Encountering Interesting People

Reflecting on the year and my encounters With Interesting People:
 
For instance the American lady visiting Panama with her husband and 6 year old son who was on a mission to find her biological Panamanian parents.  She had been given up for adoption when she was a baby and had been raised in the US.  In the week that she was in Panama, she located both her parents and at the time, had met her mother and was about to meet her father. 

The English man whom I met in Havana.  He had finally been able to travel after some time.  Both his kidneys had stopped working and his wife's colleague/friend had given one of her kidneys to him. 

The Cuban luggage porter in Havana who said that his father had been high up in the Cuban army but was now working for the government.  This guy was sick of hearing that there was no crime in Cuba so he stole crime files from his father's computer onto a memory stick.  He wanted to show them to me or to give me a copy of the memory stick.  I said I neither wanted to see the information nor handle the memory stick, for my own protection.   

I met an American lad in his late 20's when I was in Panama.  His dad was very high up in the FBI.  This lad showed me a badge in a leather wallet with FBI Agent's Family written on it.  If he got into trouble with the traffic police back in the US, he would always be let off after showing them the badge. 

In Panama, I kept bumping into an English girl with her boyfriend, once by a waterfall, then in Boquete, and then on the other part of the country in Bocas Del Toro.  Finally, I asked her what she did back home and we discovered that she is the colleague of a barrister friend of mine back in London.

It was meeting and connecting with the wonderful and fascinating people from all parts of the world that made my trip so special.

Havana Good Time

Havana, Cuba

I got on the TACA plane in San Jose, bound for Havana, Cuba but it turned out to be a time machine and transported me back to another era.  With Michael J Fox it was in the DeLorean, but in my case it was an Airbus 319.  Not sure what year I had gone back to, there were 1950s American cars (Buicks, Fords, Pontiacs, Chevrolets, Cadillacs), 1970s Soviet style clothing stores (I was in Russia a couple of years before the Soviet Union collapsed so was able to compare first-hand), and crumbling beautiful colonial buildings from the 1700s and 1800s.  The whole place reminded me of the Twilight Zone tv programs.  And it is the only country I have been to with 2 official currencies running side by side.  I saw dustmen/garbage men smoking cuban cigars whilst pushing their dustcarts throught the streets in the mornings.  It was all very surreal.  There were no recognizable stores or restaurants that one would find in other parts of the world.  No one had ever heard of McDonalds, not that it matters, but as a global brand for the past several decades, it was funny that it had not been heard of in Cuba.

The supermarkets are really small and have hardly anything in them.  Every shopper has to put their bag in a separate room to prevent shoplifting.  I just walked in, not wanting to leave my bag full of valuables in another room.  They started yelling at me but I told them I didn't understand Spanish.  They let me look around for water, etc but 2 women were following me everywhere to make sure that I didn't shoplift because that is what they expect when a person walks in with their bag.

The local butcher's shops have a display of chopped up beef and pork laid out on a slab of concrete or tiles, with flies all over them.  There are queues/lines for absolutely everything in Havana.

Most people have not left Cuba and have a very limited knowledge of geography.  The whole island is like in a bubble or cocoon.  There are images of Che Guevara all over the place and quotes from Fidel Castro.  The people there are mostly living from hand to mouth.  A doctor earns 25 US Dollars per month, a nurse 8 US Dollars per month, a bus driver 10 Dollars, a waiter 6 Dollars. One doctor I met said he had quit his job as a doctor and was now a masseur, making more money.  Every citizen has a food ration card, much like Britain during World War 2.  The meagre rations only last a few days.  For example, each person can have 8 eggs per month, a couple of pounds of chicken, 6 pounds of beans, 6 pounds of sugar, 6 pounds of rice, etc.  The only meat on the ration card is chicken.  No beef, pork, or any other meat.  Milk is only provided to children from 0-7 years.  No butter either.  The prices charged for the ration food are subsidised so quite affordable but once these small rations run out, people have to use their salaries to buy food from the stores.   On their low salaries, the food they buy would not last for more than an extra week.  Therefore, as it stands, they would go hungry in the 3rd or 4th week of each month on those salaries alone.

Nearly all people do a second job or find ways to make extra money so that they can eat for the rest of the month and to have a basic living.  A waiter I spoke to sold clothes to neighbours and friends, sent over from relatives in the US and Europe.  A luggage porter in a bus station turned his living room into a restaurant to make extra money to supplement his 6 Dollars monthly salary.  Most families have relatives who live abroad and send money to them monthly to help them out.  As mentioned, they also send clothes over so one can see younsters with clothes worn by American and European youths.  Most couples have just one child as it is too expensive for them to have any more.

The majority of the people are hustling to make a buck, and if you are a tourist, it is impossible not to get approached by people wanting to sell cheap cigars, rent a room, or pimp a girl, or just to beg.

Tourists come to Cuba, but in Havana a lot of them stay in 5 star hotels or 3 hours away in the resort of Varadero.  They don't therefore get to really absord Cuba fully.  I stayed at a Casa Particular, staying with a family who rented a room to me and prepared breakfast for me every day.  This is about the only private enterprise around in Cuba but the government is hitting them very hard with crippling taxes.  A third of the month's intake would go on paying taxes and in low season, they would still have to pay this tax each month.

I met a number of American tourists in Havana.  They had managed to get through the loophole and given permission by the US government to go to Cuba because they were doing charity work or participating in cross-cultural educational programs.  Perhaps my family in the US can get visiting clearance to Cuba by creating a society for the impartation of knowledge to the Cubans of making Persian Chelo Kebab.



Havana is a beautiful city with grand architecture, a faded grandeur.  However, over time, everything is falling apart.  The streets are cut up and pot holes all over.  There is smell of urine pretty much in every street and rubbish just thrown in overflowing skips.  Dogs and cats are all over the place and doing their mess on the road and pavement.  I wasn't surprised to see a dead cat one time or a dead mouse.  However, people's homes are very clean.  Like two different worlds.  Nearly all dwelling places have very basic furniture and not very large spaces.  But, every household has a television and stereo.  Somehow they manage to buy these things and keep the same tv and stereo for years.  People love listening to latin music. 

There is a real sense of community in Havana, with neighbours sitting outside their apartments every night and talking to each other or playing various games with dominoes or playing chess.  There is no violent or aggressive behaviour by anyone.

Each apartment has around 3 generations living together.  Where I was staying was a woman with her husband, her daughter with her husband, and their 8 year old son.

Partagas Cigar Factory

This is the most famous cigar factory in the world.  I did a tour of the whole place and was amused to see that the room where around 300 people sat rolling cigars had a large tv screen in the front with loudspeakers everywhere.  On the screen they were showing the early music videos of Michael Jackson such as Don't Stop Till You Get Enough, Rock With You, and Billie Jean.  Everyone was moving around in their chairs as they made the cigars.  Who would have thought that in death, Michael Jackson was having such an influence on the making of the finest cigars in the world.  Downstairs in the cigar store, where there is also a bar for people have a puff and some rum, there were pictures of Hollywood stars with the manager of the store.  People like Arnold Schwarzenegger before he became governor, Steven Spielberg, Jack Nicholson, Gerard Depardieu, and Matt Dillon.  I became friends with the manager of the store, and he invited me to his father's house where I had lunch with the whole family.

