Forget Bolivia, the Death Road Runs Through Venezuela

We´re up early on saturday morning. I headed over to get us checked out and pay, and by 10 or so we were on our way out of Taganga. we got to the bus terminal in santa marta, hannah found a bus to cartagena, i found one to Maicao, the lawless colombian border town. we parted ways. i bumped into the 2 swiss girls we keep seeing everywhere, they were going to Maraciabo as well, but on a direct bus. the bus leaves a half our late, but we got to maicao before dark (very important according to the guide book). a man said to me ¨maraciabo¨ and i said yes. he put my pack in the back of a junky old car, i was a bit unnerved told him i wanted to eat and took my bag back. he walked me to the bakery (across the street) ate something with me, got into an argument with a guy behind me and walked back to the car. at that point he had someone else going to maraciabo, power in numbers, i wasnt going to be robbed and killed alone. 20 minutes later we had 2 other passengers and were under way.

the border is 13 km away from maicao. we get there, i get out, get my passport stamped (im running because im the only westerner in the car, the others dont need stamps and regular border formalities) and a nurse calls me over, asks about where ive been, have i been sick, something about the swine flu. i tell her im fine, ive been everyhwere in south ameica, no problems. back in the car we drive 10 minutes its time for venezuelan border formalities. i get out, talk to the guy, he says i need a form filled out, theres a woman sitting next to the window filling out forms (how convienent). she takes my passport, fills out the form that normally the traveller fills out, expects a tip. i give her some colombian pesos. i dont know if this is Chavez´s way of employing the people, but i can think of some better ones. form stamped, passport stamped, im in venezuela. the road immediatly changes, turns to shit. pot holes are the norm, not paved road but this doesnt stop people from driving fast and swerving not to break an axel. in the first 30 minutes we go through 3 or 4 police check points, marked by empty cans of food filled with gasoline and lit on fire. no problems, everyones in order. the road stays terrrible, its the same road that was in colombia, but on this side it looks like bombs have been dropped every 100 meters or so (Chavez, this is how you can employ your people, fix your roads). its night time now, all the other cars are worse than our old chevy hatchback. there´ll all american (only on the venezuelan side) cars. most look like they´re from the 80´s big old chevys and fords, picture the cop cars that chase the jake and elwwod blues in the end of the blues brothers. they are all falling apart, all bent up, have been in many accidents. my car (an 82 VW rabbit) would look like a lexus driving through these parts. most of the cars dont have working headlights or tailights, and the headlights that do work have the brightness of parking lights they dont do much. our car has good brakes they get testing whenever one of the pieces of american junk pulls out and cant speed up fast enough or slows down without brake lights. the woman sitting next to me cant help but to let out little screams and grab the seats everytime we are nearly in a crash. i cant really blame her. the man on her right is talking or smoking cigarettes most of the time, i dont know who hes talking to, the woman sometimes responds the driver sometimes responds, sometimes no one responds but that doesnt deter him. the woman in the front seat is going back and forth between texting, sleeping, and showing her ID at the necessary times. i dont know how she could sleep shes sitting in the death seat and will be the first and most likely to go if we go off the road. the closer we get to maraciabo the more cars that have working headlights. the road is still bad and people still swerve and veer and pass, but now we can see them coming, most of the time we can see them coming. occasionally 3 or 4 headlights will be seen coming towards us and the driver leans forward squinting trying to see out the windsheild. at the last second we usually swerve to the right to allow some motorcycle to get by us without being crushed. now we are quite close to maraciabo, the road gets better, the police checkpoints have lights and buildings and gates instead of burning gasoline. during on stretch of road we have steet lights. we start to get into the city limits no more checkpoints just more cars better roads more buildings, civilization. we pass a chevy dealership, a nissan dealership, another chevy one. theres not a shortage of chevys on the road, some are even new and look like they were bought recently at the dealership but i dont see one nissan. sometimes theres a fiat or hyundai no nissan. we pass an expensive looking shopping center with a drive through bank and a mcdonalds. we pass a TGI fridays next to it, something ive seen only in the rich neighboorhood of Buenos Aires before this. we pass a wendys. almost all the cars would be US-street legal now. we get to the bus station, ive never been happier to be out of a car. i wander the bus station its hot i get 2 empandadas and an apple juice. they dont have beer. i sit in the waiting room its past 10 pm. the book says the hotel at which im planning to say is in a part of town not safe at night. i only have $50 worth of venezuelan currancy and with the offical (atm) exchange rate i dont want to get more. i decide not to go tonight. after reading and eating in the 24 hour air conditioned bus station waiting room i take a natural ¨sleep aid¨, lie down on the seats and sleep an uncomfortable 5 hours. at 5 am a cop wakes me (and everyone else sleeping) up. i pick up my book, start to read. a girl with bright clothes, red hair and colorful tatoos sits next to me. she has a puppy with her.