Río Caura, day 3
Another relaxing waiting day strolling around the río village Las Trincheras waiting for the departure. Met the nice Venezuelan guy on the picture, who knew some english. I don’t remember his name, but I remember that he was 24 years old. Happily married. And the father of two 3year-old children. Hmmm.
Río Caura, Day 2 (sorry the post got long and badly illustrated, but this man was really interesting :-))
After a relaxing hammock Sunday, a white car suddenly rolls into my family campsite in Las Trinchares. A man steps out. Though he is old, he looks vital and happy wearing a Hawaiian shirt and holding a big folded map in one hand. Klaus is his name. And he is traveling around Venezuela in a rented car.
– I turn 70 in a few days, and I really didn’t want to be the centre of some big party setup back home. So I decided to come here. I have travelled most of the world, actually. It’s my only hobby.
These words are all said in German, of cause – the only language Klaus knows beside Russian. Though it has been years since I learned German in school, I understand – at least better than anyone else here.
Klaus finds a bed in the nearby guesthouse, and invites me over for late night rum on his balcony with an amazing view overlooking the river. Here we small talk about everything. Studies. Woman. Politics.
Playing by the rules of socialism
As the conversation develop, it turns out Klaus is a burning socialist who share the visions of Fidel Castro and Hugo Chavez, and looks back at the past times in the former DDR with great joy.
– We played by the rules of socialism and people had a direction in life. You need that. You cannot figure out everything by yourself, and from my perspective socialism leads you the right direction. Taking care of one another and sharing your life and experiences.
Sympathic ideas on a beautiful evening by the river. I tell him that Christianity to me provides that framework and he respects that, all though he is clearly an atheist. When the conversation turns to world issues regarding terrorism and Islam, and his statements are less appealing to me.
– Muslims have flooded Europe and that it is only a matter of time before towns or even nations are taken over by these violent and fanatic people.
A black and white world
The more we speak (…or drink?), the more the old DDR man seem to objectify and simplify people and cultures. Everything turns black or white in his head, in a way that to me has nothing to do with socialism, though it might be a sign of his DDR past. It is also strongly reflected in his male chauvinistic views on prostitutes and women in general. A discussion that is better not to refer here.
Klaus from DDR had strong and unappealing opinions, but a winning personality. When I wanted to leave but couldn’t find my way back in the dark, the former marine officer shook his head as he followed me along to the camp:
– [sighing] Peter aus Dänemark, der einmal stolzen Nation des Wikings, kann nicht zurück zu seiner Hängematte finden.
And so we left each other laughing into the Venezuelan night.
Río Caura, day 2 – short boat journey
PIX 1: I am placed in the middle of a 15 meter long wooden canoe. In front of me a teenage boy has just taken off his shirt and is now lying down in the bottom of the boat looking up into the partly clouded sky. Behind me is his older brother steering the huge Yamaha motor. The wind is blowing in my hair.
PIX 2: Soft red rocks appear over the water line. Some of them create small islands grown with strange crocked trees. The canoe moves steadily and fast.
PIX 3: I am sitting on a towel. The canoe is tied to a rock left of me and the boys are not there. I am wet after swimming and I smell of strawberry shampoo from Trinidad. The sun is glowing.
Río Caura, day 1
Jonás Camejo is a pioneer in Venezuelan tourism. For more than 15 years he has arranged tours in the Caura Region specializing in boat journeys on the jungle river Río Caura. Jonás is also the proud father of 12 beautiful children, and he has two wives (!) living in different parts of Ciudad Bolívar.
I am going to Río Caura with “Jonas Tours” which means that I am now a part of his family. At least for the next days, where I follow them around 24/7.