2 tickets And My Left Sock

I bought a ticket to the Grand Teatro in Havana one Saturday to see the Cuban National Ballet that evening, choreographed by the world famous ballerina of her time, Alicia Alonso.  I then bought a round trip bus ticket to a beach around 30 minutes from Havana where everyone went to on the weekends.  Having arrived on a beautiful white sandy beach with emerald water nearby and turquoise water further out, just absolutely fantastic scenery, I decided to go for a dip.  There were loads of teenagers around.  I put my ballet and bus tickets in my left sock and put it in my left shoe.  When I returned 10 minutes later, someone had stolen my left sock with my tickets in it.  The person obviously had seen me put some paper in my sock and assumed it was money.  I got the bus back by explaining what had happened and back in Havana, the ticket office guy remembered me and even my seat number so he said he would be around that evening when the show started.  That night, when I arrived, he ushered me to my seat.  The ballet was spectacular, and not done in the traditional style, but with a Cuban, Latin, Caribbean flavour in the music and clothes.  I also saw Alicia Alonso after the show.  She was quite old but very elegant.  I was quite pleased that a rather bad start to my day ended well.  On the Monday, I bought a bottle of rum and gave it to him, which lit up his face as if it was Christmas.

Vinales, Western Cuba

This small town of 11,000, 3.5 hours west of Havana by bus, has beautiful green valleys and rolling hills.  This is the area where tobacco farmers grow the finest tobacco in the world, which is used to make Cohiba cigars.  I visited a farmer who showed me the barn where he was drying the thousands of tobacco leaves that he had harvested.  However, he would have to wait for the rainy season in order to finish the process since the dampness would make the leaves easier to roll.  I stayed with a local family in their Casa Particular and it was very pleasant.

Panama to Costa Rica : What a load of bananas!

El Valle De Anton

Around 4 hours north of Panama City is a community which is nestled in the mouth of a giant inactive volcano.  The small town is pretty spread out and there are a lot of Americans who live there in retirement.  I found a place to stay and called the owner called Juan when I was in Panama City, informing him that I will call him when I arrive there by bus, so that he could pick me up from the bus stop.  When I arrived, I called him from my Panama cellphone (I bought a cheap cellphone in every country that I visited).  This is how the conversation went....

Me..    Juan, I have arrived, can you please pick me up ?
Juan..  Yeah sure, where are you ?
Me.. I am at Yin supermarket (one of only 3 in the village, owned by a Chinese family)
Juan..  OK, that's good.
Me..  I will wait for you, how long will you be ?
Juan..  Where are you ?
Me..  I am at Yin supermarket, do you know it ?
Juan.. Yeah.
Me..  OK, I look forward to seeing you then.
Juan..  Are you still in Panama City ?
Me.. No, I just said, I am outside the Yin supermarket ?
Juan.. Oh ok. 
Me.. So when are you coming ?
Juan..  Are you in El Valle De Anton ?
Me (getting quite frustrated by now and finding it difficult to contain my calm)...Yes, I have mentioned a number of times that I am at Yin supermarket and you said you knew it.  YIN, do you know it ?
Juan.. No, I don¨t.
Me (trying to keep my sanity)... Y-I-N
Juan.. Oh, yes, I will be there in 10 minutes.
Me...What type of vehicle will you be using so that I can look out for it ?
Juan...a yellow 4x4
Me..Oh good (as I had my big backpack and small backpack which took a lot of space).

Ten minutes later, I see Juan (a tall, skinny guy, late 50s, with thick glasses and looking like a farmer who has just ploughed a field) there with a yellow quad bike (ATV).  I couldn't believe my eyes.  I don't know how I got to his house with my bags.  The helmet he gave me to wear was around 5 sizes too big so my head was banging around in it the whole time.  His house was like a farm, with all sorts of animals including a horse and loads of chickens who decided that the best place in the several acre garden to make a lot of noise was right outside my door.  So, it was my daily ritual to run after them so they scattered to the other end of the garden.  The garden was amazing, containing a cashew nut tree, mango trees, and lots of other fruit trees.

This area is known for its hiking and fresh air.  Visitors hike to the rim of the volcano so that they can see the crater.  There are many trails and waterfalls around.


Boquete

This place is very close to the Costa Rica border, near the town called David in Panama.  Boquete is a beautiful hilly town, with rivers and waterfalls surrounding it and lots of wildlife.  It is famous for being the coffee growing region of Panama.  There are thousands of American retirees there and the Panama currency is the US Dollar so at times I felt like I was in Napa Valley.  I went white water rafting on a grade 3 plus river with an American family based in the Bahamas.  In their group was a 75 year old grandmother and a 6 year old girl which was quite brave of them.  We had a picnic on the bank of the river, half way through the trip.

I developed a foot infection because I had picked some dead skin on the bottom of my foot which went deep and then I was walking around on the beach at San Blas.  By the time I got to Boquete, I could hardly walk.  I was trying to find a doctor in town to see it so I randomly walked into a store and saw a couple of American women and asked them if they knew any good doctors in town.  One of them said that she kept the town's medical database up to date and knew all the doctors.  She drove me to the best doctor in town and he was great.  I was put on a couple of courses of antibiotics which did the trick. 

I found a lovely room in a house with a fully equipped kitchen, a dining room, and bathroom with hot water.  The landlady was very nice to me and only charged 10 Dollars per night.

Alajuela, Costa Rica

I flew to Costa Rica from David, Panama.  The airport was very small and only had around 3 flights per day.  I was checking in for Air Panama and the guy checking me in was called Elvis.  He said that I had to pay around 25 Dollars for exit tax so I said I would pay it if he sang Blue Suede Shoes.  He said that he only sang in the bathroom so I paid up anyway.  Wasn't the last place they found Elvis in the bathroom back in 1977 ?

I went upstairs and sat down and had a cup of tea in the restaurant with a good view of the runway.  The owner of the restaurant was an Iranian guy who had lived in the UK and the US.  He could have written a book about his life, he had done so much.  Unfortunately, he had developed tongue cancer so most of his tongue had been cut out, which made it hard for him to speak properly.

Alajuela is a quaint small town, around 25 minutes away from the capital, San Jose, Costa Rica, which looks quite rough and unattractive.  Alajuela has colourful buildings and nice green squares, as well as traditional eateries and cafes.  It is a lot more expensive here than in Panama.  I stayed in this town for a few days and visited a nearby active volcano called Poás, which was quite awesome.  The local bus from Alajuela took around an hour to reach the Poás volcano.   The entrance was around US $10 for foreigners and around US $2 for locals.  This double pricing happens everywhere in Latin America. 

