Pipo International Hotel Maracay

... with the Michele Thomas lessons on the iPod and the books we have and stumbling through in a very haphazard way.<br> <br><br> Maracay on a Sunday afternoon is a bit like being on an outsized industrial estate where most of the units are closed save for the odd burger van selling, urm, burgers. If there's one thing that can quickly get me in a mood it's not being able to get food when I need it. The usual fastfood outlets were open, Burger ...

... the teeny aisle was too and 4 PEOPLE were hanging out of the front and back doors. Same blaring music, same quality driving skills and I once again arrived at my destination with my head feeling swollen and queasy.<br><br> BUT at least this was gonna be the end of these crazy South American bus rides, for I was off to the North. I was heading to America, to the land of dreams... the land of the burger.. and the land of ENGLISH SPEAKERS!<br>I cant tell you ...

... down to Choroni and Puerto Colombia, 2 tiny towns about 5 minutes walk apart. We found a little posada and chilled out in a big way for the next day or so. We found a pasta place to get some food in our very empty systems and then the next morning headed to Playa Grande, a beautiful Caribbean beach with palm trees, clear blue waters and plenty of sunshine... The perfect way to spend our 'sickie'!

... to stay there, they require notice. Permission to explore the grounds must also be obtained from Inparques in Maracay. Rancho Grande was originally constructed with the intention of creating a luxury resort, but when Gomez (el dictator) passed away in 1935, the workers jumped ship. Henri Pittier suggested that the structure be used as a Research Centre around 1940. Here we are, about 50 yrs later, with a government that ...

... everyone knows everyone and this makes is one of the safest places in the country. By the sounds of things, about the most exctiting thing that happens here is the occasional bus break down, something we experienced today when ours got a very flat tyre. Imo and I were imagining the scene if a bus broke down in London, everyone would grumble and complain, the driver would get all hot and bothered and stand around on his phone looking miserable. Here, everyone got off ...

... as to have only one setting is so much cheaper. The bus should take around 8 hours but then you have the stupid amount of police check, corruption is wild here! We finally made it to out destination, a town on the Venezulan border with Brazil and Guyana. Santa Elena was like a breath of fresh air from Venezuela, to me it didnt feel like Venezula any more. The people were so friendly and the atmosphere changed authomatically. We spend 4 days and three ...

... drink some more beer and try and relax. We get our heads down and prepare for the following day. We wake up and on exiting the room see that the hotel is right next to the sea, and right under the flight path!!. We eat breakfast, meet up with Andrew again and all decide to go for a wander around the local neighbourhood - safety in numbers and all that! It feels like Beirut! Busy commercial streets, filthy streets, nothing much to do. We grab a drink and decide to ...

... from 7-11 PM every night. We talked with her for a couple of hours in the evening after the hike, and we felt as if we had made another friend in Puerto Colombia. We stayed at the Posada de Choroni, which was a wonderful, safe, little colonial house with about 15 bedrooms. We ended up having such a great time with the owners that they invited us to hang out with them in Caracas when we went back (they lived and worked in Caracas, while ...

Diesmal gehts in den nationalpark "henri pittier" und "morrocoy" um mal wieder n bissl am strand abzuhaengen und in den parks umherwandern um hoffentlich viele voegel zu sehen! einer der huebschesten straende ist hier in puerto colombia versprochen, mal schauen ob er haelt was er verspricht.

... boats. Colorful nets, faces, gas tanks, it was a photographer´s dream. A short breakfast with Damien and Padrick at a local cafe was ruined by a family of Americans. They didn´t even try to speak spanish. After checking out the beach, we caught the earliest bus out of town so we can all make it to Merida by the morning of the next day. Upon arriving in Maracay (hub), we picked up our bags and walked a 2 miles to and back to find an ATM and supermarket ...