Dear nightly dwellers, after a Christmas full of presents and too much goodies (the pannettone was too good, simply), here I am again. We are leaving an interesting year (for me it was), 2009 will be a year full of suspense and hickups, as a good friend of mine put it. Well, besides a world financial crisis, to which I may add yet another conflagration in the scorched Middle East (will they never learn???), we are facing an exciting year.
Chavez has changed from being a local revolutionary leader to Grinch, the guy who stole Christmas. He has managed to violate an unwritten law in Venezuela, and that is to let its people, rich or poor, celebrate their Christmas IN PEACE with hallacas, pan de jamón, dulce de lechosa, pannettone and of course many more goodies full of carbs and lethal to that figure you worked on all of 2008. He doesn´t want to be president for ever, he keeps on repeating with an oh so slight irony - only till 2021 and maybe 2030, by which, if the Lord may be so gracious as to keep this president in good health, he might be over 75 years old by then. So he needs the applauding from "the people",and he will do so by pushing through a constitutional amendment which will make it possible to rerun a president - who else but Chavez, read the small print - as many times as you like. Good stuff of course, provided the candidate in question is an able, well-spoken ruler.
The only thing that has made many many Venezuelans weary and even angry, is that he kept on droning about this heart wish of his every day through the December month, disturbing the pre-Christmas celebrations with revolutionary verbal violence, and apparently had to be convinced at the last moment not to intrude into the Christmas celebrations with his long monologues about his unimitable revolution and his Humble Self on national TV and radio. But still, after the customary Christmas messages from the presidential palace, together with the all-too-accustomed anti-Western haranguing and even some free additional insults directed at the head of the Roman Catholic Church, Chavez restarted his campaign, and for the first time Christmas songs or gaitas are being sung in his honor on state TV and radio. Now, where have we seen this before? Communist China, North Korea, fascist Italy, Stalinist Russia, Nazi Germany..... no wonder there wasn´t any real Christmas spirit on the Caracas streets, as the Red Grinch again had stolen Christmas from the people.
2009 will be an exciting year indeed. To you all.... a happy new year, and hope to see you all next week.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Revolutionary Times
Dear nightly visitors, at the beginning of this blog I have sort of promised not to comment on politics here. I have to break that promise, as Caracas and the whole of Venezuela are at the threshold of a new era. A revolutionary era?
We first have to define "revolution". In the online Merriam-Webster dictionary, you will find the definition "open fight against authority". To that, as a historian, I might add the following: a revolution in the social sense means a change, an overturn of its structure and resulting in new social structures. I guess that Marx, Lenin, Mao, and even Mussolini and Hitler might agree with me posthumously. Because all these leaders wanted their societies to change irreversebily, and true fascism kept talking not about that marxist word "revolution", but about a new country, a new society. Which sums up to the same. All these leaders had one thing in common as well, and that was their wish to smash parliamentarian democracy to pieces. I myself think, for that reason, that fascism/nazism and communism are two sides of the same coin. Despite their ideological differences and hate for each other, their means will always be justified by their ends. Whether you have Hitler who killed millions of human beings to save the purity of his own people, or Che Guevara who, in order to save humanity, saw it necessary to kill scores of human beings with his own hands - please show me the real, essential difference between these two extremes. I never have seen it, and I still don´t. To say that Hitler killed more people than Che.... Stalin killed more than Hitler. So where is the difference between these strains of "socialism"?
After a promising start, the regime of Hugo Chavez in Venezuela is bogged down by incompetence, corruption and the plain refusal of even his anarchic "socialist battalions" of redshirts to adopt a true rigourous socialist discipline. Because despite its anti-American and anti-Western ranting which sounds like a carbon copy of the Soviet era rhetoric, America is still big here. Chavists, as all other Venezuelans, love to go to Miami, shop for US goods and goodies online, drive around in the newest Chevies and Fords and keep up a US capitalist living style, with lots of beer, BBQ and parties on the beach. As a resident here, the best example I have seen of this moral duplicity of the chavist revolution was a Chevy Tahoe truck with new number plates and three stickers on its trunk: one of Chavez, one of Christ, and one of Che Guevara. If someone can explain to me the combination of a symbol of US imperialist capitalism adorned this way, in a rational way, I´ll award a prize!
Or if someone who likes Chavez can explain to me why this president called himself a Trotskyist, liking the thought of an "eternal" non-stop revolution. Anyone who can read, should know that Leon Trotsky died defending an idea contrary in all its essence to what Hugo Chavez is doing. And that idea was, that the collectivity of a party should be more powerful than the thought of its leader.
