My 9 first impressions of USA

I spent Christmas and New Years Eve abroad. In United States to be exact. So that's partly the reason why I haven’t posted in a while. I came back to Caracas just a few days ago; and I’m still adjusting to the routine. In the meantime, this post comes as an unorganized list of my trip’ impressions. The reader must know that this is the first time I go to the US as an adult. Last time I went there I was only 9 and my parents took me to Disney; thus all my attention was given to that Cinderella Castle – not to cultural contrasts. In advance, I don’t have the slightest intention to be offensive to any culture. I have always like to read foreigners impressions’ on Venezuela so I thought it would interesting for you (if you are American, of course) to read the other side of the coin.
With all that being said, I’ll start:

1. First, the welcome. I know inmigration officers are just doing their job but my interview with one of them was just plain weird. He wasn’t completely disrespectful but he wasn’t nice either, and looked at me during the entire interview like I was doing something wrong. I know they deal with difficult cases, illegal inmigrants hard to caught etc. But I’m just a tourist, with all my papers in order, going there for a short visit, willing to spend some money which can’t hurt the country’ economy. He should at least say “Welcome”.

2. Putting that aside, I must say that all Americans were nice. The Customer Service must be rated 10. They have a service culture we should know better in Venezuela. I loved that the phrase “Custumer comes first” was true in every shop, cafe, restaurant I visited. Everyone said hi, everyone was willing to help me find exactly what I was looking for and if I did not find it, they inmediately called another store to check; and explained me carefully how to get there. Most of them were curious about my accent and recommended me places to visit while I was there.

3. As for food, I don’t know how to rate it. On one hand, I quickly became addict of Starbucks’ Frappuchino (the one that comes in a bottle and you find in pharmacies or supermarkets, not the one you buy directly at Starbucks), Crispy Cream Donuts, several ice creams, bagels and a long list of etcs. I was overwelmed by the variety of everything; from milk to cereals. The size of the supermarkets!. I could spend hours in a Wallmart. Really.
But most things tasted... weird. Like heavier- weird. Lettuce doesn’t taste like lettuce. And the same things I eat in Venezuela, felt much heavier and creamy in the USA. I ate a lot less than what I usually eat; and even so, my mom quickly noticed my extra pounds when she welcomed me back home. The food at restaurants was yummy, specially sea food but why in the world everything must have pepper?. Everything: potatos, soup, rice... with pepper!!! – The first three days I loved this pepper touch. After that, not so much.
On our final day, we found a Deli that claims to be “organic”. I quickly learned that “organic” means: “like the food I’m used to eat taste like” –Finally, after two weeks, lettuce tasted like lettuce. Thank God. We searched and there are a lot of “organic” places, from Delis, to restaurants and markets. Trouble is that some things are more expensive than non organic things. But I’m glad that like always, in the USA you have options for everybody.

4....Except for small. Everything was SO big. The food, the beverages... But nothing as big as coffee. USA’ regular coffee is the equivalent of Venezuela’ extra big coffee (that you rarely order). Our small coffee is like 25% the regular Starbucks. It’s crazy. My boyfriend and I ordered one regular Java Starbucks for both and we couldn’t finish it. And everyone around us was drinking Starbucks big size’ presentations with no trouble. Amazing. In a country filled with choices, “small” was rarely one of them.

5. The respect for the law. I thought that would make me uncomfortable but it really didn’t. Driving in the US is so easy because everyone seems to respect the rules. I never heard a single horn (I didn’t went to big cities either so that explains) during my entire trip. And I did not found the slightest deffect in the highways. Everything was clean and perfectly maintained. Everything looked like Lego City. All Stop signs pefectly painted, all houses looked like out of a movie. It was nice, beautiful, perfect. But at the end, I started to miss the total chaos that I'm just to live in.
Of course, when I got back, I was on my way to work and a little girl was throwing up next to me, a guy who was trying to get away of the scene almost hit me; the light was red and horns started to sound while two people were keeping a rather loud conversation. As I was recalling all the personal life details of those two strangers, while also staying away of the poor-little-girl scene; I thought “well, maybe I did not missed this chaos so much”.

6. The Clearance section of the stores. Plus the discounts. After one store or two, I learned the trick: to quickly discard the “new arrivals” and go directly to the back section of the store. My boyfriend could not get how I got out of Old Navy carrying a huge bag, huge smile and spending so little. And this shirt? 3 Dollars- And this one? 4 Dollars – And this sweater? Oh, that was “expensive”, it costed me 10 Dollars. It was crazy. I know everyone knows this but I was never able to witnessed first hand before. I could never afford buying this much in Venezuela. Which is kind of sad.

7. The wood houses. I felt weird in every house I visited. The walls were so thin, so weak. I spend a couple of nights in one house where the floor creaked every time I walked to the bathroom. It was uncomfortable. You could hear the snores of every single room. Wood houses are definitely prettier. Like Lego-like prettier. But if Americans love privacy and personal space and all those things so much, why they would choose to live in houses where everyone knows when you are walking to the bathroom in the middle of the night? - No one ever talks about it, and everyone thought my childlike assertions about this issue were funny. I still find it non sense.

8. The cold. I have never felt this cold in my life. But I quickly learn that it was all about wearing proper clothes and covering myself like a South Park figure. "But it is not thaaat cold, Kenny" - My boyfriend said, laughing at every time I covered myself with scarfs and hats to get out. So the good news is that I survived my first little short winter. The bad news is that I didn't got to see the snow. They announced some snow at the weather channel and I stayed up like a 5 year old, looking at the window, waiting for some drops. It did not rain and Christmas were gray instead of white.

