Tuesday, October 24, 1995 - Isla Margarita, Venezuela

Took the stamps to the Port Captain's office. Thought it would only take a few minutes this time. All he had to do, we thought, was stick the stamps on a document and hand it to us. It turned out he had to fill out another form; that took about ten minutes. Then he said he was going to make copies. He must have gone into Porlamar to find a copy machine; he was gone at least half an hour. I was glad I'd brought a book to read, but Roy had to sit there with nothing to do except tell the English-speaking guy how to stop the air conditioner from leaking water all over the floor. The Port Captain finally returned. Stuck the stamps on a document, blammed it with a rubber stamp, signed it, and gave it to us. They're very fancy stamps; they even have holograms on them. Really look neat. Now we can stay in Venezuela for six months if we want to. (We don't.) Back to McDonald's for lunch and then into downtown. We wanted to get a one-burner propane stove in case the inverter quit for good. It had worked okay for breakfast, but who knows? We also wanted to get some more water filters. We found a small marine-supply store, but they didn't have filters or propane stoves. However, they had a part that Roy can use to repair our old stove. It was surprisingly inexpensive, so Roy bought it. They told us of a ferreteria (hardware store) that might have the filters we want, so we headed there. They had a few filters, but not the kind we needed, so they sent us to another hardware store. That place didn't have filters or stoves either. They told us to go to the place around the corner that we'd just come from, so we gave up. We finally found an ATM that communicates with the U.S. This money is so confusing that I punched in 4000 Bolivares (about $20) instead of 40,000. Oh well, at least now we know where we can get money if we need it. Of course, it would be at the official rate, which is only 170, so as long as we have U.S. dollars, we're better off exchanging them instead of using the ATM. Every place we went, guys kept coming up to us, wanting to exchange money. By the end of the day, it was up to 250! Obviously, the Venezuelan economy is in bad shape and will soon devalue the Bolivar again. We're only going to exchange a little at a time, so we won't be stuck with a lot of worthless money. We actually saw stores that had eggs for sale! Some of them looked more like drugstores than grocery stores. Figures. Roy bought a glass of orange juice from an old woman on a street corner. She squeezed the oranges right in front of us, so we know they were good fresh oranges, and she used at least six of them. When Roy asked, "Cuanto?" (How much?), I heard her say something-treinta. Treinta means thirty, which is nothing, so I assumed she must have meant five hundred and thirty, but it turned out she only wanted thirty Bolivares! That's about fifteen cents U.S.! How can she possibly make a living? She has to buy the oranges and plastic cups. I shouldn't think thirty Bolivares would even cover her expenses. We walked around and walked around until we were too tired and thirsty to walk farther. Then we bought cups of ice cream and ate them in the shade. That renewed our energy, and we went to the Rattan Supermarket, which we had seen from the bus on the way in. It's right there in plain sight on Avenida 4 de Mayo, the wide street the bus goes down. I had even stuck my head in the door a few days ago but hadn't realized it was a grocery store, because the front part of it was a department store. It's huge! The grocery section is magnificent! It's everything we hoped for and then some. Even in the U.S., this would be considered a first-class market. In fact, it's called a "Hypermarket" instead of a supermarket. It had really nice stuff, much of it from the U.S., and it was clean and nicely laid out. We're sure glad we ran into that woman from the U.S. yesterday. We bought almost more than we could carry. It came to less than ten thousand Bolivares, which surprised me; I was afraid I wouldn't have enough loot to pay for it all. The bus system (?) here baffles us. No matter which stop we're at, the bus stops someplace else. We waited at one stop for maybe twenty minutes. Several Pampatar buses with vacant seats went by without stopping, even though we waved. They seemed to be stopping at the stop about a hundred feet away, so we went over there. Along came a Pampatar bus that passed us and stopped at the stop we had been at previously! We gave up and returned to that stop. Fortunately, in a few minutes a Pampatar bus stopped. The men here are very courteous; if there are no seats, one usually offers me his, which is what happened this time. But Roy had to stand until someone got off. I'd forgotten to bring the insulated bag, so I waited to get to Pampatar to buy chicken and eggs. We didn't want them to fry on the way home. When we got to Pampatar, we left the groceries at the Royaks with Roy guarding them, while I walked in the direction the checker had told me. Walked to the end of the street and turned right, asking in every likely and unlikely looking place if they had eggs. No one did, and I was about to give up, when I came to a very unlikely looking place. The sign out front said "Sandwiches" and "Hamburgers", but when I peeked inside, I saw a handful of groceries. Didn't see any eggs, but I asked anyway, and to my amazement, the grocer said, "Si." He had eggs! As usual in this part of the world, they're sold loose. I was very glad I'd remembered to bring our plastic egg holder. The grocer started to get a plastic bag to put the eggs in. I quickly handed him the holder. He was impressed and wanted to know where I'd bought it. At least, I think that's what he was asking. I told him, "Estados Unidos" (United States). When I got back to the grocery store where we'd bought chicken last night, I asked for "piernas de pollo" (chicken legs) instead of muslos. This time I got the right thing. We had a huge, delicious supper.