VENEZUELA WELCOMES ME
If you land at the airport in Caracas, you will have a feeling that you traveled back in time. Imagine a convenience store from the communist era in Bulgaria; that’s the picture I saw. The only difference was that when I looked out the window I saw planes taking off. It was a unique feeling, completely outside my comfort zone, far far away from relatives and friends.
I alone… and the telescope. I was immediately taken to a room to be interrogated about “this thing” in my suitcase and where I got it from. Since I had no receipt to show, I had to pay an import tax and was quickly released. After all, I had another flight to catch – the one to Margarita Island, I had no time to waste. I proceeded to check-in, my luggage got weighed and placed on the baggage belt, which to my surprise stood motionless. It simply served as a track for the employees to drag the suitcases along. The employee at the desk handed me a note and signed at me to get lost so she can assist the next passenger. I asked for my boarding pass but in response, she said I had it in my hand. Then a gringo walking on the luggage belt approached me, grabbed my suitcases, and dragged them down the track. The flight was short, just under an hour. Enough time to make an assumption and come to the conclusion that the pilots were drunk and were completely unsure of which direction to go. Fortunately, we landed unharmed at dawn. The air was warm, humid, and unfamiliar. It was also loaded with mystery and secrecy, filling me with joy and excitement, which gave chills to my entire body and numbed my mind completely.
I had a reservation at a guesthouse and all I knew was its name. I also knew that it was a twenty-minute drive from the airport. Right away I jumped into a taxi, which by the way was made long before me and reeked of burnt low-octane petrol. The driver was a mid-age Venezuelan who boasted a handsome mustache and who was also addicted to salsa. We drove off immediately.
Here I was sitting on the back seat of this bizarre car, listening to the sounds of Latin music and enjoying the view of rows of swaying palms along the road with the sunset in the background. Then, for the first time, I felt the true essence of being free. Free of job, bills and responsibilities, expectations and affectations. There was no past, no future. The question, “Who am I?”, was answered by a momentary decision affected by my mood.
I was being expected at the guesthouse. I was shown to my room and told to turn on my AC and exit right after. That was necessary because the temperature in the room had reached dangerously high numbers. The roof was a flat slab made of concrete, which allowed the hot sun to turn my room into a furnace. The house had a pool with a bar, so I went to grab me a beer while the room was cooling down. Two things I realized that night, one – my Spanish was really entertaining to everyone, and two – no one had ever heard of Bulgaria.