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Pirates! of the Caribbean's True Tales, High Adventures on the Bounding Seas, Sailors Tales, Treasure, Gold |
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| Caribbean Travel Guide |
© PHOTOS BY CAPT. CHUCK
Margarita
| Get "Lost" in Your Own Island Paradise! Captain Chuck Shows You the Thrills of Caribbean Travel to Pirate Islands! |
Margarita
for parking lots. With all its devilish macho and carefree parties, a
touch of innocence lingers here, a sweetness even, after the last
tourist has taken his souvenir treasures back to the hotel, and the
last hustler has sauntered off, pockets jingling with cash.
This glorious beach stretches more than two miles in clean
white sand, as wide as a superhighway. It is flanked by a rich
canopy of towering palms. All around, the scent of coconut
lingers, as bronzed sun worshippers loll in the sweetened breeze.
Just back from the gentle surf in the palm shade, food vendor
Jose “Pepe” Rodriguez offers me a “hamburguesa” – hamburger –
and notes my blonde hair and fair complexion.
“I can count to ten in German,” he chirps, in German. “Eins,
zvei, drei...” His young brown face lights up. People here speak
several languages, and they love to impress their audience.
His tiny food kiosk stands apart from the string of thatch-
roofed beach-front restaurants on El Agua beach. Here, tourists
from all over Europe as well as the U.S. relish ice cold Polar beer
and “Peppy-cola,” with their fresh-caught red snapper and
shellfish, or a “perro-caliente” – hot dog. The air is zephyr soft
and the sea is azure. It’s the Caribbean of course, but Margarita?
Where is this Caribbean isle, in Mexico?
Not even close. Prices are reasonable, even cheap; the food is
good to excellent in abundant variety, and duty free bargains
abound. The language is Spanish, with an old-world flair not
found in most of the West Indies. On laid-back Margarita, even
the liquor stores close for afternoon siesta.
“Lost in Margaritaville” wasn’t about this island, but there are
plenty of rum libations here. Hardly anyone asks for a Key West-
style Margarita. We're way south, just offshore of Venezuela.
Differences from other Caribbean islands are quickly apparent.
Wherever you look there are absolutely gorgeous beaches – 50
in all – splashy groves of palm trees, glittery resorts to quickly
purge the office grind from your memory. The pulse is near
frantic, trumpeting its carefree cha-cha ambiance.
Columbus passed by in 1498, on his way to Caracas. As
the Windward and Leeward islands go, it’s about average size –
40 miles long, half that wide. It’s actually two smaller land
masses joined by a narrow isthmus. Just a generation ago it was
a sleepy hamlet where goats and cattle slept on the main streets
of Porlamar, its largest city. Not any more.
Conchita Gonzalez, my concierge, says Margarita has
reached out for more tourist economy, though the
Venezuelan Government favors oil and iron income.
The island is so typically Latin if you set it down anywhere
south of the Rio Grande; it would fit right in.There are the same
Spanish arches, narrow streets, stucco; mansions planted right
next to slums. Locals march home with armloads of bananas,
fish, and firewood. Smoke-belching trucks and buses. Hiltons, all-
inclusives, condos galore, your choice.
Porlamar downtown flaunts dozens of kitchy shoppes selling
fine jewelry, Gucci, even Obsession. Street vendors offer
attractive “genuine” Rolex watches, for $35 ---
Hmmm, how strange. Mine still keeps good time.
Sidewalk cafes on leafy boulevards offer thin-sliced ham on
warm croissants and triple-dip ice cream cones -- peach,
pistachio, choco-latte. Slurpy cafe-con-leche with frothy milk.
Getting around is fun. Mopeds – a doubtful thrill in traffic –
rental cars to tour the back country and northern coast roads.
Along Playa Beach road to Guanaco, sparkling surf on one side;
tree-lined hills the other. Then high sand dunes – Arizona by the
sea, with cacti. The back road from Aricagua and La Mira to
Rinconda, is deep green jungle, then La Restinga Lagoon all
winding coastal marsh.
The native way to travel is “Por Puesto,” minivans and small
buses that charge per seat and run loosely scheduled trips, much
like other Caribbean islands with their Publicos.
Some rides can be adventurous. Venezuelan drivers seem bent
on self destruction. Macho is everything. Speed is whatever you
can brutalize out of your engine. This careening requires stomach
tightening. But looking past the kamikaze effect, I did see a few
cars without scrapes.
Then, after screaming into Santiago by bus, we came to a
sudden lurching turn, a crunching halt as the vehicle slammed to
its knees, halfway onto its side.
The driver shrugged, “I think the front wheel fell off.” Then he
opined, philosophically, “Perhaps there will be another bus.”
A side trip will thrill you to the core; a flight over Canaima, the
astounding Angel Falls. On the mainland, of course, but a sight
you’ll never forget.
“Margarita” in Spanish means “little pearl,” and there may still be
some oysters in nearby waters. Porlamar, Pampatar, and Juan
Griego have substantial fishing fleets. The waters are rich in
mackerel, mahi-mahi – dolphin, as well as snapper and grouper.
Local restaurants serve fine seafood dishes, all very reasonable.
Restaurants scale from everyday to pricey. Lobster House is
good seafood; Martin Fierro typical Venezuealan, Senor Frogs is
Mexican, plus numerous pizza palaces. Outside Porlamar are
many small villages with ancient forts such as La Asuncion with
gingerbread architecture.
Juan Griego is another fishing village along the coast.
Venezuelans revere the Virgin Shrine at El Valle, a sleepy little
hamlet.
Margarita's Caribbean island, a samba with its own beat; is one
the adventurous traveler is sure to enjoy.
