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Making Friends in the Ghetto: Venezuelan Women Rescue Couriers from Thieves in Caracas Slums By
Barbara Dow My husband and I have taken numerous courier flights from Los Angeles to Asia with never a problem. Always perfect flights and perfect holidays. This past summer we decided that a trip to South America was in order and felt confident enough with our limited Spanish for a 10-day holiday in Venezuela. But when my tummy pack was stolen from around my waist by a team of ghetto kids, we quickly learned that compassion has a language all its own. $50 Each Way
Line Haul Services has a Miami-Caracas courier flight for $100 roundtrip.
To take advantage of the courier flight I flew first, then my husband
Scott flew the next evening. It was the same flight, just different
nights.
We met Blanca, the Miami Line Haul representative, at the designated time and location at Miami International Airport. There were no problems with the courier end of the flight, only a short delay due to poor weather conditions. We both earned 1360 air miles each way on American Airlines. Arriving in Caracas at midnight was a little frightening. As a lone woman traveler I was reluctant to secure a taxi cab for the journey into Caracas, 30 miles away, in the middle of the night. The travel book I consulted suggested not taking a cab from the airport, but a bus called a por puesto. The problem with this advice is that the por puestos quit running at 9 p.m. Shared Cab Ride
I went to the tourist information window, which was open at midnight,
and had a room reserved for me at a hotel recommended in the guide book.
I was terribly uncomfortable with the idea of getting into a broken-down
old car, a.k.a. taxi, by myself with a Venezuelan cab driver. Luckily
I ran into another traveler who was in the same predicament. We managed
to share a cab to Macuto, a town closer to the airport.
Venezuelan currency is bol¡vares, symbolically written as "Bs". The exchange rate was about Bs170 to the American dollar. The cab ride to Macuto was Bs2000. That worked out to just under 12 dollars, a little costly, but it was midnight and I was fortunate to halve the cost with another passenger. The quaint little hotel where I stayed in Macuto only charged Bs2000 (US$11.70), but there was no air conditioning, which I determined rather quickly was a necessity. I was up the next morning to find a hotel with air conditioning and an international phone to call Scott to advise him on the taxi, hotel and entry information. I located the Hotel Diana on the beach, which charged Bs2500 ($14.70) for a pleasant room with air conditioning. The hotel owner was really helpful. The international phone I needed was not at Hotel Diana but at the Sheraton, so I made my way there. International Calling
International phone calling in Venezuela requires some patience. You
have to find an international phone (most pay phone are only for local
or national calls) and then buy a phone card so you can get a dial tone.
Then you have to use a long distance company like M.C.I. or A.T. &T.
(whoever you're signed up with) and dial their access code for the U.S.A.
After I located the international phone, borrowed a phone card and accessed the M.C.I. operator, I was connected to the U.S.A. This entire process took a quick two hours! Scott arrived at Hotel Diana that evening at approximately 11 p.m. The next day we were off to Caracas to see the city and decide on what to do and where to go for the next week of our holiday. We instantly realized that Venezuela has many travel destinations a short hop away by air. We narrowed down our choices to: We had just spent a glorious week on the beach in Fort Lauderdale, so we determined that the Andes would be a pleasant way to cool off during the hot summer. Bus to M‚rida
Our flights to Venezuela were only $100 each, so why would we spend
$120 to fly 400 miles to M‚rida? We located the express bus terminal
and took a bus, Greyhound type, to M‚rida.
The nine hour bus ride took thirteen hours. We left Caracas at 7:15 p.m. and arrived in M‚rida at 9 a.m. the following morning. The time element of this journey doesn't sound too bad, but the actual trip was an adventure. The road, the driving, the cramped conditions and one flat tire made the grueling journey a one-time experience. M‚rida was wonderful! Both Scott and I had different ideas about how the Andes would look. To sum up; they are breathtaking. In M‚rida, we stayed five nights at the Valley Grande Hotel for Bs3305 (US$19) per night. The food was fantastic, not only at the hotel, but throughout the entire valley. The main dishes were very reasonable, between Bs1000-2500 (US$5-15). We were able to try many local dishes without worrying about wasting money if it wasn't agreeable to the palette. The surrounding restaurants were abundant and cheaper than the hotel. The local specialty was pastels de trucha, carne, or queso (pastries of trout, beef, or cheese). These pastries were very popular, usually selling out by noon at our favorite spot, which was the hangout of every Venezuelan in the valley. Other appetizing local foods included the pan con ajo (bread with garlic), the jugo fresca (fresh squeezed juice) and robust coffee. All are inexpensive and provide a simple, savory and memorable taste of Venezuela. Our glorious, cool visit in the dynamic Andes came to a close when we boarded the Avensa flight for our return to Caracas. When we landed in Caracas it was hot and humid. We decided to walk across the parking lot to catch a por puesto. We felt we knew precisely where we were going when we left the Caracas airport, having already been there once. We were planning to take a por puesto to Macuto. The air was wet and sticky as we made our way across the airport parking lot and crossed the dangerous highway where we were set to catch the oncoming por puesto to Macuto. Ghetto Thieves
Suddenly a young boy, 12 years old or so, ran up to me and ripped off
my tummy pack, yanking the leather pouch right off my stomach. I screamed
and Scott ran after the kid. We both had on our backpacks. I ran after
Scott who was running after the boy. The boy passed my bag to one teenager,
then another who ran up into the hillside of mud homes.
