I was in Caracas Venezuela for the past 2 weeks. I have no idea why people would voluntarily go there. It is like being in Baghdad, except there are fewer murders per day in Baghdad, it is safer in Baghdad. Venezuela's “official” murder rate is 130 per 100,000 residents. Note I said “official”. It is the murder capitol of the world, “we are the champions, we are the champions….of the world”!
My translator told me the city’s official homicide statistics likely fall short of the mark because they omit deaths that the state never gets around to properly “categorizing.” The numbers also don’t count those who died while “resisting arrest”, those who die “naturally” and so on! Some speculate the rate is actually closer to 160 per 100,000.
According to Foreign Policy Magazine reckoning “all in all, Caracas has resembled a war zone in recent years, and that raises an interesting question: How might Venezuela's murder rate compare to the rate of violent deaths in Iraq? Indeed, as Iraq's violence soared in 2006, Venezuela was itself a combat zone with 12,557 reported murders. That amounted to 34 murders per day -- or the rough equivalent of the lives snuffed out by a typical suicide bombing in Iraq; it population is about the same size as Venezuela's 27 million. Venezuela's murder rate is well ahead of four other top murder capitals that (in order of those boasting the worst rates) are: Cape Town, South Africa; New Orleans; Moscow; and Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea.
Now, that was 2006, the people in Caracas it is getting worse, not better! Now this is interesting, the cops will only investigate a murder if there is only one bullet fired. The reasoning is, if it is one bullet, maybe two, then it was most likely a “regular” murder, and they should look for the bad guy. If it is many bullets, then it was gang related. Of course everybody knows this so every person killed has multiple gunshots, so it is never investigated. Some of what I was hearing was laughable, if it was not so darn sad!
A question comes up…why? The answer comes from the top:
When I was walking in the street my translator told me to stop talking….I thought he was kidding, nope, the rude bastard. But it was because if people hear me talking we become a target, and we may not make it back to the hotel! We went to Valencia for the weekend, and it was much nicer there, and only 10 murders per day, so I felt much safer, ya right! I did go out for walks during the day though, but I did not talk, I pretended I was a deaf-mute - only sign language. Some people would prefer this condition on me, but that is another story.
Caracas homes are fenced and barricaded, shielding themselves behind steel bars and high walls topped with broken glass. Lots of private security patrols, guard dogs and bulletproof windows. What a fun place to bring up your children.
Enough of the doom and gloom, here is some fun stuff:
Speed Control. This is very interesting. Someone, probably a bureaucrat who does not drive or maybe an elementary school class recently dreamt up a new way of controlling highway speeds. A police car drives in the middle of the highway and keep everyone behind them. This of course causes a traffic jam. The people try to pass the police car and the police play chicken with them. Every time the car tries to pass the police car cuts in front! So funny! Then two cars come up, one fakes the police car out and the other car slips by. The another car comes up to let the other guy out, etc. Who in the hell though of this, really? This truck was the first guy who was trying to pass the Police car by himself, but no luck until another car came up to help, then it was just a free-for-all. Unfortunately our car broke down before I could see the final result, maybe another shooting that of course, would not be counted, because it was not murder, but self defense!
On the way back from Valencia, the car broke down on the highway. It was going to take 1.5 hours for the tow truck to get there. Then another free lance tow truck came up, and it was going to cost a lot more, so I said I do not mind waiting. But they paid this guy and I sat in the car on the back of the truck to Caracas. I asked why pay so much more? They said the chance of getting robbed was extremely high. A car will pull up, people rob you, and nobody on the highway will stop. Once it gets dark they say the chances of getting robbed at the side of the highway is 100%. I was happy for the decision!
Pictures are of the break down, the tow truck and then riding on the tow truck to Caracas. The two guys in the middle picture were not the bad guys, but my wonderful hosts. Great guys! The fellow in the forefront gave me the political layout of VZ. I learned a lot!
This in one of the houses that were off the side of the road, most houses you could not see, this is where the bandits come from.
This next picture is closer to Caracas. These are the “housing projects” where the low income or no-income people live. In the area where I took this picture is bumper–to- bumper traffic jam in rush hour during the week days. The people come out of their homes, and rob people who are stuck in traffic. Nobody gets out of their car to help the ones being robbed. They are just happy they were not the victims! The police say, they cannot do anything because they cannot get through the traffic jam.
That is Caracas traffic, at least it is moving. I got stuck in a traffic jam, complete stop, just because people some where in front of us were making a left turn. The left turn was not from the left lane as you would expect, they turn left from all lanes, all smushing together, and to hell with the people behind you. I could not drive there, I would have road rage, and remember the gun thing…I would not survive! I will never complain about traffic in China again, only India, Vietnam and now Caracas.
