Today I ventured way
beyond the gates of Disneyland, or about 6 Metro stops beyond where
I've gone before. Downtown Caracas, restored under Chavez and cleared
of the chaos of multitudes of street vendors, has some beautiful old
buildings, including the St. Theresa church, the Court of Justice,
the Parliament Buildings and Bolivar's house (now a small museum).
Bolivar is the Libertador, a military and political leader of great
significance in Venezuela and the man who led the country (and
others, then part of Gran Colombia) to independence in 1812. A
statue of him on horseback dominates the Plaza Bolivar. It's a pity
they can't get rid of that pigeon that sits on his head. This was
the place where a very enthusiastic member of the army battalion
charged with protecting the country's heritage wanted to practice his
English. His boss had told him not to fraternise with the visitors
(i.e. people like me) and only to speak if spoken to. He disagreed.
Furthermore, he insisted I speak to his boss and ask that he be
allowed to act as tour guide to Simon Bolivar's house. The boss was
none too impressed. Disciplinary charges could follow!
Across the plaza, a
socialist cafe served excellent (and cheap) coffee and cakes.
Overstaffing and talking among themselves marked 21st
century socialism's customer service policy. But it came without the
sense of intimidation and downright rudeness that typified 20th
century East European communist style customer service. A man at the
next table, wearing the trademark red polo shirt of government
supporters (and employees), hearing us speak English, struck up a
conversation in which he shared his socialist philosophies and
knowledge of the history of the Irish who fought in Venezuela and
Mexico's wars of independence. The Irish do love a good revolution,
I assured him! What could I say when he highlighted that an Irish
man also supported Hitler? There's always one bastard who lets the
side down.
The gangs of street
cleaners, clad in their red polo shirts add a sense of order and
civic pride. This was much in evidence when a newspaper vendor
(socialist papers of course) proudly pointed us in the direction of a
public toilet, which was, he said, 'very clean'. And so it was. The
man at the entrance handed over a generous strip of toilet paper and
pointed out which cubicle I should use. He refused any kind of
payment for the service. All of this is a remarkable turn around for
a city centre that ten years ago was dilapidated, insecure and
chaotic. Apparently public sector workers are given a free uniform
(coloured red). While not compulsory attire, a central district
hiving with red clad citizens has the psychological effect of making
it seem like everyone in the capital is a Chavista!
Which they are not.
Later in the afternoon, I was assured the rejuvenation of Caracas
doesn't extend more than 2 blocks, north, south, east or west of
downtown. Makes me think maybe I simply went from Disneyland to
Universal Studios!!
22nd
September 2011, Caracas
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