FEAR: TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 28
I was scared last night. I never ride in the dark yet there I was, car and truck drivers attempting to commit me to oblivion.
I have ridden the length of the Americas. I am on my way back north. Drivers in other countries merely terrified me. An Argentine truck driver smashed my leg.
I have the experience to judge.
Believe me, Venezuelan drivers are the worst.
A police advertisement on television announces 35 000 road deaths in the previous twelve months. The cops show film of squashed cars and mashed trucks, decimated trees and steel-draped concrete pillars, lots of blood.
Was I sacred last night riding in the dark?
Too damn right!
Did I sleep soundly?
No.
I wake and ease tired joints outdoors to be blessed by morning sunshine.
Showing posts with label Orinoco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Orinoco. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
GREAT BRIDGE - GREAT POVERTY
ORINOCO: MONDAY, NOVEMBER 27
Venezuela is an immensely rich nation.
I measure the bridge over the Orinoco: five kilometers. The end sections are supported on pylons. A suspension bridge spans the center. The bridge is a great feat of engineering.
Is feeding the poor of Venezuela so much more difficult? Or developing an economy in which today's extremes of poverty are confined to history?
Venezuela is an immensely rich nation.
I measure the bridge over the Orinoco: five kilometers. The end sections are supported on pylons. A suspension bridge spans the center. The bridge is a great feat of engineering.
Is feeding the poor of Venezuela so much more difficult? Or developing an economy in which today's extremes of poverty are confined to history?
RIVER ROMANCE
ACROSS THE ORINOCO: MONDAY, NOVEMBER 27
I have sailed the Beagle Chanel, crossed the Straits of Magellan and the Amazon. Today I cross the Orinoco. Ahead lie the Panama Canal, Mississippi, Delaware and Hudson, names recalled from childhood fantasies. Other rivers and channels exist in the Americas. None so romantic.
I have sailed the Beagle Chanel, crossed the Straits of Magellan and the Amazon. Today I cross the Orinoco. Ahead lie the Panama Canal, Mississippi, Delaware and Hudson, names recalled from childhood fantasies. Other rivers and channels exist in the Americas. None so romantic.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
BAD NIGHT
NORTH THROUGH VENEZUELA: MONDAY, DECEMBER 27
I wake at 4 AM. A car alarm screeches directly below my window for twenty seconds; it does so every twenty minutes. My bathroom door locks itself from the inside. The room key doesn't fit. I have to go downstairs to use the lavatory behind the bar. I give up on sleep and load the bike. An organiser for Chavez is paying his bill. He has traveled widely through Europe, mostly in what was the USSR. He lives in Caracas. Guidebooks and other travelers warn that Caracas is dangerous. The politico says the people are good. They are poor. Poverty is inescapable. Stealing is their only possibility.
Must they rob with violence?
I wake at 4 AM. A car alarm screeches directly below my window for twenty seconds; it does so every twenty minutes. My bathroom door locks itself from the inside. The room key doesn't fit. I have to go downstairs to use the lavatory behind the bar. I give up on sleep and load the bike. An organiser for Chavez is paying his bill. He has traveled widely through Europe, mostly in what was the USSR. He lives in Caracas. Guidebooks and other travelers warn that Caracas is dangerous. The politico says the people are good. They are poor. Poverty is inescapable. Stealing is their only possibility.
Must they rob with violence?
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