In the mid afternoons, it would suddenly rain cats and dogs, with thunder and lightning.  Rivers would be flowing down roads in a matter of minutes.  One day, I was trying to book my flight to Cuba in an internet shop and just as I was about to click on the pay button, having filled all the forms and info required, lightning struck and the computers went down......grrrrr

Arenal Volcano

I took a bus from Alajuela to Arenal Volcano.  It took around 6 hours, with a 20 minute stop somewhere.  The volcano is massive and is still active.  The last time it erupted was in the 1960s and is due to erupt again soon.  The locals are nervous about the prospect of it erupting again because last time many people died.  The lava has stopped flowing so that is a sign that something is about to happen.  The town at the foothills of this volcano is quite sleepy and doesn't really have much character.  There is a trail that goes to a nature reserve with a wonderful waterfall which is worth visiting.  The main square at night is nice as well.  It is best to stay a couple of nights and then to move on.

Bus-Boat-Bus to Monteverde

I took this combination transportation to get to Monteverde.  The intial bus ride was good in terms of being able to see Arenal Volcano from the other side.  The boat ride was quite nice as well, but the best part of the journey was the 2nd bus to Monteverde, which drove over mountains and through valleys, through lush green vegetation and beside streams.  A truly beautiful site, which I would recommend to everyone.

Monteverde

This place is a village that looks more like a ski resort and the nearby Monteverde Cloud Forest is truly breath-taking.  It has a circular trail that takes around 6 hours to complete.  I did the whole trail and was quite tired by the end of it but so exhilarated and happy.  The trees are so old and so huge, and the birds are beautiful.  It was like walking through Jurassic Park....so ancient!  I highly recommend it.  Take a pair of binoculars.  At one high up vista, on a good clear day, you are supposed to be able to see both oceans.  The coffee in this region is the best in Costa Rica.  It is exported to all corners of the world.

From Colombia To Panama

Cartagena

I flew to Cartagena on the Caribbean coast of Colombia from Medellin via Bogota.  In Bogota airport, I had a couple of hours to spare so I walked around a bit.  I found a place where they did massages but the charge was very high.  I persuaded the girl to let me massage her for 10 minutes and then to massage me for 10 minutes without any money being exchanged.  Well, it worked and I felt much better for it.  Cartagena is a lovely colonial town which is one of the oldest in South America.  It has been a major port for centuries and had to build a fortress around itself because of pirates.  Some time before my arrival, there was a Brit who was a bit of a trouble-maker in this town which led them to increase their security.  He was Sir Francis Drake.  I was eating at a local restaurant when I started talking to a couple of guys at another table.  They were both American but one of them was an Iranian jew who had escaped from Iran with his family in 1986 with fake Iranian passports. 

Taganga & Tayrona National Park

I was staying in a windy and dusty fishing village almost 5 hours up the coast from Cartagena, called Taganga.  I bumped into an Italian guy called Paolo (29 years), from Avelino, near Naples.  I had met him in Trinidad and just saw him walking down the road here.  The same day, in the evening, I bumped into another guy from Trinidad who had hosted me via Couchsurfing.  So, it is a pretty small world.  Paolo seemed to talk to anyone and everyone in the street, and he wanted to know everyone´s name.  But he soon tended to forget what people´s names were and started calling them by other names the next time he met them.  We went to a beautiful coastline, surrounded by jungle.  We hiked for miles and finally stayed at a campsite with loads of other foreigners, sleeping in hammocks. 

Santa Marta

Just next to Taganga is the coastal city of Santa Marta, which is famed for being the place where Simon Bolivar was killed in battle.  I had therefore seen his birthplace in Caracas and his place of demise, Santa Marta.  This city has a nice waterfront promenade where the locals go for walks or just sit down and watch the sunset.  It has nice squares and good eateries.  Outside of the centre, one can see rundown residential areas.  Overall, it is a low key town and perennially hot and sunny.

Minca

A lovely little hamlet nestled in the Sierra Nevada mountains around 45 minutes drive from Santa Marta.  A lovely river runs through this village and there are lovely restaurants beside the river.  Along the river, locals or visitors from Santa Marta go swimming in the pockets of deep fresh water which are surrounded by large rocks.  Romantic couples also seem to love this place.  Best way to get here is to negotiate a fixed rate with a taxi driver from Santa Marta, who will stay with you and bring you back.  There are guest houses to stay at if you want but they are quite simple.

Barranquilla

This is probably one of the ugliest and scariest cities that I have seen.  A lot of the roads are unpaved and dusty and people look quite rough.  It is famed for its annual carnival which takes place around March.  It is one of the biggest carnivals in the world.

Flying to Panama City from Barranquilla, Colombia.

Barranquilla airport is apparently a major port for drug smugglers who want to take drugs to other destinations, including Central America.  There are numerous police checks from check-in to boarding the flight.  There are police and police dogs everywhere.  Passengers are eye-balled by Colombian police the whole time.  You really need a lot of patience in this airport.

The police decided to open my bag as a random spot check, even though I was running late.  After the bag check, they wanted me to sign a form but I said I wouldn't as it was in Spanish and I couldn't understand it.  They said in that case, I could not take my bag with me as I had to sign the form before they would release it.  I asked an airline official and an airport security guy to look at the form and they assured me that it was a simple sheet that people signed as a formality when their bags were checked randomly.  I told the security guy that I would sign it only if the chief police guy there said sorry for causing me so much grief.  To his credit, the policeman did apologise, so I signed the form and was on the flight.

Panama City

A noisy hustle and bustle of a city, with very impatient drivers honking their horns at the slightest delay by anyone in front.  The old quarter, or Casco Viejo, is a lovely place and worth a visit.  From time to time, they have festivals in the main square there.  The architecture is lovely and the area is very civilized compared to the rest of Panama City.

Panama Canal

I took a cab from my hotel in downtown Panama City to Miraflores Locks, which took around half an hour.  I negotiated with the taxi driver beforehand and paid around US $3 one way.  These locks are the last ones that ships encounter before crossing into the Pacific Ocean.  It consists of 2 lanes of ship traffic and gigantic tankers and passenger ships come by within minutes of each other.  Each ship has to be lowered to sea level before going off.  The average toll paid by a ship is US $250,000.  Some pay as much as US $400,000.  It takes 8 hours for a ship to cross the Panama Canal from the Atlantic side to the Pacific side.  There are locks are either end and a man-made lake in the middle.  The canal was started by the French, then taken over by the Americans and completed, then handed over to the Panamanians on Dec 31, 1999.

If you want to visit the Miraflores locks, they have a cafe and a restaurant there and bathroom facilities.  They also have a viewing area to watch the ships.  There are 2 entrace fees, a cheaper one for Panamanians and a more expensive one for tourists.  This policy is applied in many Latin American countries.

