Where am I - Still in Venezuela?

Isla Margarita was a gas - 16 days of Sun, Salsa and well...ah hem, Rum, but more of that later, things to do.

I spent 2 hard days, slogging across the hot, dry plains of Venezuela from Puerto de la Cruz to get here. Being stopped every couple of hours and having all my stuff pulled apart by fascists, (sort it out Chavez), was a bit of a pain. I have learnt, also, to make the best of these situations. My aims are;

1 To make them smile against all their best endeavours not to.

2 To refuse to part with any money, (or 'presents'), despite implied threats/facial contortions

3 To leave them thinking I actually enjoyed having my bags unpacked and unceremoniously inspected.

4 To educate them to the fact that England is part of Great Britain, not the USA.

Arriving all of a sudden in the foothills of the Andes was a shock. It was like an amphetamine rush - maybe it is the light, maybe the altitude. The arid, dirty, noisy, smoking plains were replaced imperceptibly, (but, I'm definitely getting something), by the breathtaking beauty that only mountains can bring. I could not stop stopping, to look at the incredible Alpinesque views, listen to the silence punctuated only by the gurgling of streams or the birdcall. To me places like this represent true freedom, such a contrast and relief from my experiences of this country in it's seige-like state. Why, even the women became more beautiful, Indian features enhanced.