Puerto cabello and a bad tummy
Our country manager as planned met me at the Grand Melia at 0800 sharp for us to commence the journey to Puerto Cabello. One of our small tugs was in dock undergoing repairs and it was considerably behind schedule so I discussed travelling down, staying a few days and getting the repair back on track.
We had a reasonable four wheel drive so it was not too cramped for the country manager (Monica) and our technical superintendent (Jose) and there were plenty of bottles of water for the journey. I was not full of confidence from the start because Monica said "we will be going straight to the shipyard so maybe you want to put your coveralls on now?" I was just considering this when she said "and when we are stopped by army roadblocks just say you are on holiday and sightseeing". "In coveralls?" I replied. "Good point, leave them off" she said.
The drive took over four hours and we arrived at the dock and then walked down to where the small tug had been lifted out of the water. She is a nice little tug called Lily but in quite a mess after five years work with very little maintenance.
We had a reasonable four wheel drive so it was not too cramped for the country manager (Monica) and our technical superintendent (Jose) and there were plenty of bottles of water for the journey. I was not full of confidence from the start because Monica said "we will be going straight to the shipyard so maybe you want to put your coveralls on now?" I was just considering this when she said "and when we are stopped by army roadblocks just say you are on holiday and sightseeing". "In coveralls?" I replied. "Good point, leave them off" she said.
The drive took over four hours and we arrived at the dock and then walked down to where the small tug had been lifted out of the water. She is a nice little tug called Lily but in quite a mess after five years work with very little maintenance.
The docking was being handled by another company on our behalf but it was obviously going badly wrong due to a lack of money and spares so there was going to be quite a task ahead to get the tug back in the water and earning money.
It was at this point that Monica and Jose started talking about having to leave because it is too dangerous to be on the road back to Caracas in the dark. I thought the at least Jose would be staying here to help translate at the yard and basically look after me in a town where the gangs rule the streets at night and nobody speaks English. There was nothing I could do to convince them to stay so my bags were taken out of the car and I stood in the middle of nowhere waiting for some man from the contracted repair company to pick me up.
Eventually an extremely battered pick up truck arrived and a short Venezuelan man in his sixties jumped out and shook my hand vigorously. In perfect English he introduced himself as Victor and he had learned his English at an UK University. There was something about this man that made you like and trust him immediately and my first impression turned out to be right.
It was getting dark so he said it would be safer to get back to the hotel and I would be staying in the same place as him i.e. The Sunflower Hotel. As you can see from the photograph below the building is modern but what you cannot see is the appalling standard of construction. There are huge gaps around the windows, they are made of ill-fitting perspex and I certainly would not lean on them because they seemed to be held in place by foam and moved if pushed.
Steve at his most thoughtless
The room was spartan, clean and incredibly cold because the air conditioning was stuck on Arctic and the highest fan speed. It sounded like a jet aircraft building up engine power to take off. Never mind I had a lovely shower and joined Victor for a beer. After a couple of drinks I suggested that we get the menu and this nearly made poor Victor fall off his chair laughing. He spoke to the waiter at length and he apologised to me for this but said he was finding out what food they had that we could eat. The only thing available was believe it or not deep fried chicken nuggets and chips and so that is what we ate.
Every night for the next ten days, we followed the same routine, ate chicken nuggets and I enjoyed a few beers with Victor and chatting to a young waitress who was desperately trying to improve her English. It really brightened up our evenings as well as improving my limited Spanish. One night I stayed for an extra beer after eating and she was telling me that she earned the equivalent of five US dollars a month and with the families entire income they could afford to buy only one chicken a week and lived on vegetables and rice. An egg cost more than a gallon of petrol! Before I left for my room, I discretely slipped a twenty US dollar note into her hand and without saying anything headed off to bed. Again I asked reception to please fix the air conditioning or even maybe turn it off and again they promised they would send somebody up.
