The tiger and the Lily

When we went to the Trinidad Zoo, Lily didn´t want to get too close to the tiger. This is how she voiced her concern when Emily approached the cage with the trolley. Click on the film, watch and listen. Mii, mii, miii!

Reflections on Venezuela

A week after having left Venezuela, some thoughts have resurfaced. Thoughts that briefly might have fluttered up in my conscience those many late evenings I spent sitting in the white living room Pampatar, with a glistening glass of aged Gran Kazike-rhum in my hand, watching a DVD on the computer before slowly and blissfully passing out on the couch. Thoughts on things that cripples Venezuela , and whether they can be traced to peoples minds, culture, politics or what. I really don´t know. But the question bears importance for many underdeveleped countries.
Take for instance the maintanence of supermarkets. The chinese owns Venezuelas small local supermarkets, and they are well kept, with the goods carefully stapled, prices pen-marked on every single item and goods regularly cleaned with a cloth. Things are different in the venezuelan-owned outlets. Take Rattan, who has three giant and supposedly high class supermarkets on Margarita Island. They are relatively expensive, and target a wealthy customer market. But around one third of the goods in the shops dont have any prices marked. This has several effects. For every single unmarked item, customers have to look for one of the few scattered computer code-readers in the shops, which requires a lot of walking and prolongs the shopping tour a lot. But some clients don´t do that. They stack up the goods they want to buy, plus alternative goods on their cart and when they get to the cashier they watch the prices register, and every item that is to costly (some imported items are very expensive) they tell the cashier to leave it on the side (normally after a brief discussion). Each cashier often have 3-4 people serving the customer. As you can understand, the numerous staff also leads to complex chains of contacts and discussion during the handling of every customer. And yes, queues do get very long and slow. If you are used to normal rational handling, it is painful to watch.
When Abukar came to Margarita, we went to Rattan and happened to be standing in the aisle of chocolates (surprise), where one of the staff folded some boxes. It was an aisle where none of the maybe hundred items on the shelves had any prices, and Abukar suggested we ask her why.
- Well, this is christmas season and we have been moving around things in the shops have not had time to mark up all the goods, she answered.
Her answer was an apparent lie (I came in early October and it things looked exactly the same then), but it did actually reveal an ambition that the shop items should be marked. But it just doesn´t happen. Employees do their work, bosses boss, everybody live their life and dont get hung up on things that some people claim must be done. Its all good, take it easy, the world wont crumble. Personally, I get annoyed to look at the multiplicatory bad effects of such negligence, especially since I realize that this way of thinking, or rather, not doing, perpetrates the whole society, deteriorating everyday life for everyone. It applies to all parts of infrastructure, from pavements, walls, electricity, water, plumbing etc. And I am not fussy about order. My philosophy: You DON´T have to do things properly from the start. But you have to do them properly ENOUGH from the start, not to get to do much more work later.
There is a sign in our bathroom here in Trinidad, that says in Spanish: "Throw toilet paper in the toilet, not the paper basket."
Why? Because Venezuelas plumbing is made with such an inferior quality and dimensions, that if you throw toilet paper in the toilet, it clogs and flood the floor. Hence, in Venezuela, you learn to throw toilet paper in a adjacent paper basket. (Yes - smelly.) Of course, when going abroad, many venezuelans continue with this habit from a dysfunctional plumbing system.

Calypso Christmas

We had our Christmas smorgasbord at the Trinidad Hilton, situated just 500 meters from our more modest hotel, and shared the supper with an French-Canadian couple, who live and work in French Guyana. It was a soft evening in a exclusive environment. The morning after, Lily and I playing in the jacuzzi, shaded by a mango tree, in the lush caribbean hotel garden, with the hills of St Ann behind us. All of a sudden a group of big and croaking parrots landed in the tree, making a racket chopping at the mangoes and dropping small branches in the jacuzzi. It was the first time I experienced wild parrots. Just as the case is with monkeys, who Emily and I met in Gibraltar during our honeymoon, these animals appear rather rude and intrusive when met in their natural habitat.
Coming from Venezuela, this is the first time I have travelled from an ethnically white country to an ethnically black, where the white country is the poor, messy country, and the black is the rich and formal. Here, the white guest workers are the ones who look worn, poor and frayed as they hang around the docks of Chaguaramas waiting for the Venezuela ferry, and the black personal in smart dresses urge them to fill in the proper forms. Basically Trinidad is all that a country like Kenya could be. And Port of Spain is a very pleasant city, reasonably safe, wealthy and with a nice friendly atmosphere in a colonial surrounding. Hectic and professional but relaxed and smiling at the same time. For Christmas Day, we were invited to Christmas dinner at some adventists, Rochelle and her family, that Emily met in church. Nice.