The journey begins on the backseat of a tightly packed jeep. My rucksack has been thrown on the roof and I am introduced to a large group of family members. Jonás is in the front seat with one of his wives and the oldest of his girls. I am in the backseat room with a grandfather, a brother, a son, two teenage girls and piles of food and luggage. Oh. And two wicked 4 or 5year-old boys are crawling on top of it all, tickling each other and smiling naughty to everyone
Intense backseat slumbering
Everything is very hot and intense, and it is a little awkward to be this close to someone without really being able to communicate. Jonás knows a few sentences in German, but it is limited to things like “ist alles gut?” and the older backseat boys just speak very little English. So mostly I just sit there. Smiling. Slumbering. And looking at the weirdly pang-colored teenage girl sitting opposite myself dressed in a blue basket shirt without sleeves, trashy red pants, white plastic sunglasses and a reverse pointing cap. She quietly sings along to the Venezuelan music in her earplugs and looks cool in a strange boy-girly kind of way.
The bumpy ride last about five hours – including a number of beer stops in villages along the way. The local brews are ice cold Corona-like pilsners. People here apparently love beer. Only the family men drink, of course, but I am one of them now and the beers are included in the trip equal to food and other essentials. After 250 kilometers (the last hours on slow forest path) we arrive in “Las Trincheras” – a small village with around 100 people. The Jonás family owns a house here just by Río Caura. The girls cook a delicious and traditional rice/chicken dinner before I fall asleep in my hammock overlooking the water and surrounded by amazing rainforest sounds.
To be continued 🙂 // Peter
HOLA! I am back online from Ciudad Bolivar where I just returned from my river/jungle week at Río Caura. Now… I want to give you give you a feeling of everything, but how…? I tried to shoot some photos with my mobile phone now my camera has been stolen. It is really unfair to the breathtaking scenery, but anyway… They are now on flick with a few comments.
Below is a fact-overview of what happened during the past week. The true stories will follow soon as they are made understandable from the notes of my Moleskin…
Day 1. Departure from Ciudad Bolívar
Five hour family experience on the backseats of an old jeep/van. In the afternoon we arrive in the small village Las Trinchares by Río Caura.
Day 2. Relaxing hammock Sunday
Including an afternoon boat trip to a nearby island. In the evening an old East German man Klaus comes by. We talk and drink late night rum by the river.
Day 3. Thought we were leaving today
Apparently we are not. I talk to the neighbor boy – a 24 year old family father – and Gregorious (my guide) arrives late in the evening with the Venezuelan Caracas couple that will join us on the trip. Tomorrow.
Day 4. Sailing up the Río Caura
We visit several native Indian villages along the way and ends in a deserted forest spot where we camp in our hammocks.
Day 5. Arriving at El Playón
Our engine breaks and we are escorted by a passing military canoe. We finally arrive at El Playón. Swimming and late night red wine with Francisco.
Day 6. Hike to Salto Pará waterfalls
Fishing in the sunset with the family’s boys and men.
Day 7+8. Full day boat journey
To our starting point in Las Trinchares. The next morning we drive back Ciudad Bolívar. The wheel on the jeep deflated (?) and the girl asks if she could have my MSN address.
All photos are now on Flickr. The stories will be in the following blog posts 🙂
Hi everybody. I just booked a tour to picturesque Río Caura today (saturday) leaving in half an hour. I am going with Jonás Tours and will be back in 6-7 days. Until then there will prob. be quiet on the blog, but feel free to send me and sms.
Take care with work, exams and everything // 🙂 Peter
I have just arrived in Ciudad Bolivar by the river “Rio Orinoco” and checked into an old colonial villa in the historic city centre. Posedo Don Carlos. Enter this place and you are sent right back in the old world with enormous dark wooden doors, ancient furniture and a garden courtyard in the centre of the casa. They had no room available, but I could swing myself in one of the hammocks for 25 Bolivar (60 DKR.) All of this PLUS free hi speed internet and friendly staff. This is truly an amazing place 🙂
It is now 10 pm and I bought myself a Venezuelan Brahma pilsner enjoying a quiet evening. Tomorrow I will try to book a sail on Río Caura, a ride around the wide open grassland of Grand Sabana or a hike to towering high Roraima.
1. Learn Spanish. If your language skills are insufficient, be ready to play a long (but somewhat fun) game of ‘show and guess’.
