We look out over the Venezuelan coast to pay a last tribute to the Caribbean before heading into the interior of the country.. Miles of land and the suffocation of the jungle awaited us, but the country where the Andes mountain range is born has an endless list of sensations..
A boat was waiting for us to sail through a sea of ??perpetual postcard. In the collective imagination, the Caribbean is presented as a turquoise blue or emerald green vacation, because the stillness of the sea tends to be associated with the brilliance of precious stones. The Morrocoy keys are bathed rather in green, a glowing green, hypnotic, that hopelessly attracts tourists. Dipping is an instinctive act, a burst of freedom.
The islands are small, which increases the feeling of being shipwrecked with an umbrella, of being privileged in the midst of summer conquest.
The islands are small, which increases the feeling of being shipwrecked with an umbrella, of being privileged in the midst of summer conquest. And in every fall, In every piece of land there is a ring of sand that surrounds it. The beaches are circular, They have no end and you can walk your emotion spinning on a very white sand. There is even an island that is only beach, Well, not a palm tree shades the sun loungers.
It is nice to arrive in boat to your destination. It's like sneaking on the beaches on the other side, Without waiting, ni parkings. Traffic was fluid, But smiling, Well no one impatiently impatient.
There is even an island that is only beach, Well, not a palm tree shades the sun loungers.
In one of the islands, The children flew commented and the women tan watered to a kind sun, In complicity with a friendly sea yet. But, For a lot of island that was, I got to feel the impertinence of tourism, a concept that one tends to think that it is not part, What are the others, Its massive and noisy presence, Those who are more. The truth is that our boatman had lucidity, or the boldness, to get away from the crowd.
One of the islands is less accessible and remains deserted. We decided to take our camera team because recording lonades is more suggestive. Then we landed and at that time we were millionaires, With our island and our sea without sharing its round beaches.
The Cays de Morrocoy were our last Caribbean, The previous rest and goodbye to a calendar world. Many Venezuelans sail those waters over the weekend, They are soaked with sea and snails, While on the coast, Sinners hurry their future in fishing networks.