We have also been to the zoo, and saw the worlds biggest rat, the capybara, with almost the size and look of a lion, (well I did say almost) and spider-monkeys, with their cool attitudes. And then, to top it all off, I happened to stumble upon the sign that prohibits signs.

Trinidad & Tobago

Today, we flew over from Isla Margarita to Port of Spain, Trinidad & Tobago. Its another world, a former British colony, richer, cleaner and with better roads than Venezuela. And a lot more expensive. We stay in Alicias Guesthouse, Port of Spain, for ten days, with a lush garden, swimming pool, jacuzzi and wireless broadband access in our rooms. However, no view whatsoever, and the merits of the kitchen are debatable. A letter from grandma Birgitta awaited us, it arrived in ten days. In comparison, her efforts in sending a letter to us in Venezuela did not bear fruit at all, the country is simply too unsystematic.
On the airport in Porlamar, we bought Lily a talking Chavez doll, complete with his howling revolutionary rethoric when you press a button on his back. Sweet. She insisted in taking off his clothes. I appealed to her to at least let him keep his red beret on.

Triumphant farewell to Venezuela

During the Christmas season Isla Margaritas population will increase with almost 400.000 vacationers. The streets and shops are simmering. Climate is nice, around 25 degrees centigrade and occational showers of rain. However, the Frigyes family is going the other way. Tomorrow we will leave both the island and Venezuela, to stay for ten days at the hotel Alicias House, Port of Spain, Trinidad. So that´s where we will spend Christmas. For three days, we have had our friend from Sweden staying with us in Pampatar: Abukar. He studies spanish here for some weeks, and will inherit our telephone number.
Our last day in Venezuela turned out triumphantly for me. I won a dancing contest! I spite of fierce competicion from several latin lovers. How it came about? Well we decided to spend our last day at "Parque el Agua", a watertheme-park, with lots of games, slides, waterfalls etc. for the young. And during an activity by the giant jacuzzi I was forced to participate in a dancing competition against four other male specimens. I improvised a mix of Chavez body moves and pointing and waving to the audience with winding pelvis movements (oh yes, utterly embarrasing!), and bold native dance steps. And the audience was bewildered by my ruthless attitude and innovative blend and cheeringly chose me as the male dance winner. I recieved a diploma.

Click the image, and a little clip of Lily playing in Sambil will start roll (if you are lucky and have decent broadband access).

Informal behaviour

When we went to a restaurant the other day it was the first time I experienced the a waiter actually clipping his fingernails while taking the order. A prime example of venezuelan "informal" behaviour, however admittedly of a rather less inspiring kind. Still, the lack of professionalism is also what makes the people charming and open. People never hesitate to get personal, to share their views. They are easy to talk to, on buses, beaches, in shops. In a way it also makes you feel more secure, they would help you if something happened. Sometimes the informalism is rather disturbing. Like when I in the hospital in November saw a male and a female nurse kissing and cuddling each other in the corridor. Or the police officer that approached Jonas in full uniform, asking if he wanted to change dollars (on the black market). Coming back to the waiter at the restaurant, it could have been worse.
He could have been clipping his toenails.

Look who´s talking

Alice. Well not really talking. But she does repeat simple words. And occationally she uses her words connected to things. And she continuously babbles, varying her intonation, and points on different things as to make it clear that she has firm views on specific topics. Lily was very slow in learning to walk but quick in language, Alice was quick with walking but is slow with words. She says "papa" clearly.

What else is new? Well apart from Jonas, we have had another Swedish visit, Andreas (grandson of mothers friend Dorrit) and his friend Madeleine, who are on a surfer vacation on Playa El Yaque. They came over to our place, for a curry, and on a subsequent very windy day we visited their beach, and were lucky to see the world champion in freestyle wind surfing showing off his tricks.

Christmas spirit with Hugo the poet

Yesterday morning on the state television, president Chavez in a black suit and tie was reciting poems with the support of a acoustic guitar player. Am I dreaming or what? Anyway, it may be construed as a way of promoting the true Christmas spirit in Venezuela. And Christmas is close, with lots of Caracas-people coming to the island every day. Luckily they have mounted a neon christmas tree outside our window.

Chavez, by the way, has now also established a formal collective greeting to be used by the military: "Fatherland, socialism or death". Will somebody pinch my arm.

Familiar greetings

We have a neighbourhood friend and taxi driver called Jail. I must admit I enjoy raising my right hand towards him and shouting "Heil" when I see him on the street. But it turns out I am anly making a fool out of myself. Today I learned that he for one pronounces the J in his name with an English J-sound and not the normal spanish h-like jota-sound.