We are living in revolutionary times, so they say. But as Chairman Mao, a professional revolutionary of his time, said: a revolution is not a tea party. And to weave on this thought, there is no such thing as a "nice revolution", as Chavez has labelled his plans. He seems to have grown aware of that, judging by the way his regime has grown in a more and more authoritarian way. Anyone living in Venezuela and not closing his or her eyes to daily life, will know about the enormous damage done to the venerable structure of the Caracas Town Hall on Bolivar Square by redshirted hoodlums after their party recently lost almost the whole capital to an opposition they declared dead and buried. Or about the sacking of other townhalls by departing regime officials who before ceding their posts to the new opposition officials, left them without even PC´s to work on. They will know about the still-present bands of redshirts at strategic corners in downtown Caracas who have already shown their eagerness to attack opposition members and journalists on the streets.
But the same "socialists" won´t talk about accusing their own officials of proven massive corruption and theft of public property. Which leads me to the conclusion that Orwell was a true revolutionary. In his Animal Farm, he stated the following, attacking totalitarian regimes: at Animal Farm, everybody is equal. But some are more equal than others. Which to me, seeing a fatbellied "revolutionary" elite in this country beating with a stick in one hand on capitalism and with the other hand accepting tons of money from it, is more than true. While on the other side, a population poor in their pockets and even poorer in their minds, is still trying to grasp certain obvious facts and pull itself out of the mud of the 19th century. Venezuela and other Latin American countries have yet a long, hard way to go.
A good night to you all.
We first have to define "revolution". In the online Merriam-Webster dictionary, you will find the definition "open fight against authority". To that, as a historian, I might add the following: a revolution in the social sense means a change, an overturn of its structure and resulting in new social structures. I guess that Marx, Lenin, Mao, and even Mussolini and Hitler might agree with me posthumously. Because all these leaders wanted their societies to change irreversebily, and true fascism kept talking not about that marxist word "revolution", but about a new country, a new society. Which sums up to the same. All these leaders had one thing in common as well, and that was their wish to smash parliamentarian democracy to pieces. I myself think, for that reason, that fascism/nazism and communism are two sides of the same coin. Despite their ideological differences and hate for each other, their means will always be justified by their ends. Whether you have Hitler who killed millions of human beings to save the purity of his own people, or Che Guevara who, in order to save humanity, saw it necessary to kill scores of human beings with his own hands - please show me the real, essential difference between these two extremes. I never have seen it, and I still don´t. To say that Hitler killed more people than Che.... Stalin killed more than Hitler. So where is the difference between these strains of "socialism"?
After a promising start, the regime of Hugo Chavez in Venezuela is bogged down by incompetence, corruption and the plain refusal of even his anarchic "socialist battalions" of redshirts to adopt a true rigourous socialist discipline. Because despite its anti-American and anti-Western ranting which sounds like a carbon copy of the Soviet era rhetoric, America is still big here. Chavists, as all other Venezuelans, love to go to Miami, shop for US goods and goodies online, drive around in the newest Chevies and Fords and keep up a US capitalist living style, with lots of beer, BBQ and parties on the beach. As a resident here, the best example I have seen of this moral duplicity of the chavist revolution was a Chevy Tahoe truck with new number plates and three stickers on its trunk: one of Chavez, one of Christ, and one of Che Guevara. If someone can explain to me the combination of a symbol of US imperialist capitalism adorned this way, in a rational way, I´ll award a prize!
Or if someone who likes Chavez can explain to me why this president called himself a Trotskyist, liking the thought of an "eternal" non-stop revolution. Anyone who can read, should know that Leon Trotsky died defending an idea contrary in all its essence to what Hugo Chavez is doing. And that idea was, that the collectivity of a party should be more powerful than the thought of its leader.
We are living in revolutionary times, so they say. But as Chairman Mao, a professional revolutionary of his time, said: a revolution is not a tea party. And to weave on this thought, there is no such thing as a "nice revolution", as Chavez has labelled his plans. He seems to have grown aware of that, judging by the way his regime has grown in a more and more authoritarian way. Anyone living in Venezuela and not closing his or her eyes to daily life, will know about the enormous damage done to the venerable structure of the Caracas Town Hall on Bolivar Square by redshirted hoodlums after their party recently lost almost the whole capital to an opposition they declared dead and buried. Or about the sacking of other townhalls by departing regime officials who before ceding their posts to the new opposition officials, left them without even PC´s to work on. They will know about the still-present bands of redshirts at strategic corners in downtown Caracas who have already shown their eagerness to attack opposition members and journalists on the streets.
