Our journey to Venezuela (and it was a journey) started on the busy Copacabana road. Here we stood no other backpackers in sight, with our bags it seemed waiting in vain for a very elusive bus to the airport. Finally to our relief as time was of the essence it turned up. Only to be caught in heavy rush hour traffic. And we were wondering once again if we would make our flight!

Our flight was at 20:25 from Rio to Sao Paulo with a few hours layover and then from Sao Paulo to Manaus and then finally from Manaus to Boa Vista, finally arriving at 4am (that's a cheap flight for you). Next challenge once at Boa Vista (which is in the North of Brazil) was to get to Santa Elena in Venezuela. We had collated some vague/hazy information on entering Venezuela and it was not quite clear whether we would need permission to enter or not - we did not want to turn up to the border and be refused entry. So we aired on the side of caution and decided to wait 5 hours until it opened. Five hours passed very slowly and we took a taxi to the consulate and found that we could just go straight in!! Then we proceeded to take another taxi to the bus terminal (taxi being the only way we could get from A to B) discovering the next bus was not until the next day we had a discussion with some taxi drivers. We found that there was another terminal where you could pick up a collectivo to the boarder so we jumped once again into another taxi to this terminal! After an 8 hour flight, a five hour wait, numerous taxi's all over the place we were finally on our way to Venezuela, after 4 hours we reached the border.

The relief and celebration of reaching the Brazil/Venezuelan border was short lived as we learned that the border control is only open 3 hours a day! (Once in the morning, once in the afternoon and once in the evening). Another 2 hour wait lay ahead of us! Finally we got our stamps despite Robbie losing his entry card and being made to sweat by the Brazilian police!

We then walked about 10 minutes into Venezuela and somehow managed to pick up the same collectivo driver - but there was one crucial difference he was completely plastered. After a twisty/drifty dodgy journey we made it to the bus station at Santa Elena only to learn that there were no buses!

We decided to seek accommodation and try and pick up a bus the next day. On checking in we found that the only buses to Ciudad Bolivar were in the evening, so we got our money back and headed once again to the bus terminal.

On arrival at the bus terminal there was eeriness and a quietness that we felt was not quite right. On further investigation we came to the conclusion that there was something up. We found that there were no scheduled buses anywhere and apparently Chavez (the now president) had commandeered a number of buses for his presidential campaign to bus his supporters to all his rallies - so any bus anywhere was few and far between. It was just a game of sit, wait and see!

Through the grapevine there was a word of buses that may be passing through bust the question remained: would there be space on these mystery buses?

We waited and did some more waiting, until two buses pulled in and it was 'every man for himself' as so to speak. There was no system, no queue and certainly no organization. Everyone rushed to the drivers, some were offering bribes. But space there was not. Suddenly in the mild chaos I spotted four people queuing at a bus company's office. Obviously some people had gleaned a little more info from the drivers. I sneaked off and joined it before it became an un-controlled rabble of people as opposed to a queue. It turned out tickets were for sale and the eight hour wait was finally over we would be getting to Ciudad Bolivar the next morning. The bus was freezing the air con is on full blast people are wearing hats, gloves and have blankets and still outside it is unfathomably hot. Another strange custom you just have to accept I suppose! The bus took a good 15 hours to reach Ciudad Bolivar with no more incidents. After nearly a 50 hour journey from door to door we reached our destination slightly on the tired size but with more of a realization how Venezuela worked.

Already I think Venezuela had struck us as very different to anywhere we have ever been. The banged up old American cars and taxis are just people with a taxi sticker on their car (purchasable from almost anywhere). We have been to Chile, Bolivia, Peru, Argentina and Brazil and there is organization, systems and buses that run, things run more or less smoothly in terms of logistics. But Venezuela is stuck in the past not just through what you physically see but in how it is, it's like South America but 30 years ago. It's a place where you will turn up for a bus and be told there is not one until next week! It's complete disorganized chaos. You truly have to go with the flow.