Narrow victory for Chavez opponents

Hugo Chavez PSUV did not convice the venezuelan people about the the merits of the proposed socialist constitution. 51 per cent of the people said no thanks, and my personal opinion is that it was the defection of the former defence minister and Chavez loyalist Baduel (who influenced many army officers) and the fierce opposition from the democracy movement at the universities that made the scale tip over. This will cool down the revolution for some time. And I hope it brings up the work of progressive work of deepening democracy, spreading education, improving health care and at least start working on the environmental issues. And, of course, dealing with crime and corruption.
Otherwise what news in Pampatar? Well a Swedish guest visitor, Jonas, employee at Riksrevisionsverket, is staying a couple of days with us. He brought Lily some Swedish DVDs and the girls love to play with him - and talk Swedish. Its feels nice to have another fellw countryman here, since we have never been abroad for so long before, and sometimes we have felt isolated.

Venezuelan referendum on Sunday

The streets of Venezuela are boiling. Not so much from the sun anymore, with December close, temperatures has dropped to around pleasant 27 degrees centigrade and we have daily rains. But on Sunday the country will hold its fiercely debated referendum on a new constitution. In it, among several social security treaties, it is also confirmed that Venezuela is and shall be a socialist state, no matter what the people vote for in future regular elections. Critics of course claims that if supported, it will be the end of democracy in Venezuela. But since Chavez has spent substantial amounts of oil revenues into projects benefitting the poor, social security, health care, revamped popular education, support for him is strong among many, and chances are big that the constitution will pass. However, I betted our fiercely chavista taxi driver 20 bolivares fuertes, that it will fail. We´ll see on Sunday.
The constitution also allows the president to hold office without the time limits of today. It will also take away the citizens right to due legal process in a state of emergency. Press freedom has already been limited, and Mr Chavez interest in providing an open democracy is apparently small. He has also repeatedly said that Cuba and Venezuela has one common government, and never misses a chance to bash western democracies or brand their leaders as fascists. The sensible leftist leaders of Latin America, lke Bachelet of Chile or Lula of Brazil (my personal favourite amongst world politicians) are increasingly worried over the antics of the erratic senor presidente Chavez.

Hugo - the man, the moron

I will not bore you. This is the short version. Venezuelas former leaders huge mistake has been the unability to channel oil revenues into projects that benefit the poor, infrastructure, and society in general. The rich has regularly grabbed societies revenues for brash material consumption, and finally, as a result, the populist Chavez emerged and reaped his harvest. Many of his social programs are very welcome and just indeed. However, Chavez disdain for democracy, press freedom, legal accountability and sound economic incentives are appalling and could well spin Venezuela into a terrifying circle of autocratic populism, that in the end will render most of its casualties among its poor. Furthermore, Chavez is clearly megalomaniac, aspiring almost god-like status under the claims that he and he alone represents the working class (the rest he does not care about, exept for downright confrontation). Chavez thrives through confrontation against anyone who does not sport a red cap or t-shirt. He also brands anyone with differing views as "traitors".

The countries problems with rampant corruption, violence, crime, littering to the degree of health hazards, are not likely to be targeted by the hysterically cheerful political mass campaigning he bases his power on. Chavez in many ways actually looks like a carribbean Milosevic, with a potential, when oil revenues are less favourable, to become Venezuelas Mugabe.

Milk and corruption

Corruption is rampant i Venezuela. And it has not mainly to do with people bribing officials. It is something deeper, that sips through every pore of society and distort the way it works. Take the milk. Due to the price regulations of president Chavez the producers and shops are not allowed to charge more than half a dollar for a litre of milk. Since producers can no longer make profits on milk on that level, the make less milk and make cheese or other products instead. And after a while there is not enough milk in the shops. The little milk that comes to the shops a couple of times a week (and irregularly) first of all is taken by the shop-owners, their families and relatives. The rest disappears after the neighbours around the shops realize there is milk and the gossip travel quickly - and two hours after the delivery all milk is gone. Shopkeepers keeps some litres and hand them over to contacts, friends and people they like or want to give favours to. I was standing at the counter yesterday and two litres were handled to a friend of the shop-owner. Since I saw he had milk I explained that I had two small daughters and begged him to sell me a litre or two. He agreed to let me have one. This is one case how corruption works, and how Mr Chavez so called "socialism of the 21st century" works in Venezuela. In one way this could truly be called socialism, since it takes away the purchasing power of money, and makes the social capital (friends, family, dependencies) the main value for the goods. It is both inefficient, and unjustly discriminatory against those who do not have the social networks. A simple eastern european/wartime rationing system would be more just. However after a while you learn how to make those contacts and connections. That is your step into the world of corruption. Favours and counterfavours between connected, no other rules apply. We now know a venezuelan-norwegian couple in a neighbouring town, who has found a shop who has milk certain mornings. They bring us some litres when they get the chance.

