Wednesday 11th October. Caracas, Venezuela.

I never realised how difficult this travel gig could be.

You have this image of freedom, of being able to set your own agenda. No boss, no employment demands, no restrictions. Whilst I appreciated that these facts would not be the reality for me as I am constrained by the demands of the project; I had not allowed for the general demands of travel.

If you are not up in time for breakfast, you have missed it. Each day is a new adventure yes. Travel is about seeing things you will never see again, discovering things you will never get to discover again; but it is NOT relaxing.

In wind-swept Britain, in the dark of winter we all dream of escape. The weird thing is that I am living that dream and yes there are many positives. However it is a remarkably lonely road to walk by oneself.

When I think of John Betjeman

Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough...Mess up the mess they call a town.

I hark now for such a town. For the normality I know. This year, I know is to be one of experiences and new horizons, it is also one where the greatest lesson I am learning is that you never know what you've got until it has gone.

The greatest epiphany thus far has been the realisation of just how much I love teaching and how desperate I am to get back into a school. I cannot wait to be back in school next week!

To quote that great modern day philosopher Morrissey. Everyday is like Sunday, but trust me unlike the forlorn teenage girl of this song I appreciate just how rich and varied my life was in that seaside town that they forgot to pull down.

Such navel gazing sets me up well for a day of culture that begins my museum explorations in Caracas.

This morning it is back to the bank for the daily allowance of bolivares that they will allow me to withdraw. Yesterday, my allowance was barely enough to pay for the taxis and entrance into the Teleférico.

As such I spent last night like a bird in a gilded cage. I would like to have eaten, but I had no cash available for the taxis to and from local restaurants and to eat at this hotel I would need to get a second mortgage. I spent the time fueling up on canapes...God I could use a good meal.

I am heading off to the bank to try and cut a deal to double my allowance today and then I can eat a full meal. If not i'll try my luck at Wendy's again.

Each time I leave the hotel in one of these jeeps, it feels like I am part of a presidential motorcade. The Plaza de Los Museos is a concrete plaza populated by bums, stray dogs and the unfortunate homeless.

I am directed to my main destination the Museo de Arte Contemporáneo, which has a reputation as one of the best contemporary art museums in South America. However, I get a little lost and decide to ask further directions when I have passed the splendid concrete monolith that is the Complejo Cultural Teresa Carreño. This performing arts centre is named after Venezuela´s most famous pianist.

Anyway, I digress.

Trying my luck with the local police, and I am very lucky to find a fluent English speaker; I am sent up and over one of those concrete flyovers I would never even cross at home. So I head off up urine flooded stairs and across the road for the short walk to the Museum.

Sadly, the building is currently undergoing renovation and so I will not be exposed to the collection that includes works by Chagall and Picasso.

However the museum is hosting a current exhibit entitled Vasoscomunicantes II Series.

The first exhibition entitled Juegos de la Mirada is the work of Gabriela Morawetz, an installation artist. The show contains both light and video shows. It is psychedelic and could not have a better setting than this concrete Palace. It is a surreal experience.

I am so happy to be here. As a writer I could spend my life in galleries and museums contemplating the human condition.

I love the way this museum is underground. Particularly stimulating are the 13 pieces that make up Los ojos DEL TIEMPO 2006, which seems to me symbolic of the struggle we all face to blend originality and freedom with conformity, and dare I say it, normality.

There is a similar theme in LE VÉRTIGE EST AU FOND a 2004, a triptic evoking the conditioned mask with which we all see the world.

It gets really psychedelic in the Magdalena Fernández exhibit Superficies.

The eerie sounds in the dark setting, the futuristic light and the concrete structure speak to me of a utopian future as our saviour.

It is fitting that I view this exhibition in Venezuela where the left-wing government proport to the utopian ideals of socialism.

The Columbians could export this exhibit and there would be no need for drugs (mind you I would not recommend being in here if you were epileptic).

I am heading off to spend the rest of my day at the Galería de Arte Nacional which is celebrating its 30th anniversary this year. The gallery houses around 7,000 treasures and it is a true celebration of Venezuelan and Latin American Art.

The gallery is home to a stunning collection and my first viewings are of contemporary pieces.

