Bliss... In The Hippie Colony of Choroni

Today, I had moments of recalling the time spent on the sunny beaches of Los Roques and the drive by Ramon, accompanied by his lovely lady, Teresa to the hippie colony of Choroni.

It was towards the end of our trip.  Ramon had taken time off work to take us to a colony, four hours' drive from Caracas which was his second favourite place to visit in Venezuela.

We had been told by the young Venezuelan; Miguel, whom we met during the waiting period at the airport in Caracas, that the road through The Henry Pittier National Park (I'd say National Mountains) is narrow and dangerous. I forgot to mention Miguel.  Sitting two seats away from me at the back row of the gate, waiting to fly to Los Roques, I noticed a young, intellectual-looking, bearded man reading a book. He looked different, with curly dark hair and glasses, jeans falling off his backside (a sign of youth), every so often looking up with observing eyes. So... I began the chat.  His father was an ambassador many years ago, in the 'Belle Epoque' and he was brought up abroad in the Far East. He now got a job working for the current government. It made me wonder if Chavez, the president has brought the country to chaos and yet, he has many followers. There are many different views on that of course. One thing is for sure, the division between the poor and the rich, has almost diminished the middle class. The permission to build the favelas by cutting down the trees on the mountains surrounding Caracas, adds further danger of mudslides. I actually saw a toilet hanging on the edge of the remains of walls which was part of a house in a favela up in the mountain ahead.
Miguel was not prepared to give much information on his thoughts on the present government. But he spoke perfect English and we became momentarily friends for the next couple of days on the island.

Anyhow, all this ...  To go back to the incredible drive to Choroni.
From Ramon's house, further up in the mountains, we passed a German village... German? Yep; Colonia Trovar.  One hour and a half away from Caracas. This place was untrue! So similar to the chalets I have seen numerous times, travelling on the way from Geneva through small villages in Switzerland.

We walked through the village on a sunny early morning, with an aromatic coffee purchased at the cafe.  The drive continued.  We were now above the white clouds viewed below the mountainous roads.

Passed villages laying deep in the valleys.

From being above the clouds, we drove through them, until they were above us.  With waterfalls along the way.

Four and a half hours later, a wide river appeared and we drove through a square to the empty street of colourful houses.  It was so picturesque.  Soon after, the drive to our posada was in sight.  It used to be an old cocoa farm now turned into a posada by the owners.

We dropped our luggage off in our located rooms and took a walk around the village ...  The hippie colony of Choroni.  And we went to the main bay.  Wow.

Eventually, we hit town at dusk. Well, kind of. It was a Friday night and the place gets busy during the week-end beginning Saturday morning when visitors arrive mostly from Maracay on run-down buses.

After some seafood and the strong Caipirinha we were served, a little tipsy, we walked past a cafe, two or three shops open along our route, to reach the few artisans displaying their merchandise of bracelets and handicrafts along the seaside. I saw a man pass by holding a big fish!  So asked if I could take a photo.

And the next is one of the rare forms of transport; when it stopped, people just kept pouring out of the vehicle; a true people's carrier in full form.

As I was talking to a cute vendor, buying God knows what from him, Hala was listening to a barefoot man and came to stop me from purchasing more bracelets and said: "Haldita, enough. Let's go. This guy says he's gonna play the drums and is gonna take us somewhere fun!"
"Excellente," I showed off my Spanish, paid the vendor and we left following the 'red Indian' man, now in full conversation with Ramon and Teresa.

Through the unlit, dark muddy roads, we followed the stranger in the drizzle of the rain. We got to a fenced area and entered through a flimsy doorway into a small camping ground with a badly lit-up hut in the middle. The sound of Latino music and the gathering of a handful of Venezuelans could be seen from afar. We joined them under the hut and were introduced to Gerard. A young Frenchman, well-travelled, who spent most the time of the year in Choroni.  He talked of the purity of the land and people there and how he planned to spend his retirement in that somewhat untouched, magical colony.

We danced. Teresa sang to the tunes and I spoke to the young girl carrying her newborn in a blanket while shaking her bootie. She then introduced me to her friends and I carried on in my newly acquired language. We left at midnight when the heavy rain had finally stopped.