Food. The food was pretty good, but lots of salt and deep frying. Not my cup-of-tea. I did like trying some interesting dishes, one was squid as a stew, and the soup part was made from the ink from the squid. See the picture below. It was interesting, but not for a second time. I did like the old Spanish style restaurants. Below is a picture of meat curing in one of the restaurants. The meat is imported from Spain and then let to cure above the bar or somewhere in the restaurant above the seats. I was told the cigarette smoke gives it a unique flavor. This was not very much of a turn-on for me! But I did try some, and it was like proccutto, very salty and not something you would want to eat very often unless you wanted to die with hardening of the arteries at a young age. The majority of the people in Venezuela are under 35 years old, so with the food and murders, you know why!
Leaving the country- Then getting out of the country was interesting. It took almost 3 hours to get through from the front door of the airport to my boarding gate. The first line-up was for the airport tax. But first I had to negotiate to get the local currency. A guy approached us and the negotiations started. I did ok. It was cheaper this way. Now, into the line up for a security person to open up my luggage and look around. I thought his was instead of regular security clearance, but I was not so lucky. Then in the line–up for the boarding pass, after this then into the line up for another fee, this was a much larger fee, but I had the underground currency to pay, so it did not hurt so bad. I call this one a “fine”. It is a fine for being so stupid to go to Caracas.
Now you must go through security…it was total disarray! After 30 more minutes I got through and then came the final line up…customs. I waited in line for 30 more minutes and our line did not hardly move. Now if you know me, you know, by now I was now getting a little frustrated, well, truthfully, a LOT frustrated! My flight was now boarding, so I went to the front of the line, and jumped the queue. I got through and walked directly onto my plane. I hate queue jumping, it is normal in countries like China, but in Canada we stay in line like good little people. But it was necessary.
Yeah, I wouldn’t be planning any R&R trips to Caracas anytime soon if I was you. If you do, make sure someone is at the airport to meet you and accompany you all the time. You must be prepared for any friggin thing to hit you at any given moment without warning. I don’t trust that place one bit, and its virtually impossible to hear anything positive about Caracas from any travelers in the airport.
I do not know what this mural says, but I have a feeling they do not like the Americans very much!
Despite all of Venezuela’s problems the people I met were great! They are fun loving, gregarious people. The country is beautiful. If they can pull out of this mess they are in, and then rebuild, it would be a great place. I do not think this will happen in my lifetime, however. Too bad, this country has lots of potential for so much!
All is not negative in Caracas! And, they are not just known as being the murder capitol of the world. I think they are also the BOOB Capitol as well. When I was there I noticed all the boobs…you cannot help it, Venezuelan girls dress very sexy and they do like to highlight their boobs. And, I am not even a boob guy. I don’t care what size, as long as they are not big. I always think what they will look like when the poor girl turns 50! Not a good thought! So the smaller the better. Even the young girl had boobs, school aged I mean, and they have big boobs. I had to ask my host what the heck they were feeding the girls here. I thought whatever it was might be a good export product. I would become a multi-gizzilionare, with a natural boob enhancement product…probably the milk, you know all the hormones and stuff they put in milk. I don’t know why people drink this stuff, but that is another story.
The answer to my question was startling. Venezuela is the fake boob capitol of the world, so they hold two records, murders and boobs, I guess it is a bit of a balancing act. Boob jobs are so popular that women will pay in some cases 6 moths of their salary to get big cahoonas. Boob jobs are a hotter commodity than health in Venezuela. There are more beauty salons and spas than I have ever seeninmy life. They are everywhere, but try to find a pharmacy or natural health store, good luck, I tried. Guys buy their girlfriends and wives boobs for special occasions, Xmas (hey guys, Xmas is coming this is a good idea for a stocking stuffer!), anniversaries, whatever. AND, this is the one that surprises me the most, school aged girls get boob jobs as graduation presents from high school. I can hear it now mother to daughter “ my little darling, if you do well in school you will get your very own set of fake tits, and yours will be bigger than anyone you now…even mine”. Breast implants are also quickly becoming a favored gift for young ladies celebrating their 15th birthday, and, it is from their mothers, not their fathers! As soon as they turn 15 they can go under the knife. What do they give the guys… probably penal extensions! The guys gotta keep up……………
Even in the shopping malls, the manikins have big boobs, real big, look at this picture below. It was not a sex shop window, it was a normal clothes store. I still felt like a bit of a perve taking the picture.
I thought because of the long term health related issues that boob jobs were not popular anymore. The days of that old California show, Boob Watch was finally over, so I thought. (Sorry Dennis, I know you are one guy that will be saddened by this! But you can go to VZ for a vacation to get you eyeful!)