San Blas Islands

A group of stunningly beautiful Caribbean islands numbering around 400, off the coast of Panama, and stretching all the way to Colombia.  Fifty of them are inhabited by the Kuna people, who own these islands and charge people for setting foot on them.  They have been living on these islands for 200 years, having come over from Colombia.  I flew there from Panama City and landed on an island with a small runway on a 20 seater propeller plane.  From there I took a boat to one of the islands where the Kuna tribal people have a large community of a few thousand.  They live in a very primitive way in wooden huts and only have electricity for a few hours at night.  The infant mortality rate is relatively high.  They have their own language and costumes.  Quite a number of them can be very awkward about foreigners visiting their islands, and don't allow pictures to be taken of them, unless they are paid a Dollar or even more.  If a person lands on any of the inhabited islands, the locals charge anywhere from a Dollar to 5 Dollars.  I once swam from one island to a neighbouring one, and there was a hut there with a couple of people.  A man approached me as soon as I landed on the beach and demanded a Dollar.  I told him that I did not have my wallet on me.  I rested for a short while and swam back.  The fish and corals were incredible. 

It was at my first accommodation, Carti Homestay, on the island of Carti, which I believe I had my money stolen by the owner. This guesthouse was recommended in the Lonely Planet book so I thought that it would be ok. My money was in my small backpack which I always kept locked with a padlock.  One day, I went to a remote island by boat, and left my small backpack on my bed, after the owner told me it would be safe. He must have picked the lock and taken the money, which was around US Dollars 130 worth of Venezuelan Bolivares and a 20 UK Pound note. He didn't take anything else from my bag, locking my bag again. I only discovered the theft when I reached Costa Rica.  The Bolivares wouldn't have any value to him because it is a non-convertible currency.  He would need to go to Venezuela.

I transferred to another island and stayed there for the majority of my stay.  I slept in a straw hut on the beach with sand as my floor and no electricity.  The shower was a huge bucket full of well water and a small bucket used to pour the water over my head.  The toilet had no flush, only a bucket to pour water down it.  At night I could see small fish with lights flashing, swimming in the large bucket that contained the water for the toilet.  Neighbouring huts had other travellers from the US, Canada, and Europe.  During mealtime, we would all sit down around a wooden dining room table on the beach and eat the daily catch of fish, lobster and crab. Lobster was contstantly on the menu.  There were daily trips to nearby islands for snorkelling and looking at starfish and conches.

Price Fixing Cartel on San Blas

One day I visited an island inhabited by 2 families, so a total of less than a dozen people.  Each family was at the opposite end of the island.  It took around 5 minutes to walk around the whole island, covered with cocunut trees, hundreds of them, each having dozens of cocunuts.  I found a coconut on the ground and asked the man of one family if he could cut it open.  He said that the cocunut belonged to him and that it would cost me 1 Dollar to have it.  I couldn't believe it because in Panama City, a coconut in a store cost around 60 Cents.  I decided that he was trying it on with me so I went to the other end of the island and picked up another coconut when I was approached by an elderly women from the other family who mentioned that the coconut was hers.  I asked her how much it would cost to have it and she said 25 Cents.  I agreed and was about to pay her when the 10 year daughter of the other family ran over and said something to the elderly woman who then informed me that the price was no longer 25 Cents but 1 Dollar.  So, I was the victim of a price fixing cartel on a paradise island in the Caribbean with less than a dozen people on it.  Apparently, the Kuna people sell tons and tons of coconuts to Colombia each year for 25 Cents per coconut.

Medellin: The Beautiful City, The Beautiful Women

Medellin

The city of Medellin is about half the size of Bogota and much warmer and at a lower altitude.  It is the only city in Colombia to have a metro and is famed for having the most beautiful women in Colombia.  Medellin is quite safe now after they killed Pablo Escobar, the drugs lord, who ran the city with his ruthless gang for almost 2 decades until the early 1990s.  His Medellin cartel controlled 80% of the global cocaine market and Forbes magazine estimated in 1989 that Escobar's personal wealth was US$25 billion.  After Escobar's death and the fragmentation of the Medellin Cartel, the cocaine market soon became dominated by the rival Cali Cartel, until the mid-1990s when its leaders, too, were either killed or captured by the Colombian government.

Medellin has a European feel to it, with a large university, and a great night life, full of chic bars and clubs.  Medellin is situated in a valley and there are cable cars taking people to the top of the mountains to get a nice view of the city.  There is a beautiful nature reserve on top of the mountain range overlooking Medellin, called Arvi.  It is full of lush green fauna and forms an important biological nature reserve for plants and animals native to the area.

Although Couchsurfing has mostly good people, as with any institution, there can be a few nutters as well.  I stayed with this one guy the first night (43 years), who was originally from India, but had lived in the US most of his life.  He was into meditation.  Anyway, when I arrived at his small flat, he showed me the couch and said that his energy level was low so he was going to go into his room for a couple of hours and then we could go out as it was Saturday night.  He also said that he was in a bit of a depressed phase currently and that when he heard the news about the world, it made him feel even more depressed. 

Later, we went out and sat down outside a local fast food place where he ordered some chicken with a sauce that he removed with a napkin, but then ordered the same dish again.  He basically just stared ahead into space without saying much, but uttering a few words here and there.  He had a couple of beers and said he felt much better. He then said he wanted to go salsa dancing so we hopped into a taxi and went somewhere, and then he suddenly opened the door and got out without saying a word.  I didn´t know whether he had had enough of the taxi or if he wanted to pee or if we had arrived.  I just paid the taxi driver and then followed this guy to the salsa club.  He drank a few more bottles of beer and started to shake his bushy hair wildly on the dance floor.  After that, he tried to touch his toes with his fingers and was in that position for several minutes, just swinging his arms as he bent forwards while everyone else was dancing salsa with a partner.  After midnight, he suddently said let´s go and we went back to his flat.  I couldn´t wait for the morning to arrive to get out of there, especially as it was going to be my birthday.  At 10 a.m. he was still asleep so I wrote him a goodbye note and left his flat only to be met with a locked gate that the security wouldn´t open until they got the guy´s authorisation to do so.  Therefore, they woke him up and he said they could let me out.  I got a taxi to a big hostel and I stayed there in the heart of the city in my own room because I couldn´t stomach staying in a dorm with 10 to 14 people.  The kitchen had pots and pans without any handles.  They had been broken off over time, being used by thousands of backpackers over the months.  I made friends with a Medellin guy who used another kitchen there to cook for guests so he let me use his nice kitchen with all the equipment.   I came down with the flu for a few days so ended up watching around 4 movies a day in the huge tv lounge area that had massive couches and bean bags. 

When I got better, I met some locals who took me Salsa dancing.  I felt like a fish out of water, trying to find the rhythm and dancing in step with my various dance partners, but managed to pick it up in the end and was complimented by my dance partners, one of whom was from Cali, which is supposed to be a major Salsa centre in the world.