The next day, the weather was not improving. Very unusual for this time of year, but hey, what is usual any more with the way the world is going? We left Choroni at midday for the long drive back, purchasing the most delicious variety of mangoes being sold on the way. Definitely to return to.

One final thing... Thinking about our time in Choroni, I could not help but recall the moment, dressed in hippie-style jeans shorts, a colourful top and the infamous flip-flops, I looked up at the cloudy sky, walking by the river and thought in owe... 'It takes so little for us to be truly happy.  So... Why all the greed?'

The Archipielago Islands of Los Roques... Magnifico!

The day began in Caracas, with the ring of the alarm clock for an early rise.  We were warned to get to the airport in Caracas early; guess what?  In the case of trafico!  As it happens, we got there in half an hour, three hours before the half-hour plane ride.  Grrrreat.  We were then informed in half-hourly intervals of the next two hours' delay.  It was fascinating to 'people watch'; in particular the men with their lovers or secretaries as most Venezuelans would say. Five hours later since our arrival at the airport, we walked to the small plane, carrying about 40 passengers.
Hala tells me: "Hey sis, didn't wanna say this before, but I read in the Lonely Planet book that these small planes have also been known to disappear in the sky; like the Bermuda Triangle."  And she laughed.
"Really?!"  I exclaimed.  "But that's fine. Things like these don't bother me, when our time is up, then so be it. We go."

In half an hour, our noise-polluted experience came to an end. Before landing, beneath us, was the view of all different shades of blue and the small islands scattered all over the place.
We got off the plane in our flip-flops and bikinis under our clothing, into the small outdoor airport which was more like a bus stand and got in to dispose of our valuables in a safe. We were then directed straight into a motor boat to join the Catamaran on an island close by. They told us our luggage shall be in our posada (inn) upon return.

We began taking our clothes off and changing into the pareo on the boat. When we arrived close to our catamaran, I saw one of the attendants on the boat smiling at us and as we boarded, he introduced himself as Captain Javier. Looking at him, I thought... 'Mmm... If Javier works for Penelope Cruz!' 

We had lunch onboard and the cat began to move. We watched our approach to the next magical island.  To see the various shades of blue, from the transparent water with the colour of white sand to the turquoise blue, turning further into navy was a sight. Then the blue sky. A postcard made into reality.

At about 4 pm, we were dropped off on the sandy island, where no cars or bicycles were in sight. We were shown to our posada by the sea, extremely well located. You could walk the island in a matter of 10 minutes. With about 60 posadas and the area the locals lived, the colourful houses made Los Roques absolutely delightful to walk around.

 

At night, we were told to meet up at the restaurant, across from where we were staying for dinner. We shared our table with a young Venezuelan couple, married for 4 years, both engineers who were like honeymooners and put our knowledge of Spanish into good use.  We seemed to make them laugh.
After dinner, we asked about the two bars on the island and were directed towards the first.  We got a grumpy waiter with an attitude getting us a drink.   As beautifully as the place was decorated in white and blue, the service was too unfriendly,  so we moved on to the next.  Now that place was buzzing.  The waitress behind the bar spoke English and was extremely welcoming so we got our drinks and sat in the outside bar, while the DJ played some cool Latino tunes.  Hala was busy talking to a whole bunch of friendly guys while Captain Javier appeared next to me.
We wanted to get drinks but our cash currency of dolares and bolivares were locked in the safe which was in the main building of the offices and it had shut at 6 pm.

The captain saw me somewhat in distress and asked what was wrong.  When I told him our problem, he said: "No worries, I've the key to the safe with me.  I can take you there."
Of course, I agreed and we got to our money to buy a couple of Cuba Libres; vodka and rum.
The island being so small, Javier knew our posada and asked: "Have you been to the roof terrace of your posada with the view of the sea?"
"No, we just checked in after the boat showered, changed and came to dinner,"  I answered rather innocently.
"Come, I'll show you."  He eagerly suggested.
I looked at Hala, happily sitting and talking so I told her where we were heading and left with the Latino captain.