But the same "socialists" won´t talk about accusing their own officials of proven massive corruption and theft of public property. Which leads me to the conclusion that Orwell was a true revolutionary. In his Animal Farm, he stated the following, attacking totalitarian regimes: at Animal Farm, everybody is equal. But some are more equal than others. Which to me, seeing a fatbellied "revolutionary" elite in this country beating with a stick in one hand on capitalism and with the other hand accepting tons of money from it, is more than true. While on the other side, a population poor in their pockets and even poorer in their minds, is still trying to grasp certain obvious facts and pull itself out of the mud of the 19th century. Venezuela and other Latin American countries have yet a long, hard way to go.
A good night to you all.
Friday, December 12, 2008
How To Avoid Loose Cars
It´s been 30 years, almost to the day, since I left a city with the most chaotic and anarchic traffic I had ever seen - Tehran. It was in the middle of the Islamic Revolution, when the Shah of Iran, after letting the national economy slip in a mire of corruption and inefficiency while the imperial elite lived in scandalous wealth, committed the fatal mistake of underestimating a old bearded fellow with an evil glare, turban and dress. This fellow, ayatollah Khomeini, drove out the Shah and almost a million of Iranians from the country, and the Islamic Republic of Iran was thus born. Tehran now looks a lot cleaner than in my time, but Iran keeps being stuck in the mire of corruption and inefficiency, the new elite without doubt is better off than the common Iranian, and as then, the common people suffer from shortages of all kinds of goods. So, what has changed? As my dad, a retired diplomat and a fan of Sir Rudyard Kipling, keeps on saying: different rulers, same crap. And I don´t doubt a second that the chaotic and anarchic way of driving cars in Tehran hasn´t changed either. Some traditions never die out.
Now, for a new traffic adventure, here comes Caracas. Imagine a 2-million city, which in fact houses 6 million people, squeezed into a valley with hills on the southern side and an impressive mountain range in the north. Imagine that city with an infrastructure, 2008 AD, dating from the seventies, and lovingly kept unchanged, safe for missing traffic lights and road signs at vital spots. There has never been any real urban planning, just roads and streets organically growing along the winding valley and houses standing randomly, as nature and irrational man intended. There has been a military dictator in the fifties, a small man with glasses and a too big military cap, who seemed to have had a vision of colonial Caracas been turned into a new tropical Manhattan, but his vision was cut short and he was kicked out by a civil uprising. So Caracas looks till now like an unfinished painting. Like you wanted to refurbish a house from Louis Seize style to Le Corbusier, money ran out, and you are sitting in a living room on a black and white designer couch, looking at a gilded Versailles-style crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and wondering at the horror of it all. Mozart played by a reggeaton band. Mind you, there are people who like this eclectic style. Like there are people who love living in the cacophony of contradictions in Caracas. A crumbling apartment building standing next to a colonial house in ruins, the potholed street looking like Grozny after a Red Army bombardment - it´s a fairly normal sight in the downtown area. And I know plenty of people who love it.
But now comes the best part. Under the old regime prior to 1998, it was hard for the common man to buy a car. To many it still is. Like in Fidelist Havanna, you will still see scores of old Chevy´s, Buicks and Fords rolling around on a prayer and steel wire. The socialist government of Mr. Chávez thought that this was an injustice done to poor people, and made it possible, through an easy credit plan, for them to buy new wheels. Coincidentally set up in an election year, the number of cars in Caracas grew, and grew and grew. New and newest 4x4´s of the BIG kind, like metal dinosaurs looming over my little Ford Ka...... family cars straight from the assembly line, new buses, lorries - it all came down like an avalanche and flooded the streets and avenues of Caracas within one year. An infrastructure, designed for no more than half a million cars, is regurgitating two million cars on a daily basis, seven days a week.
Now sum up: too much cars, too big cars, a deficient and ageing infrastructure, gasoline which is ten times cheaper than mineral water, and an anarchic spirit found behind two million steering wheels with no regard whatsoever for the fellow driver, nor any respect for traffic rules - and you have a rather interesting traffic experience. A friend of mine commented: put a monkey in a car (not my words!) and within a week he will drive like the average Caracas commuter - keep on stepping on the gas pedal, try not to bump into other loose cars and try to keep a general direction.
