Monday, October 23, 1995 - Isla Margarita, Venezuela

Paddled to the Coast Guard station to complete the clearing-in process. We had been told on Friday that Immigration would be here at eight o'clock Monday morning, but the official didn't show up until nearly ten. We had expected a spiffy uniform and gold braid, but he was casually dressed and greatly overweight. He cleared us in without any problem and then sent us to the Port Captain down the hall. Venezuelan Spanish is different from Mexican Spanish, which makes communication even more difficult. Fortunately, there was a man there who spoke a little English, but his accent was so thick, he was difficult to understand. The Port Captain was very nice but only knew a few words of English. Communication was slow, but eventually the papers were filled out. Then the Port Captain told us we had to buy two stamps for 2000 Bolivares. I started to get the money out, but the Captain and the English-speaking man told us not to pay. This was confusing, but eventually they got across that we had to go to the Libreria Maneiro (Maneiro Bookstore) in Pampatar to buy the stamps. Fortunately, the Port Captain wrote it down on a slip of paper. When we got to downtown Pampatar, I went first to the Post Office to mail the birthday card to Bill. This is the weirdest looking Post Office we've ever seen. It looks more like a hotdog stand. It's a tiny, round, squat building near the town square. We had a hard time believing it was really a Post Office, but the clerk sold me a stamp. Postage is a lot less here than it was in the ABC islands. The stamp for a letter is only 100 Bolivares, and postcard stamps are 50. In the ABC's, a letter was 1.75 florins and postcards were .90 florins. I asked for Poste Restante mail, not really expecting any. There wasn't any. Then I asked the clerk where the Libreria Maneiro was, and she indicated it was a couple of blocks down the street. We walked in that direction but didn't see anything that looked like a bookstore. Came to a hole-in-the-wall that sold paper and stuff, so we asked in there, but the man said the Libreria was farther down the street, so we continued walking. Passed an even tinier hole-in-the- wall that didn't seem to have much of anything. Finally ran out of street, so we asked a grocer, and he pointed us back in the direction we had just come from. What do you know, that dinky hole-in-the-wall was the place! There was even a sign on the wall that said "Libreria Maneiro", but we had walked right by it without seeing it. I showed the slip of paper to the woman, and she sold us the stamps, no problem. That accomplished, we got on a bus to Porlamar. Stopped at McDonald's for lunch and then went on into town. Rode the bus to the end of the line. Walked a few blocks to the waterfront. Found a lovely esplanade that went right along the coast. A lot of money had been put into building it; too bad they hadn't put some of the money into building a waste-water-disposal plant. The raw sewage empties right into the sea and creates a charming aroma. We strolled along the esplanade as far as it went and then walked along the beach, which would have been very nice except for the fact that every hundred yards or so there was a ditch full of dirty water that we had to cross. We managed to get across several without getting wet, but eventually we came to one we couldn't cross, so we followed a little alley to the street and continued our walk on the sidewalk. We could see hundreds of sailboats anchored near the Concorde Hotel, so we wanted to go over there and see what we could find out. It's so sad. The shoreline could be beautiful waterfront property, and parts of it were, but right next to luxurious hotels and condos were the most wretched, squalid shacks, surrounded by heaps of trash and puddles of filthy water. When we finally reached the Concorde, we were disappointed. It had been a first-class hotel twenty years ago, but it's deteriorated. I'm not even sure it's still occupied; there were no signs of life around it. The Budget Rent-a-Car place and various shops near it had been long since abandoned. It needed a fresh coat of paint. We walked down the dirt road past the hotel to the small marina. Didn't see any vacant slips. We were hot and thirsty, so when we got to the beach, we went into the open-air refreshment stand for something to drink. Roy had a Pepsi, and I had bottled water. We sat in the shade and relaxed. It was a nice little beach and far enough out from town to be clear of the sewage. When we started back, we met a U.S. couple that had just returned from grocery shopping. They had a great many bags of groceries, so I asked the woman which store they'd gone to, and she told me Rattan's. She said they had a lot of U.S. products there, and she showed me on the map where it was located. Sounded like just the store we'd been looking for. Caught an autobus back to town. There were plenty of seats when we got on, but the driver kept packing people in. Several were sitting on the floor. It was unreal. We kept trying to see how much people were paying when they got off (in this country, you pay when you exit instead of when you enter). It looked as if they were paying fifteen Bolivares, which surprised us, since we expected an autobus to be higher than a big bus. When we got off, I handed him thirty Bolivares for the two of us, but he wanted forty, so I gave him another ten. That's the same rate as the big buses. We had overshot our destination, so we walked back towards Plaza Bolivar, which is shady and pleasant. Pampatar is the small town we had expected, but Porlamar is a large, bustling city with endless shops. I've never seen so many stores in one place. There are street after street after street full of stores, stores, stores. Somebody in this country must have money, because there were thousands of people shopping. The streets were filled with vehicles, too. We were hoping to find the Rattan Supermarket, but there was no sign of it. We had noticed Cada on the way in. It's supposed to be a large supermarket also, so we went there. Another big disappointment. It was dinky, crowded, and had almost nothing we wanted. They didn't even have eggs! Can you imagine a supermarket that doesn't sell eggs? This is such a strange country. The grocery stores don't sell eggs, the bookstores don't sell books, and ham comes packaged as chicken. It was getting late, so we returned to Pampatar and went to the small grocery store across the street from the beach where we had left our Royaks. They had nice-looking chicken but no eggs. However, the checker told me where I could buy eggs. I asked for "dos muslos" (two thighs), but when I opened the package back on the boat, I saw that he had given me two backs or breasts or something. It was delicious, fresh chicken though. Best we've had in ages. While supper was cooking, we watched an exciting sailboat race on television. The reception here is excellent, but all the channels speak Spanish. They show a lot of old U.S. movies with Spanish dubbed in. For this program, it didn't matter what language the people were speaking; the action shots were terrific. Just as supper finished cooking, the microwave and the TV went blank. Roy rushed back to check the inverter, but couldn't find anything wrong. They came back on for a second and then went off again. Great. All we need is an inverter problem, especially with the propane stove out of commission. We were lucky supper had finished cooking before it conked out.