#####
www.islamargarita.com.
www.venezuelatuya.com
for parking lots. With all its devilish macho and carefree parties, a
touch of innocence lingers here, a sweetness even, after the last
tourist has taken his souvenir treasures back to the hotel, and the
last hustler has sauntered off, pockets jingling with cash.
This glorious beach stretches more than two miles in clean
white sand, as wide as a superhighway. It is flanked by a rich
canopy of towering palms. All around, the scent of coconut
lingers, as bronzed sun worshippers loll in the sweetened breeze.
Just back from the gentle surf in the palm shade, food vendor
Jose “Pepe” Rodriguez offers me a “hamburguesa” – hamburger –
and notes my blonde hair and fair complexion.
“I can count to ten in German,” he chirps, in German. “Eins,
zvei, drei...” His young brown face lights up. People here speak
several languages, and they love to impress their audience.
His tiny food kiosk stands apart from the string of thatch-
roofed beach-front restaurants on El Agua beach. Here, tourists
from all over Europe as well as the U.S. relish ice cold Polar beer
and “Peppy-cola,” with their fresh-caught red snapper and
shellfish, or a “perro-caliente” – hot dog. The air is zephyr soft
and the sea is azure. It’s the Caribbean of course, but Margarita?
Where is this Caribbean isle, in Mexico?
Not even close. Prices are reasonable, even cheap; the food is
good to excellent in abundant variety, and duty free bargains
abound. The language is Spanish, with an old-world flair not
found in most of the West Indies. On laid-back Margarita, even
the liquor stores close for afternoon siesta.
“Lost in Margaritaville” wasn’t about this island, but there are
plenty of rum libations here. Hardly anyone asks for a Key West-
style Margarita. We're way south, just offshore of Venezuela.
Differences from other Caribbean islands are quickly apparent.
Wherever you look there are absolutely gorgeous beaches – 50
in all – splashy groves of palm trees, glittery resorts to quickly
purge the office grind from your memory. The pulse is near
frantic, trumpeting its carefree cha-cha ambiance.
Columbus passed by in 1498, on his way to Caracas. As
the Windward and Leeward islands go, it’s about average size –
40 miles long, half that wide. It’s actually two smaller land
masses joined by a narrow isthmus. Just a generation ago it was
a sleepy hamlet where goats and cattle slept on the main streets
of Porlamar, its largest city. Not any more.
Conchita Gonzalez, my concierge, says Margarita has
reached out for more tourist economy, though the
Venezuelan Government favors oil and iron income.
The island is so typically Latin if you set it down anywhere
south of the Rio Grande; it would fit right in.There are the same
Spanish arches, narrow streets, stucco; mansions planted right
next to slums. Locals march home with armloads of bananas,
fish, and firewood. Smoke-belching trucks and buses. Hiltons, all-
inclusives, condos galore, your choice.
Porlamar downtown flaunts dozens of kitchy shoppes selling
fine jewelry, Gucci, even Obsession. Street vendors offer
attractive “genuine” Rolex watches, for $35 ---
Hmmm, how strange. Mine still keeps good time.
Sidewalk cafes on leafy boulevards offer thin-sliced ham on
warm croissants and triple-dip ice cream cones -- peach,
pistachio, choco-latte. Slurpy cafe-con-leche with frothy milk.
Getting around is fun. Mopeds – a doubtful thrill in traffic –
rental cars to tour the back country and northern coast roads.
Along Playa Beach road to Guanaco, sparkling surf on one side;
tree-lined hills the other. Then high sand dunes – Arizona by the
sea, with cacti. The back road from Aricagua and La Mira to
Rinconda, is deep green jungle, then La Restinga Lagoon all
winding coastal marsh.
The native way to travel is “Por Puesto,” minivans and small
buses that charge per seat and run loosely scheduled trips, much
like other Caribbean islands with their Publicos.
Some rides can be adventurous. Venezuelan drivers seem bent
on self destruction. Macho is everything. Speed is whatever you
can brutalize out of your engine. This careening requires stomach
tightening. But looking past the kamikaze effect, I did see a few
cars without scrapes.
Then, after screaming into Santiago by bus, we came to a
sudden lurching turn, a crunching halt as the vehicle slammed to
its knees, halfway onto its side.
The driver shrugged, “I think the front wheel fell off.” Then he
opined, philosophically, “Perhaps there will be another bus.”
A side trip will thrill you to the core; a flight over Canaima, the
astounding Angel Falls. On the mainland, of course, but a sight
you’ll never forget.
“Margarita” in Spanish means “little pearl,” and there may still be
some oysters in nearby waters. Porlamar, Pampatar, and Juan
Griego have substantial fishing fleets. The waters are rich in
mackerel, mahi-mahi – dolphin, as well as snapper and grouper.
Local restaurants serve fine seafood dishes, all very reasonable.
Restaurants scale from everyday to pricey. Lobster House is
good seafood; Martin Fierro typical Venezuealan, Senor Frogs is
Mexican, plus numerous pizza palaces. Outside Porlamar are
many small villages with ancient forts such as La Asuncion with
gingerbread architecture.
Juan Griego is another fishing village along the coast.
Venezuelans revere the Virgin Shrine at El Valle, a sleepy little
hamlet.
Margarita's Caribbean island, a samba with its own beat; is one
the adventurous traveler is sure to enjoy.
#####
www.islamargarita.com.
www.venezuelatuya.com
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Click 'Home' to order!
The full text: 247 pages of fun,hilarious adventure, sailing
the Bounding Main! Just $16.95
-OR-
CD only $12.00 free ship.
Order Your own Pirates Pearls & Paradise Today! Avast, Me
Hearties, Ye'll Love the Voyage!