The Venezuelan Exodus

Tuesday October 6, 2009
martes, a day in a week

A curiously surreal adventure

It is 8 am and I am sitting on the floor next to the coffee machine. It is great coffee and that is a plus. That I am sitting here is less of a positive, but not bad. I am breaking all the guide book rules by saying to heck with safety and have taken out my computer to share some of my morning’s delights.

So open up the visualization channels and take this adventure with me. Awake at 4:50 to a phone call from the taxi driver explaining in Venezuelan Spanish that he is here, a bit early and ‘tranquila’ relax, but drag your butt down here when you c an. It is still dark Which is not a bad thing considering the age and physical state of the room that I have spent the last two nights in. I jump up and put on the rest of my clothing, most of which I slept in (here is a minor diversion of thought and description of my current forced removal from my cozy hide away next to this .25 a cup coffee machine. apparently I am actually blocking some mysterious door. The armed policeman and an assistant have kindly informed me of my faults. In efforts to rectify, I have scooted my oversized bags and my butt out into what feels like the main freeway of this airport., you might wonder why I don’t go off and find a real seat, a bench or even a nice restaurant to spend this time in……well, I shall explain.)

In its simplicity the explanation comes in the excuse of having an excess of luggage and minimum of finances, more to come. I know already many of you are wishing you had accompanied me on this trip. Especially Mollie and Zoe who probably have a clearer idea of what I am experiencing than most and are laughing all the way to the safety of their days in the nice and tidy USA. They are also wondering if their mother, me, will ever be able to convince either of them to join her in travels ever again.

Back to this morning, I had been concerned for days about the lack of confirmation on my air ticket and on the fact that it was a small airline that I uncertain as to whether it would take all my luggage or not. As it turns out this luggage issue would be the least of my worries. The non-existent phone number that I used in buying my tickets would prove my downfall. To save any worrying about whether the flight is on schedule or not, no of course it is not. The confirmation did not go through because for some insane and never before heard of reason, they tried calling my home phone, my ex-home phone. So I am basically ticketless at the late hour of 8 am and have been since my 5:30 arrival here at the airport. And still when I do figure out how to buy a ticket the question continues, will they will take all my luggage or not.

All is never lost if you keep the right attitude.

Speaking of attitude, this coffee tastes great. And while I left behind over 20 pounds of luggage in my hotel; thanks to marge’s advice, the books that did keep just helped me to barter a better exchange rate than I was going to get from the illegal money changer. We covertly stood under the stairs and bartered back and forth. I am pathetic because I have around $20 in cash and none of me 3 credit cards appear to be working. This explains my seat next to the coffee machine. I don’t know what to do. I will get out of Dodge or in this case, Venezuela. I just don’t know how yet.

But not only were the books of use, but a pair of the earings I make from Belizean shells upped the anty even a bit more. The money changer was thrilled to have them to give to his wife. So that was exciting and even if my bags are still ridiculously sized, they are lighter than they were and my leg does not go numb from carrying that silly backpack with stilts strapped to the side, almost, but not quite.

Again, think positive.

But to entertain you I wil further describe the luggage. There is the already described backpack, which when strapped on is about a foot over my head. It is also bright red, so if for a moment I thought this white, old lady with sneakers might sneak by anyone as inconspicious, I won’t. Oh, yes and of course there are the stilts, hmmmmmmm. We can move onto the two, not one, but two wheeled bags, both with other bags temporarily strapped to the top. These of course are the ones that when I make a quick stop or attempt a sharp turn, go toppling off to the side and threaten to take my hand off at the wrist.

With the reduced weight though, I feel the task of moving a few feet in any direction to be much easier than I remembered upon my arrival in august. That fateful first night, which some may remember that I spent uneasily squirming among the aforementioned bags on the floor of this same airport, I now realize was a good representation of the experiences to come. Tough, challenging, and other than being yet another adventure and learning experiences not something I would describe as particularly enjoyable.

So that first night, hours of travel, I am so hungry and there is that snackbar of which I stood longing at the doorway for what seemed hours. I salivated as I imagined food, coffee, tea, or even water, but my bags were so balndketyytblblejyyy &^(&&*&**$ big that I could not get inside the door. Ahhhh, those days are gone, now I have my dear vending machine and my .25 coffee. And while the credit cards don’t work and my bills account to a ridiculously meager value, these coins shall save me.

