Cubana de Aviacion

You will hear all about this little adventure in far more detail when we have the time to write. But an important update is in order:
We are still in Venezuela, in a $200 hotel room in the town of Macuto. Why? The airline did not operate the flight. The plane was firstly meant to be a Tupolev, but then they changed it at the last minute to a Yakolev. The Yak has broken down, so here we remain. Maybe we will make it to Cuba safely sometime, but on an aged Russian Rust-Bucket, somehow I doubt it. Happy Flightings...

Venezuela: Getting Out!

Well, our Post-Roraima come-down has been a roaring success. The day after the pizza and salsa party, we all met for breakfast at La Panedaria, then onwards for fresh juices with our Brazilian Momma. People began to leave, each with their own immutable itinerary. We had a fantastic Brazilian lunch at Nova Opcão, and because it was Saturday, there was Feijoada. We promised Brani and Polly that we would see them either in Bulgaria or England, and the rest of the time was spent deep in fascinating conversation with Bruno, whom we will most certainly visit next time we’re in Berlin. Frankly, our entire trekking group was the best we could ever have wished for! The following day was a race to get onto the 13.00 Expresso Occidente bus from Santa Elena to Caracas. Twenty-two hours! But it’s a doddle, and nowhere near the longest single journey we have undertaken on this expedition, or, for that matter, on the other two big ones!
Arriving at the Terminal de Oriente in Caracas, we were, to be honest, terrified of negotiating our way to the airport in one of the most dangerous cities of the whole world. But don’t forget, good fortune has certainly been on our side throughout our travels in South America, and today was definitely no exception. Once again, somebody up there really loves us! Simon was quite anxious to go in search of a café negro, grande y fuerte, and so Jon managed to navigate the pair back to the little panaderia they had used on the outward journey, where he had made a good friend of the Portuguese owner. Yes, there he was, and the coffee was enjoyed, together with some sage advice about handling the city. Another man was beckoned over to show us how to catch the bus to get to the metro station to take the train to catch the airport bus. Sounds complicated, doesn’t it? And at precisely this point, as the intrepid duo marched slowly and purposefully past a taxi driver who was pretending to be buried deep inside the daily newspaper, he sprang into life, chasing them with questions about destinations. He must have been having a quiet day, for he agreed to take us to the airport (and this is from a bus terminal 18 km the wrong side of town) for just 150 Bolivars. Deal.
We sped into downtown Caracas past the Teleferico to El Avila, we saw the towers of the Parque Central, we saw the new cable cars ascending to the hill-top barios, we admired all the shanty towns clinging to the mountains and painted in jaunty colours, some with pastel shades, others co-ordinating to make the Venezuelan flag. All along the way we chatted in fluent Spanish with Eduardo as he pointed out the sights, described all the dangers, and gave us his take on Chavez. What a truly fantastic city this appears to be! The autopista sped us through tunnels, over bridges and down to meet the sea at Maiquetia. The airport is here, and we thanked Eduardo, promised to give him a call next time we’re in Caracas, tipped him 20 Bolivars para una cerveza, and headed off to the departure hall. Will we manage to find an internet connection in Cuba? Who knows, but the next seven days are going to be spent exploring La Habana de Cuba: Habana Vieja, Centro, Vedado. All with cigars, rum and Santeria....
Cubana have messed around twice with our flight details, and it’s now a night flight. Check our progress online or on teletext if you can, it’s an old Russian Tupolev aircraft and who knows just what will happen! It’s CU 311 on 4th April, scheduled out of Caracas at 22.30. Wish us luck and keep your fingers crossed!

Venezuelan Salsa!

Now you just can’t beat a live band, and after a wonderful meal at the ant pizza place with Benet and his entire family, three children plus Susan who had really made a great effort and was in all her finery, together with all the porters, it was suggested by Rainer that we go to a local bar where we could dance. So we went!
The bar area was dark and moodily lit, serving all manner of rum cocktails and countless cans of ‘light’ beer, and in the brighter room behind, a live four-piece were playing their hearts out, with about twenty people observing, swaying or salsa-ing. Now this most certainly isn’t the type of music we came across in Colombia: it’s much faster, more basic, more naïve. The keyboard player elaborates on some simple chords (three, to be precise) and at will lets his right hand jig happily up and down the keys merrily; the bass player lays down a simple riff and sticks to it; the conga drums lend a very Caribbean flavour to the little combo, whilst the star of the show is the vocalist and drummer: he sings, he constantly rat-tat-tats on not one, but two snarly snare drums, and he splashes enthusiastically and frequently upon his massive cymbal. Can you hear this in your head yet? It’s not Salsa because it’s far too fast and frenetic, it’s not Forro either for the same reason, but when two people take to the dance floor (our porter and a prowling cougar) it all becomes clear exactly HOW you respond in dance to this music: it’s fast-forward ballroom.
The gringos give it their all. Yuichi hits it off with a very keen and willing older lady, Rachel moves elegantly and with experience, politely rebuffing the amorous interests of at least two more of the porters, Simon initiates a conga to the pounding of the congas, whilst Jon and Polly bounce and twist around the floor like experts in a whole new style of dance. The locals, many of whom, by this stage of the Friday night, are literally blind drunk, gaze on in amazement, snapping away with their cameras and videoing us with their phones. Happy days indeed!

