Caracas is a wonderful city. A mix of old and new and somehow, there seems to be a lingering of the 80s prominent in everything from exercise equipment to old chevys. The subway looks like old commuter NY trains. Dress is more circa de 70s with tight bootilicious jeans and colorful bubilicious tops.
And yet, green, lush and with the buildings built into the hillside instead of the land being demolished to build other buildings, the city is stunning. Crime aside, there is another side of this town with the friendly folks, wide variety of cuisine, cheap medicine and involved sporting culture that makes it a desirable place to live.
In my last 3 weeks here, I have gotten to run, swim and hike more then I have in the last 6 months without coughing up a lung of sand, feeling dehydrated after drinking 5 L of water and getting fungi balls in my ears from whatever potent potions were chlorinating DAA's pool. Hiking was possible in Oman and the UAE but after being spoiled by Colorado, upstate New York and Vermont and Seoul; hiking just doesn't seem like hiking without green.
Nonetheless, I have seen darker sides of Caracas as well. Last weekend, I met up with some friends, Caraquenos, who took me to a neighborhood that I am not sure I would have gone to had it been in the safest city in the world. People drinking beers on the tops of their old cars, wooden porch bars with neon lamps and brick paneling, heavy rock pumping out of the sides of these places, we parked ourselves at a tasca (little Spanish diner/ bar). I might as well should have been a shark in a Kansas farm, as I was blonde and Czech white standing out, but my willingness to both speak and listen in Spanish kept us from drawing insane amounts of attention. Nevertheless, after I calmed down about the entire situation, so did the crowd in the restaurant. Milagros, Jesus, David and Alejandro and I sat and drink Polar beers and discussed the beforeidieiwantto project. Good stuff! We headed back to Las Mercedes at 2:30 and unfortunately but luckily at the same time had the unfortunate chance of running into a scene (of which we were not involved) that involved cops pulling their guns out on folks on motorcycles. Clearly, we swiftly moved away.
The next day, I explored Altamira, areperias and then, went to the hash house harriers where I met a wacky but lovely Canadian women and her half Peruvian daughter; about 2/3 of the Norwegian embassy and some funny Venezuelans who had hearts of gold and loved to play childish clapping games.
Overall, good times and looking forward to more fun and more posts.
Rain has been incredible here, I actually love rain when it's warm. We nearly got swept away after a day of shopping, while unloading a school bus. The street morphed into a fast moving stream and it was necessary to hold on to something in order to not get swept away in the mid-calf high water.
Today while on a 4.5 hour hike, we bushwacked through the side of Avila, while stomping through a muddy small steady stream forming down the mountainside.
Can't wait to write more. It feels like I am actually living abroad for the first time in years.
Bezos y abrazos.
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