Emily down with dengue

A tropical disease? How very chic! Well yes, for a week Emily has felt bad, but it was only the first three days that she felt in her body, fever, headache. But the headache has been lingering and then two days ago her skin started itching. Hospital test showed today that she had the dengue fever. She was probably infected in La Guardia, where there were a lot of mosquitoes. Luckily, we have had such a comfortable living since coming to Terrazas de Pampatar, so the rest made the sickness strike her comparably mildly. If you want to know how terrible dengue fever can be, check in at the blog of Charles (the american bloke we met in Trinidad and again in Cumaná later). His girlfriend Amber was struck by dengue as they ventured down to Angel Falls (worlds highest waterfall, almost 1 km) in the jungle.
http://charlesthelucky.blogspot.com/2007/11/always-talk-to-brazilian-strangers.html
Anyway, Emily is almost well now, but since her blood value has fallen, she needs to rest and eat nutricious food for some days. That will take care of the remaining headache and fatigue. And there are almost no mosqitoes where we live now.

Best hat twist ever

This is the best hat twist I have ever had. It appeared after I had left a moist summer cap in my back-pack and let it dry. Now it sports a truly postmodern yet personal style, something like, the taliban meets Crocodile Dundee, style Grand Royale. Will I get some kind of official recognition?

Moving images on the blog

Don´t know if this will work. But try to click the image and see if the film starts rolling. Also works as a proof ot that Emily is ok and, if not kicking, at least pushing sand with her toes.

Laziest people on earth?

What country harbours the laziest people on earth? Whatever the final answer to that question may be, there is absolutely no question that Venezuela must be considered the most serious of candidates. This claim is in no way founded on the limited scope of comparisons to north European countries, even though we have been annoyed when shop attendants refuse to stop chatting to friends in the cellphone even though several customers line up, and the striking unprofessionalism and disinterest in many shops and offices. In our building in Pampatar resides a young Spanish hotel manager and his wife, and he forcefully lamented the venezuelans resentment to work, and talked about the myriads of methods one must apply to make them fulfil their duties. Note that this comes not from a stern German, but from a Spaniard, the founding country of the mañana, mañana-mentality. Not all South Americans are the same. Our posada-owner in Juan Griego was from Peru, and she told us that she, after 11 years in Venezuela, has realized that she never fully could and will understand the venezuelans blatant aversion of work. Note that this comes from a peruvian, a native of a mountainous South American country known for habitants that hardly show any sign of productive behaviour other than during the brief intermissions when they stop their eternal chewing of coca leaves to search for new ones. Well, only joking there, of course, but the reaction from her do add a bit of perspective. Much of the lazyness however, is actually entirely understandable, and the reasons apparent: The climate. The heat. The scorching sun. During almost every day of the year, it is very hard to do any work at all during dayttime. And yet construction work goes on during daytime. Maybe that is the big miracle. And yesterday we saw a bow legged 70 year old lady carrying a heavy load by foot in the afternoon sun. Maybe its not really that people are lazy, even if many middle class venezuelans see it that way, its more of a disinterest in the professional work, and much bigger emphazis on social activities in life. For venezuelans, life is a network of social actions, the professional activities are percieved as peripheral.

Around the block

How long is it possible for two minor girls to survive on a strict diet of cheese doodles and french fries? One can consider our trip as an experiment in human nutrition. Well, naw, it´s not really that bad. We cook most our food ourselves, and apart from the lack of milk, sugar, egg, wheatflour,etc due to the price regulations, we eat very well. However Lily has a tendency to pass out immediately after we come home from outdoor life at 6 p.m. and so misses supper. I have felt more worried about the lack of regular friends. To Alice it doesn´t matter, she is in the stage where she acts as a project manager, mostly walking about, examining and looking for things and removing them from one place to another, and taking them from one person to give them to another, and then back again. But unfortunately, even though we have met some nice couples with children (veneuelan-spanish and venezuelan-norwegian) Lily has not met any regular friend to play with. The language differences have not been any major obstacle for the beach games, and she has played with several small girls there. But these have been short contacts. We have stayed in our flat for a fortnight now, hopefully more regular friends will appear. Otherwise, what else. Emily has felt ill for three days but is now almost completely well. We are very fortunate that we have our cool, comfy and well equipped flat during such circumstances. During her weakest days, she could at least venture down to the pool or the beach with us.

Emily writes: Oh what a cloudy morning, says Palle hopefully, only to find the clouds passing faster than all his calculations. But after 2 hrs he goes again "Rain probably will fall this afternoon". But rains fall mostly at night, cooling the nights, and leaving only traces on the dirt roads, but not sparing our days from the scorching sun.

Our home and telephone number

This is how the building looks where we live. The big, pink and blue one behind the beach restaurant with palmtrees on top. Terrazas de Pampatar, it it called. We now also have a telephone number. Feel free to call us at 0058 412 358 11 82.

