Breakfast a few days later after our first night at the Hilton on Curaçao in The Netherlands Antilles
If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine. It’s lethal.
– Paulo Coelho
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When I was 25 and teaching in the Dominican Republic, I had seven English speaking students in my class.The fenced enclave where I lived had some lovely amenities like a fancy club with terazzo floors and good food, a swimming pool, tennis courts, bridge tourneys and other events.
On the other hand however, though the dictator, Trujillo, was no longer in power, there still was a certain amount of disruption and uncertainty regarding foreigners’ safety at times. Thus, I was not allowed to leave the enclave without a male escort. And I had to rely on others for transportation.
When vacation times approached, I couldn’t wait to leave the country. I planned a vacation to Venezuela and invited another woman to join me. It was the ‘70s and I did the best research I could without internet or social media. My income in my overseas teaching positions was always less than what I made in the US – which was meager enough – so I was looking for inexpensive accommodations. Somehow I came upon an ITT (International Telephone and Telegraph) travel guide. I found a hotel for us and made a reservation. Given that the guide came from a well-known global company, I assumed it would be reputable.
When we arrived at the airport in Caracas, we negotiated a fee with a taxi driver and I gave him the address for the hotel. He seemed wary but agreed to take us there. We travelled some distance away from the center of Caracas. It was dark. When we reached the ‘hotel’ the driver hesitated. Then, in broken English, he said, “I don’t really think you want to stay here.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because it’s an illegal brothel.”
“What???”
“Sometimes brothels will have two or three legitimate hotel rooms as a front for their main business. Trust me. You do not want to stay here! If there’s a police raid, you will be arrested and put in jail right along with everyone else.”
In that moment, with a certain kind of shaky breathlessness, I noticed and felt the enormity of my innocence. “So what do we do now?” I asked.
“I’ll drive you back to the city if you like – at no extra charge.”
I conferred with my friend and we agreed. “Please take us to the Hilton.”
That trip to Venezuela was one of my first adventures – but definitely not my last – where I encountered and learned to watch for and respect potential danger.
The main thing I followed religiously from then on was that if I was entering a country where I had never been before and where I knew nobody, I would spend the first night in a Hilton or Intercontinental or other internationally recognized chain hotel. Safe harbors. Then, the next day I could pound the streets to find a trusted place to stay that better fit my budget. It was a good and powerful learning that served me well over and over.
The taxi driver was a gem. What a kind soul! We were fortunate to have had our chance encounter with him. His honesty, concern, and generosity stays with me more than 50 years later. It was a simple one-time yet deeply significant meeting. In gratitude, we tipped him well despite our limited financial resources. He rejected our tip at first but we were able to convince him of how important he had been for us. Then he graciously accepted.
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Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by
the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.
So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor.
Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
– Mark Twain