March 2000- Friday night David arrived in Caracas from Michigan and we were scheduled to leave for Merida on Saturday. This was the first time that I had actually met him; we had only e-mailed back and forth before. We have mutual friends and mutual interests in cars. He e-mailed me not long after I moved to Venezuela out of curiosity since he was born in Caracas. We had e-mailed back and forth every so often and he mentioned wanting to come down for his spring break. Since his vacation coincided with Carnaval I decided to go out to Merida with him. I'm getting ahead of myself though. Friday night we dropped off David's bags at my apartment and went to a bar for some drinks with Tomi and one of his Flemish friends. It became clear fairly quickly that David just wasn't that cool ("We're very different" is the diplomatic way to say that) but it hadn't started bothering me yet since he just arrived. Rest assured that this would become an issue later though. We stayed until about 2 AM, then walked down to the main street and took a bus home. David was concerned about safety but I tried to assure him that nothing ever happened here and the all the horror stories that you hear about Caracas are blown out of proportion. We didn't get up too early on Saturday after staying out so late the night before. David called a friend of his here in Caracas late in the morning and they went out for lunch while I went to La Bandera to get the bus tickets for Merida. I got back about 3:00 PM and told him that the bus left at 6:30 in the evening, so we should probably leave my place about 5:30. He hadn't packed for Merida yet so he said that he'd come back to the apartment about 5:00. At 4:00 PM Tom came over to get the keys to my apartment to let the maid in on Tuesday since Tom was staying in Caracas for Carnaval. David didn't end up getting back to my apartment until 5:45, which highly agitated me as I had packed two days before and already gone to buy the bus tickets (which was an ordeal in itself). David just chuckled and said that he had lost track of time because he was driving all over town with old friends. He quickly threw some things into a backpack that I loaned him and Tom gave us a ride to the Metro station. We got to the bus terminal at 6:35 and ran up to the bus as it was pulling away. Luckily we made it on, but I ended up having to sit next to a pretty large woman in a pretty small seat. The trip out to Merida went rather smoothly. I was annoyed that we stopped three times for gas (half an hour each stop), but I managed to get some sleep that night. The entire trip took fourteen hours, which was absurd since I'd done it by bus in eleven hours previously. There may have be some major road problems lingering from the floods though. At one point at three in the morning we all had to exit the bus so it could make a shallow river crossing where the bridge had collapsed.

Once in Merida on Sunday morning we headed right to Bum Bum Tours and I started picking a guide's brain about a trip to Los Nevados, the Andean village that I wanted to visit during this trip. He said that the trail was easily traversed and very well marked. It would take about four hours to walk from the cable car station at Loma Redonda to Los Nevados, and most the way is downhill. While in Bum Bum David and I met another American that was in town for the week. His name was Dan and he worked in the music industry. Dan was going to tag along with us for the afternoon because he wanted to go up the teleferico too. Unfortunately we soon found out that the tram was sold out until Tuesday, so we would have to do the Los Nevados trip backwards. There were jeeps waiting near the cable car station to take you around to Los Nevados via a small dirt road. Dan wasn't interested in going to Los Nevados, but it was already the middle of the day now and we hadn't eaten anything so the three of us decided to find some empanadas. This time gave me a bit of a break from David while he talked to Dan. By the time we returned to the plaza the jeeps to Los Nevados were gone for the day (it is a five hour drive). Things worked out OK though, as we met up with three Brits that were in town and going up to La Culata to do some mountain biking. Incidentally, these same three blokes spent the prior week in the Llanos with Tom and his friends; small world. David was checking out the bikes in the shop and picked his and then asked the guy about equipment. Equipment? "Yeah" stated David, "You know, gloves, helmets, maybe some water bottles." "Uh... you're in Venezuela." the shop lackey responded. David claims to be this "hardcore" mountain biker and he was really excited to do some riding. Along with the Brits we took a Land Cruiser up the twisty road to La Culata. The vehicle was in typical Venezuelan condition: temp gauge on H the whole time, right rear tire rubbed the fender every time we went left, and smoke billowing out of the back, but the important thing was that the horn worked. Once reaching our destination we separated from the British guys because David wanted to do some "real" mountain biking, not just ride down the road back to town. So he and I started huffing up the trail (which is at about 3500 meters) and after the first 100 meters I stopped to wait for David because he was already lagging behind. This is the same trail that I had hiked previously with Tom and Rob when I was in Merida before, so I knew that it is pretty rough and not really good for biking. I had already told David this but he wouldn't listen. So when he finally caught up to me he was gasping for breath and stated "I... think that (huff, huff) the headset... on this bike... is loose. We should probably go back (huff, huff), I don't feel safe... with it... on this trail." Yeah right. I offered to change with him but he declined "for my safety". So we turned around and started heading back into town. Now I'd like to take a moment to explain how Carnaval is celebrated in Merida. In New Orleans everyone gets drunk, in Brazil everyone gets naked, but in Merida all the people had water balloons and squirt guns and were soaking each other. This made the bike ride back to Merida a wet and wild experience, as passing cars often pelted us. The ride was fun though, although David rode very conservatively for someone who is a "hardcore biker". I took a spill once when my chain came off but I didn't get hurt so it was all part of the fun. We stopped for an early dinner and a small restaurant along the way too that had a cute Brazilian waitress but horribly slow service. From there it was just back into town to return the bikes and get cleaned up at the posada before heading out for the night.

