Ok... so we took off in the morning and started off on buses - one to Valencia, another from Valencia to Maracay, where we went off to find a place to change travellers cheques, where we were subsequently fingerprinted, photographed, etc. Back to the bus station, where we stood in an interminably long line for the bus to Choroni, while taxi drivers walked up and down the line yelling ?taxi, Choroni, taxi, Choroni? over and over again. Bus finally came - all bright shiny colours, pictures of Jesus, etc. Absolutely no luggage storage, so we had to haul our big bags on the bus with us, and pay for an extra seat for them. And then the ride began - we were heading to a little place called Puerto Colombia, in Henri Pittier National Park. The road twists through the park, the bus chugging up steep hills, then flying down the other side (the brakes seemed to slow us down, but I don?t think they would have really stopped us had we needed it). Lots of hairpin curves, tight enough that the bus had to stop, back up a bit, and have a go at them from another angle. Cars lined up by the dozens behind us, flying past on blind corners when they had the chance. Our bus-driver would lay on the horn every time we approached a corner, and whoever was around the other side was best to just get out of the way! 3 hours later we finally reached the bus station. From there we had to walk about 5 minutes to get into Puerto Colombia, where the search for a posada began. Everywhere we looked there were no vacancy signs - we arrived on a Saturday, around 5 pm. Things weren?t looking too hopeful, but a nice taxi driver came over and told me to check down some side streets, because nothing on the main roads would have rooms. We managed to snag the last room at a place, which was very lucky, as we were still seeing people wandering about with their great big bags, looking for accomadation.

The twisty, bumpy road had gotten to Erika, so she headed to bed when we got there, and I went off to explore all 8 streets of the village. Quite a nice little village - lots of brightly painted buildings, lovely iron grates, etc. One street was quite busy - full of shops selling beach stuff. There?s a nice plaza overlooking the water, where boats leave for nearby islands and beaches not accessable by land, and rastas sell things made of hemp and necklaces with Bob Marley on them. I had a very tasty burger in the plaza, wandered about for awhlie, then headed back to the posada as it was starting to rain.

The next day was nice and relaxing. I headed to the beach in the afternoon (we had a few failed attempts to find internet in the morning - there?s one internet place and they seem to open/close whenever they feel like it) - Erika was still a little under the weather. The beach is about a 5 minute walk outside of town and was really beautiful - absolutely packed, of course. The odd thing was that by walking about 3 minutes down the beach to the far end, the crowd was about a tenth of what it was at the beginning - people were willing to smush themselves in together in a crush of beach umbrellas, coolers, and sweaty speedos rather then head 3 minutes away to relative peace and quiet. Chucked my stuff under a palm tree and played in the waves for a couple hours - huge waves there - got knocked over a couple times! Headed back when it started to cloud over.

We were very happy to discover a book exchange in town, as we?d exhausted all of our reading material. I went off to find new books and have a last ditch go at the internet place - no luck.

Woke up early and took the opportunity to go get some beach pictures before the masses showed up, then went back for Erika to get our swimming stuff. Spent a few hours on the beach in the morning, playing in the waves, then having the lifeguards blow their whistles at us to come closer to shore. We were planning to catch a bus at 2:00, so got all our stuff together, and went to the street where the buses stop.... only to discover about 200 people waiting in line before us. It was sweltering hot, and there were tiny bits of shade up against some walls, so everyone would chuck their bags in line, then hide in the shade on the other side of the street. We watched the bus arrive, the line would move about 10 feet, and then everyone would head for the shade again. I wandered about, stopped to talk to a nice shopkeeper who I?d met earlier in the day. We left our bags in line and headed around the corner, where there was a slight breeze and lots of shade (we figured that no one would have the energy to even pick our bags up in that heat, never mind run off with them!). We?d been waiting for about 2 hours, and figured there was probably another hour and a half before we?d get on a bus. After a long, hot wait in the sun we finally managed to push our way onto a bus and head out.

The ride back was a lot quicker, and the brakes seemed far better on this bus. Spent a night in a mediocre hotel in Maracay, then spent yesterday on buses, first from Maracay to Caracas, then from Caracas to Puerto La Cruz, where we, once again, managed to snag what seemed to be the last available room around. Today we?re headed off for Santa Fe in Mochima Park for some more sand and sun!