High above the sprawling metropolis of Caracas, 2150 meters up by cable car you will find the wonder Avila Magico. It is here that I caught my first majestic view of Caracas’s sprawling skyline etched into the rolling jungle hills all around. The cable ride to the top costs 18 bolivars or approximately 3.50 euros (using the official exchange rate), and it take a glorious 18 minutes to get to the summit. For me this funicular ride was made all the more special as I entered a great big bulbous grey cloud half way up. As it enveloped the tiny cable car I was in, visibility dropped to no more than 3 meters. I was alone, moving at a 45 degree angle with a sheer drop below and wild canopy vegetation all around. It felt like I had my own personal cloud to move me forward gliding gracefully over a thriving green tree ceiling. It lasted for almost 5 minutes. I didn’t want it to stop. I felt I had been physically transported inside my own grey matter. Occasionally, another cable car, always empty, ghosted past me and evaporated into thin air. I was suspended in the air but moving forward. 360 degree cloud all around me and only the sound of the cable car wire sliding me along reminding me that it was reality - not a dream. It was surreal. A moment like no other.
At the top you can see the coast line and tower jungle below carved into the valley. While at the top I went hunting for a Venezuela magnet for my collection back home and wasn’t disappointed. With broken Spanish I chatted to a very nice shop attendant and I managed to get a lovely piece of polished wood with the city vista on it. With hunger setting it I decided to eat some more delicious Arepas that I had been introduced to the day before. These are delicious corn bread pancake like breads that the locals stuff with all kinds of things: vegetables, sauces and meats. Easy on the palette I think the folk back home in Ireland would enjoy them and I’d encourage them to seek them out where you can. Unfortunately, we don’t have Venezuelan restaurants that I know of back home but I’ll be looking for some Arepa ingredients in the Brazilian shop in Dublin when i get back. At the top of the mountain is a half kilometre stretch of well laid out path with some small and large restaurants. Also, at the top is the famous Hogert hotel which was created by...
I joined a tour of local Venezuelan’s as they toured the hotel but left half way so I could get down early and make my way to the airport. On the way down I hit the cloud patch again and this time as I glided I thought about Aruba and how far it was from here. I also thought of home and looked forward to getting back there which is always the double bonus when travelling.
Unfortunately, I need to report that security is a huge issue in Venezuela and as I was to learn in the airport corruption is rife under the despotic rule of Hugo Chavez. While in Caracas my colleagues in work informed me of the difficulties of living in Venezuela at present. 40% deflation in the currency in the last 12 months; two dual currencies in operation with the locals having little or no ability to buy dollars or Euros unless using the black market; minus 2 GDP growth, 35% unemployment, a huge reliance on oil revenue to keep the country afloat; 95% food importation; mass emigration; constant electricity and water breakdowns; a border dispute with Colombia and horrible violence on the increase. Venezuela is not a safe place at the moment. It feels as if it is also going to get worse listening to the locals. Maybe it will become Burma or worse Zimbabwe? Chavez has a seemingly iron grip on the country and he has already changed the constitution - al la Putin style - to allow himself serve well beyond the normal two four year terms usually allowed.
While going to the airport I made the mistake of not asking the taxi man to escort me to my check in. This is something you really don’t need to think about in other countries, at least the ones I have visited. Normally when you go to the airport you step inside the door, you are greeted by a monitor showing what check in gate you go to and then you make your way there hassle free. In Caracas this was not the case. Anti-drug police where everywhere. Like spiders setting a web very quickly an English man working for Cisco and I where asked to go into a room where our bags were carefully checked for drugs. We then both had to enter a machine to do a body scan. We were told we needed to pay a 40 euro tax for exiting the country which was normal in Venezuela and I knew from talking to my colleagues I had to pay. When I went to the counter to pay it the security people asked if I would trade my dollars with them for the local Bolivar dollar. This was a way for them to make a little more money for themselves as the US dollar or Euro on the black market was worth at least 40% more than the official exchange rate pegging. I explained I didn’t have any of either which was the case and that I would use my credit card. Then out of the blue the officials started asking me for a “propina” which is a tip in Spanish! I refused to give them anything. At which time a young officer started to heckle me. I understood enough Spanish to know that the words he was using were not nice. At this point I had my passport back and was in the public area where you pay for your exit tax. He followed me and asked me again for a “propina” and I refused. As I made my way to the Air France check in but he was again giving out! Luckily, nothing else happened. Looking back, I learnt that I should have got my taxi man to escort me to the gate and possibly this wouldn’t have happened. At the time in this situation you are not sure if they are going to plant drugs in your bag or for how long they may detain you. Everyone is speaking in colloquial Spanish and your passport quite often gets distributed amongst 6 or 7 people and sometime one of them enters a room alone and you’re not sure what they are doing with it. An uncomfortable situation and one I hope I don’t have to go through again. It helped showing my Microsoft ID and I count myself lucky no further complications arose.
When through the gate the Cisco gentleman in front of me bounced into me again and we went for a beer together. He was very annoyed by the whole experience he went through and vowed never to come back again. I could see why. For me it’s sad when officials like this are so blatantly corrupt with foreigners. This is obviously only the tip of the iceberg of the type of full-scale corruption in place, at this time, in Venezuela. For the locals who have to live with this type of quality of life on a daily basis my thoughts are with you all and I hope that brighter days are soon to come. Seanie Fitzpatrick and his raspacious mob and our struggling slow-drip government seem like knights in shining armour compared to the crew down here on the streets of Caracas. I’d take Cowen and co any day of the week compared to Hugo Chavez. Make up your own mind, but in doing so, check out this excellent documentary: War on Democracy.