This was the view from the roof terrace of our posada in the daytime.  That night, looking down, there was no one in sight.  The sound of the small waves reaching the beach, the light breeze blowing through my curled-up hair, smelling the aroma the sea gave out mixed with the humidity, the dark blue sky, lit up by the almost full moon and the twinkling stars, made it a heavenly setting, made for lovers.

We smoked and chatted, and laughed when Javier drew me close to his manly chest and kissed me passionately.
I told him to stop.  "Let me take in this moment.  This is probably normal to you," I said, "I mean the view of the sea, the gentle breeze in the air, the moon shining brightly in the sky and onto the sea ...."
My eyes must have been glowing, like an excited child.
"You've probably not been with a Latino before?"  He asked.
"Mmm ... " I cannot lie so I answered: "Well, not with a Venezuelan.  No."  And I laughed.
He was hot.

I joined Hala at the bar later when she was talking to an eccentric Venezuelan businessman from Caracas.  He looked like a character from a cartoon, with fuzzy black and white hair on the sides of his head and none at the top, a slight belly who was talking of his surfing on further islands and how things had changed there from a few years ago when he last visited, with nowhere to go at night.
He was funny.

The next three days at Los Roques were a dream.  On the Catamaran from 8.30 am and being taken to other islands and served fresh lobster caught there and then at sea. One of the best I have had.
The captain changed the next two days and we got talking to other fellow travellers on the catamaran, all South Americans and mainly well-to-do Venezuelans as the island and places to stay do not come cheap in Los Roques. There were quite a few Italians, owning posadas and visitors.

The clear sign at the entrance of the square on the island read as...

Que? No drugs? I had never come across such a sign before. Quite amusing.
On the fourth day, after lunch on the catamaran, we were taken to the 'so-called' airport by a speedboat and got on the plane to leave our magical moments spent on spectacular beaches behind. Had to take photos of the luggage delivery!

Leaving the magnificent memories of Los Roques and coming back to London today... I'm exhauuuuusted!

First things first, I started my boxing sessions with the Colombian trainer again and booked a pilates reformer class. Picked up the forever-loving Ex mother-in-law to lunch, sharing some of my adventurous trip stories. Seeing my beautiful girl in between her hectic life and the week-end beginning on Thursday with a last-minute decision of few friends around for Troy's special pie. Robby arrived, followed by Dylan who came late, hand in hand with a beautiful Africana, with the sweetest of smiles. Troy arrived with the food plates accompanied by the lovely Dori. And of course Shane, one of the very lovely guys I am blessed to have as a friend. We talked and laughed and enjoyed each other's company with the exchange of stories.

Friday was dinner at Diba; our amazing older lady friend, who is so full of life and love to give.  She is one hell of a Lady and one to learn good lessons of humanity from. Always entertaining with her fun stories of meeting various celebrities and her travels around the globe. She is now happy to stay in her London home and entertain her varied, good friends and family. And she is a great cook.
Her birthday party was fabulous seeing her young and old circle of very warm and worldly entourage and family. I particularly love meeting people with open views, who know better than judge others. At a certain age, they learn what pleases them in life and they keep it simple and always fun. Very frank and open, having nothing to hide.
Driving home at midnight, Hala and I began thinking we were in too much of a good mood to head home when Massimo called. So we headed to his place instead.
From there, Massimo suggested we turn up at this pirate party on a ship on the Thames. And so we did in, as Massimo's gorgeous musician friend commented, gorgeous outfits to a whole crowd of pirates all made up for the occasion. My only upset was I could have easily got dressed up for this party! And still, we had a great time; with or without costume.

And Saturday... Oh! Oh!
Lunch in Notting Hill. I turned up at our favourite Pan-Asian cuisine restaurant E&O, for a very late brunch at 3.30 pm.  Dylan and his girlfriend had already arrived with Troy and Dori. During a couple of smoking breaks, I managed to visit one vintage shop and came back with a summer hat. As though the four I had purchased in South America were not enough!
And on the other visit, I went to the next shop and came out with a gold sequined top, covered by a flowing chiffon fabric and a one-sided sleeve. Great top for the night out.