My Date With Johanna : 127 Hours

I went on a date with a 34 year old Medellin girl called Johanna.  She showed up, which was a miracle, because it is quite common for girls in Colombia not to show up for dates, and if they do show up, it is usually an hour late.  Johanna ended up bringing her older sister and was surprised that I didn´t bring anyone.  I told her that I didn´t realise that I should have.  Her sister got bored so went home.  Me and Johanna ended up going to a restaurant that she had chosen.  There was no one else there but the food was good and it had couches.  Anyway, over ribs and side dishes, she insisted on telling me about her previous boyfriends, one of whom had been an American whom she had met via a dating website, the same one that 2 of her sisters had met their American husbands.  Her ex had been visiting her every month for 2 years (he must have notched up some major air miles).  Suddenly, Johanna started crying uncontrollably and I was busy trying to wipe my own hands of the ribs sauce and also to wipe the tears from her face and to comfort her with a hug.  Quite a juggling act !   I had been carrying a dvd with me called 127 Hours which is about a guy who gets his hand stuck while hiking in Utah and subsequently cuts his arm off (true story!).  I had bought this dvd when a street seller had approached my taxi on the way to meet Johanna.  Anyway, Johanna said she wanted to see this movie and that we could go to her apartment which she shared with her mother, father, and younger sister.  

Unfortunately, the dvd player at her home was not connected properly to the tv so Johanna asked me to help her to move the large wooden cabinet forward a little so that she could see the wires at the back.  This cabinet had vases and statues on various shelves.  As I was trying to shift this thing, I banged my head and a couple of the statues fell down and smashed.  The mother was mortified and the sister was in shock as she had bought these for the mum.  I was just staring at the broken pieces on the floor and shaking my head at the way this evening was going.  I offered to pay but Johanna said not to worry and that they weren´t that expensive. Then the sister started crying and going berserk on the phone to the brother because he was firing her from his restaurant as the manager and replacing her with his wife.  So, the mum was trying to calm the sister down.  Finally, Johanna and I started watching the dvd but when it came to the guy cutting his arm off, she was feeling ill so I couldn´t wait for the film to end so I could get out of there.

El Penol

Around 90 minutes drive from Medellin is a very unusual place called El Penol.  There is a massive black rock jutting out of the ground, a bit like the ones you see in Arizona.  You can climb up this rock using the steps that they have provided.  The view is amazing.  There is a lake all around with many small islands in it.  The landscape is all green and lush, and makes for a lovely day trip.  I randomly bumped into a couple of American guys when I was at the Medellin bus terminal.  They were coming to El Penol as well, so we shared a cab there and back.  It didn't cost much money.  I think it was around US$15 per person there and back.  Of course, we didn't pay the taxi driver until he returned us to Medellin so that he wouldn't take off without us.  The 2 guys I met were real characters.  They were around 30 years old and self-confessed Pick Up Artists, trying their luck in Medellin, where they were currently living.  The Medellin women are absolutely gorgeous and love foreign men, so these guys were in their element.

Bogota, Colombia

Colombia

Colombia is has changed a lot in the past decade, thanks to the last 2 presidents, who fought a long hard battle with the FARC guerrillas and drug cartels.  The FARC are now only found in remote parts of the jungle on the borders with Panama, Venezuela, and Ecuador.  The drug cartels have been smashed as well and some have gone up north, to places like Mexico, which is why Mexico is having major problems right now.

Bogota

As soon as I landed in this massive city, with an altitude of 2600 meters, I managed to get some cash from an ATM in the airport and headed in a taxi towards my hosts' home.  It was night-time and the airport police advised me to book a taxi at the taxi office just outside the terminal instead of getting into any taxi that pulled up.  When I asked why, they said that kidnapping of foreigners for money does take place and some happen at the hands of rogue taxi drivers.  

I was being hosted by a couple (both 25) who lived in north Bogota, the nice part of town.  They are Couchsurfers and open up their apartment to other Couchsurfers who request a couch.  Jose is a doctor and Maria is a speech therapist (their names have been changed to protect their privacy).  I was sleeping on their couch in the living room of their 1 bedroom apartment.  I ended up staying with them for 2 weeks and became part of their family.  We always went out together, they introduced me to family and friends, and we also went to a town 4 hours away for a weekend, which I have mentioned below. 

The first few days in Bogota gave me altitude sickness and I found it hard to breathe easily but I slowly got used to it.  Bogota is an attractive city, with a high mountain range to the east of it.  It has a European feel to it in the northern, middle class part of the city, and nice architecture.  The nightlife is also good with plenty of restaurants and bars.

The mother of Jose, my host, had a chronic problem with her left hip.  She had it operated on and it would not lock in place.  One time she was in the intensive care unit of the top hospital there so I went to her ward and prayed for her.  She said she felt peace after my prayer.  

Some squatters had occupied a 2nd family home of Jose´s so I was asked by Jose to attend a meeting at that property with some local council officials and the squatters, as an international witness.  Foreigners are held in such esteem in Colombia that the sight of an English speaking foreigner is supposed to mean something.  The VIP status of foreigners is due to the fact that for 3 decades Colombia was such a dangerous place for foreigners to visit that there wasn't any tourism.  Only in recent times has Colombia been safe enough for overseas people to visit.  So, they are seen as a novelty.  Also, Colombian people tend not to readily trust each other because of their difficult recent history, but they very easily trust foreigners and have greater respect for them than a fellow Colombian.  One of Jose's friends, who lives in the US and works for Harvard, told me that Colombians respect foreigners first, then their president, and then celebrities. 

So, I went with Jose´s cousin and stood around for a while and spoke some English, pretending to be a peace-keeper from the United Nations or a representative of the IMF or Interpol.  My cover was blown when the mother of Jose told everyone that I was a relative.  Anyway, Jose's cousin suggested we visit a local Persian restaurant, where Jose joined us from work.

Worst Persian Restaurant In The World

This restaurant did not even serve Persian food.  It was just a steak joint offering really bad steak.  The owner showed up towards the end of the meal and was taken aback when he found out that I was Iranian.  He said that there are only 35 Persians in Bogota and 150 in Colombia.  He asked me why I hadn´t finished my food and I told him because his food was not Persian and that I was disappointed.  He agreed, with embarrassment, and said that the Colombians do not like authentic Persian cuisine because their tastebuds are not used to the food so he had to modify it.  He offered me complimentary Ghormeh Sabzi (a stew) which was ok but still not the real thing.  All in all, I was apologizing to my guests for the awful food and told them that the real Persian food was much better. 

Zipaquira

One day I was visiting a salt cathedral down a salt mine about an hour away from Bogota on the outskirts of a town called Zipaquira, which is one of the oldest cities of Colombia, with very friendly people and a slow pace of life compared to the hustle and bustle of Bogota.   When I was down the salt mine, I bumped into an Iranian lady (as you do). We ended up having a chat and a coffee.  Her husband was a big shot in Kodak and they were stationed in Mexico City but were relocating to either Dubai or Moscow.  She wasn´t sure which place they should go to so I was helping her decide.  I told her whichever place she went to, she would find Russians.

Villa de Leyva

 

My weekend away with my hosts and a cousin included riding horses, hiking around waterfalls, and a river and eating out at lovely restaurants.  We also went horseback riding and I was lucky not to break my neck as my horse was quite temperamental or just mental.
Considered one of the finest colonial villages of Colombia, Villa de Leyva, was founded on June 12, 1572, and has a population of around 9,600 people.   There are several festivals held throughout the year that attract international and national tourists alike.  It is 4 hours drive from Bogota and many Bogota residents go there for a weekend retreat.

