By night, the view from my friend’s 16th-floor apartment near the center of Caracas can steal your breath. By day, it can break your heart.
From his window in the fashionable Parque Central district, evening brings thousands upon thousands of lights to life. They climb the surrounding hills, glimmering like diamonds against the dark landscape. It’s a stirring sight, fostering images of little Venezuelans tucked away for a sound sleep.
Just below, well-dressed men and women stride along shop-lined boulevards, cellular phones in hand, on their way to dinner in one of the dozens of world-class restaurants that dot this dynamic city. They laugh and smile in the shadows of the continent’s tallest skyscrapers.
But day sheds a different light on the view: Thousands upon thousands of adobe ranchitos-the source of the evening’s lights-crawl up lush, green mountainsides, forming anthill-like communities. More than 2 million Caraquenos-many of them recent migrants from rural areas-live in these neighborhoods, too poor to afford anything else.
Theirs is a day-to-day existence, filled with violence and struggle for their next meal. There’s little work, while the minimum wage is inadequate for basic survival. Fully 80 percent of the population lives below the poverty line.
My friend’s view reflects the story of Venezuela: a tale of stark contrasts, at once beautiful and sad; of striking vistas and the mushrooming poverty that has changed the face of the Venezuelan capital, making it a less hospitable place for visitors than it was just a few years back.
Caraquenos, you see, are not the same happy lot they once were. They’re no longer the toast of the continent, the rich brothers basking in a lifestyle awash with oil riches. In truth, they’re becoming more like their Latin American neighbors, and the process disgusts them.
After all, it was only a decade ago that Venezuelans, their nation an OPEC powerhouse, were the leading per-capita consumers of both caviar and Scotch whiskey. Back then, they took weekend trips to Miami, and bought out the K-marts. One bolivar, the local currency, was worth about a quarter.
But what a difference a decade makes. Today, thanks largely to high-level corruption and falling oil prices, Venezuela is in economic turmoil. The federal debt is huge. The financial system nearly collapsed earlier this year. The bolivar is now worth less than half a penny. And the country’s democratic traditions have been under attack, with two coup attempts in 1992.
Street crimes and panhandling, the scourges of modern society, have become part of the fabric of daily life, while about 30 murders occur on the average weekend.
Given all that, it’s almost understandable that, for many travelers, Caracas is considered an unavoidable stopover-a key link between the States and most South American destinations-and nothing more.
For me, however, this city of 5 million was the target. And why not?
Despite its problems, Caracas is the gateway to Venezuela, which offers a cornucopia of awe-inspiring attractions. The world’s highest waterfall, Angel Falls, is here. So is the world’s highest cable car, in the Andean city of Merida. The country is home to more than 2,000 miles of Caribbean beach, 300,000 square miles of virgin jungle and the mysterious tepuis-towering land platforms that jut thousands of feet toward the sky.
That, combined with recent rapid currency devaluations, has made Venezuela one of the new meccas of environmental tourists from Europe. But Americans, who are only a 2 1/2-hour flight away, have more or less shunned it.
When my flight landed at Maiquetia airport, I couldn’t help feeling a bit like I had returned home. I haggled with several taxi drivers over a price, and having cut a deal with one, plopped down in the front seat of his 1976 Chevy Malibu.
As we began to climb the steep autopista from the Carribean shore to Caracas, my driver offered me a Belmont-Venezuela’s national cigarette-and commenced to discuss the ills of his country. “All politicians are crooks. They’ve stolen our national wealth,” he said, echoing the viewpoint of most Venezuelans.
Despite the ravages of poverty and political chaos, and the resulting bitterness, Caracas and its people stole part of my heart when I lived here in the early 1990s. So I took my mornings to revisit my favorite haunts, and relive parts of the old routine.
A justifiable source of pride for Venezuelans is their historical claim as the cradle of Latin American democracy.
The city was founded by Spanish explorers in 1567, and given the name of the warlike tribe that called the area home: the Caracas Indians, the name coming from the wild grass that grew along nearby rivers.
