The March

Today I had the opportunity to see a political march/demonstration. I do not take sides in the Venezuelan political scene. I don't feel that I should nor do I have a right as a visitor to do that. Neither do I want to have a huge political discussion on the blog about Venezuelan politics, Hugo Chavez, or the opposition. But it is interesting. I see the whole political situation here as very complex even though the press - both Venezuelan and foreign - like to slot all the players into neat little categories. Since I have been back it has been much quieter politically than it was last summer when I was here. I left a couple of weeks before the referendum and during the summer there had been quite a bit of political activity. But since then it has been very calm. Even the elections in December were nearly a non-event. I did have occasion to take a taxi last week and my driver was very anti-Chavez. He tried very hard to get me to say that I thought Chavez was terrible. He did not want to accept my stock reply that I didn't think I should express an opinion either way. Today there were demonstrations planned for both the Chavistas and the opposition and I thought it would be fun to check it out. Since I live in the east side of the city, the demonstration close to home was the opposition - probably the safer one for a gringa. I'm posting a couple of pictures just to show what it was like. The people carrying the red flags are from a political group "Banda Roja" or Red Flag, which is the most left-wing political party in the country - even more so than the Communist Party. I find it to be very interesting that they are marching with the opposition rather than the Chavistas. Make you think about how accurate the portrayal of Chavez as a radical leftist really is.

Being a Tourist

Saturday I went with my friend and her mom to El Hatillo, which is a little town outside of Caracas that caters to tourists. It is a cute little town with the requisite Plaza Bolivar and brightly painted colonial houses. Surrounding the plaza are lots of shops with crafts and articles made throughout Venezuela (and Latin America) and lots of restaurants. On one end of the village are barrios climbing up the side of the mountain, though not as poor as the ones that you can see driving to the airport. It's pretty amazing how these houses are stacked almost on top of each other, looking like they could slide down the mountain at any time. There is also a new commercial center (shopping mall) which they have decorated in the same theme as the colonial village. So it is rather pretty for a mall, but all the stores are very upscale. It has just opened and there will eventually be a skating rink. Malls are a popular form of entertainment, especially on the weekends. It seems that families like to go to the mall and spend the day. They can park reasonably, they can look around, there are various forms of entertainment - movies, skating rinks, bowling alleys, aquariums, etc. - and they can eat. I think they see malls as being safer than other options.

Ben Franklin revisted, Venezuelan style

I read that Ben Franklin was born 300 years ago this past Tuesday. While I'm certainly grateful for his many contributions, especially electricity, this past week I was electically challenged this past week. Whereas most of my frustrations regarding life in Caracas had revolved around the phone company, having my phone service disconnected, and my attempts to get internet service at home - a 2-month plus effort, this week I ran into the brick wall known as the electric company. It began on Tuesday when I received a disconnect notice. I was somewhat confused since I had paid every bill that I had received, one per month, and the only unpaid bill had a due date of the 21st. The conserje (custodian) told me I had three days to pay and I told her I would take care of it the next day. The next day I set out to the bank, where I usually pay my bills, to find out that since I had a disconnect notice I had to go somewhere else. So I walked a few blocks down to a shopping center where there was a place to pay the electric bill. After standing in line for a while I was told that I had not paid the bill for December and that I owed 87.000Bs (the only bill I had was for 18.000 Bs). The woman got very insulted when I told her I had paid every bill every month - of course I was wrong then, though I didn't know it yet. Anyway, I paid the bill so that my electricity would not be disconnected, went home to get all my recipts, called a friend to find out the location for another office where I was told I could get an explanation and set out. In my frustration I walked past the first metro station (I had to go about three in all) so I just kept walking the whole way. Found the office and waited in yet another line, and finally got to talk with someone. The problem was she couldn't answer my questions and/or I didn't understand her. So, I called my friend who came to help me out (her Spanish is way better than mine). But that still didn't change the fact that the customer service person couldn't answer what I had paid. So, we took a number and waited for a different person upstairs. Finally about 40 minutes later (and there was only one person in front of us, but it was a young attractive male being helped by two young females) we got to talk to someone else. She was a little more knowledgable, although my friend also found that she could ask the same question twice (or more) and receive different answers from the same person. Anyway, it seems that I had never received a bill that was sent out in December, but that still was not the entire problem. It took the supervisor to finally determine that I had paid the amount for the invoice I had received due Jan. 21st, the amount on the invoice I had not received, and an amount that was owing from before I moved into the apartment. He actually gave me a listing of what I paid and copies of all the invoices. So, all was well I thought. Until I got home to discover that I had no electricity. I set out again to the first office to be told that my power would be restored within 24 hours and there was nothing I could do about it. I was really mad then and I'm sure I reinforced every stereotype of the ugly American. I was rude to an old lady who, in my opinion, tried to cut in front of me in line, and I raised my voice to the ladies behind the counter as I asked them just what could I have done to prevent this when I never received a bill and I paid the bill the very next day after I received the disconnect notice. They basically said, yeah we know, too bad. So I went home and talked with the conserje who told me that three other people in the building had their power cut the same day for the same reason of a missing invoice. So I headed out to the store to buy candles and a bottle of wine (I figured after the day I'd had I deserved that). But when I got back, I had power again. So, in the words of Shakespeare, "All's well that ends well." Of course, I still get to pay the re-connect fee. I have a friend here who thinks this is just a way to get extra income. Who knows.