Showered and in bed, there was a knock at the door and I cursed reception for being so stupid as to send the repair men at this time of night. I decided not to open the door because I was suddenly concerned that maybe somebody had got past security and wanted to steal my money, my possessions and of course, my trousers, or even that security were going to rob me. I shouted through the door in my best Spanish "Who is it". I could not make out the answer over the noise of the jet engine in my room but the voice was definitely female. I opened the door slightly and a woman barged straight past me and leaned against the closed door as if she was being pursued. Feeling very vulnerable, shocked and trying my best to hold a small bath towel in place I was about to start shouting, phone 911, phone a friend or do something when even without my glasses on, I recognised that it was the young waitress from the restaurant.
"Cameras cameras" she kept repeating as my poor brain tried to process what was going on and then the penny dropped and I began talking in gibberish. "No, whoah, no, not, wrong, what, definitely not, mistake, wrong impression, married, old, no way, big mistake, aaargh" I said by way of explanation. That is when she started to cry and I grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom to feel a bit less vulnerable. Dressed, I gathered my thoughts and wondered if when I opened the bathroom door, she might have disappeared. No, she was still there and sitting on the end of the bed looking very young and vulnerable. I tried to tell her in terrible Spanish that the money was just a gift for her family and she was simultaneously trying to tell me in terrible English that she could not accept the money because she was not that sort of girl. There was an eureka moment when we realised that we were saying the same thing and she started to laugh. Situation sorted, and with my respect for her having grown even further she agreed to keep the money and muttering "cameras cameras" left the room. I made a mental note not to make the same mistake again and if I am going to give a gift then do it just as I am leaving the building or even better, the country.
Every night for the next ten days, we followed the same routine, ate chicken nuggets and I enjoyed a few beers with Victor and chatting to a young waitress who was desperately trying to improve her English. It really brightened up our evenings as well as improving my limited Spanish. One night I stayed for an extra beer after eating and she was telling me that she earned the equivalent of five US dollars a month and with the families entire income they could afford to buy only one chicken a week and lived on vegetables and rice. An egg cost more than a gallon of petrol! Before I left for my room, I discretely slipped a twenty US dollar note into her hand and without saying anything headed off to bed. Again I asked reception to please fix the air conditioning or even maybe turn it off and again they promised they would send somebody up.
Showered and in bed, there was a knock at the door and I cursed reception for being so stupid as to send the repair men at this time of night. I decided not to open the door because I was suddenly concerned that maybe somebody had got past security and wanted to steal my money, my possessions and of course, my trousers, or even that security were going to rob me. I shouted through the door in my best Spanish "Who is it". I could not make out the answer over the noise of the jet engine in my room but the voice was definitely female. I opened the door slightly and a woman barged straight past me and leaned against the closed door as if she was being pursued. Feeling very vulnerable, shocked and trying my best to hold a small bath towel in place I was about to start shouting, phone 911, phone a friend or do something when even without my glasses on, I recognised that it was the young waitress from the restaurant.
"Cameras cameras" she kept repeating as my poor brain tried to process what was going on and then the penny dropped and I began talking in gibberish. "No, whoah, no, not, wrong, what, definitely not, mistake, wrong impression, married, old, no way, big mistake, aaargh" I said by way of explanation. That is when she started to cry and I grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom to feel a bit less vulnerable. Dressed, I gathered my thoughts and wondered if when I opened the bathroom door, she might have disappeared. No, she was still there and sitting on the end of the bed looking very young and vulnerable. I tried to tell her in terrible Spanish that the money was just a gift for her family and she was simultaneously trying to tell me in terrible English that she could not accept the money because she was not that sort of girl. There was an eureka moment when we realised that we were saying the same thing and she started to laugh. Situation sorted, and with my respect for her having grown even further she agreed to keep the money and muttering "cameras cameras" left the room. I made a mental note not to make the same mistake again and if I am going to give a gift then do it just as I am leaving the building or even better, the country.
no salad no ice and keep your trousers on
I adhered to the words of advice from my boss right up to the next evening. I did not have any ice and I most definitely kept my trousers on but after ten days of chicken nuggets and chips, the temptation of a meal made especially for us was too much and it would have been incredibly rude to ask what it was considering the extreme shortage of food. The photograph below may give you an idea of the rule I broke and I promise not to describe the effects it had on my body in too much detail.
This was the best plate of food I had seen since arriving in Venezuela and all credit to the hotel for doing their utmost to present us with this but of course salad is on the list of dangerous things to eat due to water borne diseases. I have an extremely robust digestive system so in the spirit of "what could possibly go wrong" I ate the lot and it was great.
