Kiddie Envy in Venezuela
The wind-swept colonial town of Santa Ana de Coro lies in the northwest corner of Venezuela, a few hours east of Maracaibo in the state of Falcón, which, with its east-west wings and the head-like Peninsula de Paraguaná jutting alertly into the Caribbean, actually looks like a bird on a map.
To the north of the city lies Venezuela’s only desert, the Médanos de Coro, an arid expanse of undulating sand dunes extending to the horizon and the sea. On a warm March afternoon, I walked through the sand-strewn, cobblestone streets of Coro with the excitement and expectation of a young boy: I was going to rent a horse and gallop up and down the sand dunes, just like in the picture in my Lonely Planet guidebook. Just like Lawrence of Arabia!
Sadly, it only took about six minutes for that dream to be quashed – five to walk from my lodgings to the entrance to the Médanos, and one for the lone park employee to tell me that, um, no…there were no horses for rent. Rayos! In fact, the people in the Lonely Planet picture had brought their own horse. Mildly deflated, I decided I’d just walk on the dunes instead. I didn’t really know how to ride a horse, anyway.
The fine grains of sand sifted between my toes as I walked, warm and clean, golden dust in the bright orange of the late afternoon sun. In some ways, the sand reminded me of my home state of Florida, with its porous border of powdery beaches. But the coastline near my hometown consists of hard-packed sand with sharp-edged bits of shell.
That afternoon, maybe or forty or fifty people roamed around the dunes, leaving their individual footprints in the sand and pondering the universe and whatnot. There were families with kids, young and not-so-young couples and young singles like me. I sat on the sand, and as I began to ponder life’s mysteries – whether or not I should get a corporate job, whether or not Prince was better than Michael Jackson, whether or not I left the iron on at the hotel – I noticed a kid tearing up and down the flats between the dunes. The little boy wasn’t pondering, not in the least. He was simply enjoying the wind, the sun, the sand, and the boundless energy of his youth. I snapped a picture that I think captures that energy, that youth.
And every time I look at it, I sense the excitement and expectation of a young boy. And I miss it.
By Ernest White II
Ernest White II is a journalist and educator based in São Paulo. Read about his travels at his website, Fly-Brother.com.
