Saturday, May 23, 5.00pm, S's livingroom ....this couchsurfing thing

I have been playing tickle and growl with A, S's daughter. It is great to hear a child laugh. I remember how much I loved being tickled when I was a kid. Now I find it scary - I am insanely ticklish.

Yesterday was a big day. I made my way to the botanic gardens with S's written instructions: a bus to the metro, then a transfer, then a walk through the university. However, she misremembered the correct line to Ciudad Universidad and I spent a good deal of time confusedly looking for the line before I figured out I was trying to find the wrong one. By the time I got to the gardens I only had about an hour and half to spare before having to head back to meet S and A.

I was starving by the time I left the garden, running late and anxiously hurrying back to Belles Artes - and it turned out I had half an hour to wait for S and A because my clock was off. Good thing she called me when she was leaving work...

So I decided to experiment with purchasing food and drink in Caracas. I walked into one panaderia (bakery) with a self-service sign and a change (caja) register but couldn't figure out whether I order first at the counter or pay first at the register, so walked out to find a place with a more straightforward shop and pay system. I ended up with a Coke Zero from a street vendor.

While waiting in the Metro station for S and A I saw there was an art exhibit showing photographs of ballet dancers, but I couldn't figure out how to get into the gallery - the doors seemed to be locked. I sat down on a low hump surrounding the glass gallery walls, reading Auster, but a guard made me get up. I dislike countries that don't believe in benches and don't let you sit on the floor. I began to get into feeling-sorry-for-myself mode, but fought it off with The New York Trilogy, which I kept reading while standing.

When S and I finally found each other we were both muy hambre (very hungry, though I prefer 'starving') so went into an arepa place near the station. We had the most beautiful arepas - grilled cornflour cakes, which taste a lot like polenta, split open and stuffed. Ever since reading Lisa St Aubin de Teran's memoir, The Hacienda, of her years living as the doña of a Venezuelan estate, which I read before leaving for my South American adventure, I have wanted to try arepas. She wrote about learning to make this national staple that all Venezuelan women are supposed to know how to make perfectly. My arepa was stuffed with mayonnaise-covered quail eggs and a square of fresh mozzarella-like cheese and was delicious. S and I shared the avocado, garlic and chilli sauces served with the arepas, dribbling them over our arepas after every couple of bites. It was heaven after my food-starved morning.