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.
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.
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