So to money, yes I was able to change my last american dollars (ACTUALLY HID A 20 ,,,hahahahah,,,showed that guy) and bartered a few more bucks, out of that guy with the pockets of cash (the illegal money changer). He was so excited for me, he kept exclaiming that the money he was giving me was going to be enough for the ticket, he could not get over this excitement enough to talk me through the omnipresent reality that I could not leave this airport without another $40 or $50 to pay the exit tax. This was just not important to him, he was so very happy for me. And he loved his children’s books and wife’s earings. At some point I just decided to ride his wave of happiness and agree that all was going wonderfully for the both of us.


Yet, as I mentioned, I still had the misfortunate of not having the cash to make my Venezuelan exit. So here comes the part that I insist you close your eyes and attempt to visualize. See me marching back and forth in this tiny two story airport, hoping to find a flight for less money or a machine that will accept any of the 3 credit/debit cards that I have dutifully carried with me for the past 2 months and that the ticket counter people insist do not work. (*(**&*&*&*&****^%^$ ) . Imagine my sighting the bank machines, the machines that are on the second story and require the use of a hidden away elevator or a far more public escalator to reach.

I chose the elevator for how in the world could I ever ride an escalator with all this crap. Yes, I am the person that used to revel in packing one extra t-shirt and pair of underwear before heading off hitchhiking for the weekend. So to the hidden elevator I go and when I write hidden that is what I mean. Had I been in any state other than sheer desperation, I would have never ventured to the depths of these dark corners.

Everyone will tell you, all guide books will guide you to stay clear of spots such as these. But still, I found my self stumbling into this tiny cramped space. When I managed to turn my self around and push the level two button, I found myself reacting in bewilderment to the clear lack of response to my pushing and eventual pounding of said elevator buttons.

So when I stopped the banging long enough to interpret the clues and realize that the elevator was broken, did I think ‘damn this elevator is broken?’ No, did I think, “Oh, dear, this is such a dangerous place, I am so worried to be here alone?’ No, I did not, I thought, with great emphasis, “Please, please, someone rob me now, RIGHT NOW and take at least two of these &*&%^&*** bags from me, hit me, push me, anything, but leave with some of this luggage!’ Really they can even have the $20 that I have stuffed down my pants, I’d willingly give it to them, ‘take it, take it.’

I have all the luck though, I fooled everyone, I found the only safe dark corner in the country of Venezuela. So it was off to the escalator. Oh, yes, the escalator. Of course I did not have to ride it only that one time to meet with succes. I rode it multiple times, this way in case someone did not have the opportunity to watch the comic scene the first time, I would replay it for them repeatedly. Really everyone should have a chance to see this. Now as I rewrite this note, I can barely imagine how I managed. I only know that each time, it was as though I was at the edge of a cliff with soft ground underfoot. The ground might hold or it might not and if it did not there was not telling where things would end.

I recall being rathered annoyed that someone had taken one of my last stashes of cash while living at that center of peace, Peace Villages. I hope you read the sarcasm indicated when I refer to this place as a ‘center of peace.’ And frustrated that these three cards that I had carried for months and that I had made the point of contacting their agencies to forewarn them of my travels were not working for me now that I needed them. Then, though, I remember making eye contact with a stewardness walking by the escalator and that she smiled. Smiles are always wonderful things and in this situation, and in this country so lacking in friendliness, this smile was of great power.

So I did get a card to work in one of the machines, one out three is not so bad. A few extra escalator rides, not too much to ask of this desperate human being. Too bad that I had to deal with the official rate and get 2.2 instead of th 6 that I would have gotten on the streets. Still money is money is money and when one is desperate to make a get away, exchange rates are irrelevant.

Really, I am starting to like Caracas. Hey, a stewardess smiled and a money changer was thrilled to have a pair of earings that I made and even more thrilled to have ‘Buenos Noches Luna’ Goodnight Moon’ to read to his baby. And I am sure that I will have the riding escalators with oversized bags down to a science soon, I may even consider special trainings for others with as little common sense as myself. I could title it something like, “Manuevering Mechanical Stairs without looking like an absolute Maniac.’ was trying for an illiteration, there,,, mechanical mountains,,,,,,moving,,,,,,, hmmmmmm this can all come later,,,,,

Ok, I am off to see if the thick wad of cash is actually going to buy me a ticket or simple more coffees from this very friendly vending machine here,……

Love to all, and I’ll let you know when the next trip is being planned!

Besos,

Sue