Once upon a weekend

It's Friday at noon and after a difficult week, I have managed to get the afternoon off. I leave work, at home, I pack in a backpack two bikinis, a beach dress, a pair of shorts and some beach flannels. When I'm about to leave I realize that I almost forgot to put in my bag the sunscreen, I like to use those that smell of coconut and beach. I hear the sound of the intercom and go down to meet my friends. Immediately we set off, we don't want it to get dark on the road.

After a little less than an hour and a half of driving on the highway that leads to the west of the country, we arrived in the city of Maracay. Where we begin to follow the signs that indicate the road to Choroní. In the player of the car sounds Buffalo Soldier by Bob Marley, when we begin to climb the road that crosses the Henri Pittier National Park. There is still good light and there is little more than an hour before sunset. We cross the humid tropical rainforest of the national park with some areas covered by some fog, following the narrow and winding road. From time to time we have an adrenaline rush when in some of the curves where only a car can pass we cross with one of the buses that cover the route and that by the speed they have seems to be practicing a high-risk sport on the narrow road.

We arrive at the town of Choroní almost at dusk and cross its well-preserved colonial streets to go straight to our posada, which is located in an old cocoa plantation house restored and now converted into an inn. The owners already know us and after the welcome greetings, we leave our backpacks in our rooms and head for Puerto Colombia, the neighboring town only 10 minutes away from Choroní. The malecón area is already full of visitors who have come for the weekend.

Because of the time, it will be impossible to have dinner at Bill's restaurant, the German who has been living in town with his wife for a few years now. His dishes are simple but delicious. Seafood and fish fresh from the day. And his restaurant is the most visited in the village, so even though it will be impossible to find a table for today, we go to the churuata where the restaurant is to reserve our dinner for the next day.

We buy some snacks in one of the shops in the town and my friends insist on buying a bottle of passion fruit guarapita for the drums at the malecón.

After ten o'clock at night, the drums appear on the malecón and the surrounding area is full of locals and tourists mingling and dancing to the rhythm of the drums. After a few drinks of guarapita and a couple of beers, we decide it's time to go back to the posada, so we can get up early and enjoy the day at the beach.

_{Playa Grande, Choroní}

At eight o'clock in the morning, we are ready to have breakfast in the garden of the posada. After a black coffee to finish waking us up, we have arepas, perico (scrambled egg with tomatoes and onions), and "pisillo de cazon" for breakfast. Today instead of staying at the beach in town, we opted to take one of the boats that make trips to the nearby beaches. And we choose to spend the day at the beach of Chuao, another town on the coast famous for its cocoa plantations.

After the day at the beach and back in Choroní we drive up the road to stop at the Uraca sector where there is a dam in the river for intrepid hearts. And even though every time I go there I say it will be the last time I will jump, once again with my heart beating a million times, I jump from the top of the dam into the well.

Our dinner at Bill's restaurant is simply fantastic, we order a couple of portions of large grilled shrimps and the catch of the day with a side of sautéed sliced potatoes. After dinner and some dance with the drums, that night we sleep like angels.

It is Sunday and today we will spend the morning in Playa Grande. So after breakfast, we go to the beach, which is always very crowded but since it is early in the morning we manage to get a good location. Shortly after noon we pack up and hit the road before the busiest time on the highway.

As we drive through the mountain of Henri Pittier Park, the player plays Me Gustas Tu by Manu Chao, no trip to Choroní is complete without listening to it. And as the car moves forward I start to feel that Sunday afternoon feeling, announcing the end of the weekend that I usually describe as a bit nostalgic. There are those who don't like Mondays, but there was a time when I didn't like Sunday afternoons.

This story, a little bit fiction, a little bit memories of the past is how I remember my weekends years ago in Choroní, one of the beach destinations not so far from Caracas that I liked the most. Of course, the town is still there, the beaches too and although things here aren't as they used to be, it's still a visited destination. Maybe a little less friendly, without places that marked an era like the German's restaurant, neglected in some services. But in my memories, I still remember it as an ideal place for a weekend.

Lately, my weekends are rather quiet, with nice breakfasts, sometimes in a cafe, a walk in a park or a hike in the mountains, a good book, and many movies lying on the couch.

This is my entry for Ideal weekend: A posting contest hosted by @galenkp in THE WEEKEND community.

Thanks for reading!

_{All images and writing are my own unless otherwise stated.
All pictures were taken on a weekend trip to Choroni many years ago.
Some images were edited using Canva}

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January 26, 2022