A bit exaggerated, but it could nicely sum up a general impression of Caracas during rush hour. Let me however say something in defense of those tortured caraqueños: generally drivers try to avoid bumping into each other - spare parts are a rarity nowadays and you have to wait months for a garage to fix the damage. Other thing: if you do something unheard of in Caracas, like stopping for 5 seconds and giving a fellow driver the priority he actually deserves, you will always receive an incredulous smile from the person in front of you and then a wave from his hand - gracias, pana!
It pays off being nice in Caracas. Just try to avoid those loose cars flying around you. Have a nice evening.
Now, for a new traffic adventure, here comes Caracas. Imagine a 2-million city, which in fact houses 6 million people, squeezed into a valley with hills on the southern side and an impressive mountain range in the north. Imagine that city with an infrastructure, 2008 AD, dating from the seventies, and lovingly kept unchanged, safe for missing traffic lights and road signs at vital spots. There has never been any real urban planning, just roads and streets organically growing along the winding valley and houses standing randomly, as nature and irrational man intended. There has been a military dictator in the fifties, a small man with glasses and a too big military cap, who seemed to have had a vision of colonial Caracas been turned into a new tropical Manhattan, but his vision was cut short and he was kicked out by a civil uprising. So Caracas looks till now like an unfinished painting. Like you wanted to refurbish a house from Louis Seize style to Le Corbusier, money ran out, and you are sitting in a living room on a black and white designer couch, looking at a gilded Versailles-style crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and wondering at the horror of it all. Mozart played by a reggeaton band. Mind you, there are people who like this eclectic style. Like there are people who love living in the cacophony of contradictions in Caracas. A crumbling apartment building standing next to a colonial house in ruins, the potholed street looking like Grozny after a Red Army bombardment - it´s a fairly normal sight in the downtown area. And I know plenty of people who love it.
But now comes the best part. Under the old regime prior to 1998, it was hard for the common man to buy a car. To many it still is. Like in Fidelist Havanna, you will still see scores of old Chevy´s, Buicks and Fords rolling around on a prayer and steel wire. The socialist government of Mr. Chávez thought that this was an injustice done to poor people, and made it possible, through an easy credit plan, for them to buy new wheels. Coincidentally set up in an election year, the number of cars in Caracas grew, and grew and grew. New and newest 4x4´s of the BIG kind, like metal dinosaurs looming over my little Ford Ka...... family cars straight from the assembly line, new buses, lorries - it all came down like an avalanche and flooded the streets and avenues of Caracas within one year. An infrastructure, designed for no more than half a million cars, is regurgitating two million cars on a daily basis, seven days a week.
Now sum up: too much cars, too big cars, a deficient and ageing infrastructure, gasoline which is ten times cheaper than mineral water, and an anarchic spirit found behind two million steering wheels with no regard whatsoever for the fellow driver, nor any respect for traffic rules - and you have a rather interesting traffic experience. A friend of mine commented: put a monkey in a car (not my words!) and within a week he will drive like the average Caracas commuter - keep on stepping on the gas pedal, try not to bump into other loose cars and try to keep a general direction.
A bit exaggerated, but it could nicely sum up a general impression of Caracas during rush hour. Let me however say something in defense of those tortured caraqueños: generally drivers try to avoid bumping into each other - spare parts are a rarity nowadays and you have to wait months for a garage to fix the damage. Other thing: if you do something unheard of in Caracas, like stopping for 5 seconds and giving a fellow driver the priority he actually deserves, you will always receive an incredulous smile from the person in front of you and then a wave from his hand - gracias, pana!
It pays off being nice in Caracas. Just try to avoid those loose cars flying around you. Have a nice evening.
Friday, December 05, 2008
JALABOLAS
Newsflash: Franz Kafka wasn´t born in Prague - he came straight from Venezuela. I know of few other countries like Venezuela where even a simple purchase in a store can turn out to become a bureaucratic nightmare. For paying with plastic money, I guess one day you will even have to have your DNA code ready to show - because everything else, from your ID or passport number, to your place of residence and your phone number will be asked everytime you dare to buy a loaf of bread with a bank card. Advice: take along enough cash and risk the chance of getting mugged. But if you prefer THAT to tell the nice cashier your private phone number, be my guest.
Latin American countries are known for their love for ID cards which show that, besides being alive, you hold some status which may become quite handy for anyone knowing you. The more status you have, the more "friends" will swamp your life, asking you favors to help them through the dense jungle of bureaucracy with contradicting laws and rules, and hostile civil servants. You will turn out to be a great "pana" or friend if you use your clout to help friend A to get his passport more quickly, or neighbor B to finally get those new licence plates after two years of fruitless waiting, or relative C to get that particular permit he isn´t really entitled to - but who cares.