Trinidad & Tobago: From Caracas To Maracas

From Caracas to Maracas

There is a wonderful beach around 20 miles away from Port of Spain called Maracas.  It is probably the most famous beach in Trinidad with fine white sand and very tall palm trees.  During the weekends, it is THE place to go to, and thousands of people descend on it for a day out, to swim and to eat the famous Bake and Shark, which is a delicious sandwich made of shark meat and salad.

One Sunday I couldn´t find a ride to Maracas beach and taxis wanted to charge an arm and a leg just to take me one way so I decided to make a sign and to hold it up on the main road in Port of Spain heading out to Maracas.  I wasn´t expecting the reaction that I got from passing motorists.  People were stopping their cars on the side of the road and taking pictures of me, or taking pictures from their cellphones as they passed.  Cars were honking their horns and people were yelling words like ´nice one´ or ´I like it´.  One driver stopped his car and offered me rum if I let him take my picture. 

Eventually a car with 3 young ladies stopped and after taking my picture, they said I could join them for the ride to Maracas.  The ride was nice and we had a good laugh.  Apparently, they had passed me and then done two u-turns to pick me up.  They told me that no one ever hitches a ride in Trinidad or makes a sign because it is not part of the culture and is a dangerous thing to do.  Crime is rising in Trinidad & Tobago and there are areas in Port of Spain which are not safe to go to, especially at night.  Foreigners have also been targetted.  But if a tourist is street-wise and generally aware of their surroundings, they should be fine. 

At the beach, I joined my new friends in having a big feast with homemade food and hanging out with their families.  Everyone around me was celebrating something or other and there was plenty of home made food in every social circle.  At sunset, there was an exodus from Maracas beach and the girls were kind enough to give me a lift back to my accommodation in Port of Spain. 

Hitting Skype before hitting the sky

When I was leaving Trinidad, at the airport I realised that I had not informed my bank or credit card company that I was flying to Colombia, and I needed to Skype them.  The airport did not have any internet facilities but had wifi so people were using their laptops all over the airport.  I managed to find a guy to let me use his mini laptop to Skype my bank and credit card company, while seated in a fast food restaurant.

The flight to Bogota from Port of Spain was via Panama City, which is a major route for most airlines.  That airport is massive and has about a million gates.  The currency is the Balboa but you have more of a chance of finding Rocky Balboa than a Panamanian Balboa, because it doesn´t exist.  Their notes are all US Dollars but they call them Balboas for some bizarre reason.

From Venezuela to Trinidad & Tobago

In my last email, I was with the 3 priests in San Felix (a township next to Puerto Ordaz).  It was a real unique experience to be able to spend time with them and to see how they lived and were of service to the poor community around them.  They would provide food for the hungry, money for the destitute, social care for the vulnerable, and spiritual nourishment by way of several masses each day.  They gave pastoral care to people.  It was a hard and thankless task, and their lives were constantly in danger and their premises were always being attacked by robbers, so they had to heavily fortify it with high walls and barbed wires.  It was a bit unnerving to hear gunshots at night around their heavily secure compound.  As Catholic priests, they had to remain single for the rest of their lives, unlike Protestant priests.  It would have been good if they could have married, like their Protestant counterparts, so as to be nurtured and not to feel so lonely and isolated.  I had many debates with them regarding theology and Catholicism vs Protestantism, which I found very stimulating.

So, after spending some days with 3 men and a cat, I was back in Caracas with 3 women and a dog.  The mum and 2 daughters are family friends.  Unfortunately, the dog had psychological problems, thinking that it was pregnant, producing milk and showing all the signs of pregnancy, even though it was not pregnant.  It was also a very jealous dog.  Whenever I gave the mum a friendly hug, it would start barking like mad. 

Caracas is a naturally beautiful city, with lots of trees and surrounded by a mountain range called The Avila.  It is also the place where Simon Bolivar was born.  He is the man who liberated several countries of South America from Spanish rule and whose name adorns the squares of major cities in Venezuela, Colombia, Panama, Peru, Ecuador, and Peru.  His childhood home can be visited and is situated in central Caracas. 

However, Caracas is a very dangerous city.  Most residents live in gated apartment complexes with guards.  Carjackings do take place.  The long road from the airport to Caracas, which takes a couple of hours, is notorious for carjackings.  The roads are breaking apart and in bad condition and there are traffic jams everywhere.  People normally get stuck in traffic jams for 3 hours every day, when driving to work.  It is usual for people to wake up at 5am in order to make it to the office for 9am.  When it rains, it really pours.  The vast slum areas around the city, which are built on mud hills, tend to bear the brunt of the storms, with many people dying.  There are frequent electricity cuts and water shortages.  It is not uncommon for homes not to have electricity or water some time during the week.  Sometimes, petrol stations have a shortage of petrol because of poor distribution systems in place so there are long queues/lines of cars waiting to fill their tanks.  A full tank of petrol normally costs 50 pence/75 cents.  This is because Venezuela is an oil producing country and Hugo Chavez subsidises the cost of petrol as a sweetener for Venezuelan people who are enduring tough economic times.

If you want to visit Venezuela, you need to be aware that the currency there is non-convertible, which means that you can only get it once you are in Venezuela.  The official government rate that you get at banks or ATMs is 4 Bolivares to US$1.  But the savvy tourists get the unofficial rate of 8 Bolivares to US $1.  You need to look at the following website to see what the unofficial buying rate is: http://lechugaverde.com/.  However, I need to warn you that the official Venezuelan government stance on this practice is that it is illegal and people do get arrested if caught by the police.  Visitors generally tend to buy Bolivares from Venezuelan friends in the privacy of their homes.  Venezuelans are desperate for foreign currency as many of them want to eventually leave Venezuela and settle in the US or Europe as they see their country as being in dire straits politically and economically.  Inflation is also very high so their own currency gets eroded in value.

Venezuelan Hospitality

Soon after, I flew to an island called Margarita, off the coast of Venezuela.  As usual, the flight was delayed by a couple of hours and they changed our gate a couple of times as well, so it was chaos.  Whilst waiting for my plane, I met a beautiful young lady, both inside and out, called Alejandra.  She was flying with her mother to Margarita for a Christmas reunion with her extended family.  I was dreading Christmas by myself and hoped that it would soon pass.  However, Alejandra invited me to join her and her family for Christmas Eve and Boxing Day at a plush villa by the coast for Christmas.  It was on the other side of the island from my hotel, which was in Porlamar. I was really touched that she invited me, even though she didn't know me from Adam.  Her cute 4 year old cousin objected to me hanging out with Alejandra as he had a soft spot for her.  Man to man, he squared up to me and punched me and got quite angry but other family members managed to soothe him.  Phew....relief !!