It was only two days later when I started to feel ill and the symptoms of food poisoning began to make themselves evident. My appetite disappeared, I felt weak and feverish as well as all other signs of severe food poisoning. Having been through similar problems many times in countries with poor hygiene standards, I as always intended to tough it out and dragged myself to the ship for the next three days but on the fourth morning I could not even touch breakfast and I was aware that despite drinking as much water as I could, I was getting seriously dehydrated. I told Victor that I would have to go back to bed to get over this bug. He asked if I wanted a doctor and of course I said no, it will clear up on its own.
I climbed back into bed and to be honest, I felt so terrible that I did start to wonder how I was going to get well enough to manage the journey to Caracas and a flight home. There was a knock at the door and in came Victor, accompanied by a young doctor and a heavily pregnant nurse. The doctor spoke good English and he explained that it was too dangerous to take me to the clinic because many of the patients had gunshot wounds and were members of the gangs that ran the town. There was no way that the police would protect me in there and anyway they would ask too many questions. The alternative therefore was for him to take samples and quickly find out what bug I had so the young nurse who was on maternity leave would take blood etc and look after me. I remember being so glad that I had brought a relatively large amount of US dollars with me.
Samples taken, they left me but only briefly because I was so severely dehydrated that I was at risk of kidney damage so Victor took the nurse out and scoured the town for a pharmacy with saline drips, needles etc. Amazingly they managed to find what they needed and even in my weakened state I checked that all seals were unbroken and the saline (made in Spain) was in date. With an old wire coat hanger hooked on the bed, the nurse managed to get the drip working and she sat patiently as it was set to be a very slow process. Victor received a call and amazingly the clinic had already verified that I had Amoebic Dysentery so he headed off in his old truck to collect the doctor and once again try to find the drugs that I needed.
Victor was so happy when he returned because they had managed to get the correct drug in drip form as well as tablets and more saline. All in date and I was quickly checking the drugs to see if they were the right thing of my problem. Thankyou Google they were the correct drugs and the dosage was for severe cases where there is a risk that the bugs attack the liver. I did not complain and soon I was lying in my hotel room with a drip in each arm and despite feeling terrible and incredibly weak, I did feel as if there was now a light at the end of the tunnel and even if not cured, I should hopefully be well enough to make the journey back to the UK.
That evening the nurse went home to eat and see her family so she put up two fresh bags for my drips and said she would be back later. Not long after, there was a knock at the door and Victor looking very smart and a beautiful young lady dressed for a big night out entered the room. Victor was feeling guilty leaving me because he was going out for dinner with his girlfriend and leaving me on my own. I think this is when the ridiculous situation I had found myself in hit home. I am in a hotel bed, in a remote area of Venezuela, gangs own the streets, the population is starving, violence is everywhere, I am connected to all sorts of tubes in my arms and hands, I have a Tropical disease, the room is full of used medical paraphernalia, the sheets are covered in blood and Victor has brought his date to come and have a chat with me.
I remained in bed for four days looked after by the doctor and nurse and then finally the lovely feeling when they took all the needles out and I started to feel the first glimmer of recovery. Victor was told that I had to start eating and somehow he managed to get the hotel to make a dish that the world over seems to be manageable when you have no appetite. Yes chicken soup, and I lived on it until I got enough strength back to make the journey back to Caracas and then home.
It was only two days later when I started to feel ill and the symptoms of food poisoning began to make themselves evident. My appetite disappeared, I felt weak and feverish as well as all other signs of severe food poisoning. Having been through similar problems many times in countries with poor hygiene standards, I as always intended to tough it out and dragged myself to the ship for the next three days but on the fourth morning I could not even touch breakfast and I was aware that despite drinking as much water as I could, I was getting seriously dehydrated. I told Victor that I would have to go back to bed to get over this bug. He asked if I wanted a doctor and of course I said no, it will clear up on its own.