Simon Bolivar, the liberator of much of Latin America from Spanish rule, was born near the center of town in 1783. His restored home, known as Casa Natal, lies on a quiet cobblestone street near the center of town, and is open for tours.
The old center of Caracas belongs to Venezuelans. Miraflores Palace, the modern-day home of presidents, as well as the Capital and Supreme Court building, are all in the El Silencio district. So is Plaza Bolivar, the nation’s most famous gathering place, and site of the city’s founding. The plaza features a statue of a gallant Bolivar on horseback.
Indeed, Caracas is a city of plazas. Addresses are given by plazas and corners, or esquinas. When getting directions to a place, make them precise, since numbers are not always used.
Still, Caracas is fairly easy to navigate. A long, narrow city set in a mountain valley, most points of interest are accessible by foot, thanks to Latin America’s most modern-and at 25 cents-per-ride, the cheapest-metro system.
For the outdoors-type, Caracas is loaded with parks. In fact, Venezuela has more national park land, as a percentage of total area, than any other nation in the world.
The king of them all is Avila National Park, a 210,000-acre forest that lies on the mountainside overlooking the city. With about 130 miles of trails, many of them steep, the park can give even the most athletic hiker a workout.
For those who desire an easier stroll, Parque del Este, or East Park, is a quintessential urban park in the shadow of the Avila. Hop off at the Altamira metro station near the American embassy, and you’re almost there.
Others simply prefer to walk along Sabana Grande, a milelong outdoor mall, lined with shops and restaurants.
The major staples of the Venezuelan diet come down to two things: Italian-only Italy consumes more pasta, per capita-and arepas.
Arepas were what I craved. No other country has anything quite like them, but in Venezuela arepas are king. The deep-fried pockets of white corn-filled with beef, chicken, shark or cheese-arepas are tasty and cheap, making them the country’s unofficial fast food.
In Venezuela, the quality of an open-air restaurant can be defined by its arepas. Two of the best: El Granjero del Este in the Las Mercedes district, and Don Arepera in Parque Central. Wash it down with an icy Polar, the national beer served in little 8-ounce cans, and you’re sure to be satisfied.
So should you plan a long stay in Caracas? Unless you have a compelling reason, probably not.
But is it worth spending a couple of days on your way somewhere else? Definitely. Just take good care of your wallet. And remember, when you look out your window, that appearances sometimes can be deceiving.
HOTELS IN CARACAS
Where to stay: The Caracas Hilton (800-221-2424), located in the heart of the cultural and business district of Parque Central is best. Rooms go for between $170-$260 per night.
Close behind: Hotel Tamanaco (direct dial: 011-58-2-208-7000) and Hotel Eurobuilding (011-58-2-959-1133), both located in the Las Mercedes district.
Less pricey alternatives include the Hotel Paseo Las Mercedes (011-58-2-91-04-44), across the street from the Tamanaco, and the Hotel Anauco Hilton, a residential complex connected to the Hilton. The CCT Venatur (011-58-2-959-1544), adjacent to the continent’s largest shopping mall also fits into this category. All three offer rooms starting at about $60 per night.
Decent hotels on the lower end include the Hotel Savoy (011-58-2-72-19-71) and the Hotel Kursaal (011-58-2-72-29-22), both near the Sabana Grande shopping district.
Getting around: Taxis are plentiful and cheap, but they don’t have meters. So set your price ahead of time. The fare from the airport to Caracas should run about 1,500 bolivares ($14). Around town, the average fare is between 200-400 bolivares.
The Caracas Metro is world-class. And with a price tag of $117 million-per-kilometer, the most expensive on the globe. But the fares are surprisingly cheap, and you can get most everywhere on it. The most expensive ride is about 25 cents.
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Handicapped accessibility: Caracas is not the most hospitable place for those with disabilities. Steps abound in the city, with few wheelchair ramps. The major hotels, including the Hilton, are accessible. Although built in the 1980s, the metro stations are a clutter of stairs and escalators, but no elevators or ramps. The city’s narrow sidewalks tend to be cluttered through much of the day with street vendors, who spread their wares out on blankets, often blocking access. Signs in braile are virtually non-existent.
