Who would have thought I was such an easy target to fool? Who would have thought that I fell for the same “scam” in Venezuela, as I did in Thailand? Who would have thought, that my apperance is so touristy and that I am spotted as an easy target, the minute I walk outside the hotel? And who would have thought, that I looked like a criminal?

[Current location]

The Crane gets the first say in this post. He is happy to be in Venezuela, but he feel a bit trapped in the hotelroom, overlooking the city. The room is located on the 10th floor, yet the room number is 66. Strange, but hey … it is a room with AC, hot/cold water, no roaches and all spanish television. He wanted to have his picture taken, as he was having a peak at the concrete jungle, and he was longing for the green, moist and inviting hills surrounding the city (all the way at the back of the picture). He is a bit demanding - you see how he just leans into the picture? I told him to stand still and be nice, but he could not control himself. Maybe he is a bit grumpy because of the long trip over here, where he was stuffed into a very small compartment, and me sitting upstairs getting fed, given drinks, saw movies and could sleep with my legs fully stretched? Maybe he is just a fellow that need constant attention or maybe he was just changing position - those legs seem to need a lot of bloodcirculation to function properly, and I can imagine why he wants to redistribute the weight of his (relatively) tiny body. Jamie - you have had him for the longest … you might have the answer, as I assume that you know his behaviour pretty damn well.

Yesterday was a very strange day. The first thing I did, was to move hotel, so I now live in a bad area to a cheaper price. I think it is still relatively expensive, but I guess everything is. I can’t really say, that this is a backpackers paradise. It seems that backpackers are an endangered species here and finding accomodation as you would e.g. in Asia, is not easy.

After I swapped hotel, I needed to go for a stroll, to see if I could find a few things to buy. I needed a small notebook to write in, for my “spanish studies”, I needed a converter for electrical equipment and some other few things. As I was walking along the pedestrian area, minding my own business, Pablo suddenly showed up. Pablo was a 47 year old tourist guide, something I found out a bit later, and judging by the way he approached me, I expected he was just very friendly. He started talking to me, pointing at some fluteplaying maya-indians (or just indian-wannabe’s … how can I tell??), and I assumed that he just wanted to small talk. I said I didn’t understand, and he asked in english where I was from. Little did I know, that this was just the beginning of his cunning plan to lure some money out of me. We started talking, and I realised that he was some sort of tourist guide (if I were his employer, I would have had him fired, but hey … who am I to judge?). We were standing in the middle of a very busy street, and while asking if I liked the local beer, he said “let’s go over here … it’s much quieter”. I followed along like a lost duckling, and suddenly we were sitting in his regular waterhole with his favourite beer in our hands. At that point, it struck me … I am beeing exploited at this very moment. I thought “hey … what harm can happen? Worst case is that I have to pay him some money for the beer and whatever information we agree that he should give me.” He seemed honest enough and not very dangerous. His “friends” inside the waterhole, was a different story, though. I was introduced to one of his “friends” … a middle aged woman, barely able to balance at the side of here chair, while bending down to pick up something from the chair or the floor. It was hard to tell, actually. When she was introduced as “a lawyer”, I thought “yeah right … ” - I wouldn’t have hired her, if she was the last lawyer on the planet (or … maybe. Depends on how deep shit I was in). So … the cunning plan of his, was to “plan” a trip for me, that would take me to some of the cities I have thought about going to. I told him where I was going after Caracas, and he told me how to get there, where to sleep, how much I should pay for taxies, busses, rooms etc. All in all I got a few good pointers from him, but I would not agree that it was worth the price. We agreed on the price at the beginning of the conversation, and he said “normally I would charge $250, but since you are not from Germany, and from Denmark (I said I was Norwegian, but his remembering was already getting worse from the one beer) … I would let you pay $160″. He apparently hated germans, and just because I was from another country, he would give me a discount. I pushed the price down to $90, but he demanded to get paid for the map he ran across the street to buy, the block of paper he bought and of course … all the beer. Strangely enough … the more beer he got, the more confusing he was to listen to, and I am really glad I did not pay by the hour. He ended up giving me a list of travel instructions, that consisted of 9 bullets. The first few bullets (stating things like “take a cab to Terminal La Bandera (do NOT pay more than $9)”, “Locate Expresso Los Ilamos de Aparte” etc) went fine, but when we came to bullet number 5, he started repeating himself, and asked several times (in fluent english - his language was actually OK) “have I made myself clear?” and “do you get my drift?”. I wasn’t really sure if he told me something really important that I should have listened to, but he probably thought he made a very important point seconds before for me to remember. His writing became more and more blurry, and by the end of this absurd session, he was very happy to leave the waterhole in a jiffy. He got what he came for: a few free drinks and some money from an “easy target”. I can allways accept a compliment … so thank you Pablo - you made it very clear, that I am just too easy to fool. From now on, it’s no more mister nice guy from this fellow. Amigos por favor, me no habos! (this is actually one of his useful phrases he gave me, meaning “please do not bother me” … hopefully!!). I ended up paying him app. $120 … lets see if the information is the money worth.

