Day one...

Our Air France flight was grounded in Paris for 5 hours; no one wants to land in Venezuela in the middle of the night, due to the "dangerous criminal situation." The airliner is half empty, the passengers, judging by nervous conversations, are only Venezuelans. A taxi driver, while leaving the airport, locks the doors, and sweetly warns that after dark, bandits scatter spikes on the roads and rob the stranded cars. "Oh, don't worry, Amigo, I have an old car. They are not interested in old, cars." That's where you understand why Caracas is ranked first in the ranking of the most dangerous cities in the world. It's too late for supper, but I at least want to exchange my US dollars for Venezuelan bolivars. I ask my cab driver. He violently shakes his head:

"No, no, no. I do not mess with such things, it's illegal!"

"Whatever," I laugh at him.

"Tomorrow, someone will take the dollars, maybe even with my hands torn off." I was wrong…