It is time I write about my last Saturday in Caracas. S and I decided to take the cable car up El Avila, at the peak of which is a tourist station with a view of the sea and the city. It threatened to rain all day but the fog was not too bad and the views of the city travelling up the mountain were indeed spectacular: Caracas looks white and clean from a distance.
S took up talking with a cute Ecuadorian computer professional on the cable car and she invited him to spend the afternoon with us. We took him ice-skating - his first time - at the tiny indoor rink at the top of the mountain. Also at the mountain peak is a famous, very '70s, retro hotel and many neat and tidy kiosks, gleaming with stacked and ordered goods inside. It is little non-Venezuela up in the heights of Caracas. From a kiosk, Luis, the Ecuadorian, and I bought cachapas con queso and chichas. Louis had never had either before and he seemed to like the corn pancakes and rice drink as much as I do.
My ice-cream float has come. It looks beautiful - a thick glass of Coke with a scoop of ice-cream perched on top, shoved next to a squirt of whipped cream with a cherry on top.
Ice-skating was difficult for all of us in ill-fitting skates and attacking a very scraped rink, so 20 minutes was more than enough time for a round. Louis clung to the side of the rink, not really getting the hang of it until S told him to tighten his skates. One needs those ankles supported. I tried to show off my skating abilities but I my ankles kept turning out and I didn't skate very well.
I am reading Other Voices, Other Rooms. It is such a sad book, the world so different than today's - today's people, today's children, today's writers, today's books. This makes it hard for me to believe it.
But I should go. I haven't been sleeping so well.
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