A night of Venezuelan harp music

In the early '80s I was working in Venezuela. Normally, I'd say well, you know, it sounds more exotic than it really was. But this was just as exotic as it sounds. The prospect was in Delta Amacuro, an un-incorporated territory, neighboring Guyana, where the Orinoco empties into the Caribbean. We lived on a barge with trailer-like accommodations built on-deck. The work was accomplished with Primacord(TM), hydrophones, primitive satellite positioning, radio triangulation, manatees, snakes, pelicans, ...  Well, those last weren't part of the work but they were always around in the caños.

Anyway, so there we were out in the mouth of the river.  We were actually closer to Trinidad than to any town in Venezuela.  To get "home" (Jean and Sara were living in Florida), I would get a ride (on our supply skiff) to Tucupita.  That was always exciting.  Parts of the river would be clogged with lilies(?), there would be a chorus of red howler monkeys all along the route, parrots and toucans, the odd sloth or two.  Then, from Tucupita, I'd get a bus to Maturín.  From Maturín, if all went well, I'd fly to Caracas, spend the night, and go off to Miami in the morning.

One time the bus got to Maturín late.  The plane had already left.  I could either spend the night in Maturín and fly to Caracas the next day, or I could take an overnight bus and arrive in Caracas in time to catch the flight I would have had I caught the flight I was supposed to in Maturín.  (Got it?).  I took the bus.

I don't know whether the bus driver was playing the radio or a tape but what I remember is that one particular song must have played twenty times.  I will always associate that song with a beautiful, long, starry night in Venezuela.