Venezuela, Backpacking South America
Eight Months On the Road
By David Rice  
Venezuela,
Page Eight
Lost City

I left the park and went back out to the highway to flag
the bus down and head to Santa Marta where I spent
two nights. Good fruit drinks and skewers of pork
cooked on a charcoal fire kept me happy.
From Santa Marta you can get a five day jungle trip to
the ruins of Ciudad Perdida, the lost city of the
Tayronian culture where you need to proceed with
extreme caution because of rebel activity. Organized
groups leave from Santa Marta for a five-day hike in.
Some day I will risk this trip but at that moment I had
Riohacha and the border of Venezuela in sight. From
there through Venezuelan custom and go to Maricaibo
 and from there to Caracas.  

The Venezuelan Welcome, A Thorough Search

My first time in Caracas and although I stayed for two
days I found it an expensive city with a lot of poverty
and a dangerous city to walk at night. I left for Rio
Caribe where I would catch a bus to Trinidad. On the
way I had a run in with the Venezuelan military.   
Venezuela, Backpacking South America
Bus Travel Through South America
Morals

Call it the Venezuelan welcome if you wish or is it just a
welcome reserved for gringos of the American, that is, the US
persuasion. The military policeman boarded our bus and gave
hardly a look to the other passengers, all locals, as he came
right to me. With a look of disdain and the exaggerated
authority that a badge bestows on otherwise powerless people,
he pointed his thumb up and the beefy policeman rudely
motioned me out of my seat and out of the bus.
The bus waited while the snarly military officer went through
every nook and cranny of my pack. His disappointed grew as
he found nothing and I feared a strip search was coming next.
By this time, though, most of the passengers had filed out of the
bus to watch the humiliation of a six-foot, grey-haired gringo
and they were grumbling and clearly annoyed at being delayed
by this too thorough military cop.

I just kept my mouth shut as he opened everything I had. He
opened the tent, sleeping bag, he opened film canisters and
threw them on the ground, went through my shaving kit,
everything. I have never been searched that thoroughly before, it
was the most severe search that I have ever had and it
reinforced an important lesson, never ever carry the slightest
illegal substance or you could end up in jail.

I know I was singled out because once he stopped at my seat
and pulled me off the bus, he never even checked the rest of the
passengers.
At times fake cops will come up to you and ask for your papers
particularly in Caracas  where they ask for your passport and try
to extort money but this guy was the real deal and he was
thorough and quite perturbed when he found nothing. I have
been taking long road trips for years, been attacked, been
searched a dozen times, and even once was kidnapped, but  I
never went through a search like that. In retrospect, my many
road experiences probably helped me keep my cool through
this one.

I don’t let this bother me, it is part of the deal when you travel in
third world countries. I felt that this was just an inconvenience
both for me and for the other bus passengers, so I got back on
the bus and, before long, it was forgotten. I learned a long time
ago in Tibet to let things like this go, otherwise they eat on you
and cause you pain, worry, fear, and anger, all negative feelings
that can cause health problems.

While all this is easily said, it is a philosophy that takes some
practice.

So many reasons come into play for a search like the one I
went through: the guy is having a bad day, he has a quota, he is
trying to cultivate a bribe, he is doing his job, he is bored.

Moral of the story: don’t carry contraband. If you must have it,
buy it on the spot and use it at the point of purchase, don’t
transport it.
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