Last days in Venezuela

In order to reach the border with Colombia, we drove from Caracas to San Cristobal.  Daniel, one of our receptionists in Brasilia, and his father had put together a safe route for us to take, but we ended up changing one leg after advice from our tour guide in Caracas.  We drove from Caracas to Barquisimeto, then to Barinas, on to Merida, and to the last stay in San Cristobal.  Well, that was the plan.

The first section was surprisingly dry, and there were a lot of fires filling the air with smoke.  The traffic was light and the road was a four-lane motorway.  Our only worry, after having an encounter with a crook on a motorbike masquerading as a policeman demanding a cash fine just before the first toll station leaving Caracas, was to find petrol to take us to the border.  We had to pay some bribes to get away without spending the whole day arguing, and we did fill up close to Barquisimeto, so all ended well.  It is very difficult to know if these people are real police, or if they are simply using an old high-vis vest.  The companion was carrying a gun in his belt, so best not to gamble.  We later read that for one week’s work some people earn USD10, which is enough for 3 meals.  Trying to get cash from travelers, no matter how little, could be a tempting alternative.

The next drive to Barinas was quiet and enjoyable, and we found petrol without any trouble.  We stayed at an odd hotel, with a very nice pool area, surrounded by small shops and restaurants.  They also had a night club, but on Mondays they stop at 10pm, and we never really heard anything from them.

Next day we crossed the Andes to get to Merida.  This part was the most scenic for a long time, and it was really nice to be in the mountains again.  Merida has high peaks, with snow on the tops in the colder season.  It is a popular destination for tourists, and it seemed that the hotels were gathered in the least interesting part of the city.  We ended up in the “presidential suite” of the hotel, after changing rooms twice due to trouble with safes and toilets.  The first room in addition was next to a bar, where the music was going until 3am.  Suffice to say that if that suite was all you get for being presidential, we are happy to be ordinary.  It was quiet though, and had a functioning toilet.  We never got a working safe.

The drive to San Cristobal took us through a varied landscape, in the lush mountains, along the dry hills, and into the city via motorways that have seen better days.  The city is pretty, in between mountain sides, but it has a lot of moisture building up so it is hard to see clearly.  The hotel is in very nice grounds and quiet, so we decided to stay two nights and cross the border on Sunday after the locals advised us that Saturdays are the busiest days.  It was a very nice rest, and we needed it after the speedy transit through the country.  On the way to San Cristobal we stopped at a petrol station for the toilet, and one person told us that ‘We can’t talk about it, but we are all very happy since January.  Things are improving.’

We took the advice from locals to go to the border on the Sunday.  It turned out that what people know, and what is actually going on, can on occasion be two different things.  Arriving to the main bridge to cross, one of the officials told us to park the car “over there” and go to get a leaving stamp in the passports.  After that we asked where to go to deal with the car.  That would have to wait until Monday, as they don’t deal with cars on Sundays.  We couldn’t get the car out from Venezuela the correct way, and if we were to enter Colombia, we would be driving illegally, risking to have the car taken away from us.  On balance it was better to be one more night in Venezuela, this time as illegal aliens, as we had left formally and the agent refused to stamp us back in.  We spent all day and the night in a place that for sure had seen better days.  It was 3km from the border crossing (we were sent to a different bridge), so we were up early as they told us the border opens at 5am.  Turned out that customs in Venezuela to get the car paper stamped starts at 8am.  Extremely long story shortened a little, we left in an orderly fashion and entered Colombia with everything in order, after a long time wrestling with a new car entry app they had started to use.

Our trip in Venezuela was enjoyable and enriching, thanks in a huge measure to all the help we received from the locals.  The people we interacted with all (with one exception!) were helpful, friendly and welcoming.  The roadside traffic control points (alcavalas) all worked professionally, and we never felt any hostility or stress interacting with them.  One receptionist in a hotel suddenly said in perfect Swedish ‘jag pratar lite svenska’ (I speak a little Swedish).  Imagine Karin’s surprise!