Not an experience for the faint of heart....

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I'M NOT SURE IF THIS WAS PUBLISHED IF SO IGNORE- ITS OLD- WHEN I FIRST ARRIVED IN VZ

WOW!! Caracas was certainly an experience!!!

So at the last minute I managed to secure a couchsurfing host. Lily, was a godsend, but certainly not what I expected. This timid looking lovely lady turned out to be a courageous little fireball full of spunk, energy, and a touch of locura (craziness). But she was epically generous!! Super, super, super generous!!

So I arrived in this fascinatingly contrasting, and very chaotic, country completely ignorant to just about everything. I mean I had heard rumours that Venezuela was now one of South America’s most dangerous countries (way far more than Colombia or Brazil), running wild with kidnappings and murders - and therefore it was previously on my x-list from travelling. However, I’m not quite sure how it all worked out in my head to come here... I had made a plan to meet a friend of a friend of a friend to come sailing around some of the Venezuelan islands and the Dutch Antilles- it sounded good and so I had to pass through Caracas in order to meet my captain. Right?...

So when I booked my ticket I felt it only normal to explore the city I was landing in for a few days. It should of tipped me off when I could not find a single hostel in Caracas online, or in my lonely planet (and yes I’m not counting the dodgy overly priced hotels). So I opted for my preferred and safer way of travelling, couchsurfing. I came across lYLY’ profile and she wrote she lived 20 km outside the city but was happy to show her guests around, and she seemed nice, so I figured, why not give it a go.
Thank god Lily picked me up at the airport cause the molesting mob of fast speaking Spanish shysters was more than intense, and so was the extremely chaotic, long, and complicated way to get to her home. Caracas was not what I had expected. I’m not really sure what I had expected... I mean I had seen poverty, ruin, and rubble, but this was a frightening combination of all the above.
The majority of everywhere was covered in what they call Ranchos or Barrios, they looked the same as the Brazilian favelas, but Caracas was way dirtier. And despite the extremely impressive and extensive highway system that spited paved freeways in every direction, most of the city lay in rubble. And not like the ghostly ruins of beautiful Havana, but a far more modern mess. I don’t mean to slam Caracas, I mean it was surrounded by magnificent mountains, and luscious tropical vegetation, and it had the odd spot of beauty - but for a country so rich with petroleum and sooooo unbelievably expensive, it was a damn shame and shock to see what condition these people lived in.

Speaking of which, Amarylis and her family gave me an extensive education on Venezuela, its condition, and the political situation, which apparently was at the heart of the country’s problems.

You see Venezuela, supposedly a democratic country, was being oppressed by their current president, who has communistic or socialist ideals. He was “elected” 10 years ago and since then has changed the constitution with all its laws, the flag, the money, the history of Venezuela as written in old text books, and has basically converted the country into a dictatorship. Since then crime has risen rapidly. -and its not a surprise.... You see Venezuela is a tremendously rich country. Everything costs here about the same or often more than in Canada. Food, everything! It’s unbelievable because the average person earns about a tenth to a fifth of what we do. Most of it has to do with the strict controls the government has placed on currency exchange for its citizens. The people can only obtain a limited amount of US dollars (a very limited amount) in the official currency exchange of 2 bolivars for one US dollar, so they don’t have the dollars to buy foreign goods to sell or to travel to other countries. (And everything s imported due to the governments mismanagement of resources and overdependence on petroleum). Therefore, the people need to obtain their US dollars in the black market at a rate of 6 Bolivars for 1 US dollar driving up the prices of goods and services. As a foreigner even if I exchange my money in the black market (which is way better- and illegal) the average cost of everything (with the excellent rate) is still higher than stuff in North America!! Crazy but true.

Venezuelans are proud of their rich country, and they like to spend money, with their air conditioned ranchos, hundred dollar bikinis, and 3 dollar red bulls - but how do they get this money??? The very few with luck, privilege, opportunity, and talent - the majority with brutal crimes, kidnappings, and muggings. But in this country it is nearly impossible to make an honest wage and afford food, let alone a roof over your head.... What a government.... What choice... What a pity...

In this democratic land you need to leave your name, passport, address and telephone number when buying a coke at the local pharmacy. Amarylis showed me the mound of paperwork you need to fill out just to be able to legally change her money to receive a maximum of 500 US dollar to travel abroad (500 dollars covering a one year period....). She also showed me the photocopies they make of the cash they give you, and upon returning from your travel you need to provide receipts for every dollar you spent, and if you didn’t spend all the dollars, you need to return them to the government.
Anyways getting back to my arrival into Caracas...

