...to finally resolving that housing issue!

This post has been about a week coming.  Apart from the crazy financial issues that make Venezuela oh-so-interesante, my biggest other concern coming in was definitely housing.  Things didn't look so hot when I arrived.  Even the wonderful folks at the embassy were a tad bit nervous, and I spent a solid afternoon during orientation discussing housing options and weighing safety with the cheapness of just living in a box in the park.  In spite of everyone - CVA, the embassy, my few contacts in VZ - pulling out the stops to come up with any patch of floor I could sleep on, things still looked less-than-encouraging.

I spent mornings at the hotel (during orientation) perusing the latest classified ads in El Universal.  Remember the classified section?  It's like Craig's List before Craig's List existed.  Potentially sketchy to be making calls based on ad in the paper?  Yeah.  Did that stop me?  No.  Actually, I can be this brave in retrospect because I had wonderful and knowledgeable Caracas locals to visit the places with me and make calls on my behalf.  Dreams of getting an apartment were quickly downsized to looking for a comfortable room in a part of the city where I could walk around mas o menos safely.

In one of those ever-appearing "Welcome to Venezuela" moments (the lovable catchphrase that is uttered, either in Spanish or English, every time something goes wrong, falls apart, etc), it was nigh impossible to find a perfect place.  Either the place was great but the location was sketch, or vice versa.  There was one notable visit with a 5' elderly lady, we ETAs lovingly nicknamed (Abuela Loca - Crazy Granny).  Picture this tiny, chain smoking, rum-chugging, big-shade wearing, shorts-sporting, big-black-crosstrainers-wearing, fan of George W. Bush.  She loved Bush.  She named one of her three cats after Bush (one of the other ones was called Gorda - 'Fat' - because she was fat).  She had this badass Billabong cap she wore with style. Seriously, Abuela Loca and I totally hit it off and she lived in a FANTASTIC part of town; only the house itself stopped me from moving (it was a little TOO old).  It is my secret wish to start hanging out with her, maybe catch a movie or something. 

Just as I was about to despair entirely, we visited another place, in a part of town called Chacao, considered one of the safest and nicest neighborhoods in Caracas (it's governed by the opposition and has a solid and reliable police force).  There I met Damaris and her lovely sister and 8-year-old daughter.  I've got a cozy little room in the back of an apartment with a gorgeous view of the city.  I moved in on Friday and have loved it so far.  I get to walk to and from work (much to the shock of many) and am less than a block from the metro.  No complaints here, and what a relief to be settled at last!

The view from the balcony of my new home!