The night out on a Saturday... Mmm... Where else but our beloved Fabric Club. Another night of dancing to great tunes played by amazing DJs, catching up with friends and making new ones. Massimo, Salar and his uncle joined us for a night of 'folie', madness and laughter.
We danced our socks off till morning and left in full daylight to head home ready for our bed.

I haven't quite finished with stories of our trip yet... For now, the bed is calling.

Teleferico, Los Caracas and Hotel Aladin!

Driving us past the Aladin Hotel, Teresa recalled a family trip some years ago to Colombia. She went on to tell: "Listen to this story. We were travelling with Ramon and our teenage children and other family members in different cars in inland Colombia. When we got directed to a motel-like place to spend the night for a cheap 15 bolivares per room. We took five rooms and the curious kids went in to check them out. The round beds fascinated them. We were exhausted and retired in the rooms before an early rise."
"In the morning," She continued, "The kids gathered us in grandma's room for questioning."
"Mum, Dad they began, "What's that chair for?"
"That's a Catre," my humorous uncle answered eagerly.
Teresa then explained: "This was like a dentist chair but also an exercise machine with handcuffs attached to the side and things to hang onto at the top. It was a 'Catre'."
Hala then interrupted: "Oh! I know the Catre, the specially made chairs for having sex in different positions!"
"Hey Hala," I jumped in, "Sis, how the hell do you know about... This what's-it sex chair?"
Hala smiled and said: "Can't believe you mentioned this Teresa! As it happens, on my last night in London, I saw Zoe at Dylan's dinner party after so long and being Colombian, she asked if I was to come across a Catre to check it out and get back to her as to how it worked?!"
I then added: "Guess you learn something new every day."
Teresa had more to tell on the story... She continued: "As it happened, grandma was in the room with the Catre and she said: "I couldn't sleep until 3 am and decided to lie on the dentist's chair."
We looked around at each other trying hard not to laugh when she went on: "To do my prayers!"  Being a good Catholic and all.
My uncle had to add his flavour so he said: "Surely a machine to take you straight into heaven!"
And we all laughed.
But we never got to test one out.

The early evening began with Teresa taking us to the outdoor car park of the teleferico to have Ramon waiting with the tickets. Let me tell you, another two-hour normal trafico! But we managed to get there in time to get up above the green mountains extending to the view of Caracas, this is what I would call the city of angels. Living day by day with moments of fear or choosing to block out the negative, tune into the positive and take things for what they are, yet, still guard your life with an embrace to see the kind people who are so ready to smile back at the first site.
Ramon was a true example of such a person.

We went up the lush green mountains, one after the other until we reached the top.
At 2250 metres above, the sun was going down with spectacular views. We were above the clouds.

We had a dinner of fondue at the restaurant with a view of the glowing city with lights. Stars above and stars below, shining.

The next day.
Teresa's free spirit when she took us to Los Caracas, beaches laying further than our first day, another two hours away from the city, was wonderful to watch as we met up with her good old friend Lalo. His kind smile and caring manners were impeccable. Teresa explained he lived in the mountains and any time there was chaos in the area; as in the mudslide last December due to heavy rain, this man would be there to give his helping hand.

We first met at a beach after Teresa skillfully drove us down a steep, muddy hill to take us to a bay with no one but a couple of other fishermen joining to chat. Everyone was friendly and actually sweet.
The picture shows the bay we were on for a couple of hours before heading to Los Caracas.

On the way to the beach, Teresa stopped at the waterfall for us to dip in for a swim and feel the pressure of water like a heavy massage on our back. It was superb.

And then back to the beach to spend the rest of the afternoon.

Lying on the deck chairs in Los Caracas, I noticed a family. The two young sons were on a smaller-than-normal bike squad going around the beach while the voluptuous mamma stood by the open passenger door of the truck, in her tight swimsuit and flirted with her eyes towards her husband who rushed to her side, took her from the waist and went on to kiss her passionately, almost lying on the passenger seat. Impressive.

We had to get back to the hotel, to get ready for our friends Julius and Rebecca to pick us up at about 9.30 pm to attend an event in the newly done up, modern VIP hotel, followed by dinner at the rooftop of the restaurant called 360. With views all around the city.

