Maracaibo, Venezuela

Money problems & rough-around-the-edges Maracaibo, an introduction to South America.

Venezuela (June 21-23 2015)

Money problems & rough-around-the-edges Maracaibo. My visit to Venezuela, or more precisely Maracaibo, the county’s second city & my introduction to South America, was always going quick, but it turned out to be even quicker than planned.

Posts From The Venezuelan Road (In Chronological Order)

Date ||June 22, 2015
Location || Maracaibo, Venezuela (map-pointer-icon)

I never had a challenge like I had here in on my first day in Venezuela. It’s 4 p.m. on Monday afternoon. I arrived last night off the plane from Curacao. It was late. Not too late but it was dark and when it’s dark in a strange land it’s late. Eight p.m. it was but in Venezuela, with its own unique time zone, it was 7:30 p.m. Great, I gained 30 minutes. I needed them. There was no semblance of order, no one in officialdom & no obvious way to get away from the airport to downtown Maracaibo, some 20 kilometres away. Then Nixon appeared. My Spanish told him where I wanted to go and his Spanish told me how much it would cost. Deal. I’m not sure if he was a bona fide taxi driver but he got me to the Caribe Hotel and that’s all that mattered. A lot about Venezuela seems questionable, the exchange rate of the struggling currency, the bolivar, being the obvious example. Investigating it online before arrival raised more questions than it answered. I really had no idea what to expect when I landed, a problem I’ve never had before on my travels. So it was the first topic I broached with my new Venezuelan bestie. According to Nixon 12 bolivars to the US$ is the official rate (from banks, ATMs etc.) and anywhere from 300-400 the unofficial, thriving but illegal black market rate. Umm. Quite the difference meaning my 1000 bolivar hotel room can cost anywhere between $83 at the official rate to $2.50 at the higher black market rate. Nixon wanted to change money for me there & then in the taxi – 350 bolivars to the dollar was his offering – but for some reason I said no. Big mistake. I checked into the hotel last night on the back of a promise that I’d get money changed today and settle up ASAP. I had no money for breakfast this morning – establishments, unlike Nixon, don’t take US dollars. I walked around the sweltering hot city looking for someone or somewhere to change money. Nothing. Just stares from the locals & loads of decrepit, colourful, graffiti-ridden buildings. Still no money by lunch time. I was hungry at this stage. I went back to the hotel and asked the lady manning the desk where I could change money. She was a wench. A grade A wench. Not very helpful. Not very helpful at all. It was a forlorn cause, or so I thought. But that was before Ralph seemed to appear out of nowhere. He introduced himself to me as a supervisor of sorts. He warned me not to leave my room door open, demonstrating his grasp of English in the process. Seizing the opportunity I told him I needed to change money (but left out the part about being hungry). ‘Ralph, buddy. I need to change money. I’ve no money. No dinero. Only dollars.’ ‘Oh’, he said before asking me how much. I said $60 to which he said he’d be back in 5 minutes before disappearing whence he came. An hour later he reappeared to tell me he could get a rate of 325 bolivars to the dollar. ‘Grand. When?’ I asked. I was very hungry at this stage. He came back 30 minutes later with a wad of notes, 195 to be precise, totalling 19,500 bolivars. I thanked him (profusely), went down stairs and gave the wench 2,000 of that 19,500 for 2 nights rent (that’s $6.15, or a little over $3 a night which, incidentally, is the cheapest I’ve ever paid for accommodation anywhere) before dashing across the road to McDonald’s for a 500 bolivar ($1.53) Big Mac meal (medium, with Sprite) that doubled as a late lunch & very, very late breakfast. Yes, my first meal in South America, my first purchase with local currency & almost 24 hours after arriving, was a McDonald’s. Judge all you like but it was delicious, even if they do serve their cold & hard fries in paper cups. It has been a bizarre first day in Venezuela. Just bizarre. And now that I’m toying with the idea of leaving tomorrow for Colombia I realise I’ve way too much money at my disposal. I mean, way too much. From famine to feast.

