5th May - Maracaibo (Ven) - Colombian Border - Maicao (Colombia) - Cartagena (Carribbean Coast Colombia)

Pumped and wired on adrenalin we leapt out of bed at 4 am, splashed water on bleary eyes and (after bashing frantically on the hotel door) were let out into the dawn.
The bus station was like a car graveyard come to life, derelict, bashed,, rusted Lincolns, Chevvys and Cadillacs all shuddering and growling over yelling ticket vendors, birds and mumbling sleepy drivers.  After choosing our cab (a deep maroon Malibu with a front door lock to open the boot, duct taped windows and no door handles (the car in the BEST condition out of the lot, and with the least obviously intoxicated driver) and negotiating our fare ($210 - a bargain) it was time to nervously wait.
Tattooing the pavement with our nervous side step, incapable of words except the occasional exclamation of 'this is bonkers' and constant, mindless giggling we elevated internal silent prayers, channelled positive energy and hoped for the best!
Our Father who art in Heaven, blessed be this day, your hand on us, protection grant, this is what I pray
Feeling sick,  jacked up on nerves and energy, excited to the point of shakes and feeling all and every kind of emotion and physiological tingle, surging with unfamiliar energy and utterly overwhelmed with the sheer madness of what lay ahead I scribbled frantically - this is what fuels inspiration, rejuvenates exhausted souls and rekindles the dormant sensation of what it is to TRULY LIVE!
Neil continues to drag heavily on his cigarette and chuckle quietly, and Jeremy, knee deep in American muscle, happily points out that out of all the cars we can see, only 2 have 6 cylinders whilst the rest have 8...he is a happy lad!

Finally, after an anxious hour long wait, we were presented with official forms (phew, this made us feel a little less worried and make the whole operation seem 'legit'), signed, paid and jumped into the car with our travelling companions (a young Spanish couple) and roared into the morning and into the most surreal landscape I have ever experienced.
A seemingly endless horizon of desert thundering with the sound of literally thousands of pre-1970 American cars, all in major states of disrepair but still thundering healthily, weaving and hurtling at break neck speeds, 4 abreast (in a 2 lane road).  It was like being on the set of a Mexican gangster movie.
Massive cattle trucks with people stacked, jammed and shoved inside and hanging on to doors, roof racks and crates, all rushing toward the frontier.
Mud brick, thatched shanty towns litter the desert, makeshift huts and restaurants of lashed together sticks (all of different lengths, with no roofing and no walls) line the road and people lazily swing in their hammocks watching us go by, children playing on the road, in between cars, goats, chickens and cows grazing on whatever they can find...it is nothing I have ever seen, and I keep having to remind myself that it is actually real - that this is how people live.
The drive to the border is like a time warped excursion into a movie, all three of us are stunned and speechless and loving every minute of the madness.

2 of the most uncomfortable hours later (due to the curved roll together bench seat and lack of suspension) we reach the pre- border patrol for our exit stamps, and after paying a leaving tax (Venezuela is all about squeezing us for cash) we roll to the check point and proceed to be searched.
After having a guard rifle through my pack (including, to his disgust, my dirty laundry and rotting mouldy towel) we shoved stuff back into the cab and proceeded to walk the no-mans land between Venezuela to Colombia.
Every kind of hustler, dealer, opportunist and crim occupies this short space - crammed to overflowing with dingy bars, money exchange offices, dubious tour companies and restaurants, it is a cacophany of noise, pressure, frantic sales pitches and for us, fear. With heads up, eyes blank and arms crossed over passport wallets (all snugly tied under our clothes) we marched confidently (whilst shaking inside) to the office and were interrogated, stamped and welcomed into Colombia! HOORAY!


Nothing comes close to the feeling of that moment - unreal!

12 kilometers later we farewelled our taxi driver at Maicao and prepared the next leg. An 8 hour bus ride to Cartagena...
Jeremy had his first motorbike ride (in jandals, shorts and tee minus helmet) at wreckless speed thru the town to find cash while Neil stood guard over our stuff and I went off to buy some money - I managed to barter the rate and got us a sweet deal on Colombian pesos for Bolivars and (not until later did I realise I was now a crim!) once more we were off!

Having braced ourselves for all manner of danger (visions of corrupt check point guards, bribery and blackmail and thievery) we were all pleasantly surprised as the trip went without a hitch and we arrived in the stunning city of Cartagena last night.

HOORAY!
The boys are now having some sleep, Im on the planning operation and in a short few minutes we will be relaxing sea side on the Carribbean!

xx