We had to get home for a short sleep before getting ready to fly to the absolutely magical islands of Los Roques.

Chacaito... Museums and Downtown Caracas

After the glorious day at Playa Pantaleta, which incidentally means ladies' underwear as apparently, that's where couples came outside the city to have 'sex' and where ladies' panties used to be found the next day!  Trust me to remember that.  Anyhow, Teresa drove us back to the hotel, with Ramon and their beautiful children awaiting to join us for Hala's birthday dinner.  Needless to say, Hala was in tears when blowing her candles.

The following morning, Teresa joined us at the end of breakfast around 8.30 am again to take us for a visit to the travel agent in the Chacaito area of town.  She parked in the dark car park and we went to a small travel agent with four women working behind a desk in a small area with heavy glass doors (probably bulletproof ones) and locks and bars to be opened one by one to let us in.  You would imagine entering a safe.

On the way back from the beach the previous day, we passed by the port in la Guaira and saw a cruise liner called 'Ocean Dream'.
Teresa said in excitement: "You should try the cruise. We went on one from Isla Margarita and it was amazing.  They only just started this in Caracas in December."
Watching the large cruise liners unload their groups of people like sheep on the islands we had visited before was not a choice we quite fancied considering before. But... You know what they say... Never say never and this was different. A cruise with hot-blooded, warm and friendly Latinos seemed rather interesting. I was not quite convinced but the idea did excite me.
"Imagine sis,"  Hala tried, "No airports, no suitcases to carry, no silly immigration questioning, no packing and unpacking and all-inclusive. Can't be bad?!"
"Brilliant Sis," was my usual response, "Let's do it."

Back to the travel agent who made fast enquiries on places left on the cruise leaving six days later and she tried to find us a posada and flights to the magical Venezuelan islands in the Caribbean sea, Los Roques, before our cruise trip. But it was 'Valentine' week-end and places to stay were rare to find.
Ramon who was constantly in touch with Teresa to make sure everything went smoothly with our bookings, got in touch with their friendly, red-headed lady travel agent who was most helpful and told us to leave and go on our tour of the museums, while she continued the search and confirmations.

Teresa explained that taking the underground would be advisable to go downtown and so we did.
I never imagined taking the metro and especially in a city like Caracas but it was great. Certainly the fastest way to go around in this city of trafico.

There was a market entrance next to this wall and we entered hoping to find a Caracas t-shirt.  There was finally a lady vendor who sold mainly 'Chavez' printed t-shirts. She was a firm Chavez follower and proudly boasted about so many visitors from different countries looking for this particular item.

Simon Bolivar is everywhere. So, the house he was born in was his first destination. The Casa Natal de Bolivar, reconstructed. I did wonder how the shiny white marble floor seemed so untouched by the dust of years past. Simon Bolivar 24 July 1783.

Apart from the few Venezuelans visiting this free-entry museum, we were the only foreigners there.
The murals on the high walls demonstrated the history of the place with Simon Bolivar's triumphs.

The courtyard where they washed their clothes.

And finally, his four-poster bed.

Museo Bolivarieno was next.  The courtyard surrounded by the charming Venezuelan-style house was delightful. The midday sun shone through the leaves of the trees around the decorative stone fountain.

There were display glass cabinets of Bolivar's socks and tiny size boots, in which, he must have conquered many battles. And his carriage.

The rooms on the upper floors were closed for reconstruction.
We walked in the leafy Plaza Bolivar Square in downtown Caracas, where fountains were flowing in every four corners. Not a care in the world but taking in the marvel of this city.

While we posed happily for a photo climbing on the stairs next to the statue of the horse-riding Bolivar, a guard in uniform rushed towards us and uttered words in Spanish, basically, he asked us to get off!
As we apologised in English, he took a second glance at us and turned to Teresa who was trying to explain our touristic ignorance.
He then turned towards me and asked Teresa who translated his words to me as: "He's asking if you do karate... You know... Judo!"
Puzzled by the question, I decided to throw a gentle punchline and replied: "No senor. No karate. I do boxing." Throwing a punch in the air to demonstrate, "Box."
My foot was in a small bandage in flip-flops; my havainas. He imagined I had thrown my foot up in the air to hit someone; just like Bruce Lee, I can only presume.