19,500 Venezuelan bolivars. Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

US$60 gets you 19,500 Venezuelan bolivars at the Bank of Ralph. And with a night in a hotel costing $3 and a meal in a restaurant, even those not called McDonald’s, no more than $2 then this wad of cash will go a long way in Venezuela. Caribe Hotel, Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

Date ||June 23, 2015
Location || Santa Marta, Colombia (map-pointer-icon)

I was planning to pass through Maracaibo en route to somewhere else in Venezuela. As it turns out I passed through en route to Colombia. Santa Marta, northern Colombia to be precise, my present location. The northern border crossing between the two countries is only some 3 hours to the northwest of Maracaibo, the southern crossing much further away – these South American countries are big & I already feel long since removed from the intimacy of the Caribbean islands. But that’s just a meaningless geographical observation. The real reason for heading northwest is to visit Cartagena, Colombia, billed as one of the best colonial town on the whole South American continent. And that’s reason enough for me to limit my time in Venezuela, which admittedly was always going to be brief, to two nights, both in Maracaibo. And once I got my monetary woes out of the way, and once I was fed, I set about taking a proper look around the city which, and while rough round the edges in places, isn’t all that bad.


Maracaibo is the capital of Venezuela’s Zuila state, the country’s second city after the capital Caracas & the nerve centre of the country’s oil industry. It’s a big place, home to over 2 million. It doesn’t see too many tourists and those who do venture here stand out. Really stand out. As already stated, it’s a bit unkempt and feels lawless in places. But Maracaibo tries hard to be pretty. To be inviting. That much is evident: it has a nice leafy central plaza, Plaza Bolivar, surrounded by some nice colonial buildings; it has some lovely churches; it boasts a nice lakefront park, Vereda del Lago; & there’s colour everywhere. So all told it’s pleasant enough city. In places. It just won’t detain you for very long.

Vereda del Lago & Lake Maracaibo

Vereda del Lago, Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

Vereda del Lago is a big park on the shores of Lake Maracaibo, a brackish bay connected to the Gulf of Venezuela off the north coast of the South American continent by a narrow 5.5-kilometre-wide channel. The park, one of the calmer spots in the city, is especially popular with joggers and those with amnesia – plenty of running tracks keep the former fit & the large MARACAIBO sign seen here helps remind the latter where they are. Vereda del Lago, Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

Lago (Lake) Maracaibo as seen from Vereda del Lago in Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

At over 13,000 km², Lago (Lake) Maracaibo it is the largest lake in South America, a major shipping route &, most importantly, the scene of most of Venezuela’s oil drilling – two-thirds of Venezuela’s oil output comes from beneath Lake Maracaibo (although it’s hard to tell while walking the unkempt streets of Maracaibo, Venezuela is rich in oil). It is also the location for the General Rafael Urdaneta Bridge. Completed in 1962, the 8.8-kilometre-long bridge, a wonder of modern engineering, is not only one of the country’s most impressive structures but also the world’s largest concrete bridge. The bridge is barely visible from the lake shore seen here from Vereda del Lago. Lago (Lake) Maracaibo as seen from Vereda del Lago in Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

Santa Lucia, Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

While not the safest area to wander, especially after dark, Santa Lucia is one of the more visually impressive areas of the city, full of European-style narrow lanes, colourful buildings and some awesome street art/murals. Oh and lots of rubbish. It’s everywhere. Santa Lucia, Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

Government Palace in Plaza Bolivar, Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

Colonial Maracaibo really shines here in Plaza Bolivar, a leafy plaza overlooked by some impressive buildings, one of which is the Government Palace seen here. Plaza Bolivar, Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

Cathedral Lea Bermudez, Plaza Baralt, Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

The Catholic Basílica de Nuestra Señora del Rosario de Chiquinquirá off Plaza del Rosario de Nuestra Señora de La Chiquinquirá in Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

Calle Carabobo, Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

Also in the colonial centre of Maracaibo you’ll find the oh-so colourful Calle Carabobo, a street that looks like it was lifted straight out of a Roger Rabbit movie set. Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

Calle Carabobo, Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

More colour on Calle Carabobo, Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

A Hugo Chavez mural on Avenida Padilla Calle 93, Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

A Hugo Chavez mural on Avenida Padilla Calle 93, Maracaibo, Venezuela. June 22, 2015.

En route to Santa Marta, Colombia, today I managed to rid myself of my remaining Venezuelan bolivar, which was a lot.

Changing my excess Venezuelan bolivar, all 14,000 of them, at the Venezuela - Colombia border crossing. June 23, 2015.

Changing my excess Venezuelan bolivar, all 14,000 of them, at the Venezuela-Colombia border crossing. June 23, 2015.

And that was Venezuela. Short & sweet. Well, short anyway.

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This