Caracas...a big city

January 26th, 2010: When I wrote my last post, I gave Caracas two potential options on what it will be...a living hell or an angry kitten. I was wrong and should have listed a third choice...a big city. As every big city, it has its problems but Caracas´s problems are greatly inflated in the backpacker community. Staying in the section of the city my travel guide suggest I shouldn't due to muggings being a common thing...I have yet to see anything exciting such as a good knife fight, clubbing or gun fight. The hotel I am staying at is a hotel that has a first floor dedicated for those who want to use the place on an hourly basis such as those partially undressed workers outside, their pimps and drug dealers/users who might need a nice clean place for a nice power nap due to their crazy hours.

Getting here on a bus yesterday I used a great word that my good friend Martha taught me to say in spanish before I left Colombia...nervous. Telling the woman next to me that spoke not a lick of english, that Caracas is such a big city and I was a bit nervous...worked quite nicely as it had the college student walking me from the bus station through the streets to the underground metro system. While this was taking place she gave me a ticket and explained to me what I should and shouldn't do on my quick intro to the city - only understanding 1/4 of it (hold my bag in front of me and no phones or cameras). Getting on the train with me, she guided me to the station I needed to get off at. Now who said the people in Caracas are all uptight and not willing to help?

The most dangerous thing that has come across my way so far was exiting the train at the metro station. People were pouring in as I followed my lead blocker as he cleared a path out of the train as people were about to fight the people that squashed their babies.

Again, I have come to the conclusion that all those who said all this awful things about this place must have either been home schooled or were one of those children who only did play dates due to their over controlling petrified parents. So with this said, perhaps my next vacation should be...Iraq. I hear all of these awful things about that place too...so why not?

It is almost 7pm so I must not push my luck too much and start to make my way back to my cell on the second floor, which happens to be room number...13.