I climbed back into bed and to be honest, I felt so terrible that I did start to wonder how I was going to get well enough to manage the journey to Caracas and a flight home. There was a knock at the door and in came Victor, accompanied by a young doctor and a heavily pregnant nurse. The doctor spoke good English and he explained that it was too dangerous to take me to the clinic because many of the patients had gunshot wounds and were members of the gangs that ran the town. There was no way that the police would protect me in there and anyway they would ask too many questions. The alternative therefore was for him to take samples and quickly find out what bug I had so the young nurse who was on maternity leave would take blood etc and look after me. I remember being so glad that I had brought a relatively large amount of US dollars with me.
Samples taken, they left me but only briefly because I was so severely dehydrated that I was at risk of kidney damage so Victor took the nurse out and scoured the town for a pharmacy with saline drips, needles etc. Amazingly they managed to find what they needed and even in my weakened state I checked that all seals were unbroken and the saline (made in Spain) was in date. With an old wire coat hanger hooked on the bed, the nurse managed to get the drip working and she sat patiently as it was set to be a very slow process. Victor received a call and amazingly the clinic had already verified that I had Amoebic Dysentery so he headed off in his old truck to collect the doctor and once again try to find the drugs that I needed.
Victor was so happy when he returned because they had managed to get the correct drug in drip form as well as tablets and more saline. All in date and I was quickly checking the drugs to see if they were the right thing of my problem. Thankyou Google they were the correct drugs and the dosage was for severe cases where there is a risk that the bugs attack the liver. I did not complain and soon I was lying in my hotel room with a drip in each arm and despite feeling terrible and incredibly weak, I did feel as if there was now a light at the end of the tunnel and even if not cured, I should hopefully be well enough to make the journey back to the UK.
That evening the nurse went home to eat and see her family so she put up two fresh bags for my drips and said she would be back later. Not long after, there was a knock at the door and Victor looking very smart and a beautiful young lady dressed for a big night out entered the room. Victor was feeling guilty leaving me because he was going out for dinner with his girlfriend and leaving me on my own. I think this is when the ridiculous situation I had found myself in hit home. I am in a hotel bed, in a remote area of Venezuela, gangs own the streets, the population is starving, violence is everywhere, I am connected to all sorts of tubes in my arms and hands, I have a Tropical disease, the room is full of used medical paraphernalia, the sheets are covered in blood and Victor has brought his date to come and have a chat with me.
I remained in bed for four days looked after by the doctor and nurse and then finally the lovely feeling when they took all the needles out and I started to feel the first glimmer of recovery. Victor was told that I had to start eating and somehow he managed to get the hotel to make a dish that the world over seems to be manageable when you have no appetite. Yes chicken soup, and I lived on it until I got enough strength back to make the journey back to Caracas and then home.
it really restores your faith in human nature when you find genuine people who will do all that they can to help a stranger in trouble. This is a country of extremes where the people are so friendly and caring yet the towns are run by brutal gangs, there is no food for the ordinary people but if you have money, most things are available, and incredibly nearly everybody seems able to smile through the adversity. One thing for sure is that the sanctions imposed by governments around the world are not affecting the rich and corrupt because they already have their money hidden in equally corrupt countries and it is the poor people that it damages.
The shipyard workers on our little ship were hungry so Victor instigated bringing in daily packed lunches of chicken and potatoes that would see them through the day and to try and speed up the work, another meal in the evening so that they would work later. We made sure that there were extra packages in the evening so they could take something back to their families. My respect for these people is immense and this episode of seeing the effects of corruption makes me even more sure that corruption is one of the greatest injustices to ordinary people.
I was eventually strong enough for the drive back to Caracas but the thought of four hours on bumpy roads without access to a toilet was rather daunting. You can read more about the rest of my stay in Caracas and the journey home by following the link below.
The shipyard workers on our little ship were hungry so Victor instigated bringing in daily packed lunches of chicken and potatoes that would see them through the day and to try and speed up the work, another meal in the evening so that they would work later. We made sure that there were extra packages in the evening so they could take something back to their families. My respect for these people is immense and this episode of seeing the effects of corruption makes me even more sure that corruption is one of the greatest injustices to ordinary people.
I was eventually strong enough for the drive back to Caracas but the thought of four hours on bumpy roads without access to a toilet was rather daunting. You can read more about the rest of my stay in Caracas and the journey home by following the link below.