Escaping the city

I saw an article today in the New York Times travel section about Caracas that I thought was worth passing on: http://travel2.nytimes.com/2005/11/27/travel/27caracas.html?e
x=1152421200&en=f001ef1d1d1ee23d&ei=5087&mkt=travellink1.

Although it’s not by any means complete, I think it does a good job of describing the city and has some interesting observations. The picture from the cable car is great too.

The article does not mention two of my favorite places for getting away from the noise and congestion of the city: Parque del Este and Centro de Arte La Estancia. These are both easier to get to than riding the cable car to the top of the mountain and closer to the metro than the trails on Avila.

Parque del Este (East Park) is, according to the guide book, 200 acres of paths, gardens, trees, and other attractions like animal displays, a planetarium, and a lake. It is on the grounds of a former coffee hacienda. The picture here is of some people doing tai chi in the park one Saturday morning. I'd love to figure out how to join them even though it looked like a different form than the one I've been studying.

Centro de Arte La Estancia is very close to the park but is private property open to the public. It’s smaller and is also part of a former hacienda. The land is owned by PDVSA, the Venezuelan oil company, who has converted the former house into an exhibition hall with a library. The last exhibit I saw there was a display of various twentieth-century buildings of note throughout the Americas. There are areas where you will see people sitting in the shade reading or visiting. It is a quite pleasant place. There is a great variety of trees and flower gardens there as well as a greenhouse with many different kinds of orchids. The first time I was there I went with my friend Gloria and her mom and we came back with bags full of mangos. You can pick or gather fruit that you find there, but you can’t eat it there! There are lots of banana trees as well as coffee and cacao trees. The strange looking tree is cacao. How could such a wonderful food as chocolate come from such a strange looking tree? I've seen the inside of one of the pods. It still doesn't resemble the food we know and love. I'm not really sure of how cacao is processed but I know it involves a good number of steps. I'm told that Venezuelan chocolate is among the best in the world and that although there aren't a lot of first rate processors here Venezuelan chocolate is used by some of the best processors in Europe.

The gringoization of the world

I just read an article in the New York Times about a town in Italy where McDonalds was unable to compete with the local foods and closed its doors (http://www.nytimes.com/2006/01/12/international/europe/12italy.html). I had to applaud this because I wish there were not so many McDonald's here in Caracas. I get a little tired of (Venezuelan President) Hugo Chavez ranting about American imperialism, but he's certainly right that corporate America and its multi-national conglomerates are very imperialistic. What we are doing, besides making lots of money, is disseminating our unhealthy lifestyle around the world. I'm told that the Venezuelan people are getting larger - i.e. more like North Americans. No great surprise when there is a McDonald's about every six or seven blocks, interspersed with Pizza Hut, Wendy's, Burger King, Domino's Pizza, Subway, and many other fast food places from the U.S. It's not only food. The malls are filled with stores from the U.S. and Europe. I look at the prices and wonder how many people can afford to shop at these stores. Oh well, many call this progress. Fast food restaurants are certainly busy. There is one McDonald's whose drive-through I cut through to walk to the metro station. If I walk by there close to opening time I see a line of people waiting for the doors to open. When it's open it's always busy, even in the middle of the afternoon.

