I found a bus that runs from Maracay to Choroni. It was an old American school bus that was painted in multiple colors and had the windows tinted very dark. I paid the driver 25 bolivars, which is like 6 USD. The ride was said to be about 2 hours. I stuffed my bag in the back of the bus and took a seat. ¾ of the seats on the bus were empty. The driver started the bus and flipped a bunch of switches; the bus started glowing with blinking LED and black lights. Then he turned on the radio, Salsa music began thumping and reverberating throughout the bus. I turned around to find (2) 10” subwoofers with (4) 6×9 speakers in the rear of the bus. I started laughing; I couldn’t believe an old school bus had such a sound system. It felt like a disco party. A few of the passengers on the bus were dancing and grooving to the music.
The only road to Choroni leads through Henri Pittier national park. The bus climbed a couple of windy mountain roads through the jungle. On the way we crossed two streams and passed 3 different waterfalls. The lush green vegetation and misty air made the trip beautiful. At times it was difficult to take in the natural views because the music was so loud, and the driver was speeding so fast around tight corners.
When we arrived in Choroni, there was a Dutch girl and Australian guy that were also getting off from the bus. They didn’t speak any Spanish, yet had done their homework, they knew where the budget hotels were so I followed them. On the coast the heat was much more intense than in the city because of the low elevation. The humidity had all three of us drenched in sweat after only carrying our bags a few meters. The first Posada we found was called Colonial. The prices were cheap, so all three of us
checked in. It was very clean and simple, yet no AC. Thank God there were fans in each room.
The next morning the three of us had breakfast at the hotel. We also met two middle-aged guys from Spain that were traveling through Venezuela. They told us about a beach they were going to, it was called Uracao. It was a long white sand beach that could only be accessed by taking a boat because there were no roads that led to this bay. They invited us to join them, naturally we accepted.
We walked down to the pier in Choroni to find a water taxi. It was a small pier, yet looked very alive with fisherman loading and unloading fish from their boats. Some were sorting and repairing their lengthy fishing nets. After just a few minutes we had found a water taxi to take all five of us to Uracao.
Being in the boat a few hundred meters off from the shore was quite a spectacle. To see the blue water with the white sand and palm trees, and beyond the palm trees was where the verdant mountains started. After 25 minutes we arrived, that’s when I noticed that there was nothing on this beach but a rustic tiki hut, and about 6 people that lived here without electricity or plumbing. These locals catered to us very well. A guy with bikini underwear, a big belly, and an apron,
cooked us some Dorado fish fillets with plantains and star fruit. He also brought us some beer in a cooler, all for fairly cheap prices considering that he had a monopoly.
The Spanish guys wandered up a shallow river while exploring parts of the jungle nearby. The Dutch girl, Australian guy, and myself relaxed on the beach. The waves were fairly large and broke right before shore making them perfect for body surfing. The Australian guy had a prosthetic leg, yet was a better swimmer than all of us, he was like a fish in the water. The three of us bodysurfed in the waves for about 2 hours.
Up at the tiki hut the locals had some percussion drums in a circle with several 6 pointed stars hand crafted from wood. I saw a few books on a shelf so I went over to have a closer look. There was a copy of the Torah, in Hebrew and in English. I couldn’t believe these folks were Jewish. They looked as though their bloodline was half Black and half Spanish. One of the guys took us over to his tent where he had a few large buckets filled with baby sea turtles. He said that he keeps them in the buckets until they get big enough to be set free. Otherwise they will be eaten or killed.
We had spent about 6 hours on the beach until we headed back to Choroni. Apart from the 5 of us, there were only about 6 other people on the entire beach, a few of which were some Venezuelan women. On the way back the waves were much larger, the little boat was pounding the waves. I asked the captain to slow down a bit; he did for about 2 minutes, and then increased the speed again. He must have been in a great hurry.
Upon arrival back in Choroni, we all headed to the hotel for some rest. I’m still in Choroni now. The others left for Merida. This is the first place I’ve found in Venezuela where I haven’t seen many police officers, therefore I haven’t seen many problems. After a few lousy and belittling days in Venezuela I had finally cleared my head of all the clutter. The ocean naturally has those meditative qualities.