On that note, we left towards Concejo Municipal, occupying half the Southern side of Plaza Bolivar.
When the attendant noticed me gesturing if I could take a photo, he came forward and kindly invited me in to take as many pictures as I wished.
Another magnificent courtyard.

The kind guard explained to Teresa how the first university of Caracas was established there in 1725.  Plus where Simon Bolivar (yes, him again) signed Venezuela's independence agreement in 1811.

So far, the Venezuelans in Caracas have impressed me with their warmth and helpfulness.

On the drive back to our hotel Tamanaco, I pointed towards a rather strange building in white with pointed see-through domes.

"Teresa," I exclaimed, "What's that?"
"OH!" Answered Teresa, "That's the Aladin Hotel, the rooms are supposed to be decorated like Aladin's story. They say the suite at the top has a ceiling that opens above a jacuzzi. They can be booked by the hour for men taking their women for momentary pleasures."
"So, I guess this is normal as the first hotel I looked at online, my friend Isabella advised me strongly not to book it for the same reason!" I said, amused by the seedy scene.
And where do women take their men for the same reason?!

The funny story of Teresa's family travels and our visit to the teleferico to follow.

Caracas was Crackers!

WOW... This is the way I like to begin on what I can only recall as 'the trip of a lifetime'. One of them for sure.

We flew back from Caracas to London via Frankfurt on Monday, only for Hala to turn on the news tonight and see there was a shooting at the Frankfurt airport. Isn't life bizarre? We came back from a city where danger follows every moment of people living there and never felt a threat and here in the Western world of German security, there has been a shooting!
As I turned my mobile on when at Heathrow airport, a dear Venezuelan friend in London, Juan Manuel had texted and asked: "How was Crackers?"

This is how it all began... Hala and I booked our flight to Caracas in less than a week. A return ticket for three weeks, without knowing what awaited us. It was by chance that we had run into Ramon; a dear family friend after decades at a gathering in Tehran, a year ago and met his lovely wife Teresa from Venezuela. When we expressed our interest in the country they now resided in, Ramon welcomed us to keep them informed of our plans. Frankly, not in a million years did we realize how much their support and friendship could change our view of the country they lived in. We are grateful for all the love and support they gave us with their children through our visit. 

After not hearing back from Ramon on Facebook, it was Hala's idea I contact their children to find out a way of reaching their baba.
Sure enough, the beautiful Mariella answered back immediately with a note of her father's contact telephone numbers. At least, the kids never fail to miss a moment of Facebook. Great.

We managed to talk to Ramon six days before the designated date of travel and he reassured us to help organise our destinations with a friendly travel agent he knew.
"No worries, just come, best to bring cash in dollars," were Ramon's words. "We'll arrange everything from here."
So, despite all the voices of concern from our good friends globally on being mad to choose such a dangerous destination, we went on and booked our ticket with Lufthansa via Frankfurt. It was probably wiser to book with Iberia via Madrid, but when do we ever do things normally?!

We left the cold February in London behind for Caracas.
At Caracas international airport, the warm hug and super friendly faces of Ramon and Teresa were the most reassuring welcome we could have wished for. They drove us to the oldest hotel, the newly redecorated Tamanaco in the Las Mercedes area.  Which was one of the relatively safer areas of the city.
Once we were settled into our new environment, they went through the schedule of visiting their exciting city in the days to come. It was all done in such a cool manner I had no idea what was awaiting us.

Hala had been asking the right questions due to all the studies she made through the travel books. The sleeping pill I took flying out of London (I must admit taking sleeping pills is something I hardly have any experience of), it left me in a daze for the next two days to come! With the view of the half-cloudy, the half-sunny sky over the variety of buildings and lush green mountains facing me,  I floated at the idea of sitting in the outdoor bar of the hotel we were staying in, sipping on the chilled, local beer with Hala, half taking in the conversation that was going on around me with our hosts.  But it was not just an idea ...  It was actually happening. We watched the sunset before Ramon and Teresa bid us farewell to get some rest and let us recover from the jet lag.  No time for that.

