Reflections on my trip to Puerto la Cruz
From the terrace on the third floor of the Neptun hotel, I watched the line of oil tankers waiting to load into the Puerto la Cruz refinery, the largest in the world.
I was there for ten days in that city right in front of the "isla Margarita", a beautiful place during the day but dangerous and boring at night. From the terrace I looked at the splendid "paseo Colon", an avenue of two kilometers right in front of the embarkations for the opposite islands and for the "Mochima" park.
Venezuela is slightly atypical, in the sense that it does not have the lifestyle of Latin Americans, it looks more like Mexico and the south of the States.I was studying an adventure in the center of the Venezuelan "pampa" the "llanos" or better still in the deep Amazonian south; I was attracted to the area of the "gran sabana" the "canaima" park with the famous waterfall of Salto Angel. But what inspired me in a particular way would have been to sail on the Orinoco river and then visit what is said to be the most beautiful "tepuy" in the world, a beautiful, isolated mountain with a flat top, even more beautiful than "Roraima". on the border with Brazil. The name of this tepuy is the "Cerro Autana" and it will soon become one of the most beautiful and visited sites in the world, gateway to the Amazon from the north and sacred mountain of Indian peoples.
It was two days before New Year, I took a taxi and headed for the city of Maturin, capital of the state of Monagas, in the area of the "eastern llanos"; on the flat road so many mango plants and strange cacti, I did not understand how cacti come in a region where it rains a lot. Settled in a modest hotel, I immediately realized that I was far from an adventurous place, as Monagas has become the largest oil producer in the entire Venezuelan federation, as demonstrated by the beautiful shopping malls and the gigantic "Dodge jeeps". , the daughter of the owner of the hotel, invited me to her beautiful home for New Year's Eve, promising me that she would introduce me to Francis, her fabulous cousin. After an excellent dinner with nice friends of Italian origin and after a good hour of barrels, shots and tric-trac she finally arrived Francis, also slightly bruised from a slight car accident the day before. The 1.75-year-old girl wasn't beautiful, she was fantastic she too of Italian origin and light-colored, she had the sensuality, the physique, the movements of a South American, but the class and charm of an Italian or a French woman. In addition, the "chica" was also nice and natural, so after giving me her phone, my intentions to go to the Amazon south, were reduced and greatly.
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