Talking earlier of futuristic art work you must see Julio Pacheco Rivas´ Compendium (Homenaje a llia) - políptico de 5 piezas - 1998. I also love Félix Perdomo's Puente de Brooklyn (1991). Another favourite was Sans Histoire, 1997-1998 Lámina de vidrio, elástico negro, plomo, creyón y grafito sobre lino y aceitera de metal by Pedro Tagliafico; it reminded me of my childhood and all those wonderful technical drawings of Mr Wood.

I was not struck by the religious art; but then nothing in this vein can touch El Greco.

Whilst I loved the cubist style of Pancho Quilici's De las partes l - tríptico -, 1982 Acrílico, tinta y grafito sobre papel entelado (with figures in the bottom left hand corner evokative of Da Vinci´s sketches); I am sorry to say that Óscar Pellegrino´s Maletín, 1986 is dreadful. I am no artist and my school work was better!

Indeed, my three-year-old cousin Catriona drew me a better picture when I was home in Scotland recovering last month.

I like the idea of the all-seeing eye in José Antonio Hernández-Diez In God We Trust 1, 1991 video installation...talk about making a political statement.

Another work that stood out was José Antonio Quintero's Vista del Ávila desde la avenida Sucre hacia la Cota Mil, 1977 which had more than a touch of Vincent about it - lets say, cloudy, cloudy day!

They do slip in some foreign works, but I can forgive them when you see such stunning pieces as Felipe Herrera´s El hombre, 1992 which I would buy, in my dreams, and hang alongside Luisa Palacios, Los boxeadores, 1960 from the collection.

The museum covers almost all the genres. I particularly enjoyed my walk through the GEGO Gertrud Goldschmidt Reticulárea - ambientación -, 1969-1981 installation.

I am finding the Galería de Arte Nacional an unexpected treasure. However the Abstracción Geométrica hall is all too much. There are some nice pieces but they need space if they are to speak to us.

The historic paintings gallery gives you a sense of the historical wealth of this continent and the money that must have been accumulated by the Spanish and Portuguese conquerors. You really get a good sense of Venezuela´s past and present at this museum, and I even got confirmation that the building I assumed to be the Casa De Gobierno in the Plaza Bolívar is indeed the said building. Confirmation comes from a painting of The Siege, April 26 1870 in which the Plaza is fully open and you are aware of a very different Venezuela.

On leaving the museum I head to the nearby Caracas Hilton, as I know that I am likely to get a safe cab from here. I head off infact in a hotel car aiming for what my guidebook claims to be the best meat restaurant in town.

My driver, De Silva, is originally from Trinidad, although he has lived in Caracas for over 50 years. It is fascinating to get different perspectives on the city in particular and South America in general.

De Silva blames the current government for not dealing with the lawlessness. He advises me never to go out at night in Caracas and tells me that robbers here often will kill the victim in order not to be identified later, Dead men can't talk!

He is well travelled and points out that the South American mentality is very different to that in Europe or even North America. He believes that South Americans have a different mindset as they have been raised on different laws of the jungle.

Although he blames the current government for not seizing the initiative on crime, he also conceeds that the current generation have known nothing but this violent life and that poverty (unemployment is high in Venezuela) makes animals of people.

We are in the upscale La Castellana neighbourhood. I got money from the bank and so I can eat. De Silva has suggested a different restaurant that he claims locals believe to be the best for meat dishes...I will be guided.

Caracas is an odd city in that it is the East and not the West that is upscale, more modern and desirable.

Lee Hamilton´s was founded in 1958. This is obviously where the wealthy dine. I am surrounded by businessmen and elegant couples. The restaurant is large and seems to be very successful, with an elegant cocktail bar and black-tied waiters to cater to your every need. The garlic bread proves to be exceptional; shame though about the service...and that meat...here I am with the North American´s...oh for some ketchup!

Getting a taxi proves a challenge.

One thing I have noticed all over South America are the street hawkers walking between the cars selling everything and anything. I just can´t imagine that you think to yourself, oh I need a brush when you are sitting in a traffic jam?

I also love watching the cars. The most wonderful concoction passes by held together by what looks like polyfilla.

Well I have had a great day, roll on tomorrow.