We spent a lazy morning relaxing and deciding what we were going to do. This was to be the last day that the original group of four of us, me, Andre, Patrick, and Wes, would be together. Juan, Wes, and Patrick were staying in South America for a while longer; I think Wes had at least another month set aside, while Patrick and Juan had a couple of weeks to spend. On this day, they were trying to decide if they should stay a while longer in Barquisimeto, go to one of the resort islands on the Caribbean coast, or split up and head for destinations such as Colombia or Peru.

We did not have tickets for the USA-Colombia match that was to be played in the evening, but the first order of business was to find an ATM that would dispense cash to us. The problem was complicated by the fact that it was July 5, the day that Venezuelans celebrate their independence from Spain. Most of the businesses were closed. We found several banks with ATMs that were open, but getting them to give us cash was another story. After visiting several locations, I think all of us managed to get money.

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 rafting camp was a half hour drive back on a dirt road from the small town of La Acequia. After the USA-Paraguay match the night before, we had located two taxis that would drive us from Barinas to La Acequia, where one of the Guamanchi guys would meet us and take us to the camp.

Everyone got up at 7:00 for the ride to Barinas. There was a bakery next door that was open, so we got coffees and breakfast there.

At 6:00 AM, we buzzed the caretaker of the Guamanchi Posada to let us in. They were expecting us early, and they had rooms set aside. Wes and Andre each got their own rooms, while Patrick and I were escorted to the last available room in the place. It had a single full-sized bed and a big window that opened out to the city. Tropical birds were singing in the trees and in the dim morning light it looked like we were in a hilly paradise.

The first few days of the trip were non-stop moving around and going places. This was probably the only day we'd have without anywhere to be.

We spent the rest of the day wandering around the area by the hotel. Wes liked Maracaibo, but I think the rest of us were ready to move on. It was hot and the city didn't seem to have much going on.

We took one more picture of the "Gringo Go Home" wall. Here's Patrick, Andre, and Wes:

Alvarito's, that is the name of the "sports bar" we had the taxi driver take us to from the Gran Hotel Delicias. Andre and Wes had been there the night before, before Patrick and I made it to Maracaibo. They charged us a $5 cover and gave us drink tickets for something like five drinks. The place was a second story open area with a roof. There were six of us, me, Patrick, Dante, Bryan, Wes, and Andre. We ordered a bucket of beers on ice.

During my stopover in Miami the previous day, I had called Andre, one of the guys I was meeting in Maracaibo to share a hotel room, to tell him I would be a day late. I woke up Thursday morning to the sound of a rooster crowing. This thing would crow every 20 seconds or so. I assumed it was dawn, so I laid in bed for a while contemplating my next move. I would get a taxi back to the airport and get on the first plane to Maracaibo.

Everyone I talked to, every news report and travel journal I had read about Venezuela had told me, "don't go." The US State Department had issued a travel advisory warning Americans not to travel to that country, a fact that my friend Bruce reminded me of the night before I was to leave. So it was that I arrived in the airport outside of Caracas, Venezuela, perhaps one of the most crime-infested cities in the world. My flight had been delayed three and a half hours, so I set foot in the airport concourse around 11:30 PM.