The plan for the day was similar to the previous day, but we would be rafting a class four section of the river and it would be a slightly longer trip. So we had our breakfast and this time we dropped the rafts in the river off a foot bridge right by the camp.

The rapids were slightly more challenging, but we must have been getting better as we went. A couple of times people fell into the river, but we'd grab them and yank them back in right away. It was more fun this time, like a water park ride. There were giant spiders, a 12 foot boa constrictor, toucans, kingfishers, and condors along the way.

Near the end of the trip, we beached the rafts and the guides showed us how to jump in at a section where water was rushing between two rocks. Several yards down stream they would throw a rope in for us to grab as we went by. I watched several people go and it looked simple. But when my turn came up and I was standing on the rock that we were using as the launch point, I was having second thoughts. There was a lot of water rushing by and the current was extremely strong. I jumped two feet into the rush and was immediately dragged under, as the others before me had been. I felt my leg hit a boulder under the water and quickly adjusted my position to flow by it. As I bobbed up to the surface, it was hard to keep my head up high enough to get air. Then a few seconds later I was near the rope and I grabbed it to pull myself in. The first words I heard were from one of the guys who was watching me after he had gone: "I should have looked at the expressions down here before I decided to jump." I guess my expression showed it all. It was not really all that fun and it seemed dangerous. They never would have done something like that in the US.

After about four hours rafting, we ended back at La Acequia where the Land Cruisers were waiting for us. We lifted the rafts on top and drove back to the camp for a quick lunch. We had to pack our stuff up quickly to get a ride back to Barinas for our bus to Barquisimeto.

I think our bus was departing around 5:30 PM, and it was nearing 3:30. At this point it was seven of us: me, Andre, Wes, Patrick, Bryan, Dante, and Juan. We loaded our stuff on top of the Land Cruiser and hit the road. The driver wasted no time, driving 80-90 mph, and with the Venezuelan dance music that we had all come to know and hate. Aside from the occasional traditional music, everything was this heavy bass dance crap. I started to miss the variety we have back home.

We got to Barinas five minutes before our bus was scheduled to depart. We were finding that the buses never left on time here so we still had several minutes to go. The bus itselft turned out to be an 80's model heap, but it got worse. It was 90+ degrees outside and humid, and the bus did not have AC. And because the bus was so old, many of the window frames were broken and had been glued back together so that they would no longer open. And the upholstery was black. I turned to Patrick and said, "the only thing that would make this ride worse would be if someone got on with chickens." Thankfully, no one did.

The bus ride was 4-5 hours long. We were sitting in the back, and I could feel the back end swaying from side to side as we lumbered down the highway at 80 mph. My only comfort in feeling safe was the fact that the bus had survived 20-30 years without any major accidents and it was unlikely that this night would be its last. At least it cooled off inside as air started to flow through the windows that would open.

We pulled into Barquisimeto along the main drag somewhere around 10:00 PM. We passed the newly constructed stadium and there were were still construction crews laying asphalt on the roads outside. I guess they were cutting it close. Also of note was a McDonalds that was about the size of a Wal-mart store and with a long drive-through line that streamed out to the street.

Dante, Bryan, and Juan had reservations at the Hilton, the same place where the US team was staying. The rest of us had a reservation at Hotel Loral in the shitty part of town. Loral doubles as an hourly "love motel" type of place. It was cheap, though; we had a four-bed room and it was 120,000 Bs., or about $50. The entrances had iron gates and the lobby was a tiled courtyard with a makeshift roof built over it. The rooms opened into the lobby and each had a built-in air conditioner that blew its heat exhaust into the lobby. From time to time we would see couples check in to a room for a Kit-Kat Fast Break. They were always chubby. I declared Venezuela the muffin top capital of the world. All the women wore tight tops no matter their girth. There were so many muffin tops, the Bimbo bread bear and the Pillsbury Doughboy on all the billboards had permanent wood.