Luxurious Pampatar

A room with a view? Oh yes. Luxury living? Most certainly. We have now returned to our final and more permanent destination in Venezuela and it is luxurious for several reasons. The flat has a bedroom, two baths, and a living room with kitchen and excellent, adjustable air conditioning. Clean and fully equipped. Swimming pool on a patio two floors down from us. But best of all: The view over the caribbean sea from the living room, from the hill where the vacational complex is situated, , is absolutely gobsmacking. There is a beach with two shaded beach restaurants 150 meters away. Takes five minutes to walk to the grocery shops in Pampatar.

Lounging in Lagunamar

Lily and Alice has been wonderful, has accustomed to their new environments and been able to play together during many of the days without other friends. Yesterday we treated them into a wonderful 24 hours at Lagunamar, an all-inclusive resort, with a intriguing water playground for children, and indoor "dagis" facility, an exquisite supper buffet and big comfy double beds with shiny white linen. (And no mosquitos, that unfortunately molested our nights at capitan Enriques). Lagunamar was a bit like a reversed Guantanamo Bay, a haven of western world comfort completely sealed off from the venezuelan normal and admittedly shabby life. The size of Lagunamar is impressive, just to let you have an idea of it I can mention that to get to the playground you have to pass no less than six swimming pools, all with different shapes and functions.
Alice strutted around in the water in her light blue swimming suit. Lily frenetically ran around the playground, totally immersed in the feeling of the 30 degree soft water and the slides and tunnels. We had a water cannon war this morning, firing from fixed angles at each other. However, she did not want to go with me to the giant "toboganes" the extremely thrilling big water slide (works like a bobsleigh track). Like me, Lily doesnt boldly venture into physical games, rather than throwing herself into a water slide, she stands beside it officiously explaining how to REALLY go about to use it properly.
Check out the pictures from the link below.
http://www.lagunamar.com.ve/

Note to the image: Many guests like this stayed at Lagunamar. Very big and rather menacing looking buggers, but harmless.

El Capitán

The owner of our posada, Capitan Enrique, is worth a story of his own. He is a 60 year old ex airline pilot, ex Wall Street Broker, fluent English speaker, opera lover, founded in the Caracas upper class. Very well connected. Most of his time he spends in his private den in the posada, a white tiled kitchen with no windows, where he reads philosophy books, practices his Buddhist belief and lets his bass voice out, listenes to Puccini and even occationaly Jussi Bjorling. I have been invited into the kitchen where he has explained the strained situation of the venezuelan culture and society.
Sundays he volunteers in a group who cleans some of Margarita streets from the droves of rubbish, beer tins, tyres, paper, food remnants and dead dogs that litter much of the country. He has also run for senate as an rather unlikely co-founder of the local socialist party (PSUV).
- Thieves. We are a country of thieves, in an ocean of corruption, he says and explodes in a smile that blends pure joy of life with the darkest, bitterest of sarchasms.
Yesterday he drove us to the bank and in the middle of the road he was upset by a pushy lorry driver, urged him to step down to resolve their differences with the fists and when the driver declined, capitan Enrique made several allegations about the lorry drivers mothers virtues. He also directed the word "Huevón" several times to the driver in a manner that did not seem entirely ameliorative.
- I have been in many fist fights in the traffic. Venezuelans don´t know how to drive, and few of them know how to fight. They are cowards. Ill take them out any time, oh yes.
The captain has been very helpful to us, and the week at his posada was tranqilizing, since the posada is so well maintained. However I have had some difficulties in understanding how he unifies his Buddhist thinking with his fiery traffic behaviour and overt propensity to resort to fists for rather feeble reasons.

Venezuelan traffic

We witnessed a small traffic incident the day before yesterday in La Guardia. A car turned left on a street came in on the left lane and hit a motorcycle. No one was hurt and the car driver quickly came out and helped the motorcyclist on his feet, and then returned to drive away.
During the whole operation the car driver never put down his open beer bottle from his hand.

La Guardia

We have moved for a week to the coastal village of La Guardia, where we live confortably in the posada of an ex-pilot. Yesterday we had a great day, touring the mangrove swamps in a tour boat and visiting the marine museum.
You can check out the posadas home page te see how we live:
http://www.posadadelcapitan.com/
The posada is situated just outside the national park of La Restinga.

Dont mention cheese in Juan Griego

We have spent three days in the soft little coastal town of Juan Griego to watch the sunsets. Nice town, the chinese own and run all the supermarkets, but here there is also a substantial number of arabs owning the shops with clothes. However, since we realized there is no fridge in our posada, we will move on tomorrow, to Posada El Capitan, in the coastal town of La Guardia a few miles down the coast.
Venezuelan food culture centers around the panaderia, with fresh bread, cakes, cheese, ham, coffee. I bought some groceries yesterday and was about to pay at the counter when I spotted the cheese "La vaca que rie".
- How much is that cheese? I asked in Spanish.
The cashier bent down and took up a bar of chocolate and put it in front of me.
- No not chocolate. I wonder about that cheese, in the round box.
She bent down again and took up a different bar of chocolate.
- No the cheese. Queso. La vaca que rie. The round box. How much?
- I dont know, she answered.
- You dont know?
- No, no idea.
- But maybe someone else who works here knows? I tried.
- Maybe. I have no idea who that should be.
- OK, just the bread and ham then, thankyou.
She looked very relieved.

