Choroni

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Break time is getting closer. I am getting anxious. I am also tired; tired of going to work, tired of dealing with kids, tired of Venezuelan weirdness.

Last weekend we took a much needed trip out of town. Seven of us gathered at 5 a.m. and took a cab to the bus station. We caught an express to Maracay where we got on a short bus to Choroní.

Choroní is a beach we had heard much about. It is written up in most travel books and is touted by just about every Venezuelan as the best beach in the country. It is also well known for the condition of the road that leads to it. Even the most intrepid driver has told me that the road is insane and very treacherous. This is why we decided to take the bus.

The bus is a short one for a reason: some of the turns are too sharp for a longer one. Even the short bus had to make a three point turn on at least two of the switchbacks. To say that the road is narrow is an understatement; it’s barely wide enough in places to accommodate the bus. Add to the equation scattered boulders in the road way, oncoming traffic, a cliff face with jutting rocks, and a drop off where the bottom can not be seen, and you have somewhat of a picture of this road.

In true Latino style, the bus is fully decorated and comes complete with a thumping stereo system. Every seat gets sold so you are sitting shoulder to shoulder with your knees in your chin. The steeper the road gets, the louder the stereo becomes until it is so loud you cannot hear yourself think. It would also seem that the fastest one to the end gets a prize as the driver continually increases speed until you want to scream.

On blind corners, of which there are many, the driver lays on the horn and hugs the cliff. If you are going to the beach, this is on the left. Any oncoming traffic must therefore move to the left and stop to allow the bus to slip by, millimeters from their car. If oncoming traffic is encountered in a spot that is too narrow to allow passage, the cars must back up until the bus can pass.

If one is prone to car sickness, this is not the trip for them. Every passenger can be seen to be gripping something tightly. This is to prevent them from being thrown and/or rolled around the cabin of the bus. The fact that you are seated body to body is actually a blessing as it locks you in even tighter, making it even more difficult to get thrown around.

The whole trip, from Maracay to Choroní, takes about an hour and a half. We arrived shortly after nine. Upon arrival, it is necessary to stagger about a little before your legs can become accustomed to standing and walking. The bus station there is quite nice, although it is a bit of a walk to the center of town.

The town is beautiful. It is clean and well tended with brightly colored buildings. There is a posada or hotel every three steps making it easy to find accommodation. Fortunately, we went on a weekend when not many others were there so we had our pick. The four ladies we were with found a room together while Z, Carrie, and I found space in another posada. We changed clothes, explored the village, and ate breakfast before heading off to the beach.

The beach is a short walk from town. It is isolated, with no posadas nearby. It is clean, clean, clean. Next to Los Roques, it is the cleanest beach I have seen in Venezuela. There were even other gringos there! We bumped into folks from Ireland, Canada, and the U.S. We rented two umbrellas, stretched out our towels and relaxed. Soon, a fellow came around selling beer for about a dollar a bottle. When the next one came, he collected the empties and sold us cold ones. It was great!At four o’clock, they threw us out. We wandered back to our places, showered, and re-gathered for dinner. We found a small seafood place next to the Malecon where we had an excellent fish dinner. There were two little kittens playing there who quickly befriended Zachary. After some time, they curled up in his lap and fell sound asleep. We sucked down some cocktails and headed off to explore the nightlife.The Malecon, or boardwalk, is beautiful at night. There are vendors everywhere selling homemade jewelry and clothing. The faces are friendly and it feels very safe. Soon, Zman was asleep on his feet so I took him back to the posada. He was delighted with the fact that he got to sleep on the top bunk. Alas, after stories and songs, I got to sleep on the top bunk too. Sometime later Carrie awakened me to go listen to the drumming.

I could hear it as soon as I stepped out the door. A short walk to the Malecon found me standing outside a large crowd that had gathered to watch the action. About half a dozen guys were sitting on congo drums an banging away. It was really nice to hear, like water to a parched man. I stood and listened for awhile, then stumbled back home to sleep with my wife.

The next day we decided to hike to a different beach. We had been told it would take about thirty minutes, but that turned out to be more like forty-five. We trudged up the mountainside under a bright sun with no shade to the top. The back side was more protected and emptied onto another pristine beach. This one was completely devoid of human life. We quickly dove into the water.

Zachary and I played in the waves until a big one came along that ripped him out of my arms. Fortunately, he was thrown closer to the beach where he arose on his feet, sputtering and crying. I rushed to him and snatched him up. He was done with the water for the day.After a short time we hiked back over the hill, changed our clothes, and climbed aboard the bus for home. The trip back was slightly more pleasant than the trip coming, although the music was louder. We arrived home Sunday night; tired, but happy. It helped to make this week go by a little faster.

This weekend is the holiday bazaar at the school and then we are off to the Feria tonight. We have a six day weekend starting Thursday because of the elections here. We are going to Curacao with six others (all women!). Then it is only two more weeks until Christmas break. I am counting the days.

MJR