After the class was over we asked the teacher about this. She was born in Venezuela and spent many years in Texas. She said the difference was that in the US people kill because they are crazy, but in Caracas people kill because they are hungry. This stuck with me all day.
Several people in the group decided to stay for another class. The second room that I was in was with children who were around 10 years old. They were excited to interact with us and even wanted to play a game of win, lose, or draw. These kids were bright and vibrant, and so happy.
After leaving, I was overwhelmed by the experience. I realized that my fears were preventing me from experiencing the beauty of this country. Venezuela’s is truly a diamond in the rough for traveler who seeks adventure not through how many beaches they visit, but through the eyes of the people who occupy the land. The story of the country is found everywhere. The streets of the city are filled with the words of the people both supporting and bashing their political stance, Simon Bolivar, aka El Liberator, a well educated leader who was born in Caracas who worked to free South America from Spain, is celebrated through out the country, and the kindness and openness of the people can be found in the outside the city as locals open their doors for tourists to use a bathroom, eat, or just to sit and share stories. Venezuela is also and ecotraveler’s Mecca. Rain forests, famed waterfalls, and 1,800 miles of coastline form the country. 1,300 species of birds, 30,000 recorded species of flowering plants, as well as monkeys, caimans, jaguars, and anteaters call Venezuela home. Fifteen percent of the country is set aside to make 43 national parks some of which are so preserved that they can only be reached by plane.
Looking back I realize that my fear, my misconceptions, my ignorance almost made me miss out on seeing what Venezuela had to offer.