Day 1: Ciudad Bolivar
We got off to a late start, since we had only gone to bed a few hours earlier, but fortunately, at the uncivilized hour of 5:30 am, there is not a lot of traffic, even in Caracas. As usual, the airport experience was quite confusing. For some reason Venezuelans do not find it necessary to have a sign or other indication of which flight will be leaving from which gate. There are just a bunch of gates, no signs, no gate numbers. Apparently the preferred method is to ask others until the crowd forms a consensus as to which gate the flight will leave from. After asking around, we found our flight which was pretty uneventful. Upon arriving at Puerto Ordaz we were met by our guide and driver, Jorge, and we set out for Ciudad Bolivar. But first, we stopped by the local shopping mall to pickup Jorge’s wife and daughter. Although Jorge assured us that his wife and daughter spoke English, they mostly just sat there and smiled the whole trip. Jorge, however, was quite the chatterbox. He talked about anything and everything. I was in the front seat so I had to pretend to be interested. Greg, who was in the back seat with the smiling women, got to look out the window and nap during the hour long drive.
We got off to a late start, since we had only gone to bed a few hours earlier, but fortunately, at the uncivilized hour of 5:30 am, there is not a lot of traffic, even in Caracas. As usual, the airport experience was quite confusing. For some reason Venezuelans do not find it necessary to have a sign or other indication of which flight will be leaving from which gate. There are just a bunch of gates, no signs, no gate numbers. Apparently the preferred method is to ask others until the crowd forms a consensus as to which gate the flight will leave from. After asking around, we found our flight which was pretty uneventful. Upon arriving at Puerto Ordaz we were met by our guide and driver, Jorge, and we set out for Ciudad Bolivar. But first, we stopped by the local shopping mall to pickup Jorge’s wife and daughter. Although Jorge assured us that his wife and daughter spoke English, they mostly just sat there and smiled the whole trip. Jorge, however, was quite the chatterbox. He talked about anything and everything. I was in the front seat so I had to pretend to be interested. Greg, who was in the back seat with the smiling women, got to look out the window and nap during the hour long drive.
The bridge over the Rio Orinoco
Both Puerto Ordaz and Ciudad Bolivar are on the Orinoco River in Central Venezuela. (See the map below). The land in that area is flat with low scrub brush, much like Texas. In fact, there was a thunderstorm in the distance and the whole effect really did remind me of the area between Austin and Houston. We got to Ciudad Bolivar and had a tasty lunch of Pernil (roasted pork) and then went to a museum dedicated to the works of a famous Venezuelan artist, Jesus Soto. He is a primarily a sculptor, who has a keen interest in optical illusions. Learn more about the Jesus Soto museum here. Here is a link about Jesus Soto. 
Goofing around at the Museo Jesus Soto
Sitting on the wall of El ZamuroFrom there we went to the Museo San Isidro, which was a house that El Libertador stayed in while he was in Angostura (later renamed in honor of Bolivar). There was an important battle that took place near there. We then went to visit El Zamuro, a fortress used by Bolivar’s army to hold off the Royalists, then Plaza Bolivar, the Parochial House, House of Congress of Angostura and the Cathedral. The Cathedral is famous as the place where one of Bolivar’s top generals, Manuel Piar, was executed for treason. We spent the night at a very nice hotel, the Hotel La Cumbre, which had a very interesting collection of “dada” art. The proprietor of the hotel seemed to have a particular interest in old cash registers that he made into “art” apparently with a sledgehammer. We had a good meal in the restaurant and were entertained by a group of people singing traditional Venezuelan songs. The people were sitting around a table and among them had several guitars. Others at the table kept the rhythm by drumming on the table. The group included several children. A microphone was passed from person to person, each taking a turn at singing. One of the children even sang a very cute song. After dinner we sat by the pool for a while enjoying the cool evening breeze and then settled in for a much needed night’s rest after a very long day.
Greg and I at the Museo Jesus Soto
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