Morning mass was in session, but beat-the-heat attire nixed any plans for entering. Speakers made the service audible from across the street, where I found myself sitting with vagrants, plaza prostitutes, and others unfit for admittance -- irony at its best.

Halfway down Paseo de las Ciencias was another grand church sticking out like a warted beauty mark, with colonial facade blue enough to make hazy skies envious.

La Iglesia de Santa Bárbara was sparred when downtown was razed in 1973 to construct the Paseo. At no point did I ever find the church open, but marveling at the exterior was worth numerous bypassings; this halfway point of the Paseo contrasted the Old and New Testaments.

Directly across was the newly dedicated Plaza de la Chinita, which paid homage to Zulia region's miraculous Virgin and patron saint. Lavish grounds adorned the four-block garden, with statue towers over sculpted walls and benches, works of art, and fountains, leading up to Maracaibo's most impressive work of architecture.

Basilica de Chiquinquirá exemplifies typical Latin American design, with an ornate portico containing three massive entryways rather dwarfed by a pair of campanarios book-ending a highly detailed facade. The church has been on this central plaza since city was founded, but its structure has slowly evolved over the centuries, with future plans that make current findings rather insignificant.

An encased scale model reveals continued development that will more than triple the current Basilica, outdoor gardens, and plaza -- something worth envisioning, but which likely won't transpire within our lifetime. Otherwise, the current interior is worth a quick peek, with its frescoed ceilings and colorful stained-glass windows that magnified the sun's natural illumination. The central worship section pews had trellis-like arches carved the lengths of their backs, unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

Near the altar is a picture of The Virgin, found in 1709 and treasured with stories of miraculous occurrences, but I didn’t make the effort to see it. Having been chased out of a Munich cathedral for not removing a do-rag has cultivated a general rule for exploring churches while traveling: if I wouldn't wear it to a house of worship while home, then I don't disrespect myself and locals by thinking it's appropriate on the road. Sometimes signs are posted at entryways. In conservative Latin American countries, where shorts aren't even worn, regardless of heat factor, there's no second guessing!

A pair of smaller churches are south of the Paseo; Iglesia de San Francisco, also never found open, crowns the plaza leading toward the original marketplace. A statue and spire were all that was visible from Iglesia de San Felipe Neri, obscurely hidden by street vendors and construction corridors. There was mixed response about whether the church was getting renovated or dismantled.