Caracas is my first South American capital, a love-it-or-hate-it kind of city, a place where terracotta slums expand up the surrounding hillsides met by stunning valleys and prominent modern architecture. Dizzying political tensions infiltrate every aspect of daily life, yet the weekend brings throngs of Venezuelans to the gorgeous coastal beaches to party and relax.
I traveled Central America alone last year and I am now psyched to continue my Latin American adventures, this year with my boyfriend. Life on the road certainly has its trials - the sight of devastating poverty, the arduous task of finding a cheap, safe hotel and continuously asking for directions, all the while wondering who is trying to rip you off and who is genuinely being helpful. Traveling over the last several years has allowed me to test my limits, to seek out cultures and habitats alien to my cushy Canadian way of life.
My first week here has left me with mixed emotions and a whirlwind of questions. It seems like for every delightful experience or kind-hearted person I encounter, I am met by an equal amount of sneering glances and crooked intentions. When I first arrived at the international airport I was bombarded by a crowd of frantic taxi drivers and money changers, all shouting their services at me, competing for my foreign funds. I had four hours to wait for my boyfriend to arrive and I felt timid amidst this sea of intimidating men. Luckily, I met a kind, English-speaking Venezuelan woman, who helped me exchange my US currency, book a hotel and figure out the frustrating vending machine system. I was incredibly grateful for her help and unabashed friendliness.
However, the following evening, after a delightful dinner downtown Caracas, I quickly learnt not to expect such genuine kindness around every corner. At 6:30 pm, one block from our hotel, we were stopped by a policeman, who was quickly joined by his two cohorts. They interrogated us about where we had been and why we were not carrying our passports. Hungry and unaware that corrupt officers were looming, we had ventured out for dinner and had not thought to bring our documents. They fired more questions at us and even searched us for drugs! We anxiously lead them down the street to our hotel where we showed them our passports and awaited our verdict. Before leaving they demanded all the cash in my boyfriend’s pocket. We felt violated but we were not about to argue with three hostile, gun-carrying policemen. What is happening in a country when the supposed law enforcers rob your trust and hinder your security?
These two incidents demonstrate the polar opposite vibes I am experiencing here. In the last two weeks every experience has either been exceptionally positive or particularly negative. I have seen the prominent scars of neglect and corruption on the streets, yet I have also met some extraordinarily compassionate people who have opened their hearts and showed me the splendor of Venezuela.
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