Our first day there coincided with Hala's birthday.  Well, actually, it was all planned.  The alarm clock on my blackberry, having calculated the four-and-a-half-hour time difference rang at 7.30 am in Caracas and we went down to breakfast on the terrace with the view of the swimming pool and the palms.  The lively Teresa joined us at the end of breakfast to drive us to Playa Pantaleta; two hours outside the city.  Boy, do you think you have experienced traffic?  Trafico ...  Trafico!  So I got busy clicking at my camera worse than any Japanese tourist ever.  Although you wouldn't say from the photo below!

Teresa well informed us of the present situation in her country.

She explained how the nationalisation of petrol by Andres Perez, led Venezuelan farmers (having been the first exporter of coffee), to move to Caracas and start working in construction.  With the overpopulation, rose the question of housing, hence, they used the materials; mainly left from sites, to build the favelas by cutting down the trees and building sometimes high on the steep, green mountains surrounding the city.

"Andres Perez who passed away a month ago," she continued, "still isn't buried.  His wife wants him buried here in Caracas and his lover wants him in Miami!"

We spent a peaceful afternoon settling on the beds provided by the (what I presume) beach guard and getting better acquainted over a cold beer he provided us.  

Sometimes all you need in life... Is making friends. Three women bonding in all frankness on a sunny beach, listening to the background sound of the waves in the sea as well as our voices carrying gently through the breeze of time. It made an almost empty beach seem full. Full of warm spirits.

I wanna go through every day of these cherished moments spent in the warmth of the land of Latinos.

Next Destination...

Fly me to the moon... Didn't work.

The party we had for Hala's birthday and a farewell to the friends we are leaving behind for another adventurous trip, was full of love and joy. Yet, the excitement of our visit to yet another new destination keeps my heart pumping high.

After some research of Hala reading the various 'Lonely Planet' books on Venezuela and Colombia, we decided to book our three-weeks return tickets to Caracas. And that was after being told after Kabul, Caracas is considered the second most dangerous city in the world

Who knows what awaits us or more importantly who awaits us, in that far away land?

This is only a short page as I have an early flight to catch and do need a few hours of beauty sleep before taking off to South America.

I shall be gone till the end of Feb. Not planning to take a laptop. If you don't hear from me for a while, I wish you a smiling face and a loving heart.

One thing is for sure... Well, almost for sure, I shall be back to tell the tales of my visit. Farewell my friends. God Bless

Back to LA - Memories

And the story continues on...

We finished lunch at the deli and I suggested to Shiba that we take up our new friend's offer. 
Shiba said: "You kiddin'. Right?"
Me: "No. It's just a friendly drink. What's wrong with that? Just follow me."
Shiba did not persist with any further resistance and followed me as I tried to find the bar Pauli had mentioned. The name was fish-related is all I recalled. Whale Bar? Dolphin Bar? Who knows? Anyhow, we walked into an almost empty restaurant and at the bar, a cute guy, his big blue eyes half-hidden by his blond curls was eying us with a smile. Pauli was nowhere to be seen. So, we walked out in disappointment and walked into the first boutique. Before reaching out for a shirt to try on, Pauli appeared and explained how his friend Captain Chaos had noticed us while he had been to the restroom. And so, we followed him back to the bar.

I was married then and there was no question of adultery. It was the sense of adventure and innocent fun I was after. The new me had begun to form and life had taken on a new role of simply feeling the freedom to be me again; where I had left off before I got married. 

We joined the boys at their table and had a cocktail while we got better acquainted. Pauli was in LA to join his friend Captain Chaos; the midnight radio DJ, to attend the funeral of his angelic teenage goddaughter. They were obviously sad and in need of some good company! They kindly offered to drop us off at our hotel before going their way. We agreed and got into Captain Chaos' run-down, rustic car (and that's an understatement). They drove us through the Bel Air roads, guiding us through the celebrity mansions. As we passed the PlayBoy Mansion of Hugh Hefner, Captain Chaos stopped the car outside the entrance gate where the keys to call the mansion were and rang it, hanging halfway outside his car window. As someone answered the entryphone, we all screamed and made a runner. Laughing our way back to the hotel, the boys were hungry, so we offered them room service in our suite. They gladly accepted no doubt hoping for more than food, and we parked at the drive of the Peninsula, in a run-down car almost falling apart, having left in the morning in a Rolls Royce! With Pauli and the chaotic-looking captain, we handed the keys to the doorman looking rather stunned at our new entourage and entered the reception area.