2. Have patience. The workflow following your explanation is helplessly ineffective. Writing report on computer. Slowly. Finding USB stick. Moving document to printer. Printing. Getting signatures and fingerprints on 4 copies. Writing statement again on an old typewriter with duplication paper. Slowly.
3. Do not take photos. Trying to keep the situation by taking undercover pictures with you mobile phone is not appreciated.
4. Bring family pictures. When the situation gets tense, distract the officers by showing them pictures of your father in a Danish police uniform. Everyone in the office will be called to look.
5. After some hours you have the statement: ROBO: Manifesto´el denunciante que personas dozcono cidas, portando arma du fuego, y bajo amenaza de muerte lo dezpojaron de una camera fotoqrafica, marca Canon, modelo power shot, G9.
Good luck with your Venezuelan police experience 🙂
Jeg er lige ankommet med færgen og står udenfor i skyggen og snakker med et ungt engelsk/tysk kærestepar, der har mødt hinanden som studerende på universitet i Trinidad. De er på vej til Mérida i Andesbjergene ovre vestpå. Hyggelige mennesker.
Vi er nogle af de sidste passagerer der stadig står ved båden, og et par taxachauffører er ivrige efter at høre hvor vi vil hen. Men vi venter på en amerikansk sømand, som vi mødte på færgen. Han kender Venezuela særdeles godt – han har sejlet Caribien rundt de sidste mange år og sat skibe i stand og lige nu skal han videre til Puerto La Cruz, hvor han har et skib liggende. Så vi regner med at hægte os på ham. Puerto La Cruz er transportcentrum fra den caribiske nordkyst og videre til hele landet.
På færgen advarede han os om Venezuela
– This is really a shitty place. People here will pull a gun at you wherever you go, and all you can do is give them the money and beg for them not to kill you. You can’t feel safe anywhere. Columbia is all different and you can walk in the streets at night with no problems at all.
Meget dramatisk og amerikansk, tænker jeg. Han er i det hele taget lidt irriterende og mange andre har fortalt mig at kriminaliteten i Venezuela er opreklameret. Når bare man tænker sig om.
Sømanden er kommet ud. Han havde problemer med indrejsetilladelsen da han ikke kunne forklare præcist hvornår han sejler videre (“it depends on the hurricanes and everything”) men pludselig var det i orden. Vi forhører os om taxapriserne, men beslutter at vi godt kan gå de 10 minutter ind til centrum. Taxaen var dyr og det er midt på dagen, så der skulle ikke være problemer.
Don’t shoot
Halvvejs oppe af vejen kommer 3 drenge kommer løbende mod os fra buskadset. 16-17år. Den ene lader en pistol (ritz/ritz) og peger den mod os. Jeg kan huske jeg lige når at tænke, at de må lave sjov. Sådan en slags street theater måske, for det virker ikke særligt farligt og vi går jo bare her stille og roligt med vores rygsække i solskinnet. Men så bliver pistolen peget hen på sømanden der råber “don’t shoot”. Og en af de andre kommer hen til mig og råber “moneno” og mærker mine lommer. Jeg når ikke at reagere inden han finder mit kamera. Og så løber de tilbage i træerne ligeså hurtigt som de var kommet.
Lidt rystede beslutter vi os for at tage en taxa.
Den sætter mig af ved politistationen for at få røveriet anmeldt (mit kamera var det eneste de tog). De andre går med ind, men det ligner noget der kan tage lang tid, så vi beslutter at de kan tage videre og tjekke hvornår busserne går til Puerto La Cruz. Jeg giver dem mit telefonnummer så de kan sende en besked hvis de finder ud af noget, – ellers finder jeg selv et hotel og tager af sted i morgen.
Rapport fra en socialistisk politistation følger senere. Har det i øvrigt godt og passer på mig selv. Har tjekket ind på et hotel i centrum og folk på gaden herinde er meget venlige og smilende, selvom ingen kan engelsk og jeg absolut ikke kan spansk. Jeg i øvrigt har fundet mit mavebælte frem til pas og papirer og pakket computeren ekstra godt væk. 🙂
