Wild West Isla Margarita

Isla Margarita really is the wild west. I heard and read a lot of rough stories before I left. After just 10 days, I have a few to add myself. First I learn that everything is safe in the hostel, the accommodation has never been robbed. A few days later, a regular guest corrects me: Not yet under this management.

But a year ago, several masked and armed robbers broke in and forced the guests to open the safes. That teaches you two things: firstly, the police station 100 metres away is worth a damn. Secondly, I definitely don’t lock my things in the safe.

Three days ago, a tourist was robbed in Porlamar. He must have been upset, because once the robbers had the money, they shot him dead. El Yaque, on the other hand, is almost cosy. A kiter with a neck brace lies on the beach. “Jumped too high?”. “Nah,” he says, “distortion, little catch with a local on the beach. It was just for fun.”. I believe him.

A couple of Australians got into a less fun fight the day before yesterday. The boss of the Surf Piratas Bar kept teasing them, apparently trying to provoke them. At some point, one of the Australians pushed him away and there was a nice fight in the bar with some nasty injuries. The Australians flee. Less than two minutes later, the police are on the scene in full gear – three hours after closing time? Anyone who suspects a nasty spectacle here is a rogue. The police are looking for the Australians in the hostel. Buying their freedom is not that expensive. You just have to pay for an old kite.

The safest place is definitely on the water. I spend a few hours there every day. Today there were zero waves and a nice, fairly constant 20 knots. Pure speed, no time for pictures. A Russian lost a €1500 carbon board on the water last week. Sends a fishing boat. Come back: “Nothing found”. Writes out a finder’s fee. The next day, by chance, the same fisherman who had gone out the day before found it. Cost only 300 euros.

Update 19.3.2010 Apart from a trip to the supermarket and to Coche, I’ve been sitting in El Yaque for over two weeks now. It’s nice here, the wind blows well. But it’s not travelling. We wanted to spend another day touring the island in a hire car. But the stories are getting worse and worse. The day before yesterday, two Italians were robbed on a wide road between El Yaque and Porlamar. They were heckled by three cars, held at gunpoint, car and everything but their pants taken. It ended well, they are still alive. For the first time on all my journeys, I think it’s better to keep my tail between my legs.