Friday, October 20, 1995 - Isla Margarita, Venezula

The Jofian drifted happily northeast all night. We actually made five miles while we slept. Awoke to a lovely dawn and resumed our voyage. It was calm and beautiful all day. We made excellent time. We were glad we had waited until morning to go through the Margarita Channel; not only would it have been somewhat risky at night, but we would have missed a lot of great scenery. We were amazed as we approached Porlamar. We had expected a small resort town, similar to Kralendijk. Instead we saw scores of high- rise buildings! The city is almost as large and impressive as Puerto La Cruz, with a skyline that reminded us of Manhattan. Even Pampatar has a few high-rise buildings, but nothing compared with Porlamar. It was only 12:30 when we dropped anchor in the harbor at Pampatar. We had really made tracks! Ours is the only U.S. boat in the harbor. Most of the rest of the boats are Venezuelan, except for a small sloop next to us flying a flag we didn't recognize. The young couple from the sloop rowed by in their dinghy on their way back to their boat. Roy called "Hello!" to them, but they didn't respond, although the woman waved. A little while later, we saw the man on the stern of his boat, bringing up his dinghy. There wouldn't have been anything unusual about that except for the fact that he didn't have a stitch on! We gathered up our papers and our good clothes and paddled to the beach in front of the old fort. The cruising guides tell us we should hire agents to clear us in and out; we shouldn't try to do it ourselves. But in our opinion, the clearing in and out process is part of the fun and adventure of arriving in a different country. Each port has slightly different procedures, and it's interesting to find out what they are, so we ignored the guides and set out to do it ourselves. We're glad we did. Adouana (Customs) was very easy to find. We walked half a block up the street from the fort, and there it was! Everyone was as nice as could be. The official seemed to understand my limited Spanish, and he spoke carefully, so I could understand much of what he said. He was very courteous and pleasant. A woman in the office even offered us cups of coffee! They had a copy machine right there, so we didn't have to chase all over town looking for one. Their typewriters were in good condition, and the typist used all ten fingers! Quite a contrast from Mexico. When the guides were written, you had to go from Customs to the National Guard to Immigration to the Port Captain, but the National Guard is no longer part of the loop. The Customs official told us to go next to Immigration, which is near the Flamingo Hotel. We walked about a mile-and-a-half along the waterfront, following the signs to the Flamingo Hotel. When we got there, we asked the doorman where Immigration was, but he didn't know. Fortunately, he and another guard knew where the Port Captain was, so we continued up the road in the direction they indicated. It turned out that both the Port Captain and Immigration were in the same building as the Coast Guard. However, the Immigration officials had left for the weekend. Since we have to clear in with Immigration before going to the Port Captain, there was nothing further we could do today. We walked back to town and caught a bus to Porlamar. The bus fares here are unbelievable -- 20 Bolivares, which is less than ten cents U.S.! We can ride buses till the cows come home! Not surprisingly, the buses are very crowded. Some passengers hang out the doors. When the bus is too full, the driver won't stop to let more on. We were lucky and got seats on the bus to Porlamar, but on the next buses, we had to stand. It was mid-afternoon, and we hadn't had lunch, so as soon as we saw a McDonald's, we got off the bus. There obviously isn't any shortage of cheap labor in this country; there must have been fifty employees in there. The ones that weren't in the kitchen or behind the counter were mopping the floor or wiping off the tables or helping the little kids in the playground. There were ten times as many employees as customers. In the shopping plaza in back of McDonald's there was a one-hour photo developing place, so after we ate, we went there and Roy dropped off his roll of film. We weren't in Porlamar yet; we were in Los Robles, so we caught another bus into downtown Porlamar, which was crowded with people and stores galore. I wanted to buy a birthday card for Bill, since I'm already late, but we couldn't find a store that sold greeting cards, although we managed to buy some postcards. Found a Radio Shack, but they didn't have printer ribbons. Bought an English-language newspaper at a little stand. Then Roy saw a Tourist Information booth, so we went there. The man was very pleasant and eager. He spoke English quite well. Told me there was a bookstore around the corner where I could buy birthday cards. I bought a map from him for 250 Bolivares. He offered to exchange money at a rate of 235 Bolivares to the dollar! At El Morro, we had gotten only 170. No wonder they were so eager to change money! I had $40 with me, and rather stupidly only exchanged $20. Guess I couldn't quite believe the rate. Then I went around the corner and found a tiny bookstore. All their greeting cards were in Spanish, but I found one I could read and bought it for Bill. By then, it was after five, so we caught a bus back to the photo place and picked up Roy's pictures and a couple more rolls of film. Most of the pictures came out quite well. We wanted to buy some groceries on our way back to Pampatar, but Roy was very thirsty and wanted a glass of water. I made the mistake of suggesting he get one at McDonald's or the ice-cream parlor on the corner. Roy's eyes lit up, and we headed for the ice-cream parlor. Of course, you can't just ask for water without buying something, so we both had ice cream. The system there was rather strange. We had to pay the cashier first. She gave us a receipt, which we took to another employee, who dished up the ice cream. However, there seemed to be a communications gap between the cashier and the other employee. We had paid for single scoops, but he gave us huge double scoops! It took us quite a while to eat them. The sun set, and a few drops of rain came down. We had wanted to get back to our Royaks before dark, so we decided we'd better forget about the groceries and just head back to Pampatar as quickly as possible. As soon as we finished the ice cream, we crossed the street to the bus stop, just missing a bus by half a minute. Buses had been running very frequently, so we thought we wouldn't have to wait long. Time went by and darkness fell, but no bus came. We saw a few buses approaching, but they all turned in to the gas station. We finally decided the buses must stop running at six o'clock. They were fueling up for tomorrow and going home. (The drivers own their own buses here.) Many taxis were going by, so we tried to flag one. Finally one stopped. He wanted 900 Bolivares to take us to Pampatar. That's quite a bit more than the 40 we would have paid on the bus, but it was still less than $5 and we needed to get back, so we took it. Then we found out why no buses had come by -- we'd been waiting on the wrong street! The taxi went out to the main road, and we saw lots of buses. Well, we'll know next time. The important thing was to get back to our Royaks and the boat. It was pitch dark by then. Our Royaks were where we had left them, chained to a palm tree, but it was obvious kids had been playing with them. They were sandy and dirty, my painter was covered with sand, and the cord from Roy's reel was strung across the beach. No real damage, though, and nothing missing, so we cleaned up the mess and headed for Jofian. Didn't have too much difficulty finding her in the dark. We were very glad we got back when we did. In a few minutes, the rain came down in earnest, lightning flashed, and thunder boomed. We were able to fill the water tank and a five-gallon jug. After all that ice cream, neither of us was hungry, so we skipped supper. Relaxed and read and enjoyed the storm.