Others may call it corruption, and Venezuela is known, by the way, to be one of the most corrupt countries on this planet. As a resident, I try to stick to the rules, accept no offers for bribery and live life the rough way (anyone interested in a diamond studded piece of land, by the way? It was offered to me a year ago in the Mayor´s Office, for hard cash of course, in exchange for a nice letter to some high-placed bozo in the Immigration Service. I declined of course).
Sticking to noble rules in a country like Venezuela means sticking your head in trouble, believe it or not. Whether it´s being run into by a taxi driver who broke all the rules, and still getting the fine because you happen to be a foreigner and the taxi driver was so shrewd to do something I declined to do on the spot - pay the police officer BsF. 300,- on the spot and leave it like that. Or waiting for two years for your ID number to be entered into the database system, only to find out that the immigration service never bothered to do that, and each time making extra turns and paying extra money to get your resident visa prolonged - all these things, including standing for days on end in the queue patiently waiting for your day of luck to be helped - belong to the daily routine of a person who will play it cleanly without payoffs and kickbacks to fatbellied bozo´s, and won´t join the jalabolas culture of just taking it easy and abuse the system to your own ends. I will explain.
A jalabolas is a person who knows "the system" inside out, like his own bathroom. He will also use it like that. He is a person who has mastered the art of looking busy, of flashing around with activity and trample on others who fall into his magic. He or she will promise you the moon, the stars, your residence permit, a really clean contract, anything your ears want to hear. And not do it. But carry out his or her lie to just a masterly level that you probably will never ever grasp the fact that you have been conned. He won´t steal your money, he will get paid by you for no work whatsoever but still convince you that the work will be done, eventually, in due time, when he comes to it, when hell freezes over twice, etc. etc..
Corruption is found with people who haven´t mastered the jalabolas tactic well enough. Those are the dunces who get caught red-handed. But not our jalabolas. His slick tongue, his quick words and his everlasting smile are his trademark and will lead him through a life of apparent importance, quick money and best of all, a total freedom in spending his time. In other words, a good-for-nothing that will part you with your money for being such a gullible fool. Don´t tell me I didn´t warn you!
Needless to say, Latin America is studded with jalabolas. After having bumped my nose into countless walls, I finally know how to distinguish a jalabolas from the common man. However, one thing is to distinguish him, another thing is to avoid him. In this country with a crazy runaway bureaucracy, in which you spend an entire day just to get a stamp, only to discover that you got the wrong form and have to start all over again.... sooner or later you will need that guy with the slick smile and easy talk who could free you from that kafkaesque headache. Or give you one, that of the jalabolas. I just take my chance and tapdance off into the setting sun, whistling.
Latin American countries are known for their love for ID cards which show that, besides being alive, you hold some status which may become quite handy for anyone knowing you. The more status you have, the more "friends" will swamp your life, asking you favors to help them through the dense jungle of bureaucracy with contradicting laws and rules, and hostile civil servants. You will turn out to be a great "pana" or friend if you use your clout to help friend A to get his passport more quickly, or neighbor B to finally get those new licence plates after two years of fruitless waiting, or relative C to get that particular permit he isn´t really entitled to - but who cares.
Others may call it corruption, and Venezuela is known, by the way, to be one of the most corrupt countries on this planet. As a resident, I try to stick to the rules, accept no offers for bribery and live life the rough way (anyone interested in a diamond studded piece of land, by the way? It was offered to me a year ago in the Mayor´s Office, for hard cash of course, in exchange for a nice letter to some high-placed bozo in the Immigration Service. I declined of course).
Sticking to noble rules in a country like Venezuela means sticking your head in trouble, believe it or not. Whether it´s being run into by a taxi driver who broke all the rules, and still getting the fine because you happen to be a foreigner and the taxi driver was so shrewd to do something I declined to do on the spot - pay the police officer BsF. 300,- on the spot and leave it like that. Or waiting for two years for your ID number to be entered into the database system, only to find out that the immigration service never bothered to do that, and each time making extra turns and paying extra money to get your resident visa prolonged - all these things, including standing for days on end in the queue patiently waiting for your day of luck to be helped - belong to the daily routine of a person who will play it cleanly without payoffs and kickbacks to fatbellied bozo´s, and won´t join the jalabolas culture of just taking it easy and abuse the system to your own ends. I will explain.