In the lobby, the grand salon was filled with glamorous ladies having afternoon tea. They looked so picture-perfect, all dressed up in their finest with the absolutely latest Chanel and Hermes bags in abundance. It had the image of a Hollywood movie. However, their glare following us, we walked through the lobby to get to the door leading to the pool. It was most amusing.
Pauli remarked: "Make sure you don't take a match close to anyone here, they'll melt. It's all plastic!"

We walked faster as we reached the gardens and burst into laughter before getting to our 'upgraded suite'. The order of food arrived, starting with one bottle of white wine, then two or was it three? Who was counting. The boys' eyes lit up as I began rolling a joint. After the smoke, Pauli turned into an acrobatics performer and entertained us while we roared with laughter. 
They finally parted later that afternoon and arranged to pick us up in the evening to accompany us to the Blues Bar.

Pauli happened to be a founder member and got us into the VIP. After settling into the lounge chairs, Pauli ordered their famous Mawi Mawi cocktail. Captain Chaos was tired and headed home while we mingled with everyone in the smoking area of the private bar. We spotted Daryl Hannah walk past. As I got better acquainted with a young girl who looked so like Drew Barrymore, we went through one cocktail after another, clicking our glasses to toast: "Mawi... Mawi." Only each time our voices got louder till the manager... Yes, another manager, reprimanded us asking us or more like telling us to keep our voices down! In disbelief, I went to Shiba and said: "Can you believe it, the guy actually came to tell me to keep quiet! How cool is that?"
Shiba asked: "And what did you say?"
Me: "I laughed and asked... You talkin' to me?"
Shiba: "You talkin' to me? Haha."
I then left my friend talking to Pauli and walked to the next room where I could hear a live Latino band playing and a couple of flamenco dancers, performing. A crowd had gathered around them.  

My dancing diva mode on, I barged into the middle of their act and joined them dancing my version of the flamenco, à la Perse! Formidable! Oblivious to whether they were humouring me, they seemed to welcome me into their circle with their smiles. I looked in the crowd and saw my friend Shiba's face watching me in disbelief yet amusement.  

When the gorgeous-looking band of four Latinos finally stopped playing, we began getting acquainted with the musicians and taking photos with them while Shiba pretended we were Vogue Editors from England! Naughty... But definitely fun all around. 
By the time the place closed, we had met most of the staff, musicians and customers.

To celebrate our last morning, we decided to have our last meal by the pool on the rooftop, catching the last rays of the sun. Breakfast consisted of granola topped with yoghurt and fresh fruit of the forest (very LA). As we swam, I put my robe on walking towards the shower room when I saw this gorgeous creature appear full of sweat, in front of me. Of course, I knew that face only too well, but what was his name? Our glances met and like a schoolgirl who's found her first crush, I shied away and walked off. It was after all ten years ago, confident as I may have seemed, there were many insecurities hidden inside. I was, however, for the first time having fun without feeling guilty! Francois' therapy sessions were paying off. I was desperate to find peace and happiness and finally, it was time to do something about it.

As we were getting in the cab, I saw the beau from the pool at the entrance door.
"Look Shiba," I exclaimed, "It's the guy I bumped into this morning. Who's he?"
"You're talkin' to me?" Shiba's memory of names is no better than mine.
However, I overheard the couple passing by mention 'Kevin Bacon'. Yep, it sure was him. He did smile back as we left. Very cute.

And finally, before our departure, we met up with Captain Chaos (CC... that name still makes me smile) and Pauli for sushi downtown. It was just as one would imagine sushi in LA would taste; awesome. When we parted, to head for the airport, CC called me: "Haldita, wait."
He approached me, grabbed hold of me by the waist and gave me a cheeky kiss on the lips, staring at me with his big blue eyes! 

The End