4x4 tour of the Gran Sabana

March 22nd, 2010: The past 4 days I have been in the depths of the Gran Sabana on a excellent 4x4 tour. The company I was with sells itself on being an adrenaline tour. This is definitely true, especially when my guide tossed my camera containing over 1,500 photos that were not backed up over to our driver - NOT our major league baseball player, who was standing on top of one of a the waterfalls we were climbing so it wouldn't get wet. In slow motion I saw what was taking place, as I froze unable to say anything, watching it fly through the air as if it was floating...so...so very slowly. Overall the trip was quite exciting as we climbed up/down/around/in back and in front of the waterfalls that hid deep in the Sabana.

At night we would ride on the roof rack on top of the Land Cruiser looking at the stars as the drinking quickly doubled the amount of stars and somehow transformed us contestants on the TV program, dancing with the stars. When the Land Cruiser stopped, we would turn the road or roof into a modified dance floor whether in the middle of the highway or far back off the main road down the dirt tracks. On this roof is where I was given some free salsa classes. The only thing that I had to pay was close attention to every time I placed down my foot - to keep my foot from falling between the gaps on the rack...which would certainly mean a trip to the doctors - from the fall, or from my driver after he saw the damage I made to his vehicle.

Looking at my dance instructor who was a local, I had to smile...thinking that I will never understand fashion as she earlier in the day purposely pried her shorts open forgetting the purpose of a zipper and a button - fortunately she didn't forget the use of a belt as that was the only thing fastened. Strange looking...but fashionable to her and maybe to this region I suppose.

The following night my salsa instructor was a Russian woman with some great skills making me feel like I knew what I was doing. A bit confident...too confident, I tried to dance with her one friend, the Russian Jumping Bean. Quickly my confidence was killed as she would defy the law of gravity and the relativity of motion and physics (maybe...I really don't know the laws and other complicated stuff such as this, it just sounded right) somehow spinning the complete opposite way I was trying to spin her as she continuously sprung in the air over twice her height.

During the daylight hours the dancing didn't stop. Instead of salsa we quite successfully performed with style and grace the puri puri (biting fly) dance with our hands slapping ourselves and legs quickly moving in no specified motion. I must say, this dance is almost as easy as the funky chicken but much more pleasant to watch and for surely more enjoyable than the dreadfully Acky Breaky Heart dance by Billy Ray Cyrus - I truly HATE that dance!!!!

Our guide, was great. He liked to drink straight out of the two liter bottles as the backwash would flow right back in breaking off the debris in his stained teeth making the drink not just a drink but also a snack. Not to mention that his bathing suit...in typical Colombian fashion it is his underwear. Thank goodness it was black because after 4 days the sight might have been even more unbearable than it already was. It seems as if he had every job in the world...from being a dentist, to a restaurant owner, hotel owner, truck driver, factory owner, a mass murderer and the list goes on. With how comfortable he was walking around in his tight womanlike underwear...he might have even been a male dancer, but this he did not admit to, nor did I ask.

The driver was really helpful to everyone at first, but after a short period of time he had no interest in helping the men under the waterfalls or other such objects. He was so into paying such special attention to the needs of the women it was unbelievable. I think the tummy rubs and the c-cup grab from behind so a woman could be lifted up onto a potentially dangerous rock was very thoughtful. I never thought a woman's or man boobs are multi-purpose objects that can be used for handles.

The rats seemed to have a stronghold on the kitchen in the village we were staying. In the evening they would sprint and jump around the kitchen as if they were performing time trials for an upcoming track and field event. The overweight spectators would look at us from above with their eye peering from the grassy roof top.

The last day of the trip there was a storm system was sweeping across the Sabana so instead of walking along a potentially hazardous canyon...we went to Brazil for lunch and spent some time explore the boarder town, which took...minutes. Since it was Sunday, most people don't work on this day except for the poor restaurant and hotel employees, which I will say this again...is great - minus the hotel and restaurant employees that is.

I am leaving another great Venezuelan town tonight heading for a larger place named Ciudad Bolivar - which I am told has a McDonald's. I am hoping my bus ride is quicker that it was to this destination. I am a bit tired and frustrated from the extremely slow internet connection making it almost impossible to do anything and would like a nice rest in the ice box which is known as a bus in Latin America.

Strange pet

March 15th, 2010: I was invited to a friends place to see his strange pet. He has one horse (not so strange), a cow (also not so strange) and some animal that looks like an super small elephant with a short trunk or snout (very strange). Since my friend wasn't there when we arrived, we walked in and it came quickly toward me. Not sure what it was going to do, I was scared it was going to bite me because it was making a strange noise as he lifted his head opening his mouth showing me his dirty teeth. After taking a quick photo I dashed towards this piece of farm equipment to separate us. We soon became friends after feeding him a couple of giant bread rolls, satisfying his appetite and thankfully losing interest in consuming one of my few appendages.

