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Sunday, 17 January 2010


I found my diary from a trip i did with my (now ex) girlfreind to Venezuala a couple of years ago...quite a funny story...i totally forgot about this!

The armed guard caught my eye`coming through arrivals at Caracas. `come with me´ he said in a serious whisper. Looking around i could see why lonely planet said `under NO circumstances walk between airport terminals after dark´ He brought us to tourist information. I noticed a shady looking ´moustache´ following us. He turned out to be the guards ´freind´ who happened to be a taxi driver. However, while the guard was useful for changing money at the black market rate, he wasnt so happy when we told him we were getting a bus.

The shantys gave way to tall scruffy blocks. Hookers bared their black arses for my camera as we passed and the men eyed us gringos menacingly. ´They’ll take your woman, you never see her again´ said one enlightened passenger, pointing at miss x by my side. ’thats fine if the price is right’ i smiled, recieving a smack in the chops from x...

It was getting dark by the time we arrived at Parque Negro. The Metro was guarded- it went to the decent suburbs. Security is big business here, and no wonder by the looks of some of the locals.

The hotel was particularly crummy, with bamboo furniture and a rattling air conditioner (with gaps so you could almost climb through to outside) At least there was a window. Miss x was none too happy – the walls were paper thin in this bordello, and the senoritas were busy tonight. I lay awake, listening to the husky Spanish of one neighbour getting some serious S&M treatment, and the regular mattress springs of the other being put to full use. ´Lets get a drink` i said to x `otherwise well never get some sleep´

Downstairs there was a motely looking bunch in the hotel bar. Hookers, pimps, assorted lowlife. Like some steamier version of blade runner meets taxi driver. I noticed a few looks at X that i didnt like, and i told her so. `aw comeon Alan, sweetheart, you’ve got too good an imagination. This is 2007 remember` This is the problem with independant women – independant until they need a man, which is inevitable. I sank my Tequila and chased it with the local brew, `polar` beer, ice cold. Perfect for a steamy august night on the Equator. X started to mellow after the 3rd shot. `Its not so bad here. Even some of the guys look ok` she tested me. Her red hair and light skin certainly attracted attention here, and she loved it. Well. Maybe she was right, its just my paranoia. Lets just enjoy a weird night in a Caracas brothel hotel. I`d be looking forward to getting to the beach after this. The kite surfing was meant to be the best in the world, and the sea beautiful. The women were stunning too- plenty competition for X, thats for sure.

The barman seemed to be having an argument with one of the moustaches – a sallow pock marked specimen, im sure related to the sleazeball with wings who owned Anniken skywalker in star wars. I could just imagine him playing with clint eastwood ’eh blondi i kill you’ in the good the bad and ugly – all the usual stereotype things us Brits think about these life is cheap banana republics. I always wondered if the rumours had any truth about those video nasties in the seventies, set in south america, where they didnt use special effects, it was cheaper just to dismember some drugged up junkies and whores for real. Playground myths perhaps but looking at the people areound me here, nothing would surprise me....

The night wore on, the jetlag began to kick in. The bar was still busy though, and we felt quite secure now. The stares had subsided, it was like they had made a decision on us and now welcomed us as one of them. X was up dancing now, fairly letting her hair down. I was considering heading up to bed, but id been holding in a piss all night so I staggered over to the surprisingly clean looking Cabelleros and started up. As soon as id started, my backside started rumbling too so i sat down...must have been the ice cubes. Splat! My bowels emptied. I didnt feel so good. Ive always been a `windy` guy, so i hope this wasnt the start of something big.

Back out in the bar i walked...Where was X? I couldnt see her anywhere. I must have been a while- maybe shed thought id gone to bed?
`your girl, Senor, she go with `Jose` to La Bamba to dance some more. She is very drunk i think....

Well, X and i, weve had our ups and downs, weve had our arguments – hell she could be crazy somtimes. I guess shes just trying to make me jealous – she can look after herself though, i thought guiltily as i sloped up to bed...

I woke up fully clothed. The din of the street was deafening. Was there a riot going off or was this normal life here? The air conditioner rattled, and my head hurt. No X. I stretched, hit the shower, brushed my teeth, and put some fresh clothes on. I still looked like shit.

A sharp knock on the door. `Senor?` followed by another knock. What do they want so early? I thought. Did X cause some trouble?
`Senor` I opened the door. Im sorry to trouble you, we are fully booked for tonight. Sir. Checkout was one hour ago.
What? What time is it?
Es 2pm sir
Dam it must have been the jetlag. Where the hell is X? I thought back trying to remember last night.
`Ok give me 20minutes and ill be down.` I replied not even attempting pidgin Spanish.

`Message for you senor`, as i checked out. He handed me an thick padded envelope. I read the message over and over...

Senor Alan,
She is ours now. She will be safe with us. Do not try to find her, it is impossible for you. Please find enclosed 10,000 dollars payment. Consider this comfort money for your loss.

ok next part ill type in tomorrow....

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