What else would one travel to Venezuela was always a pleasant experience, pleasant and well-burnished crisp to stop our national pride. Aaah, how to transport us and gives us the ability to dream impulse. Daria so whenever we went out interioranos heart to meet our country everything is full delight, that we embrace the friendly warmth of tropical sunshine and pure air will help us shake off every last speck of soot with us is of the relentless and exhausting urban bustle of the capital bent on making us feel like a kitchen utensil, including dents.
What if it rained, fortune provided us a load of rainfall or very very not so-so. Enough to irrigate the crops, to the extent to fill the reservoirs, adjusted to put turbines El Guri, accurate to revitalize the canopy with its countless flowers, give drink to all species and leave cute bañadito and every last one of the monkeys marmoset our forests. How beautiful it would! I arrive at the euphoric end to think that in this environment to a gorilla and if desengorilaría stay there the better. Aaah, the ability to dream.
to head south, east or west and feel that the vehicle slips a neat ribbon of asphalt (that's what we have to spare) as all shades of green that skirt swaying in time with this as inspiration for the teacher remembered Aldemaro:
Carreteeera, remember ... carreteeera
Anyway, how great it would be safe to rejoice with peace and tranquility in these nature has lavished on our soil and that after every good experience would cause us to go Valentina Quintero ran to to say:
- Chama, I lived it!
But notice no. With the passage of bad weather, political climate, that desire has pitfalls. have plotted a series of circumstances that make any escape into Asaz overwhelming and exhausting. There are several, but excels vehicular congestion of the roads. Caracas-Valencia A trip can be long and the risks of Paris-Dakar rally. And sometimes more dangerous because there is competition in that tractor trailers whose reckless drivers think they are on the boogie . A caderazo of them and end the global travel.
insecurity through the underworld, accidents on the agenda are other unexpected frequent and bitter. But let's say at once that what has affected the domestic tourism have been the torrential downpours with the consequential flooding and currents that have phagocytosed most of our major highways and roads. Take, for example, "Cumana Guanta seems fiercely chewed by a Tyrannosaurus Red, say, Rex.
Minpopytransporte official figures, much more serious than the INE, indicate that at least 143 routes were affected by the December rains caused numerous setbacks and thousands of vacationers. I will absolutely vouch for that here.
After the holiday of Christmas and found myself in Paraguaná ready to return to Caracas, an old collapsed Bridge Morón-Coro. I go out Churuguara, but the road to the mountains is almost a pipe dream. For the West, had reached the foot of the bridge over the lake and go back after so long a journey would have had to travel equipped with a marker to replace any body line to disappear. In a display of efficiency, the government opened a path to which threw me reckless. That was my martyrdom and that of thousands of people
I arrived in bus and the guy shoulder bag diversion at 11 am. I walked under the sun and drizzle over a queue of over two hundred cars whose occupants relaxed in lounge chairs seemed to be on a picnic or on the beach, as though they have forgotten the purpose of keeping them there. A man and had taken two books of sudoku. The wait was due to fourteen tractor trailers, violating the ban on heavy vehicles, entered the stretch of emergency but was bogged down and left him as if a herd of hippos wallowing. There was only passing on foot. It seemed easy, but the mud stuck marshmallows on the soles of boots, which slipped, and there over a ridge we had surf on a sea of \u200b\u200bred mud. Semi-double, open arms, breaking the waist to the left, then right, shouting to fly higher! Careful with that tuna! A human line, many barefoot with suitcases and bundles in the head.
If you want to call it adventure travel, go. But I never imagined that in the second decade of the twenty-first century would have to travel to Caracas skating a stretch in a red dirt track. Perks of modernity.
(Published in the newspaper Tal Cual on Sunday January 31, 2011)
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