The Casa Grande in Ciudad Bolivar is a beautifully restored building. It has a dozen or so rooms around a central courtyard. There’s lots of interesting old nicnacs sitting around and a grand spiral staircase leading up to a big roof terrace with a small pool and really dodgy decking. There are great views over the city and along the Orinoco River. The first ever bridge across the river which you can see in the background was only built in 1967

The city started out as a Spanish settlement on the banks of the Orinoco River in 1576. After being attacked by the local Carrib indians it moved upstream a bit and was then destroyed by the Dutch then the English. It moved a bit further up to get destroyed again. Pirates. Eventually it managed to survive and grow in its current location on the narrow part of the river. Narrow being 1.6 kilometres wide!

Its name changed a few times and the most interesting to me was Angostura, which most of us would know because we’ve had a lemon lime and bitters. It’s the bitters. There is an angostura tree, but the original recipe is a collection of different bitter herbs and spices that was originally developed as a tonic by a German surgeon in Simon Bolivars army. Production of the bitters moved downstream in 1875 to Trinidad and Tobago which is at the end of the Orinoco River in the Caribbean Sea. It’s still made there today. I also read it’s 45% alcohol and is 8% of that country’s food and beverage exports. 

The city eventually changed its name to Ciudad Bolívar to honour the war hero Simon Bolívar in 1846. There’s lots of reminders of him as you walk around the city. And a big church and statue and parks and nice old buildings in cobblestoned streets. The power went out for a while and lots of shops dragged out a small generator and kept trading. So I’m guessing it’s a common occurrence. 

Finding something for dinner was a bit of a challenge but I ended up at some sort of restaurant off a courtyard in a large old building. It was nice until a mariachi band turned up with big speakers and started blasting away. I scoffed the last couple of mouthfuls of my mediocre meal and left. It was ridiculously loud. Maybe their tactic was to play so loud that people gave them money to leave. 

I slept well and then next day I was off to Porto Ordaz. The guy who had helped me out after my accident happened to be coming to Ciudad Bolívar that morning. I said I’d wait for him which led to a series of events which meant I eventually arrived in Porto Ordaz in the rain and at nightfall. Exactly the conditions that led to my accident the first time. 

But it was nice to catch up with him. I also needed fuel and couldn’t get any. I had two litres in my plastic container but really needed another three. He disconnected the fuel line on his car and gave me a couple of 1.5 litres in a coke bottle. I also met his work colleagues and joined them for some drinks and then chicken and chips before we left. They were trying to set me up with one of them. Lucky my Spanish isn’t at the level that I could understand what they were saying because I’m sure I would have gone red. I was then escorted behind his Landcruiser to Porto Ordaz and to a nice little Posada called Alonga.

A lovely family run place that also has a dance studio attached. The young guy from the posada took me down the road to show me where I could by a beer. It was just a takeaway place but had lots of beer crates to sit on, some well volumed music and a nice atmosphere. I bought him a beer, and we had a bit of a chat. Then it was bed for me.

Next morning I went for a morning walk to find the spot where I had my accident. Turns out it was only 3 blocks away. It made me feel quite uncomfortable. I some how ended up on the wrong side of the road, facing the wrong direction and pinned against the side of a car on the far side of all those bent bollards and signs. And then to add to my current visit I almost got hit by a car while I was taking the photo. I was only there for 5 minutes and there were almost two accidents. It’s not even a busy intersection. I left while my luck was holding. I spent the rest of the day relaxing as my trip to get here had been quite enduring. Particularly after not being on the bike for six months. 

Next day I was off on a tour to the Orinoco Delta. The guy who looked after me after my accident ran tours. He had one going that day with a Swiss couple. It was a fancy overnight trip with everything included. And at $500AUD was well above my usual budget but I was happy to do it to pay back some of his kindness. It was a 3 hour road trip and then an hour in a fast boat. Almost 60kph past small dugout canoes and indigenous river villages. We took a couple of turn offs into smaller arms of the delta and somehow missed the rain and arrived safely at Camp Mis Palafitos.

A nice place for a 100 people in the old days but just the three of us that night. We were welcomed by the resident toucan who had to try and eat anything that wasn’t moving. It was actually pretty cool having a toucan holding on to your finger. Their beak looks so fake.

We had our welcome coconut drink and ate the soft kernel. The rooms were great. After a nice lunch we went back upstream to a local Indian village. 