Keeping it clean

We have a cleaning lady at the posada who is absolutely marvellous. Not because she loathes cleaning, but that she manages to keep her full time job without executing it. She has only been in our room once in two weeks, and that was merely because we almost forced her into it. However, the job she made then was so feeble (changing sheets and towels only), that we quickly realized there is no point in putting pressure on her. She has probably leant that if you dont clean the rooms for some days, the guests will inevitably do it themselves. Now we have bought our own broom, and Emily borrows the cleaning ladys untensils, when we need it. She is happy to lend us the stuff, and has somewhat excused herself by explaining that she has a bad back, that refrains from doing her job. Only in Latin America, friends, only in Latin America.

Animal farm

The day before yesterday we noted that big flying ants in large numbers were making their way into our bathroom. It turned that the outside wall of our flat was covered with thousands of fleeing ants, stirred from their home by an afternoon irrigation effort, and now desperately looking for a new home. The hotel management allowed us to change room, and when I returned to our old room to pick up things, a lizard was sitting on the table sticking out its yellow tongue towards me. Blimey.

Blackout by the beach

Yesterday we had a electricity blackout after dark. We lit candles and had supper in the dark, listening to the waves against the shore. In 2 hours the power was back on. We have also had a gas stop for some hours another day and several water stops. These incidents certainly are healthy reminders of the half modern conditions that so many in the world live under through the years. Most live in a distortion of modern western ambitions of infrastructure. Power, gas, water, its all installed, but not maintained and not sturdy enough to have functions that you can trust.

Under the palmtrees

We have spent this week lounging by the beach. In the mornings we eat breakfast outside our room, ten meters from the sea. Tea, but without milk, since president Chavez has introduced popular and populist price controls on goods like milk and eggs (cheered by the crowds) until it has predictably resulted in that these goods disappear from the shops. So far we have only been able to buy two litres of milk during our time here. Its a lottery, if you happen to pop up in the shop when there is a delivery, you grab two subsidised packs of milk and smile.
Otherways our days are nice here in Pampatar. The fishermen maintain their boats, bring in their catch and a nice mix of families play in the sand. The atmosphere friendly, relaxed. Several rich people from Caracas return regularly to the posada La Bufonera, to relax from the tension in the capital. We spent an hour one morning watching one of the posadas house cats play with a cockroach. One of the house cats look like Hitler.
The girls love to play in the sand and in the sea, and Lily has made some friends by the beach, but unfortunately only day visitors in Pampatar. The children in the public playgrounds are nice, but the playgrounds rusty and littered. Alice´s world is smaller, with more limited need for friends in her age. Emily has been marvellous in adapting to the simple life, her experience from Oyugis has made it possible for her to make excellent meals on our simple stove. We have found a nice flat to rent in the rather elegant and guarded block of flats named Terrazas de Pampatar, overlooking the Carribean sea and with a big private swimming pool. We are scheduled to move in the 1st of Nov.

Chavez show every night

El presidente, Mr Chavez is on television every night (almost). He rants for hours about the Revolution, that Venezuela is to create a new socialism, do away with individualism and capitalism, and actually create a new human being. Yesterday he even sang a capella for several minutes. Lily complains and demands to see the childrens channel. I tell her this IS a childrens program. The chubby geezer in the red shirt is telling fairy tales.

On the beach in Pampatar

Alright, yesterday we moved from our suite on the 6th floor to La Bufonera, a posada situated on the beach in Pampatar, about 10 km from Porlamar. The settings is very much classic carribbean dream, a soft, sandy beach, palmtrees shading a couple of beach restaurants serving fish that the fishermen in wooden boats catch at dawn. And we wake up in the morning overviewing the sea. Plus around 80 cable channels on a small TV. However, should one take away the beach and the sea one would notice that the room we live in has a kitchen and sanitary standard probably levelling the Abu Ghraib prison in Bagdad. Coming from the jaded luxury we experienced in Porlamar, it will take a while to adapt. Anyway, we plan to stay here for two weeks, and during that time make efforts in getting a more permanent place with more advanced facilities.
Some time ago the Chavez government inposed a fixation of prices of several goods. That has now resulted in several shortages of classic socialist style. The shops seldom have fresh milk. But prices are very cheap of most goods, food, living, taxis etcetera.
Anyway, Charles and Amber, the San Francisco couple we met on the boat from Trinidad and reconnected with in Cumana, have their own travel blog:
http://charlesthelucky.blogspot.com/
Check it out, and fat big ups to you both, Charles and Amber, I hope you´ll make it all the way throught the Amazonas without serious problems. Well keep checking yout blog!

