Fresh Oil Money Pumps Up Caracas...And A Sleepy Town Stirs, TooJane Knight
Glance at the forest of placards greeting travelers in the arrivals hall at Simon Bolivar International Airport, and you might think you had taken the wrong flight--to Houston. "Mobil," "Amoco," "Texaco"--the list goes on, with each sign attracting clusters of men in suits. Outside, swank black cars wait to take their charges to the marble offices of oildom.
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