A New Year

I can't believe that it's already seven days into the new year. I'm already behind in posting to my blog! I can't even claim to be extremely busy - but I am somewhat unmotivated. That's what happens to me when I'm not busy.
Because there's not much going on to report, I guess I'll just record thoughts and impressions. It seems strange to me that I have been living in Caracas for four months now. I remember before I moved here I really couldn't comprehend what it would be like to live in another country. After all, before I moved to Albuquerque I had only lived in one city for my entire life, with the exception of college and I'm not sure that counts. Now, while my life isn't exactly how I would structure it if I were living here long term, it has a routine and familiarity that I hadn't expected. I've never lived in a big city before. Albuquerque at 600,000 (mas o menos) is probably twice the size of Fort Wayne, but not large by anyone's definition. So living in a city of 4.5 million is a new experience. Not having a car makes it a different experience as well, but I wouldn't want to drive here. It's not Mexico City, but it's not Chicago either. The overwhelming sensation for me is noise. It is a very noisy city. And my neighborhood is probably quieter than most. But, as my friends and I were discussing on New Year's Eve, there are a lot of fireworks here. They have diminished this week, but I still hear them at night. At least now I'm not being awakened at 3:00 in the morning with loud bangs. I would just lay there listening for police sirens to no avail. Car alarms constantly, but the police aren't going to bother with fireworks. Occasionally I even get to see some pretty ones, but usually they are just the loud noisy ones. Maybe noise is common to big cities, but some is unique to Caracas. For example, every morning starting at about 6:00 and every evening at dusk I hear the parrots squawking and screeching. At first I thought that a neighbor had birds and that was what I was hearing. Although I maybe do have a bird-loving neighbor, I understand from the guide books that parrots live along the river that is a few blocks south of me, between my neighborhood of El Rosal and Los Mercedes. They leave in the morning to go over to Avila or Parque del Este (big park in the Altamira - more later with pictures) and return in the evening to sleep. Just a little bit of nature here in the city.
Now that it's a new year the government makes the street vendors (buhoneros) pack up and leave so they can clean the streets. I guess they start setting back up again later in January. Sabana Grande is an east-west pedestrian street that more or less parallels the metro line beginning with the Plaza Venezuela metro station, going through the Sabana Grande station and ending at Chacaito. Normally the entire length of this street is full of vendors' stalls on both sides of the street. This week I walked down there and there were no vendors. It was amazing. You could actually see the stores on either side of the street and I even discovered that there is a mall over there. Usually it is so crowded with vendors and shoppers that you can't see anything.
This morning I went to the Chacao market. Chacao is a neighborhood. It is also a municipality and the one in which I live. The market is reminiscent of those I've seen in Mexico, except that the meat is in refrigerated cases like you would see in a meat market and they will actually put the meat in a styrofoam container with plastic wrap if you want.
Even though December is supposed to be the beginning of the dry season, we are still having a lot of rain here. It has raining almost every day this week - a couple of days it rained all day and the sun did not appear at all. Times like those I really miss the New Mexico desert. Several days this week I noticed that the poor nuns living at the school in front of my house were trying to do their laundry, which they hang out on the roof of the building. Their sheets were out there for a couple of days because they kept getting rained on.
In addition to a school across the way I also look out over a nearly vacant lot. At the back of this lot - against one side of the school - is a "structure," actually more like a shack. A man who I guess is the caretaker lives there with his two dogs. This morning he was out there early using some kind of a pipe to break up the concrete on the lot. There had evidently been a house there. You can still see the tiles from the house. Anyway, this guy crouches down and hits at the old concrete, breaking it into little pieces and piling them up. I guess he carts them away sometime because there are not huge piles of debris there. I guess he lives there to provide some security on the property, but his home is really just a shack with electricity. He leaves the door open during the day and it looks like there is just one room. He has a lawn chair out front that he sits on and looks out at the world. It's really pretty strange. I guess just another example of life in Caracas.