I imagine back in Venezuela’s thriving days it would have been horrible with so many people swarming into a small village but with just the three of us it seemed nice and almost a personal invite. 

The local indians produce a few trinkets to sell but the thing they produce most of is kids. So many. And it was almost kids carrying kids. And they were lovely. Our guide had brought a big bag of biscuits for them. They politely took them one by one. No pushing or shoving. A couple of them had baby tortoises and a small crocodile. Once the biscuits ran out, they were back playing games and having fun. No phones. No internet. Just things to climb and jump around on. A jetty to jump off and all different sorts of ball games. There was a small school and a clinic (empty concrete room). The guide said half of them won’t live to double figures due to the fact they drink the river water. But they looked blissfully happy. And they had a bright coloured bird. 

From there we went down stream a bit and watched the sunset while sipping our sunset drinks and watching river life. In the smaller arms of the delta there was a lot of floating plants. Sometimes they blocked the path of the boat and we had to forge through them. It was back to the camp and yet another nice meal. I seemed to have missed taking any food photos. The Swiss couple had spent several years travelling around the world in a yacht with their children. They spent a month at the remote island of Niue about 2 years after we lived there. They also lived in Australia for a year and had been to Broome. We had lots of interesting chats over the two days. I slept well listening to jungle noises and howler monkeys. 

Next morning we had breakfast and then were taken for a paddle in a local dugout boat. It was lovely and quiet and we saw lots of birds and a few small monkeys. I zoomed in as best I could. 

They then gave us some rubber boots and took us for a jungle walk. 100 metres from the boat and I’d be lost forever. But we learned how to get water from one tree. And food from another. And a bark you could write on with a carved stick. Just in case you wanted to leave a last message. These guys are very handy with a machete. Fortunately I had eaten so much I didn’t need to eat the ants. 

Before we went back to have lunch, we were supposed to visit another Indian village. They were calling them Indian. Maybe a translation thing. I would have said indigenous. But anyway we collectively said we didn’t want to do another one and so they offered us a bit of piranha fishing instead. They weren’t as quite as ferocious as I had expected but to be fair, we really just had chicken fat as bait. I’m sure something dripping fresh blood would have worked better. But I did manage to hook a couple and almost got one into the boat. We didn’t stay long as we had to go back and eat more food. After lunch it was the fast trip back but this time we weren’t so lucky with the rain. 

They had a couple of big sheets of black plastic and we somehow managed to crawl under them and fight the wind from the speed of the boat and stay dry. The long drive back seemed a bit shorter. I possibly fell asleep.

I had a couple of relaxing days at the Posada and managed to get a haircut and was able to do a money deal with my barber so that I had some local currency. The local money is called the Bolivar after Simon of course. It’s a bit of a basket case. It used to be a very stable currency for over 100 years but in the last 40 years it has lost its way. It’s had several revaluations due to rampant inflation. At one stage a million bolivar note was revalued to 1 bolivar. If you exchange it on the street you can get about 30% more than at the bank. But it’s not that prominent and I think you could get in a bit more trouble if you were caught. Most of the locals pay with a card or with a phone app. (or gold further south). Markets, small places and buses etc use the local currency. In most places you can pay in $USD or Bolivares or plastic. So far I haven’t seen an ATM and my visa card only works sometimes. There’s always long queues of locals outside banks. I have limited $USD and I wanted some local money to buy fuel (which can sometimes be difficult) and empanadas etc. (that are everywhere and easy). I was able to give my barber fifty bucks, and he called me later to say he had changed it for me. It’s not much but it will be very helpful. It was a big wad of money. And nice to change it in a safe environment

The Americans have shut down Venezuela’s access to world financial transactions which is a pain in the butt. For me. But especially for the locals. Things we take for granted like international bank transfers or wire transfers or even PayPal aren’t available. But the locals are resourceful and find new ways to transfer money until it gets shut down and then they find a new way.

I discovered a lot more about this when I went to pay for my trip to Angel Falls. I didn’t have enough cash but my friend did some wheeling and dealing and with some of my dollars and a promise to pay the rest when we work out how, he was able to get me on a flight to the Falls. One of my biggest ticket items of the whole trip. It’s not an easy place to visit. Or even pay for. But I had a ticket and I was off tomorrow.