I arrived in Caracas rather ignorant, ignorant to the danger, to the political situation, to their way of life, (but not completely). On the way home from the airport Lily asked me if I was aware just how dangerous Caracas was. And really I wasn’t. She was funny in her manner because although she herself was never scared, and she was somehow trying to reassure me not to be afraid, she would go on and tell me nothing but horror stories. She would tell me how Caracas is the most dangerous city in the world (its not, its one of, but it does have the second highest murder rate in the world with about 35 murders occurring every day), and she told me how kidnappings were abundant, but that I shouldn’t worry. I asked, if maybe they were just targeted at rich people or important people mostly, like they do in Columbia, right? She replied, No, they kidnap anyone- they’ll kill you even for your shoes, she said. (thanks lily, lol). But then I said, well but only in the bad areas, or unsafe areas, right? -No, it can happen anywhere, she responded. She said, now with the new president, there is chaos and anarchy everywhere, but don’t be afraid! You can’t live your life in fear. (true but I don’t have to live my life here, I thought....).

So with this lovely conversations we drove by the endless stream of slums and up into her neighbourhood (which was way better and definitely not a slum, but with nearby ranchos everywhere).
The houses here were surrounded by big moors with giant metal doors protecting the drive ways. In order to open the massive doors, you need to exit the car each time and open door by door, drive in, then close both doors, lock them, and lock everything, like some kind of castle or fortress. It was kind of cool. Despite the seedy look of the city I wasn’t too nervous until Lily finished with her stories.
As we drove into her front yard she laughed at how ridiculous her brother was, for around the moor of her house he was putting up those barbed wire coils prisons have above their fences. I said it was a good idea and that most houses in brasil have them. Its not good to be the only house without barbed wire.... -She said ya, but that her brother and his wife were acting paranoid simply because last month a robber broke into her nieces car next door, and last night (the night before I arrived), there was a thief on the roof of Amarylis’s house who stole some equipment they had been using to fix up the house.

But Lily told me not to worry, when suddenly I heard gun shots next door. I wasn’t frightened or even surprised cause I had heard the sound so many times in Recife and Rio, but usually they were these crazy little fire crackers everybody uses (ya nice distraction I guess). Anyways, I wasn’t shocked but just asked her was that a gunshot?? And she started laughing hysterically, oh yes!! Hahhaha!! That’s my crazy niece!! My brother tried to give me a gun to protect myself from all the robberies but I don’t want one so I gave it to my niece and now she is practising, scaring the poor couch surfer.

Hahhaha..... ok.... It was a little funny, but rather more bizarre than anything. Wouldn’t you say?
Don’t get me wrong, Lily, although a character was an absolute doll with a heart of gold, and did I mention her darling mother that took a liking to me making me delicious meals and preoccupying herself with making me comfortable. Lyly’s mother was a well travelled, well education, intelligent, adorable little women who told me stories of history and culture and so much more.

Getting back to the story- I didn’t start feeling afraid yet. Not yet. Later that night we walked to the nearby mall just to have a look. Lily assured me the rough looking neighbourhood was fine, and it kind of was. On our way back, however, her brother and his wife were driving by and saw us and insisted we get in the car. They said it wasn’t safe to walk anywhere at night, and so they drove us home.

Lily insisted once again that they were just paranoid. I asked why. She said, oh because a couple years ago his wife was sort of kidnapped, but it was just a “light” kidnapping, nothing to worry about.

My question was, what the hell is a light kidnapping?? Lyly explained, oh well, her brother came home to find his wife tied up and they both had guns held to their head and they took him to the bank to take out money and then let them go. No problem.... ??? Ok so if this was a light kidnapping Lyly, what the hell is a HEAVY kidnapping, when you die?? She laughed and said no, its when you are like held for a big ransom for months or years or whatever. Oh... ok...

After the gun shots, the stories, and everybody else’s (besides Lyly’s) fear, I began to feel very uneasy in Caracus. It was dangerous, with little reward except meeting Lyly and her family.

I stayed a few days, and Lyly took me to wonderful places including though a really scary looking rancho (only by car- it was a short cut). But we went to a really nice German town where all the blond descendants of the settlers lived. It was a picturesque little mountain old colonial town filled with German chocolates and other delights. The drive there and back was spectacular on the winding mountain roads, and we enjoyed singing along to La Ley and others. We laughed, we played, and we talked to exhaustion. Switching from Portuguese to Spanish was soooooo difficult and exhausting and it would take me several days to recover from being completely overwhelmed.

Lyly would continue to gently tease me about my Portuguese accent and introduce me to strangers as a Brasilian. Sometimes I was from Rio, sometimes from the interior, sometimes I was born in Brasil and living a nomadic life. It would become an endless source of amusement. Hehehe...

My last day in Caracus Lyly and I climbed a gorgeous mountain, Avila, overlooking Caracas, and before I left her, her mother would prepare me one more excellent meal filled with love. How grateful I was to my new Venezuelan family for all their kindness - and the airport goodbye was sad as I boarded my late night flight to Margarita Island to meet my unknown destiny - to set sail for the southern Caribbean for the next several months.

What would I find? What would I find in myself....

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Comments

[TravelDani]

I'm so nervous yet so excited about going here!!