Life around the Gran Sabana

March 14, 2010: Today was a most excellent day as I sat behind the wheel of a Toyota Land Cruiser flying at times and crawling at others attempting to clear the obstacles and keep up with a woman that must have been driving in the back of this hills for over half her life. Yes, she was good and I was...less good. We were on our way down to pick up all of the paragliders who left the hilltop.

When I was asked to drive, I casually said yes, but inside I was...YES! It has been 11 months since I drove a vehicle and I cant remember the last time I drove a manual. As for driving off road, it has been over 15 years since I drove in this sort of terrain in a proper vehicle - my cars do not count because I pretended they were meant to go places where at times, obviously weren't.

The past few days I have been hanging out with a group of locals who belong to a paragliding club. It has been a lot of fun just sitting around the hills far out of town and learning about all the information the clouds and eagles can tell us about the wind. They also let me strap into a paraglider as I would try to pull it up - not fly, just learning to control it before you take off. This bored me considerably but I did it anyhow not wanting to offend anybody. The more I learned about paragliding the more complicated it seemed. Skydiving seems so much easier - I suppose it is because you are falling and not gliding or at times flying.

In a few days, I decided to save a bit of my money and do a little bit of work writing up a piece on a tour company for a 3 day Gran Sabana tour. This company sells themselves as being an adrenaline tour. I am not sure how much adrenalin can be injected into my system on a Gran Sabana tour but I am off to see if this is false advertisement...or not.

Trek to Hell

March 12th, 2010: I never thought taking a trip to hell could be as simple as paying some nominal fee. I even thought I had to do something bad or not so good lots and lots of times to make it here. But I guess if you can go to space for millions why not hell? Taking a 6 day trek up to the top of what I indentify as hell is the table top mountain of Roraima. Making it to hell is actually much worse than being there...that is if you like tons of grey rocks.

Yes, the top was grey...very...grey with a bunch of exciting puddles that lost its excitement after 7 hours of jumping from stone to stone which eventually turned into walking in them due to my ability to jump gradually decreased as the day went on. Animals and plants can be quite spectacular with its ability to live up here. The top of Roraima was huge! From the bottom it looked small but that was definitely not the case. Exploring the top for a few days let me appreciate the area much more. Watching the clouds claw the top as they would sprint along the surface along with the views from the edge of the cliff seeing the other table top mountains, towering waterfalls that would form after heavy rainfall and the Gran Sabana seemed as if I was in some sort of dream - I am glad this sort of dream was not one that I thought I could fly.

On my visit to Roraima I was fortunate enough to run into swarms of biting flies (Jejenes) that I truly enjoyed killing - I hated them so much I would have torn leg by leg off if they were big enough and not felt a bit or remorse. The bathing situation was only for those with some sort of medical condition that they could not feel the knife like pain in the frigid water, but there was one body of water which was unfortunately guarded by those dang biting flies, making my wash time minimal. This was a good thing because in some bathing areas there was a large number of male ball washers...nothing wrong with cleaning the twins but only if the body of water was bigger than a large jacuzzi, but...it wasn't.

I am happy to say that the mafia did not "eliminate" (knife motion going across the throat) my czech acquaintances. Hearing about a "crazy guy" sighting the night before from my group members...I laughed and told them it was probably the czech guy I met when they described a guy walking around the campsite in only his tight white underwear with his backpack on supporting bright red legs from all the exposed skin to the sun - clearly needing some classes in the advantages of clothing. Seeing him in the morning, I said hi to them as my group seemed startled I was talking to him, later telling them that he was the czech man I told them about.

As the cold nights set in on top of Roraima, at around 8pm I would call it bed time. I would climb in my sleeping bag I was given by the tour company overflowing from the top since I have a feeling this was made for small children's slumber parties, not camping. Being creative, I modified my CLEAN boxer briefs into a hat which I only wore in the confines of my wretched smelling tent from the socks I managed to wear for almost 12 days straight (I am so proud). These were the days I was glad to be sleeping alone in my tent for two.

The toilet situation...was interesting. From the holes being dug at lower elevations and the plastic baggy that was to be held against the cheeks on top (to later be carried down by a man with one of the worse jobs in the entire world) they both would have been humiliating moments if someone came up from over the hill or around the corner as I squatted like a girl. But as I squatted my fear subsided as I would have spectacular views of the milky way and shooting stars making these deposits the most scenic that I can recall.

Even though at times I would not be able to walk a straight line, staggering...I made it. The sense of accomplishment I had once crawling into the parking lot was extremely rewarding. Next trip....Machu Picchu - or maybe not - a bus to the top doesn't seem bad to me at the moment as I sit in the comforts of the internet cafe. Maybe my memory will fail me and I will forget how I straggled behind most of the others by 30 minutes to an hour.