The posada was OK, you cannot really complain about a bed and a warm shower for $5. The thing was that there was a group of "travelers" staying there. Merida has more travelers and backpackers in it than anywhere else in Venezuela. Now some of these people are really cool (like Rob), but others are just plain obnoxious. The latter is what I had on my hands on this occasion. There were three of them sitting at the table outside my open bedroom door: an American, a Frenchman (presumably stinky), and another European of unknown origin. They were sitting around drinking beer discussing their favorite sexual position. I would have liked to stay in my room and relax a while before going out, but the three were more than I could take. I said to David (in a loud but not quite yelling voice) "I'm tired of listening to these three run their mouths, I'm going for a walk". When I came out of the room they were all looking at me and never said another word in my presence (Yes, I am tough). That night David and I didn't stay out to late, we just explored the town. David spent the whole time trying to "educate me", while every comment that I made was responded to with a quick "I know that" or "Of course it is". This guy's company was getting real old, real quick. We went to the Heladeria Coromoto, where they have over 300 ice cream flavors. The whole list is on the wall and some of them are downright disgusting like trout, or mango with rice. David took 10 minutes to decide what he wanted after stewing over all of the choices twice. From there we went to the Plaza Bolivar where there were two rival marching bands on opposite sides of the street playing mambo music. It was pretty cool but could only hold my attention for so long before I had to retire to bed. We were leaving at 7:30 the next morning and I had slept on a bus the previous night.

