11/10/2011 - Flight and first night in Caracas

My flight to Caracas, which changed at Madrid, was both exciting, informative and slightly terrifying. Exciting because I periodically got pangs of “Omg! I'm on a plane to Venezuela”. Informative because on the flight from Madrid to Caracas I sat next to Hans, a Dutch diplomat who was living and working in Caracas and knew quite a bit about the city. Slightly terrifying because everything he told me in some way alluded to the large amount of crime and impending doom I would face as a traveller there. Stories ranged from people getting shot for their Blackberries to people getting shot because they weren't carrying Blackberries. Apparently no neighbourhood was safe. Ever. On the other hand he told me that malaria was non-existent in Venezuela and that I'd be enduring the side effects of the anti-malarial tablets I'd brought for no reason. I really didn't know what to make of this information, although his advice of constantly being on guard when in Caracas is probably not going to do me any harm. That's the criminals' job.

It wasn't all doom and gloom however. During the flight we looked through my lonely planet guide and chose a hotel which looked the least dodgy. It was already dark when we landed in Caracas. As a diplomat, Hans was getting picked up from the airport so he kindly helped me through customs and gave me a lift to my hotel. As we parted ways I could tell he thought I wasn't going to last a day. With a combination of the receptionist's poor English and my worse Spanish I managed to get a room and, having dropped off my stuff, headed into the night in search of food. It was already late and gringos can't be choosers so I walked into the nearest eatery and bravely pointed at one of the random items on the menu I didn't understand. As luck would have it Venezuela were playing Argentina that same night and Venezuela scored a goal just as I got my food (Spanish football commentators do hilariously over the top “GOOOOOOAAAAAAAL” shouts and tonight's commentators didn't disappoint). My pancake-stuffed-with-ham-and-cheese-thing was dripping with grease and extremely tasty. Venezuela actually won the game and although football isn't very big in Venezuela (baseball is the sport of choice), as I walked back to my hotel once the game was over, the chorus of car horns suggested this was still a pretty big deal.

Making it back to my hotel via a quick jaunt around the neighbourhood I celebrated living through my first night in Caracas. Despite the air conditioner, it was so hot in my room I had to sleep naked with no covers. I really hoped the cleaners didn't come in early in the morning.