First day in Porlamar

We have arrived in Porlamar, Isla Margarita, and are spending our first four days in Howard Johnson Tinajero Suites. It is a hotel built in the seventies, with swanky suites that have maintained a marvellous seventies atmosphere. You feel like Roger Moore will slide through the corridor any moment, on his way to the pool bar. And our view is amazing, 180 degrees, where we can see the carribbean sea as well as some poor peoples backyards with water pumps and corrugated roofs, just beside our hotel. Following the bad hangover from yesterdays problems, our matrimony had an irritated morning, but we eased up somewhat after being able too book three weeks living at a Lonely Planet-recommended posada with kitchen, situated right on the beach. The posada is called La Bufonera and is close to restaurants but a few miles north of the bustling downtown Porlamar, in the neighbouring village of Pampatar.
Even though we have been distressed about the mishaps, we are greatful that the girls are so happy and feel well. No stomach problems or diarrea, even though Alice has this kamikaze behavious of trying to chew much of what she can get her hands on.
And the atmosphere in Porlamar is better than on the mainland, the security is better, but most of all, the air is a lot cleaner. In Cumana, perhaps every second car was an old US car, with no catalytic exhaust cleaning, and the city itself rather resulting in a rather unhealthy atmosphere.

A terrible day on the mainland

Yesterday was completely disastrous. Not only is the loss of my Nikon camera (forgotten in a taxi) a enduring grievance, we have now realized that a substantial lump of dollars have gone missing. The only place it could have happened was when i was strip search by the military police three times the first day in Venezuela. The rest of the week all the dollars was in the safe. When we realized what had happened yesterday, we were very depressed, irritated, and on top of that, when we were to take the ferry to Isla Margarita,we had gotten the departure time wrong, and had to wait for another four hours before taking the late ferry. However hanging by the Marina Plaza in Cumana wasnt to bad for Alice and Lily, they enjoyed one hour with teletubbies in an internet cafe and let them play in the advanced and air conditioned MacDonalds playground. Here in Venezuela, the MacDonalds is a rather expensive middle class reserve. In the US its completely different, where people who go to MacD are what you might call the riff-raff. La chusma! Here in Venezuela simple people cant afford MacDonalds hamburgers. They eat arepa, which is the local staple carbohydrate, flat buns of maize and potatoe meal, that are normally fried. Its like fried ugali (the ever-present revered east african staple food) Anyway Nelson, big thanks to you for helping us with everything, and patience while driving us here and there.
This has been a costly adventure. Maybe Richard Branson feel like coming to our rescue.

By the poolside

We have spent five days in Cumaná, are getting to know the place and people. On the ferry to Gúira we met a young american couple, Charles and Amber, who came to see us in Cumaná yesterday. They had remembered the name of the hotel (San Francisco) and since Charles had taken sick, they stay in Cumana for some days to rest. It was great fun to talk to them again. We spent the evening in a nice restaurant and will se them again today. And today the manager of the posada (hotel) called Betsaida, who is hooked up with the swiss owner, let us use her card to lounge in at the swimming pool in a five star hotel, Cumanagoto.
However, we have also had some problems. Alice had stomach pains yesterday night but she is over it now. And I have lost my camera, probably forgotten in a taxi. This is a great setback.
Anyway, we have decided to move to Isla Margarita on Thursday. The reasons are three, well four actually: 1. We are in desperate need of lodging with our own kitchen, to be able too cook our own food. 2. The air in Cumana is bad, because of to much heavy traffic, and it limits our lives. 3. The infrastructure for tourists is almost nonexistent in Cumana. 4. We want to get a place closer to the sea.
Sunday, in the marvellous Mochima park, with its fascinating archipelago, was a taste what we want to get more of. We got there thanks to the steady flow of tips from Nelson, a venezolan who answers most questions, has shown us a lot and even knows a smithering of norweigan.
Anyway, on Thursday, we will take the ferry to Isla Margarita, and from there on we will be staying in Howard Johnson Tijuanera suits in Porlamar (the main town). However we will try to look for some other apartment, that is a bit cheaper than Howard Johnson.