Monte Roraima: The Descent

What a day this was! Very costly to our knees, quadriceps and calves I must say! The route to and from the top Roraima was mostly a roughly 60degree incline, with easier pistes and some harder climbing wall ones. We descended in about half the time it took us to hike up the unique monster mountain, but in some ways, ascension was mas facil. One very sketchy slant covered by loose rocks and boulders required great care, especially since it was on the side of a steep mountain drop and was slippery due to the heavy spray from the overhead waterfall. Thankfully there were no accidents, but sooner or later, every one of us stumbled on large stones or exposed tree roots on the easier terrains. Much further down in the Gran Sabana, closer to where we camped on the first night, the strong flow of the river swept nobody downstream whilst wading through knee-deep, remarkably! We set up our final camp here and shared, yet again, delicious food before Beneton and his team supplied us with awesome t-shirts displaying a map of Venezuela and the text “I didit”. We had to love them! They were fantastic souvenirs to receive before turning in for the night.
I guess walking back across the undulations of the Gran Sabana the next day counts as the descent too, in a way, and this was the most difficult day of all. Waking up and putting on our new “I didit” tees placed the psychology into our heads that we had finished the trek and that this was just a light 3 hour walk back to meet the jeeps. We had forgotten about the steep ups and downs and with our legs being slightly done in from the day before, it proved a bit of a challenge. We all came through though and it was so thrilling at the end to see our new friends satisfied with their accomplishment of their dreams. We stopped for a delicious lunch of BBQ chicken (straight from the churrascaria!), rice and salad, in the tiny village of San Francisco de Yuruani. This was delicious, but the cooks on Beneton’s team were also wonderful and they whipped up full-marks food like this every day, so it wasn’t like we had been deprived of good quality food like this, it was just great sitting on a table together back in civilisation. Drinks were in order, but not before a long shower, to spend the evening congratulating each other and exchanging contacts. We’ve formed some great friendships here and we’ll be staying in contact for sure! If any of you are reading this, thanks for a fantastic time on the trek!

Monte Roraima: Exploring the Tepuy

The Lost World on top of the table mountain was very extraterrestrial and is like nowhere else on Planet Earth. On the big day of grande exploracion, Jon sets his sights on walking through the infinite-looking rock formations, with Michela (the infamous Italian!), Yuichi and Seyha (The jolly Japanese duo) and our great Guyanese guide, Beneton. Without Beneton, we would have got lost very quickly as there are no distinguishing landmarks on the merciless 200+km2 surface. Sure there are some rocky features, such as the ‘Flying Turtle’ and the ‘Maverick’ and do you remember the Moai statues we were observing on Easter Island? There was the odd naturally occurring Moai look-alike here and there, complete with their stone hats. But these few rock formations would no way be enough for us to find our way back to camp later. As well as these marvels, there were entire glittering quartz crystal valleys, which mystically illuminated themselves using the tiny amount of sunlight that was penetrating the thick cloud cover. It was like being on another planet!













Meanwhile, we were heading to Beneton’s country, Guyana, and also to Brazil. To be more precise, we were in search of the ‘Triple Point’ frontier marker, which separates Venezuela, Guyana and Brazil, and we couldn’t help but climb the large bollard just to be in three countries at once!

Venezuelan people don’t really see it that way as on their maps they have a large extra chunk that overlaps with the Guyanese territory which they call the “Zona de Reclamacion”. In fact, they feel so strongly about this that some Venezuelan with a lot of spare time on his hands took the trouble to climb Monte Roraima, just to remove the plaque from the Guyana side of the monument. In the rest of the world, Guyana has the right to this land and that border is officially shared by the three countries. And as Beneton said himself, “It’s not the plaque that’s important, it’s the land.”

Climbing Monte Roraima

Another story better told in pictures! Admittedly it was easier than we thought, though that may have been facilitated by the continuous stops to take spectacular pictures of the most beautiful mountain that we’ve ever climbed. Most of our team felt the same and the group met up sooner or later along the way, but there was Bruno (from Berlin, who studies the anthropology of the Pemon people in the area of the Gran Sabana) who is ‘der koenig der Roraima’ (the king of Roraima). Since it’s pretty much on his doorstep, he has climbed it four times now and has done the picture taking thing already, so he hikes it fairly regularly to keep fit (and what better way?). He really has the fitness of a young athlete and this is evident by the fact that he ascended it in 2hrs:10mins, as he revealed over our rewarding beers. Go Bruno! The rest of the team were fantastic companeiros all the way up and the interesting conversations we had seemed to take our minds off the gradient!

Why not pop back to this page soon, when we have managed to upload some thrilling shots?
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And only 2 weeks later, here they are!

Haben Sie na baba si gyza gesehen?

We didn’t quite expect to hear such an insulting phrase from Brani, the future president of Bulgaria, and at the time we thought that his beautiful wife to be, Polly, was equally shocked. Don’t be fooled! She is just as much of a minx and she wasn’t shy at all, but was only held back by a sore throat or cold. Mr Bulgaria lives in Germany and has done so from a very young age, which explains his brilliant German language skills, but also an amazing standard of English due to the fact that they learn our language from about the age of ten, maybe younger still. Having moved from Bulgaria with his family, he has remained very much in touch with his mother tongue, so basically we had a tri-lingual genius on the team! He couldn’t help but sometimes mix his Bulgarian into his German sentences. Can you help us to decipher the title of this blog, “Haben Sie na baba si gyza gesehen?” We can get some from our German, and of course we know the Bulgarian part too (they are our first Bulgarian words!!!) but maybe it’s best, and more fun if you work this one out on your own. It may be difficult in ‘Google Translator’ though because Bulgarians actually write in Cyrillic. “Haben Sie… gesehen?” means “Have you seen…?”
“… na baba si gyza…” is a completely different kettle of fish!