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February 2000- I had not been out of town for nearly two months following the mudslides in December and I was overdue for a trip to the beach. Saturday morning I got up at 7:15 for a trip to Choroni in the Henri Pittier National Park. Daniel, Michelle, Tom, and Filomena (a Portuguese friend of Michelle's) met at my apartment at 8:00 AM. Our little caravan witnessed a few accidents and breakdowns along the highway and did not pass through Maracay until 9:45. I had not been to Maracay this time of the year before and I was surprised to find all of the hills had changed from their usual green to a golden brown. It reminded me of the foothills back in California. From Maracay we headed over the mountains to the coast along a narrow, winding road, similar to the route to Cuyagua. My drive was made easier because I was following Daniel. We only encountered one bus (typically frequent and dangerous on this road) because there was some sort of charity walk happening and the road was full of walkers and runners. We made the trip without hitting any of the walkers and arrived in Choroni at 11:30 AM. I had never been to this little town before and I was impressed. The buildings were brightly painted with a colonial appearance and the streets were very narrow. Choroni is Daniel and Michelle's favorite beach location and they already had a place in mind for us to stay at. We ended up paying twelve thousand Bolivars each (US $20) and got a great little casita all to ourselves. It had two rooms, two bathrooms, and an enclosed yard with a table, kitchen, and some trees to hang a hammock. It was very comfortable and close to the beach. |
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After inspecting the accommodations we dropped off our gear and went for lunch. Daniel treated us to empanadas while a patron's baby monkey entertained Tom and me. I'll spare you from the ensuing debate about cruelty to animals. With our bellies full it was time to hit the beach. Filomena bought snacks and Michelle bought liquor while Daniel arranged for a boat to Cepe, a nearby beach. They settled on a price of 20 thousand Bolivars (US $35) before we boarded the boat and set off. Once out of the bay the motor died and it became clear that this wasn't going to be a leisurely little boat ride. I had become accustomed to the boating in Los Roques and Morrocoy, both of which are protected by reefs. Choroni, however, sat on the open sea and the boat was getting tossed all about. The coastline consisted of steep, jagged rocks, and the waves were smashing against them. As we hung on for dear life I took in my surroundings and couldn't help but smile. Filomena and Michelle looked ready to swim for shore; they were scared to death. Despite the fact that Michelle was crushing Daniel's hand he still was wearing the same ear to ear grin that I was. Tom, as usual, was hard to read. When asked he said that he was enjoying himself, but he didn't particularly look like he was having fun. Once we got to solid ground Michelle was much better off. Previously she had only been to Playa Grande, the main beach in Choroni. Now, however, she understood why we endured the boat ride. Cepe was very nice; it did not have the crowds and litter of Playa Grande. The only negative aspects were that the sea was very rough and there were several beach dogs begging for food. The five of us settled into our usual beach routine of playing games and sunbathing. In the afternoon we explored some tidepools with sea urchins and sea slugs. |
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The boat came to take us back to Choroni at 5:45 PM. When we got back to the casita we all cleaned up before going out to dinner. This is where the day differed from my usual beach routine, where we just lounge around in our bathing suits and eat whatever we brought along or can scrounge up at a beachside food shack. Everyone (except me) changed into casual clothes and we went to a nice dinner at a local restaurant called Mangos. From there we went to the plaza to watch tambores (Caribbean drums and dancing). The band had not shown up yet so instead of dancing people were just milling around. The people we saw are worth comment; they consisted of dark poorer locals, lighter more affluent Caraqueños, and still lighter and more affluent Europeans (mostly Germans). The one thing that they all had in common was that they were drunk. The five of us walked around town and found some music and dancing, but the crowds were making Tom uncomfortable so we went back to the plaza and ate ice cream. Following the ice cream we headed back to the casita for some drinks and card games. I introduced Michelle to a new drink, Rob's famous "Ron con Límon y 7uck". I never though I'd teach Michelle anything about drinking! After a few hands of cards everyone headed off to bed around one in the morning. There was a bed for me but I decided to sleep in my hammock since it was a nice night and I had brought along earplugs to drown out the noise in the streets. I got cold about 4 AM and went to finish the night in a bed. We all started moving about 10:00 AM the next morning and ate our breakfast in a small restaurant at one of the posadas. I think that it was the first time I had ever eaten out for breakfast in Venezuela. Michelle, Daniel, and Filomena went to Playa Grande for the day but Tom and I had to return to Caracas after breakfast. Tom had three friends arriving from Belgium in the afternoon that he needed to greet at the airport. The trip back was uneventful, except for the occasional bus. I was sad that we had to leave so early and vowed to return to Choroni when I had more time to explore the quaint village and its beautiful beaches. |
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