To Cumana, Venezuela, through the jungle

After New York, we flew to Trinidad & Tobago (a remarkably wealthy black former British colony) where we spent one night in a nice hotel. Then we took an almost forgotten passenger boat from the west of Trinidad (Chaguaramas, youll probably find it on the maps) and in three hours it took us to the eastern coastal town of Güira. The customs singled us out to be searched. And after that, during our taxi drive to the town of Carupano, two other military units stopped us and searched me in detail. Three times in total. The culture chock was intense. Trinidad was just warm, but coming to Venezuela threw us in a bizarre Latin American jungle where much seem to remind us of Joseph Conrads "Heart of darkness" or for that Matter, the film "Apocalypse Now". Everything seems so disorganized, and run down. This certainly is the dirty back yard of Western modernity. We had to stay one night in a mediocre hotel in Carúpano, after moving on to Cumana, where we will stay in the Posada San Francisco, Calle Sucre, for two weeks, while looking for a flat or house with kitchen. San Francisco is a very well maintained and beatiful mansion, very safe, reasonably prized and with lovely staff. We can finally relax.
However, amazingly enough, its hard to change dollars. And it will take us some time before we can get telephone working.

New York 04.00 AM

After a long flight via Frankfurt we have now reached New York. We ordered kosher-food on the plane, since its a simple way of getting your warm meal quicker than everyone else and better than everyone else. We are tired but have to wait another 3 hours before takeoff to Trinidad and Tobago. We are all in a decent mood in spite of being tired. By the way, its my birthday. Thanks Hasse for remembering.

Police hit in the Stockholm streets

During our last night in Stockholm, from our window, we witnessed a police crackdown, true Hollywood-style. A white van was stopped by two police cars, the police pulled guns and forced a man and a woman to step out, hands in the air. Dogs were called in and after half an hour of interrogation, the van was towed away. Drugs? Probably.

Not exactly Tarantino, but still, whooo, eh?

Preparing for take off

The car broke down. Again. Conveniently, it did so at the same time our sailing club informed us that the boat has to have a more secure cradle when grounded for winter. Luckily through Blocket.se we found a new cradle sold by a man who, gladly volunteered to help us transport the iron cradle, prepare it for our boat and also oversee the grounding itself. Thanks a heap, Sten. You da man. Things are in place now. And we have spent most of the week meeting friends and relatives.
And today I and my friend Kristoffer (on the picture) prepared the boat for winter. The photos above shows Penina before preparation and after, and Kristoffer, proudly standing on deck. Lets see how proud he is after the autumn winds has whipped and torn the neat package into pieces by mid-October. On top an image from Abukars flat, where we have lived for a couple of days now. Essingeleden by night. Downtown Hornsberg.

Stockholm revisited

We are back in Stockholm. In ten days we are off to Trinidad & Tobago, where we will spend a night before leaving by boat for Venezuela. By returning to Stockholm we have passed the second of three parts of our parental leave. During the first, we moved on water, the second on roads, and during the third, by plane. The first two nights in Stockholm, we have stayed in Visattra, Flemingsberg, in Emilys sister Belinda and her husband, Jean-Maries flat. Its far to cold to sleep in the boat, and we managed to take off the mast of the boat in the rain during the week-end.

Autumn winds in österlen

We left Malmö on Friday, but before going to Stockholm we drove Dani Birgitta to her boyfriend Ingemar. That gave us the opportunity of making our way through österlen, the south-eastern part of the province of Skane, and this in the time of year when the fields are ripe with apples. We passed the cliffs of Kaseberga, the coast south of Simrishamn, Kivik and then to the fairy tale hills of Brosarp, beyond which Ingmar lives in a small house, facing the northern hills. Unfortunately, Ingmar has not been well, and will undergo an operation Monday. However, he is in no way feeble, and in his characteristic manor, after some convincing, he proudly read us an ode to life that he wrote some time ago. His father was a famous Swedish poet during the early part of the 20th century, and, with appropriate symbolism one can conclude that the apple doesn' t fall far from the tree.

Touchdown in Limhamn

It took us 10 hours to drive up to Sweden. The bridge from Denmark reaches Swedish land at Lernacken, a limestone beachhead by Öresund around a kilometer from the block where I grew up. Hence, the fondness of the return to native toil from European mainland is for me, remarkably striking and emotional. We have now again settled in the house of "Dani", grandma Birgitta, living close to Ribban, the Malmö coast. I walk in the drizzle in the Malmö streets looking at the wrinkled, bearded, and chubby faces I meet, realizing that behind these frayed human remnants old class-mates and childhood friends could be hidden.
Discoveries of that kind is always slightly shocking. However the town of Malmö is strikingly clean, modern and much better kept than during my upbringing. Its a remarkable feat, that most likely should be credited to Mr Reepaalu, the social democratic head of the city council. We will continue to Stockholm this week-end. By the way, it is now possible to comment the blog without registering. Sorry for not fixing that until now.

Frankfurt am Main

Sven and Corinne took their Saturday to show us land of a thousand fat Deutsch Marks. Luckily we happened to step right into a regional apple festival, so i got a glass of Apfelwein, so I was somewhat woozy as early as 1 pm. We took the lift to the top floor of the Halaba bank, had a drink in the bar and admired the view.