A jalabolas is a person who knows "the system" inside out, like his own bathroom. He will also use it like that. He is a person who has mastered the art of looking busy, of flashing around with activity and trample on others who fall into his magic. He or she will promise you the moon, the stars, your residence permit, a really clean contract, anything your ears want to hear. And not do it. But carry out his or her lie to just a masterly level that you probably will never ever grasp the fact that you have been conned. He won´t steal your money, he will get paid by you for no work whatsoever but still convince you that the work will be done, eventually, in due time, when he comes to it, when hell freezes over twice, etc. etc..
Corruption is found with people who haven´t mastered the jalabolas tactic well enough. Those are the dunces who get caught red-handed. But not our jalabolas. His slick tongue, his quick words and his everlasting smile are his trademark and will lead him through a life of apparent importance, quick money and best of all, a total freedom in spending his time. In other words, a good-for-nothing that will part you with your money for being such a gullible fool. Don´t tell me I didn´t warn you!
Needless to say, Latin America is studded with jalabolas. After having bumped my nose into countless walls, I finally know how to distinguish a jalabolas from the common man. However, one thing is to distinguish him, another thing is to avoid him. In this country with a crazy runaway bureaucracy, in which you spend an entire day just to get a stamp, only to discover that you got the wrong form and have to start all over again.... sooner or later you will need that guy with the slick smile and easy talk who could free you from that kafkaesque headache. Or give you one, that of the jalabolas. I just take my chance and tapdance off into the setting sun, whistling.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Out And About In The City
Good evening once again. After a rainy weekend with intermittent sunshine, I´m almost ashamed to admit that I stayed in my apartment all these days. Thanks to a good ally called cable TV, I watched one movie after another and enjoyed some lazy days.
Caracas, despite its metropolitan character, has clearly seen better times in its nightlife. Some years ago, there were a number of heavily-frequented disco´s in the Paraíso and Las Mercedes area, but all of them went bust after the Oil Strike of 2002-2003, when some politicians who weren´t happy with president Chávez engineered a strike of the oil industry which paralyzed the whole country, to drive him out. They in turn were driven out of their jobs and the public anger caused by the strike strengthened the president´s position. Not only was it a foolishly and badly set-up action by the opposition, it also made many companies go bankrupt, and since there was no money and beer to go around, disco´s and nightclubs went down like flies. Driving around the main avenue in Las Mercedes or through El Paraíso you see some vestiges of what were once busily-visited nightclubs. Sad sight.
Now, where do the caraqueños find their entertainment? There is beer enough to go around nowadays, and these last few years a lot of money found its way to many pockets and accounts. You will find a number of very good Italian, Spanish and Portuguese restaurants and tasca´s in La Candelaria, Sábana Grande and Las Mercedes, where you can find a good meal for a reasonable price - when you have a dollar or euro account. For the common Venezuelan, a cozy dinner for two costing BsF. 200,- (200.000,- old bolívares) would mean a big sacrifice. However, restaurants are full every night, because one of the Venezuelan´s characteristics is his love for food. Love for a good beer or stiff drink comes right in second, with an ample offer of locally brewed beers and the much-loved Chivas or Buchanan 12-year olds to make thirsty throats happy.
Beers come in different tones and tastes. My fav one is the Regional Light from Maracaibo, and on second place, if Numero Uno is not available, Solera Green. These two are OK for the European taste, and I recommend them personally. Now, for the Budweiser or Heineken beer lovers Venezuela has an interesting selection to offer. Polar beer is the most-drunk brew, with a variety of tastes. Very popular are the light varieties and those called "ice", revealing the need to drink them ice- and icecold to kill an absent taste. Personally I steer clear of them because despite their "light" denotation, they can easily bomb you out of your skulls, as the many drunks on the Caracas streets will no doubt certify.
Drinking and driving are bad companions, but you´ll find enough Venezuelans on the road swagging a telltale blue or green bottle and doing their best to drive over your car if they could. Friday nights are beer nights, so watch out when you´re driving.
When you want to know where common Venezuelans spend their Friday and Saturday nights, follow the trail of empty blue and green beer bottles. Lack of disco´s and payable nightclubs has driven the common people to spend their social activities outdoors, standing around a car with its speakers belting out salsa, Colombian vallenato or reggeaton, and organize a party there and then. Parking lots are favorite among the revellers, so if you are so lucky as me to live in a residential compound with ample parking space, stuff your ears with cotton if you want to have a good night´s sleep. Sadly, residents who dare to tell the night revellers to set the music volume from 84 back to 6 have often enough been met with threats and even a drawn weapon. So party poopers like me try to sleep through the throbbing reggaeton, or plan to move to quieter places.