The next thing that happened to me, was a bit more unpleasant. I went back to my hotel, had a meal, and ended up talking to this German guy at the table next to mine. I couldn’t stop giggling inside, thinking about Pablo earlier in the day … ironically enough, I would meet a german, the same day that Pablo let me hear about his frustrations about “them germans”. This german guy had just arrived and seemed like a nice guy. We had a small conversation and agreed to have a walk around town despite all warnings from “everyone”: do not walk around this area after 20:00. We started walking, and after approximately 30 minutes, we went down an alley, where we saw an opportunity to get a beer. Halfway down the alley, a very macho policeman on a motorcycle stopped just in front of us, stopped the engine, and said something in spanish. Before we could think of anything to say, another policeman turned up from nowhere, and there the two of us doofuses (when a policeman stop you, and you don’t understand a word he is saying, you feel like an idiot) just stood like questionmarks. When you are in this situation, you do not want to get aggravated, as they would probably not approve. Imagine us looking like two small children who was badly trying to hide the fact, that we actually stole mommies cookies, pretending to be all innocent … with big puppy eyes, looking up to these fearsome uniforms, saying silently “we haven’t done anything wrong”. In hindsight, this would have been the perfect opportunity to try the phrase that Pablo gave me (posted at the end of last paragraph), but I think it was wise not to, whatever the meaning of the phrase actually is. The fact is, that the situation got a bit “tense”, when they constantly asked us questions we didn’t understand, and the more we said “I do not understand” (in spanish), the more aggressive they asked more questions. They wanted our passports, which I reluctantly gave them, and they couldn’t quite understand why my friend didn’t have his passport with him. They were apparently using the logic: “how stupid are you really, mister do-not-have-a-passport-guy? How come you did not bring your passport, when your friend here did??” - or something like “cómo estúpido eres realmente, no-tener-uno-pasaporte-individuo del señor? Como se hace tú no trajo tu pasaporte, cuando lo hizo tu amigo aquá??” in spanish?? (hehe … do not think Google translate can handle that one). Stupid logic, but who am I to judge. Since we didn’t understand what they were saying, we did not know what they really wanted, and after both putting a hand on the gun and picking up a cellphone, one of them wanted to search my pockets. At this time, I got really, nervous, cause I realised that they would either search me for drugs or any other stolen property. The latter was kind of unrealistic, as I had very litte room to put any stolen property in, so I guessed that he was searching me for drugs. I don’t mind getting searched, but he was very, VERY thorough searching my pockets, and I just waited for him to pull out a bag of any random drug and show it to me. I was 90% sure, that he would plant some drugs on me and pretend that he found it in my pocket and I felt quite small, again an easy target and tried to plan an escape plan (my mind drifted to the “laywer” I met in the bar a few hours earlier, and I felt strangely assured that everyhing was going to be OK … when I am friends with a local hot shot lawyer - what could go wrong??). Off course - if he found any drugs, I wouldn’t touch the bag, and they wouldn’t have my fingerprints on him, and the naïve me put my faith in the Venezuelian system of justice. He didn’t discover any drugs (luckily), but he was very curios about my “snus” (snuff). I was trying to tell him “tobacco … TOBACCO” without appearing too nervous, and he believed me at last. I finally got to put my things back in my pocket, and they let us go with this arrogant look on their face. The suckers just wanted to play macho. Well … it worked, and it made me realise, that I do not trust the police down here. From now on, I will wear clothes with no pockets, walk without shoes and give no one any chance to plant anything on me, if I get searched again.

My “spanish studies” is making progress. I start to understand a bit more of what happens around me and I am constantly writing and reading stuff in my little book. Hopefully I will be able to compose complete sentences soon, and understand a bit more of what the locals are saying to me.

My plan is to leave town tomorrow, away from noise, dirt and criminals. The post will arrive less frequent and I think I will experience something more interresting. I will leave for the town Mérida tomorrow, located in the west of Venezuela. Despite the words of Pablo (which was: “it’s off season, so you are probably the only tourist in Venezuela” - Crap!!), I hope to meet more people/backpackers here. It is supposed to be the backpacker central of Venezuela and if I don’t meet any here, I will go mad. I need to be around people that can understand me, and that I can understand. It is OK to feel like an idiot 40-50% of the time, when trying to converse with spanish people, but I cannot handle feeling like an idiot 100% (t-minus 1 spanish word and expression an hour) of the time. I am not travelling along the route that Pablo gave me, as he would send me into even more remote and secluded areas than this, and I would really like to bring someone along, if I were to take that trip. Concidering this, the incident yesterday is not the moneys worth, apart from the phrases and the entertainment from a cunning character. It will be a few days until the next post, as the trip is app. 13 hours. Hopefully I will be able to get a room when I get there … it will be very late (I think 22 o’clock), and I will probably be very tired after a long ride. Luckily, the town is supposed to be more friendly and not as dangerous as Caracas.

Ciao …