Monday morning we meet up with Alercio, who was going to take us to Los Nevados in his long wheelbase Land Cruiser. We waited until 8 AM to see if we could find other people going to Los Nevados to split the cost with but no one came, so the three of us set out with a girl who was hitching a ride into the mountains. The first hour was rather uneventful, although the view of the city falling behind us was nice. Along the road we picked up two locals going to a village along our route. After another half an hour the road turned to dirt and got narrower. Luckily we only saw about three other vehicles the entire way because the road was barely more than one lane wide. The trail was still fairly easy though; we weren't even in four-wheel drive. After three hours driving we stopped in a village for something to drink and dropped off the extra passengers. Then it was back on the road, this time with the hubs locked and the transfer case in low range. The view was phenomenal; I couldn't take enough pictures. Just when I thought that I had seen the most breathtaking view ever, we would crest another ridge and it would seem to get better. The only disappointing part was the amount of trash littering the mountainside. It was the only flaw I could find as we were clinging to the side of a mountain spotted with small crosses from previous drivers not quite as careful as ours was. I was amazed to see farmers on the steep slopes plowing their fields with oxen. I asked Alercio if there was snow on the road in the winter and he claimed that although it did not snow at this altitude "the road becomes dangerous in the winter". And I thought that it was pretty scary now! We arrived without incident though in Los Nevados and Alercio took us to a very nice posada where we paid 3500 Bolivars (US $6) per person for a bed, hot water, breakfast and dinner. The village itself was the definition of quaint; it consisted of a dozen or so adobe buildings on the side of a steeply sloping mountain. I took more pictures and met a couple of cool Americans. Jennifer works in Caracas for an international consumer product company and her friend Dan was visiting from San Francisco. They were staying at the same posada as David and I. Jennifer told us that they were taking mules across the mountains to the cable car the next morning. I was planning on hiking but taking mules sounded adventurous and wasn't that expensive. Alercio had suggested mules when we got into town and said that he could arrange it for us, but David said that Alercio was probably just not used to "hardcore hikers" like us. Jennifer and Dan advised us that a good test for whether you were ready for the six hour, uphill hike was to walk down to the river at the bottom of the valley far below Los Nevados and see how you felt afterwards. It was getting late in the afternoon and I was worried about the sun in the valley so David and I set off for the river right away. Jennifer told me that it took them 37 minutes to go down and 62 minutes back up. It wasn't long before I was leaving David behind, even on the way down. I made it down to the river in 30 minutes, took some pictures, dunked my head in the water, and started back up to Los Nevados. We were at 2700 meters and the altitude affected me, but I made it back up to Los Nevados in 35 minutes. I concluded that I could make the hike to the teleferico, as long as we got an early start. David however, didn't arrive back in Los Nevados until 35 minutes after me and was gasping for air. He suggested that we tag along with Jennifer and Dan and take the mules. The rest of the evening in Los Nevados we just relaxed. At dinner I tried to explain to Dan and Jennifer how to play dominos and we talked about where we had been and what we had done in Venezuela. Jennifer mentioned that she would like to do more adventurous activities but she was concerned about her safety as a young, single woman. She had never been involved in any incidents though. This is typical; everyone is so worried but nothing ever happens. Apparently she did have a run-in on a previous trip to Merida with a pushy Guardia Nacional soldier wanting US dollars, but she talked her way out of it. I said that I would have just given him the money so I could go on my way. "If you keep paying them the corruption never stops" Jennifer responded.

Tuesday morning we were supposed to be served breakfast at 7:30 but didn't end up eating until 8 AM and David's last minute packing kept us from leaving Los Nevados until 8:30. I was worried that it would be cloudy when we arrived at the tram, obscuring the wonderful view of the Andes. None of the others had been up to Pico Espejo before and thus did not share my concerns. The mule ride was enjoyable but not spectacular. We had five mules, one for each of us and one for our packs, the guide walked. I walked about a third of the time though and let the guide ride my mule. The combination of the uncomfortable saddle and the fact that the mules kept trying to pass each other (but only managed to get as far as to ram your knee up the other ass' asses) made for a less than comfy ride. We ended up at the Loma Redonda cable car station near 1:00 PM and it was cloudy (as I had predicted). The four of us agreed that there was no point in going to the top so I queued in the line down to Merida while the others went to the bathroom and bought some food. The tram runs ever fifteen minutes but it alternates sides on the docking station, so if you miss one usually you have to wait half an hour because there are already people on the other side. I waited half an hour, then let Jennifer, Dan, and David in line and Jennifer tells me that "some guy" told her that you have to pay to ride the teleferico back down. She bought tickets for Dan and herself but not David and I. When it was our turn to board the car David and I were promptly denied, even though the attendant did not check if anyone else has tickets and had seen me waiting in line the whole time. I was a little pissed off at this point (imagine that) since I then had to pay $20 ($10 per person and David didn't have any money, another one of his wonderful traits) and wait in line another half an hour. At the next station though we ran into Dan, the American we had met on Sunday in town. He actually had a ticket for the same bus back to Caracas as David and I. As we waited in line I grew more and more annoyed at the Venezuelans who walked right to the front of the line and got on to the tram, forcing me to wait even longer. It ended up taking two hours to get down to Merida and by that time I was hungry, smelly, and in a foul mood. I told Dan and David that I would meet them at the Bum Bum office at 5:30 PM and then I set off for some food and just relaxed in the plaza. David was late (as always) but we managed to make it to the terminal with plenty of time. I was a little worried about the bus that we would be taking. Our bus from Caracas was rated "ejecutivo" class and it was in poor condition while the bus we were returning to Caracas on was rated a lower "normal" class. I was surprised to find that except for the lack of air conditioning it was nicer than the previous bus. This bus also had extra seats open, which gave me room to lie down and sleep. I thought that I was almost home, but little did I now that this trip was far from over. Read on...

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