Then we have the posh and fancy people who go out to real places to see and be seen. There are expensive nightclubs in Las Mercedes, Los Palos Grandes or the dancings in the San Ignacio commercial centre, for example. You will find the rich and famous there, and single gentlemen among you readers will encounter a dazzling amount of Miss Venezuela´s. Watch out for unhappy married women however. The Venezuelan male is fierily jealous and won´t be nice to you as you would be to his wife.
And then we have the big shopping malls or centros comerciales. At the commercial centres like Sambil, El Tolón, San Ignacio or El Recreo, besides dancing you can go to the cinema or shopping, two other favorite pastimes. For the quick meals there is a big quantity of the well-known fast food establishments as well as sushi, chinese, Italian, Lebanese, Spanish and Venezuelan quick meal restaurants.
As a resident I strongly recommend NOT to frequent the bars with "hípico" found downtown. Don´t get fooled by the sign "ambiente familiar", because that´s not where you´d like to see your family - that is, if you love them. For those with adventurous spirits, try them, but try to go home not after 10 PM. It´s not the bars that are the trouble - it´s what might happen outside them.
Getting a taxi at night - first try to find own transportation, that is safer. If not, then take a cab outside one of the shopping centers with the center´s logo put clearly on the car. True taxis have yellow numberplates while the moonshining ones are plain cars with a TAXI sign on them. Those are not necessarily risky, but just try to stay on the safe side.
Buenas noches, and have fun!
Caracas, despite its metropolitan character, has clearly seen better times in its nightlife. Some years ago, there were a number of heavily-frequented disco´s in the Paraíso and Las Mercedes area, but all of them went bust after the Oil Strike of 2002-2003, when some politicians who weren´t happy with president Chávez engineered a strike of the oil industry which paralyzed the whole country, to drive him out. They in turn were driven out of their jobs and the public anger caused by the strike strengthened the president´s position. Not only was it a foolishly and badly set-up action by the opposition, it also made many companies go bankrupt, and since there was no money and beer to go around, disco´s and nightclubs went down like flies. Driving around the main avenue in Las Mercedes or through El Paraíso you see some vestiges of what were once busily-visited nightclubs. Sad sight.
Now, where do the caraqueños find their entertainment? There is beer enough to go around nowadays, and these last few years a lot of money found its way to many pockets and accounts. You will find a number of very good Italian, Spanish and Portuguese restaurants and tasca´s in La Candelaria, Sábana Grande and Las Mercedes, where you can find a good meal for a reasonable price - when you have a dollar or euro account. For the common Venezuelan, a cozy dinner for two costing BsF. 200,- (200.000,- old bolívares) would mean a big sacrifice. However, restaurants are full every night, because one of the Venezuelan´s characteristics is his love for food. Love for a good beer or stiff drink comes right in second, with an ample offer of locally brewed beers and the much-loved Chivas or Buchanan 12-year olds to make thirsty throats happy.
Beers come in different tones and tastes. My fav one is the Regional Light from Maracaibo, and on second place, if Numero Uno is not available, Solera Green. These two are OK for the European taste, and I recommend them personally. Now, for the Budweiser or Heineken beer lovers Venezuela has an interesting selection to offer. Polar beer is the most-drunk brew, with a variety of tastes. Very popular are the light varieties and those called "ice", revealing the need to drink them ice- and icecold to kill an absent taste. Personally I steer clear of them because despite their "light" denotation, they can easily bomb you out of your skulls, as the many drunks on the Caracas streets will no doubt certify.
Drinking and driving are bad companions, but you´ll find enough Venezuelans on the road swagging a telltale blue or green bottle and doing their best to drive over your car if they could. Friday nights are beer nights, so watch out when you´re driving.
When you want to know where common Venezuelans spend their Friday and Saturday nights, follow the trail of empty blue and green beer bottles. Lack of disco´s and payable nightclubs has driven the common people to spend their social activities outdoors, standing around a car with its speakers belting out salsa, Colombian vallenato or reggeaton, and organize a party there and then. Parking lots are favorite among the revellers, so if you are so lucky as me to live in a residential compound with ample parking space, stuff your ears with cotton if you want to have a good night´s sleep. Sadly, residents who dare to tell the night revellers to set the music volume from 84 back to 6 have often enough been met with threats and even a drawn weapon. So party poopers like me try to sleep through the throbbing reggaeton, or plan to move to quieter places.
