After yesterday’s false start, I finally made it to Caracas today, and it’s been very surprising so far.

First, I’d kind of forgotten that the Andes reached all the way up here. Not only were they impressive in their sheer height, but it was absolutely breathtaking to fly over one jungle-covered, cloud-topped lush green mountain after another.

Then I met my escort and he drove me to the hotel. The drive was insane, even by my standards. I noticed only three red lights he went through, but I’m sure it was more. Our car was in okay shape, but some of the ones we passed on the road (often driving on the shoulder) were falling apart in rust, often missing both head and taillights. Even some city buses were in this state.

We drove through more of the hills, but this time they were crowded with shabby, corrugated-iron shacks and enormous trash piles. We weaved through small streets where crusty, sick dogs and cats sniffed around abandoned, stripped cars, and children came up to the stopped cars in traffic to sell anything from chocolate to lottery tickets.

(Anyone still think we have it bad in Canada?)

Then I get to the hotel, which easily rivals the Montreal Ritz in its level of luxury. They’ve been expecting me. A uniformed beauty escorts me to the manager’s office, who asks me to choose between seven different types of pillows. I am then shown my room, which includes a Jacuzzi, eight types of body lotion, fruit, cheeses and breads, truffles, slippers, bathrobes, etc.

I know it’s a huge cliché to point out the difference between haves and have-nots, but clichés are after all based on truth. And sometimes, like today, the truth behind a cliché reaches out and impresses you with the full force of a completely original idea.

Sleep tight in your comfy bed, reader.