There are exclusive homes on that island that are rented for US $1000 per day to guests.  There are seriously rich Venezuelans who live on or visit Margarita.  Venezuela has extremes of very rich and very poor, with a small middle class.  I saw both of these extremes in my short time there.  One Venezuelan guy I met on the island had his own private yacht and private plane.

I flew to Port of Spain, Trinidad via Caracas.  I had to spend one night in Caracas so I slept on the ground in the airport, which was not the best night's sleep that I have ever had.  I flew with a Venezuelan airline called Aeropostal, which had a very old plane.  Initially, the airline officials at check-in refused to let me fly because I did not have a return ticket or an onward flight from Trinidad.  They were afraid that I would settle down in Trinidad for good.  I had to patiently explain to them the best I could that I was perfectly happy living in the UK and I would highly doubt whether my standard of living would improve by leaving the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland for Trinidad & Tobago, even though it is a nice holiday destination with better weather.  Showing them my return ticket to London did the job.  On the plane. the toilet door was off its hinge so people could see you when you were inside.  I wondered whether the engine was kept together with a rubber band and chewing gum.

I find that the Trinidad & Tobago immigration take themselves too seriously.  So do customs.  I have never had to wait so much in line to go through passport control.  And there was a long line for the 'nothing to declare' zone of customs. They were taking ages with each individual.  A notice on the wall stated that if a person has any camouflage clothing in their luggage, they will be fined TT$ 25,000 (2,500 Pounds) and will get a 6 months prison sentence.  If they do it a second time, the fine will be TT$100,000 (10,000 Pounds) and will get a 1 year prison sentence. 

Upon exiting the airport, I was hounded by airport taxi officials, wanting to take me to downtown Port of Spain, an hour from the airport, for US $40.  I told them to have a nice day, and took a normal taxi to the main road which is around a 5-10 minute walk from the airport terminal.  I shared the ride with a bunch of locals.  Then I took a communal taxi from the main road called a Maxi Taxi to downtown, which took around 90 minutes because of the traffic, and then another taxi to the place where I was staying.  It all cost me the equivalent of just over 2 British Pounds or US$3.  Most taxis in Port of Spain seem to be communal and each neighbourhood in the downtown area has a taxi rank with taxis going in one direction only.  If you want a taxi going to another destination, you have to go to a taxi rank in another section of downtown.   And if you want the whole taxi to yourself, you have to pay for each unoccupied seat.  All very complicated !

I must admit, I can just about understand half of what Trinidadians are saying.  Their strong accents and slang words make it really difficult to follow.  However, it is very clear when they say 'ya man' and 'no problem'.  I am renting a room from a family in a nice neighbourhood. The mother is a friend of a friend of my brother who lives in Dubai.  She has given up her job and has started her own cake making business and is doing quite well.  She is baking all hours of the day and night.  They have a St. Bernard dog that is always panting and sleeping because its thick fur and the tropical climate make him incredibly hot. There are a couple from Colombia renting another room, and are here to learn 'English'.  A lot of Venezuelans also come over to do the same.  I cannot understand how they will ever hope to learn English here. It's like me going to Algeria to learn how to speak French.

I met up with a local girl, and she took me to a party up in the hills.  The small community of adults and children sat outside and listened to music, ate delicious local food, merrily drank, and set off fireworks.  It was all a very pleasant experience with lots of banter and laughter.

There is one other thing that Trinidad is famous for apart from hosting one of the largest street carnivals in the world.  They have more KFC restaurants, per capita, than anywhere else in the world.  They are fried chicken mad.  McDonald's closed down a couple of years ago and moved out.  Because of the readily available chicken, I have eaten so much of it that I am beginning to look and sound like a chicken.
A couple of days ago I decided to leave the hustle and bustle of Port of Spain and head for tranquil Tobago.  So, I flagged down a route taxi that takes other passengers.  The female driver was listening to gospel music at full blast, with a big Bible on the dashboard, and she was singing at the top of her voice.  She was even banging the steering wheel from time to time to add to the rhythm and she tried to convert me but I reassured her that it wasn't necessary.

After I bought my ticket at the port, I had to put my bag on an airport style x-ray scanning machine.  The man told me that I had a pair of scissors in my bag which I had to take out and show him.  I took out my small first aid scissors and the man confiscated it.  I asked him why and he said because it is dangerous for travelling on the ferry boat to Tobago.  He probably thought that I was going to hijack the boat and take it to Somalia.  I told him and his colleague that I was from London and they needn't worry.  But this statement backfired on me.  His colleague said " We catch a lot of Brits with many kilos of drugs on them.  You think you come from Heaven ? "  Anyway, I got my scissors back.

On board the boat, with half an hour left, I started to feel seasick and went to a private toilet and started throwing up.  The boat stewardess made me open the door and gave me a sick bag and told me to go back to my seat and to throw up in the bag.  I explained to her that it was more likely that with the swaying of the boat, I would be throwing up on other passengers instead of in the bag.  She didn't care.  I finally arrived at the capital of Tobago called Scarborough.  Incidently, whoever I speak to says that they also get sick half an hour before the end of the journey so it must have something to do with the currents or the way the boat changes direction, etc.  In Scarborough, I stayed at the Hope Cottage Guest House.  It is clean and cheap and run by a very nice family.  They have a large kitchen where you can keep and cook your food.  There is a supermarket nearby. 

Today, I took a taxi to the other side of Tobago, to a town called Plymouth.  I am currently staying at a guesthouse full of Canadians and some Europeans who are here mostly for surfing.  We are close to the beach, in a small village just outside Plymouth.  There is a small supermarket, a couple of bars, and around 4 places to eat.  The guy who runs this place is a surfing instructor and he is trying to persuade me to do surfing tomorrow.  The weather is very hot during the day and the nights are cooler.  The sunsets are magical and the island is very green and pretty.

My impression is that Tobagonians feel slightly patronised by Trinidadians who act like the big brother.  Trinidad has a big presence and influence in the Caribbean because it is one of the most populated islands and also has a large economy, relatively speaking.  It is a shame to see that they have allowed the Jamaican and US popular culture and music to take precedence over their own rich culture and music.  

One thing that stikes me about Trinidadian society is how relatively harmonious their different races are.  Based on my observations, people of African origin, East Indian origin, and European ancestry, all seem to be accepting of each other and embrace one another as just fellow Trinidadians.  There doesn't seem to be that friction or division that colour seems to play in many other countries.  I find this very refreshing and uplifting.

I asked one Canadian (Montreal) guest at this Tobago guesthouse how long he has been travelling for and he said 11.  I responded in amazement that he had been travelling for 11 months but he said that he had been travelling for 11 years.  He was doing some internet job that allowed him to work remotely for a longstanding client.  The last time he had seen his client face to face was 5 years ago.  He had not seen his parents and family for 6 years. 

Angel Falls - Heavenly

I returned to Puerto Ordaz (1 hour from Caracas by air) 2 days ago from my 4 day trek to Angel Falls.