Then we have the posh and fancy people who go out to real places to see and be seen. There are expensive nightclubs in Las Mercedes, Los Palos Grandes or the dancings in the San Ignacio commercial centre, for example. You will find the rich and famous there, and single gentlemen among you readers will encounter a dazzling amount of Miss Venezuela´s. Watch out for unhappy married women however. The Venezuelan male is fierily jealous and won´t be nice to you as you would be to his wife.
And then we have the big shopping malls or centros comerciales. At the commercial centres like Sambil, El Tolón, San Ignacio or El Recreo, besides dancing you can go to the cinema or shopping, two other favorite pastimes. For the quick meals there is a big quantity of the well-known fast food establishments as well as sushi, chinese, Italian, Lebanese, Spanish and Venezuelan quick meal restaurants.
As a resident I strongly recommend NOT to frequent the bars with "hípico" found downtown. Don´t get fooled by the sign "ambiente familiar", because that´s not where you´d like to see your family - that is, if you love them. For those with adventurous spirits, try them, but try to go home not after 10 PM. It´s not the bars that are the trouble - it´s what might happen outside them.
Getting a taxi at night - first try to find own transportation, that is safer. If not, then take a cab outside one of the shopping centers with the center´s logo put clearly on the car. True taxis have yellow numberplates while the moonshining ones are plain cars with a TAXI sign on them. Those are not necessarily risky, but just try to stay on the safe side.
Buenas noches, and have fun!
Saturday, November 29, 2008
A City That Never Sleeps
Welcome to Caracas. A city that never sleeps. A poor city, a slum city, a Hummer city, a country club city - choose, name whatever you like.
I for myself am not the country club type. Although I could be. After all, I spent part of my youth diving in those pools. Let me tell you - as a diplomat son, I find the country club life boring. Dull. So here I am, living in a mixed neighborhood, in a compound with an interesting vista of slum cities and the Caracas Twin Towers - the Parque Central - familiar to everybody who has stayed here more than 24 hours.
I will tell you some stories about how to live and survive in Caracas, declared the Crime Capital of Latin America and, according to unkind but true statistics, one of the most unsafe places on the globe to live in. Well, you know how statistics can be. Leon Trotsky, one of the idols of president Chávez, has once tried to slap a German delegation with a mountain of statistics. To which a German delegate, General Hoffmann, responded: "You can prove anything you like with statistics". There you go, Leon.
As I am sitting here, enjoying writing to you, I am listening to a salsa party outside my apartment. It´s Saturday Night, yesterday was payday, and many Venezuelans sure got a big pack of money, the "utilidades", or a sum equivalent to 30% of your wage multiplied by the months you worked in this year. Ain´t that generous. So, many caraqueños are partying this night, despite the rainy season. Two hopes I do have: 1) that people won´t be killing each other that much this weekend, and 2) they´ll let me have a good sleep.
Politics and regional elections? Chavez won, the opposition won, and for the first time in all those years I live here, I really don´t know whom to believe anymore. The world press is keeping mum about it, and so will I, for now. It´s not wise to comment on the Big Socialist Process of Mr. Chávez. So.... good night for now from Caracas!
I for myself am not the country club type. Although I could be. After all, I spent part of my youth diving in those pools. Let me tell you - as a diplomat son, I find the country club life boring. Dull. So here I am, living in a mixed neighborhood, in a compound with an interesting vista of slum cities and the Caracas Twin Towers - the Parque Central - familiar to everybody who has stayed here more than 24 hours.
I will tell you some stories about how to live and survive in Caracas, declared the Crime Capital of Latin America and, according to unkind but true statistics, one of the most unsafe places on the globe to live in. Well, you know how statistics can be. Leon Trotsky, one of the idols of president Chávez, has once tried to slap a German delegation with a mountain of statistics. To which a German delegate, General Hoffmann, responded: "You can prove anything you like with statistics". There you go, Leon.
As I am sitting here, enjoying writing to you, I am listening to a salsa party outside my apartment. It´s Saturday Night, yesterday was payday, and many Venezuelans sure got a big pack of money, the "utilidades", or a sum equivalent to 30% of your wage multiplied by the months you worked in this year. Ain´t that generous. So, many caraqueños are partying this night, despite the rainy season. Two hopes I do have: 1) that people won´t be killing each other that much this weekend, and 2) they´ll let me have a good sleep.
Politics and regional elections? Chavez won, the opposition won, and for the first time in all those years I live here, I really don´t know whom to believe anymore. The world press is keeping mum about it, and so will I, for now. It´s not wise to comment on the Big Socialist Process of Mr. Chávez. So.... good night for now from Caracas!
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