CARACAS, VENEZUELA 1965 -- The Very Rich and the Very Poor

 Caracas, Venezuela

After taking lots of painkillers, I felt I could accompany Paul into the city.  He had lived in South America for four years when he was a boy when his father worked in Buenos Aires.

Representatives from that company in Caracas were to meet us and show us the sights.  Notice the mountains.  I was a Florida girl.  Little did I know what lay ahead.  We rose early to watch the ship dock.  The impressive mountains seemed to have brown rectangles everywhere.

"What is that all over the mountain?" I asked Paul.  "It looks like a bunch of boxes."

A long pause.

"It IS a bunch of boxes.  Packing boxes for refrigerators, stoves, things like that.  The poor take them out of the garbage of the rich and live in them.  They have nothing." *

"I don't understand.  How can you live in a box?Where do you go to the bathroom and bathe?"

"Here there are only the very wealthy and those who live in poverty.  There is no middle class."

Up until now I had thought that I was poor.  Now I realized I was not.  Remember, I felt too ill to leave the ship in Haiti where naked children begged so I was unprepared.

Two charming gentlemen met us as we left the ship.  They immediately presented me with a huge orchid corsage.  I was overwhelmed.  In the States those orchids would have cost a fortune. I said Muchas Gracias about a hundred times. Although their English was quite good, Paul's Spanish was excellent.  The three men chattered away in Spanish as I tried to adjust my world view.  And I was about to be shocked yet again.  Our gracious hosts were beautifully dressed and had important jobs, but their car was very old and banged up.  Paul and I sat in the back and the gentlemen sat up front and explained that there were no automobile manufacturers in Venezuela at that time so old cars no one in America wanted were shipped to Caracas at great expense and then sold to men like them for a great deal of money.  Then the ancient auto took off at great speed on the narrow mountain roads--guard rails were non-existent--and we climbed higher and higher and I knew I would soon be in Heaven one way of another.  I saw that Paul was silently saying the    Rosary as I gripped his hand in mine.  I prayed we would be at the hotel before I experienced heart failure.  We flew into clouds.                             

                                                       TO BE CONTINUED                                                            

 *I could not find a photo of what was on the mountain in 1965.  The above pictures must reflect more modern times.