My long journey started as follows:

Last Thursday night I stayed at Puerto Ordaz town in an Order with 3 priests.  One of them drove me at 5am to a bus terminal where private cars give lifts to passengers to a neighbouring town called Ciudad Bolivar, over an hour away.  This is where I had to catch the cessna plane to Canaima National Park.  So, I got into a car with 3 other passengers.  The driver was reclining in his seat as if it were a deckchair, with one hand on the wheel and the other behind his head.  Forget about sleeping, this guy was a maniac.  He was driving 95mph and in the meantime avoiding all the potholes on the road by swerving around them.  None of the seatbelts worked.  I seriously thought that I was going to be in the arms of angels above before reaching Angel Falls.  Thankfully I reached the bus terminal of Ciudad Bolivar alive, in record time (too bad Norris McWhirter wasn`t there to get this guy into the Guinness Book of Records). 

The representative of the tour company, Bernal Tours (which is the best and cheapest) was going to pick me up at 7am so I had half an hour to find a toilet and get a coffee.  The toilets at the bus terminal were disgusting.  I wouldn´t even take a dog in there.  I walked around the whole area looking for a toilet as my situation was getting rather desperate.  However, at 6.45am, there was no place open.  There were some fields but the gates to them were all locked up.  It was becoming rather an emergency to find a toilet as my tummy was not its usual self after all this travelling.  I stumbled across a derelict mechanic´s yard with pick-up trucks parked.  I looked around and there was no one there.  I hunched low and sneaked between 2 pick-ups and crouched on the ground.  Nature took its course and I was so relieved that there was no one around.  My relief turned to horror when I looked up and saw a man in overalls looking at me with a red face and in complete shock.  Then he started yelling at me and saying lots of words (not nice I assume), hollering some more and then shouting some more.  I had not been in this situation before so really didn´t know what to do.  The man left but came back with a shovel, still shouting, so I thought he was going to smash me over the head and kill me.  I couldn´t believe that I had avoided death less than an hour ago with psycho driver and now I was going to die whilst squatting.  I thought to myself that there are more noble ways to part this earth.  As I was preparing for my fate, the mechanic disappeared again and returned with a broom.  I was relieved to know that he wanted me to clear up after myself.  I quickly finished everything and cleared up and ran out of there faster than you could say Speedy Gonzalez. 

Back at the bus station, I was picked up by the tour company representative and taken to the airport which was the size of my local Sainsbury´s.  It only had Cessna planes.  I got into the Cessna (5 seater) and we zoomed into the clouds.  An hour later, we landed in Canaima National Park, on a strip.  There were waterfalls around us.  The whole place looked a world away from the place I had come from.  Complete nature, lush think jungle, and roaring waterfalls.  Absolutely beautiful !

I joined my group that consisted of many nationalities, including British, Canadian, French, and Spanish.  We stayed at a posada right by the waterfalls, with beds and hammocks.  We were given nicely cooked food.  At 11.30pm I was talking to Huw, a guy from London who was now living in Sydney.  He had been given his own room, unlike the rest of us who were sleeping in separate beds, in one area.  I was trying to have a proper conversation with him, but it was a bit difficult as he had just finished a full bottle of rum.  The lights suddenly went out and so I tried to stumble back to my bed in the total darkness.  What should have taken me 2 minutes took 15 minutes as I accidently stumbled into different beds before finding my own.

The next day we took a motorised canoe boat up river for 4 hours, passing lots of Tepuis (similar looking to Table Mountain in Cape Town) and waterfalls, then had an arduous trek through the jungle for 1.5 hours, a lot of it upwards, until we reached the base of Angel Falls.  Our guides were the Pemon Indians, who are the indigenous people of that region.  They are short but strong people and very good natured and friendly.  They are also very proud of their land. 

The terrain surrounding Angel Falls was thick jungle and there was a steep and rugged trail that had been carved into the dense vegetation from all the trekkers down the years.  The sounds of birds, insects and animals could be heard.  The closer we got to the falls, the rumble of rushing water became louder and louder.  I was incredibly moved when I saw it.  It had been a dream of mine since I was young to see Angel Falls, and my dream had come true.  Out of the other waterfalls that I had visited, Niagara and Iguacu, it was the hardest to get to.  Angel Falls was just out of this world, humongous in size and really awesome.  I felt tiny in comparison and was overawed and mesmerised by it.  There were goosebumps all over my body, my mouth was open for ages and I was just fixated by this incredible natural beauty. 

Unfortunately, we only had half an hour there as it was getting dark and we had to get back to the camp which was next to the river, with a great view of Angel Falls.  Back at this camp, there was no electricity, so we just had candlelight.  And there were no beds so we slept in hammocks, which I was a bit unsure of, worried that the rope might snap and I would fall to the hard ground in the middle of the night, breaking my back.  So, I put my backpack beneath my hammock to break my fall.  Thankfully,  the hammock held. 

Early the next day, the group was going to head back to the original camp 4 hours down river.  I asked the guide to let me stay an extra day up there as I had paid for it and didn´t want to spend it at the original camp.  I wanted to see Angel Falls again properly.  After some heavy negotiating, he said fine, but told me that I would be alone all day until another group came at 4pm.  My desire to see Angel Falls again for a full day overrode my anxiety of being alone the whole day in the middle of the jungle.   Before they left, I was given a lift to the Angel Falls side of the river and then walked the long route up again to see it.  It was quite windy so I lay between 2 rocks for 6 hours with my backpack (containing water, food, and warm clothing) behind my head and stared at Angel Falls, taking pictures and videos of it.  Thank you to Ray Mears and Bear Grylls for their survival tips.  The warm sun also glowed onto my face from time to time, when the clouds permitted it.  I was really absorbing and taking in the beauty of this natural wonder of the world (the tallest waterfall in the world, at almost 1km high).

When it was getting close to 4pm, I was wondering if I would be able to communicate with the people in the new group that was coming up, as a lot of Venezuelans or other South Americans do not speak English and my Spanish is almost non-existent.  I need to take some classes somewhere along the line.  When I saw the guide, he told me that I had been very brave to stay behind by myself as there were wild animals, snakes, and even scorpions in the jungle.  I asked him how many people there were in his group and he said five.  I then saw them coming up one by one and to my amazement and great relief, I realised that I did not need to worry at all about communicating with them for the next 24 hours, even though they didn´t speak any English. 

All 5 of these people were Iranians.  I could not believe my eyes.  In the middle of the jungle, in front of Angel Falls, and I meet a bunch of Iranians.  I reckon even if I went to the moon, I would meet Iranians, and perhaps find a Persian restaurant as well, and a carpet shop.  So, we hit it off and on the way back to the camp via the jungle trail there was plenty of 'taarof' taking place, which means everyone was trying to always give way to the other person to go in front of them, as a mark of respect.  This caused a lot of delays.  Very surreal to see Persian custom in the middle of the Venezuelan jungle.  Over supper, we were eating some snacks from Iran and talking about politics and trying to solve the problems of the world. 

The return journey was very pleasant and I am now safely back with the 3 priests, in my own airconditioned room and using their computer, which you need to use a hammer to hit the fossilised keys with.

Until next time.