Scott followed the boy with the bag. I ran after the first kid, who threw a big rock at me and knocked me to the ground. Scott was gone, the tummy pack was gone, and I was scared. This hillside community was the worst ghetto possible and I lay on the ground scared to death. Some women were up in their home watching the event unfold from their window, but they were apprehensive about getting involved. They glanced about to make sure that no one saw them talking to me. Then, speaking in Spanish, they told me to come up to their house. I tried to reach their house, but it was situated in a maze of dirt and debris. I made it part way to their apartment with the help of one of their children. I was desperate to find my husband who had good deeper in to the ghetto. These women wanted me to wait with them, but I wanted to find Scott. Another lady came up to me who must have seen the theft. She wanted me to go with her to find my bag and husband so I followed her. We went up one of the many paths and found Scott. He lost the boys when they ganged up and started throwing bricks at him. Women there were warning him not to go further up into the hillside ghetto as he might end up muerto -- dead. Passport Missing
Suddenly I realized that my passport, immigration visas, airline tickets,
credit cards and cash were in that tummy pack. Oh no! I was to leave
Venezuela the next morning on the courier flight and I had no passport
and no money!
Scott and I continued to stand with the growing group of women and children who gathered around us in curiosity. The women finally figured out that we didn't understand much Spanish and that the hoodlums took all our money and my travel documents. Both Scott and I kept saying that the robbers could keep the dinero (money) _ but we needed the pasaporte (passport). I was upset but not crying _ yet. Another lady with a couple of children came up and heard our story. She wore rainbow-colored pants and told us to wait a few minutes while she ran up the hill. We waited, trying to decide what to do. We explained to the group of women that we lost all our money. And bless the hearts of these poor women, because they each offered to give us Bs20 so we could take the bus to town. Bs20 is a lot of money to these people and they were willing to give it to us. We were really touched by this thoughtful gesture, but declined. Both Scott and I had a few hundred Bs in our pants pockets. We didn't even have $10 between us, but we had a lot more than these women had. Documents Missing
Still scared, shaking, and wondering what to do we waited for the lady
in the rainbow pants to return. The ladies from the apartment who held
my pack came down with water for Scott and me. Then suddenly, over the
top of the mud hill, came those rainbow pants. I was so thrilled to
see my pouch in her hand. I didn't have a clue what was left in the
bag, I was just thrilled to see it. We don't know where the woman went
to get the bag, but she brought it down out of the hillside community.
My passport, credit cards, airline tickets, emergency travelers' checks and papers were all in the bag. The juvenile delinquents got our Bs, American dollars, my lipstick, my scuba diving card, my address book, my eel skin wallet and a gold ring I bought earlier that week in Macuto. We lost about $140 total, but I had all my travel documents. Scott and I were so very thankful to the lady in the rainbow pants and the women who tried to help us. At this point the police arrived on the scene. They, of course, were of no help. I was crying and shaking so badly that I barely remembered that the police were trying to comprehend what had happened. We desperately wanted to acknowledge the woman in the rainbow pants, but we had nothing to offer as thanks. All our money was gone. I then reached into my backpack and pulled out three of my dress shirts to give to the woman who recovered my bag. She didn't want to accept the shirts at first, but then accepted the gift. She and I were both crying at this point. Safety in Macuto
The first woman who helped me look for Scott took us into Macuto to
escort us to a very "safe" hotel. Thankfully, Scott had some money _
U.S. dollars and Bs _ and his credit card. We stayed at Hotel Santiago
in Macuto for Bs5500 per night ($32). It was a bit expensive, but we
were so shaken up that we didn't care. I wanted to thank, Antonita,
the first lady who came to our aid and brought us into Macuto. I had
no money to give her, so I reached into my backpack and gave her my
beautiful, never worn, linen summer dress. Of course she didn't want
to accept it, but I insisted. We exchanged names and addresses and then
she was off on her way home.
Scott
and I then started to recount the whole incident. What could we have
done differently? How could we have prevented this horrible incident?
We decided that the ever-so-popular tummy packs were our down fall.
Next trip we will do the following: The whole scary episode left us shaken and $140 poorer, but we still had our credit cards, passports, airline tickets and our lives. We learned a valuable lesson. After an entire evening enjoying the cool breeze on the hotel roof patio, we resolved to be more alert and continue traveling courier style. Return Courier Home
My trip was at an end. I was to meet the Line Haul representative at
the airport at 6 a.m. at the United Airlines counter. Scott came to
the airport with me since I was still a little shaken from the excitement
of the previous day. The taxi driver from the hotel took us to the airport
and he waited for Scott for a half hour to take him back to the hotel.
As it turned out we should have met the Line Haul woman at 5 a.m. at
American Airlines _ not United. She wasn't very happy, but I explained
that the women at her office told me 6 a.m. at United. She forgave me.
Scott made proper arrangements for his meeting with her in two days.
I went through passport control and prepared to board the plane.
Venezuela was extraordinary! The countryside and the people were wonderful. We know that every city and country has their share of criminals. So its incredibly comforting to find a small community of individuals _ tucked away in the ghetto _ who band together to help two tourists who've been accosted. We can never thank all the women who helped us, but we will always remember them. And we hope that good fortune shines on them in payment for their kind deeds. |
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