It seemed that my luggage had decided that, rather than take any chances with the baggage handlers at Simon Bolivar Airport, it would prefer going to Disneyland, and had redirected to Orange County, California. I'm guessing that it now has more frequent flyer miles than I do. Nonetheless, it arrived in sufficient time so that I could start exploring.
And so, what to do in a city with the second highest murder rate in the world (allegedly)?
In fairness, Caracas is never going to be in many people's top 100 destinations. Whilst its setting is quite dramatic - a range of green-clad mountains nearly seven thousand feet high separate it from the sea just fifteen miles away - there are no 'unmissable' attractions. Personal safety is, naturally, another concern - it might be hard to relax when the fear of crime is as high as is reported.
So, I decided to go for a ride. Caracas is located in a valley, and the city has developed as in a number of Latin American cities, with houses clinging to the surrounding hills. And so, to serve some of those communities, a cable car has been built, linking the Parque Grande metro station with San Agustin.
Thus, my first interaction with Bolivarian socialism. A ticket, good for ten journeys on the Metro, costs thirty-six bolivars. At the official exchange rate, that's not bad at 36p per ticket. At the SIMADI rate, available to tourists like me, that's a penny. The State wants the people to be able to get around, and hugely subsidises the system to enable that.
Into the Metro at Plaza Venezuela I went, bought my ticket (which had no print on it - ink appears to be in short supply) and entered the system. It is popular (unsurprising, I guess) and thus very crowded, even on a Saturday. Having found my platform, the train came soon enough, and off we went. At Parque Grande, I got off, exited the station and found the cable car. Inserting my ticket into the barrier, I was surprised to see it rejected, but this is clearly a common problem, as a man in the ticket office wrote upon it and then let me through the barrier.
The cable car is very efficient, with Austrian technology, and smoothly glides up the hillside, over houses with corrugated iron roofs, to a musical accompaniment from below. Halfway, you switch cable cars and are whisked back down the hillside to... well, hard to tell really.
Time to walk, I thought, with the aim of heading in a north-easterly direction. And, on a sunny afternoon, it was pleasant enough. Across the expressway, on to Belle Artes station on the Metro (closed, which does not augur well...) before entering Los Caobos Park. At the entrance are two museums, one dedicated to the fine arts, the other to science. I opted for the latter, and was surprised to discover that admission was free. And yes, it isn't much of a museum - the building itself is worth a look - but given the state of the Government's finances, it is impressive.
Then, through the park, past a gold elephant (and why not?), before cutting diagonally back to Plaza Venezuela, along Avenue Abraham Lincoln (a main shopping street) and back to the hotel.
All in all, a rather more reassuring experience than I might have expected. Given the reporting, one might imagine that this is a country living in fear and dread, yet the atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed, given that a critical election was taking place in less than twenty-four hours.
That may be about to change though...
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