“Just make sure you don’t stop or you’ll get shot with a poison arrow!” - this was the advice we got from one of the Chilean motorcyclists we met in Bolivia. It sounded funny at the time and we thought he was just a paranoid ‘city slicker’ far from home. However, after a bit more research we realised he wasn’t kidding. He was referring to the Indian Reserve just before the border with Venezuela. It is a piece of land classified as a ‘no-go’ area for anyone except the local indians. The road running through the reserve is only open from 6am to 6pm and signs along the whole stretch remind you not to stop or take any photos/videos. We decided to take the signs seriously and had no intention of stopping, but how do you continue to ride when a bee flies into one of your boots! Forced into a quick stop to remove the unwanted passenger, we kept a lookout for any indians hiding in the bushes. Fortunately (and unfortunately) we didn’t see any. A little further up the road we did see our first anaconda though. Sadly it was dead, but it did give us a chance to check it out from up close.

So the 1,000km or so from Manaus to the Venezuelan border were pretty uneventful, except for a snapped clutch cable on the Africa Twin (luckily we had a spare) and yet another crossing of the equator. To cross the equator is in no way a difficult thing, yet there is something really cool about it. It’s like you’ve just climbed a hill and are about to start downhill You also go from winter to summer and from a dry season to wet season in an instant. In that respect it wasn’t such a cool thing because now it meant it would rain constantly.

Crossing borders is also one of our favorite things to do. There’s something magical about it. You cross a checkpost and a line on a map and get teleported into another world. A different language, currency, food, customs… It’s an adrenalin rush for the senses and one of the reasons why we travel so much. Unfortunately there is a downside to crossing borders as well - the beuracracy! Some are better than others. The Venezuelan side was a pain in the ass! Passport control was simple enough, but to get a temporary import for the bikes we needed to show originals and copies of our passports, drivers licence, registration documents and third-party insurance (which of coarse we didn’t have). “You can buy the insurance in Santa Elena 15km up the road and at the same time make photocopies of all documents because we don’t have a photocpier here” said the customs officer with a brand new photocopier standing right behind him. If this was Africa we would have just ignored the whole procedure and rode on, but this isn’t Africa. Everything is entered into computer systems here and the temporary import permit is stamped into your passport, meaning you can’t leave the country without your bike. So off we went to the nearby town to arrange for motorcycle insurance and the photocopies. The lady from the insurance office was on a 3 hour lunch break so we didn’t get everything finished until 5pm, by which time the customs office was closed. Interesting because the border was still open…

With the rain coming down hard now, we searched for some kind of roof to camp under. The only one we found was at a nearby house. The owners were super friendly and had no issue with us camping under their car port. The night before we had also asked a farmer if we could camp on his property but he wouldn’t hear of it. He insisted we take one of the spare rooms with it’s own bathroom and air-con! The next day we returned to the customs office to get the temporary import permit. We asked the officer how they can close when the border is still open. He said we should count ourselves lucky that they open at all, because its the weekend. Welcome to Venezuela

It’s a very different country to the ones we’ve visited in SOuth America so far. With the Caribbean Sea to the north, old american cars everywhere and a socialist government, it almost feels like Cuba. Also, the president Chavez is virtually a copy/paste of Fidel Castro. His nightly tv appearances resemble sermons where he preaches the values of socialism, at the same time laughing at the dumb imperialst gringos from the north. The economy is fully funded by oil money. There aren’t too many things produced locally, apart from beer and whiskey, so everything else is imported. Meaning food is relatively expensive given the average salary of US$250 per month. On the bright side, people don’t pay taxes and petrol is virtually free, at only US$0.01 pre litre. Yes, that’s 1 cent per litre!! To put things into perspective, you could buy 50 litres of petrol or a can of coke Also, it’s about 130 times cheaper than in Brazil so smuggling is a big business. Although it’s a risky business because anyone caught smuggling has their car confiscated. We saw plenty of them on the border. In general people seem unhappy with Chavez who is seen as a dictator (apparently he has changed the constitution so that he can stay in office until 2020 and beyond).

22 litres of petrol for 22 US cents!!

“Socialism or death!”

Translation: “Only possible in a revolution”

In a country awash with petro dollars, electricty blackouts and water shortages are not uncommon. Most people live in relative poverty. High unemployment and corruption means that most of the money stays with the rich. Although it might all seem like doom and gloom, people in Venezuela (as in most latin american countries) live for the day and don’t dwell on the negatives. They enjoy a good ‘rumba’ with lots of beer and loud music. Not to mention food! We haven’t seen so many fat people during the whole of our trip! For a country that is renown for their beauty queens (Venezuela has won something like 5 Miss Universe titles), the common ‘beauty queen’ on the street really dissapoints. It’s not surprising though, given that the traditional diet consists of greasy empanadas and beer (even though 90% is LIGHT).

Also, Venezuelans are not as open as other nationalities and on first meeting seem a bit…. backward and grumpy. They’ll stare without as much as a hello or simply mumble something under their nose. There are exceptions of coarse and once you get to know someone they’re very friendly, but in general we gotta say that Venezuelans are not our favourite nationality.

Having spent over 4 months in the Andes we were really looking forward to seeing the beach again and tanning our white gringo bodies. We decided to make a stop in Sante Fe (not far from Puerto Cruz). A small fishing village, it was a long way from the beautiful beaches you can find on the islands off the coast of Venezuela, but given we hate the big tourist resorts and prefer the vibe of local villages, we opted for Sante Fe.

We were about 100km outside of the capital Caracas and it was getting dark. Not keen on searching for a hotel in an unfamiliar city at night, we decided to find one just off the highway. Unfortunately it was a friday night and the only ones available were ‘Love Hotels’ payable by the hour. “It’ll be hard to find a room for tonight” said one of the hotel clerks. “It’s the busiest night of the week”. Just our luck! The next hotel only allowed for a maximum stay of 4 hours. A bit too short for us We kept searching though and finally found one that allowed a 12 hour stay until morning. There was a huge mirror on the ceiling and a special shortened version of a massage table. The reception catered to all the needs of the patrons…

The next day we transited through Caracas and rode to Puerto Guaira to ask about any boats heading out to the Los Roques islands. We weren’t prepared to pay for a flight out, but thought we could hitch a ride from one of the marinas or cargo docks. No such luck unfortunately. All the boats were only leaving in a weeks time. Oh well, at least we got a chance to improve our tan and check out where Caracas residents spend their holidays.

Following the coast west we arrived in Adicora, a kitesurfing and windsurfing hot spot. We got a couple of hours in on the boards but then the wind stopped and we were limited to the role of a ‘beach bum’.

Two days ago we arrived in Coro. Taking advantage of a cheap room with air-con and a good internet connection, Kamil has finally mobilized himself to prepare some paperwork for our border crossing into Columbia. Namely, fake international insurance certificates for our motorcycles. We don’t want to pay for unnecessary insurance any more…
Before entering Columbia (in 3 or 4 days) we’ll also take advantage of the cheap oil prices in Venezuela and do an oil change on both the bikes.

After Colombia it’s onto Equador and a river cruise down the Amazon on a specially designed craft. More on that next time…