Corrupt Venezuelan Police, a.k.a. My First Ride on a Motorcycle, a.k.a Bienvenido a Caracas

Caracas, Vargas, Venezuela

Last night I arrived at 11:30pm in Aeropuerto Maiquetia, a few dozen kilometres away from Caracas. I was interested in exchanging money a fuera in the airport, but feared I would not find anyone who wanted to change dollars for bolivares. Stupid me. The first security guard I saw upon my exit from the secure zone in the airport took me aside and promptly swapped me a few hundred bolivares fuertes (Venezuela's new currency since January) for my American cash. Not the greatest rate, but it was OK, I had cash. Then, the (apparent) friend of the money changer/security guard offered me his taxi services. Much obliged, I took him up on the offer, making one crucial mistake, not agreeing on a price before embarking on the trip.

After passing an ambulance with his lights on at 140km/h uphill I arrived at a hotel in Sabana Grande, Hotel Alse. I paid my surprisingly high fee and entered my room where baby cockroaches scurried away. It was clear that I was one of the few hotel customers who had not taken the hourly rate.

The next morning (today) I woke up and went to eat breakfast on the Plaza Venezuela in Sabana Grande. I had a decent breakfast on the plaza, declined an offer to exchange Bolivares for dolares from the waiters, and took a slightly different route back to the hotel. I was wearing a brown collared shirt and pants. No backpack, camera, fanny pack, whatever, to be seen.

I was passing a fruit stand when two men yelled to me to stop. They got down off their blue motorcycle and proceeded to flash me their ID's and ask for my passport. One of the men was uniformed, the other not. I was sceptic so I said in my rusty Spanish, "Why are you not in uniform and why the fuck are you stopping me?"

We went to a security kiosk on Sabana Grande and a man with a rather large gun confirmed that these two dodgy fuckers were indeed cops. I proceeded to empty my pockets onto the table provided. There were all to pleased to inspect my documents (read: US dollars) and note my possession of a room key to a nearby hotel.

So I was instructed to hop on the motorcycle and told that we would ride to my hotel. I was sandwiched between the two of them, riding along the sidewalk. Then, we turned left towards my hotel. One issue: the road was 5 or 6 lanes and was one direction (the opposite direction of ours) only. No problem for these guys, we dodged cars and pedestrians riding the wrong way up this road in central Caracas until we arrived safely at my dodgy hotel.

I then declared my utter opposition and surprise at this "random" inspection. They explained to me that it was regular and frequent in Venezuela. To prove their point, they demanded a nearby Venezuelan to produce his identity card, which he did. Then, the four of us, passerby included, went up to my room where the police proceeded to take everything out of my backpack and strew it about the bed. I soon realized, after their repeated naming of my books and clothes (and even maple syrup candy) as "cocaína and marijuana", that they would certainly not fuck off without some kind of prize. ¿Que quieren? Dolares. Claro. They asked for $50, but after negotiations, left with US$10 and smiles on their faces. Bastards.

I texted Frane, the guy I met from CouchSurfing, asking if we could meet up quickly after that. He arrived shortly after and gave me a beer to calm me down! He's a really nice guy who is on the same level as I am and has just returned from a long trip through Europe. This afternoon we went to El Hatillo and then, this evening, to Altamira with his friends. It was an excellent time and I can now say that even with the corrupt police, I am very happy to be here in Venezuela. Que fino.