From the outside, the J.W. Marriott in Caracas looks fairly run-of-the-mill: a 17-story tower of exposed brick situated in a once-sizzling, now sleepy, financial district.
But slip inside its cavernous, air-conditioned lobby, and it’s obvious this isn’t just any hotel.
A phalanx of beefy, tattooed and mustachioed Americans, looking as if they were plucked from central casting for a civilian-clad Special Ops unit, mill about the entrance, sizing up those who wander in and refusing to say what they’re doing there.
On the hotel’s terrace, Texas oilmen can be heard discussing potential deals in hushed tones over glasses of whiskey. Listen closely and other conversations come into earshot: New York finance types hashing out the value of defaulted Venezuelan bonds or U.S. diplomats lamenting the quality of the breakfast buffet.
As listening posts go, the Marriot might just be unrivaled for showcasing Venezuela’s shift from a thorn in Washington’s side to something resembling a vassal state after U.S. forces captured and forcibly extracted the country’s former leader in January.
“It’s undoubtedly where the action is,” said Ricardo Cusanno, a Venezuelan businessman who met with several visiting delegations of U.S. investors in the hotel in recent weeks. “The Marriott is the nerve center for Venezuela’s economic and political transformation.”
Partly, that’s because the Marriott’s top floor serves as the de facto headquarters of the U.S. Embassy, making it a beehive of activity for both diplomats and intelligence officials. Dozens of newly-arrived Americans, including the top envoy, John Barrett, have made the hotel their temporary home.
That’s because the colossal U.S. Embassy, located less than two miles away, is undergoing repairs to make it functional after it was vacated in 2019 when Venezuela severed diplomatic ties with the United States.
On the Marriott’s 17th floor, behind stanchions and a sign that reads “Restricted Area Authorized Personnel Only” the State Department has set up its makeshift embassy across multiple suites.
Employees work in close quarters at conference tables and temporary desks. Business executives are invited to meet with Mr. Barrett, the Chargé d’Affaires, in a suite reconfigured as a conference room bedecked with American flags.
For now, the United States presence is largely confined to the Marriott and the surrounding blocks. Even though Caracas is safer than in the past, the State Department advises travelers to take precautions to avoid being the victims of crime.
Embassy staff are restricted from venturing far from the immediate vicinity of the hotel, which effectively means they are trying to decipher a country roughly twice the size of California without being able to circulate widely in its capital.
Outside the Marriott’s entrance, a fleet of white Nissan Patrol SUV’s recently airlifted into Venezuela for the embassy’s use stand at the ready.
Several Americans living in the Marriott, which has 269 rooms, an outdoor pool and a gym, declined to comment on the record because they weren’t authorized to speak with journalists.
Still, some of the Americans agreed to talk as long as they weren’t mentioned by name. Most tried to emphasize the positive aspects of their experiences, like the balcony in a top-floor suite with sweeping views that has become a popular hangout to watch the city’s colorful macaws.
The dozens of U.S. diplomats who have recently touched down in the city are looking to make their stay more permanent, and identifying potential apartments for staff housing.
For now, they are finding shelter in the Marriott, one of the last remaining hotels in Venezuela where guests can earn points in a U.S.-based loyalty program after Venezuela’s nationalized the iconic Caracas Hilton and other hotels in the country.
The Marriott, where rooms go for about $250 a night, seems unprepared for the sudden influx of diplomats, spies and assorted fortune seekers. .
The manager of the Marriott, which is locally owned and operated under an agreement with Marriott International, did not immediately respond to a request for comment.
The elevators are slow and tend to take their time opening on each floor. It can take repeated efforts, punching at the numbers on the button panels, to get the elevators to go up or down.
Guests are regularly locked out of their rooms because the batteries in the digital key readers on the doors stopped working. Breakfast costs about $32 per person for scrambled eggs that are soggy, and yogurt that is — how to put it? — of seemingly questionable provenance.
It’s also not the most exclusive hotel in Caracas; that distinction belongs to the Cayena, a luxury hotel where rooms run about double the Marriott’s rates. Some foreign visitors stay there, even if they end up doing business in the Marriott.
Nor is the Marriott the most conveniently located. Travelers often opt instead for the Renaissance (also operated under a franchise agreement with Marriott International), within walking distance of numerous restaurants, bars, parks and hiking paths.
Such lodging options remain out of reach for the vast majority of Venezuelans who are still waiting for the recent political upheaval to make a difference in their daily lives.
“Until that happens, much of the awaited transformation is being guided from the Marriott,” said Jorge Barragán, a political risk adviser with Orinoco Research, a Caracas political intelligence firm.
Tyler Pager contributed reporting.