9. Last but no least. No Chavez. No Bolivarian Revolution. The houses had no walls or fences which gave every street a prettier and more relaxed look. I quickly fell for that odd feeling of being safe. It was good to take a break from all that I'm used to. To walk at night.

To take my camera everywhere with no fear. It was a nice and more than needed rest. Specially when I think about this New Year and all that it comes: MY WEDDING (Did I said that out loud?), new and more demanding projects at work, plus presidential elections. It’s going to be intense. But I promise to blog about it whenever I can.

And Happy New Year to you all!!!.

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It smelled like democracy

Something different happened last night. If you have read Caracas Chronicles' witty remarks, you know this was the first time in 28 years that this country presences a debate between presidential candidates. Some people said it wasn’t a debate but more likely, a talk, an elegant presentation of speech styles and proposals. I don’t care if it was a debate or not. What matters is that it was something different, something we have lost, something we have forgotten for a long time now. It was a new air. It smelled like democracy.

Some people say that democracy is not the best political system. I’m not sure, I’m no expert and I have lived in a system that has nothing like it. But every time that any event give us the illusion of a democracy, I have to tell you: it feels so good! -. To see those five leaders respecting the rules, the word order, speaking without insults, talking about something entirely new: talking about private property, opportunities, reconciliation, justice, jobs... And everybody, and by this I mean everybody, even Chavez supporters; talking about it.

This morning, at my office, we engaged in a verbal fight about Pablo Perez’ paternal speech versus Diego Arria radical – but perhaps necessary- measures; others were discussing about whether they would give their vote to Capriles despite how much Maria Corina excelled in her speech. And when the screams (yes, there were screams), were over; we all smiled. No one smiles after a fight but we did. We smiled as soon as a colleague said “you know, we are not talking about Chavez this time”. That’s such a relief, to be talking about something else. We almost felt like we were in a different country.

On Twitter, rough talks are also served. Chavez supporters have promoted a tag #debatequebrao to criticize the debate. But this proves they also watched it. They must have felt the contrast between Chavez’ solo aggressive, distant, repetitive and threatening speech which can last for hours; and an hour and a half event where five people only had one minute to answer common people’ questions. Main papers have the debate in their front page. For the first time is not about Chavez or his terrible moves, for the first time it is about us. For the first time in almost 10 years, we can say we have a different political agenda.

I already tweeted my personal opinions on the performance of each candidate. But, now that I’m blogging about it, I don’t think this is important. The importance of last night do not relay on each candidate individual proposals, on rational decisions we make after watching their performances. The importance of last night lays on feelings. I have already said it but it really is about that, about how good it felt. Last night was a tea spoon taste of democracy and peace. I almost thought we were unable to recognize their taste, but after 12 years, is still there, inside of us.

And it is making us feel a lot better.

So kuddos to the Student Movement (the once White Hands) for making it happen and in my alma mater UCAB which makes me extra proud!!!. I hope we can presence similar events again and again and over again. Until democracy can come back to us in a much bigger dosis.

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Since we don't have babies..

My sister just gave us an order: to go to every single supermarket, drug store etc, near our offices, looking for the milk their children need; specially my little niece who is just one year old. On every supermarket I visit asking for the milk, I encounter the same scene. Three or four moms, or grandmothers, are looking for the same, frustrated. Now that the milk specially made for kids has disappeared, regular milk is starting to scarce. Every day that goes by is a day that every kid in Venezuela is not receiving the nutrients he needs. Every day that goes by, the anxiety and desperation of their parents grow. This is the worst trouble they face, but not the only one.

The whole Johnson’s line for babies disappeared from one day to another, a few months ago. The baby powder, baby’ oil, shampoo, baby’ cream etc, just disappeared. Now you can find those products of other brands, most unfamiliar brands. My sister has started to prove each, with no success, none of those products have a quality compared to the Johnson’s one; those she was used to. Some have a weird smell. All baby powders seem to have a strange texture. And lets not start talking about the cream.

Diapers shortages are another addition to the drama. Early this year, there was a major diapers shortages (and sanitary pads too, as readers noticed). The situation is better now, but you still can’t find diapers of all brands, and all sizes. My sister has changed brands at least twice and one of those brands gave allergies to my niece. When my nephew was born, back in 2007; my sister was crazy about diapers specially made for the pool. Now you can’t find those anywhere; so my niece has never tried the fabulous diapers her older brother used on every beach trip. Now beach trips are troublesome, with no appropriate diapers to wear.

People who do not have babies don’t notice. Politicians are talking about Chavez’ disease, upcoming elections, insecurity, national debt, international community and Human Rights. All those are very important topics for me, for everybody. But for all those parents out there, nothing is more important than having those things their kids (specially babies) need; and that they cannot find.

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I have to tell you something...

I know. It’s been a while. Are you still here? I hope so. I have no logical explanation of my absence, except for the lack of stories and inspiration. Also, work and life got in the way. Still, I had to come here again, because I want to tell you something

You must know that for a while, I didn’t thought of me as that kind of girl. After one serious and a few not so serious sort of relationships, I focused on my career, my writings, my piano, my family and politics; and made my life meaningful from there. I liked to think of myself as a free soul, going from one place to another, engaged on different projects. I was going to return home as the typical “cool aunt” with exotic gifts from the places I visited. I didn’t wanted to admit that I created all this “story” to comfort myself with the fact that there wasn’t anyone promising for me to be with.

I didn’t wanted to go there. To the place I met him. It was a common friend’ graduation almost on the same date it should have been my own graduation (I graduated almost two years later, due to thesis issues). I knew exactly who I was going to meet and how the party was going to flow. All my colleagues, most already graduated and doing “interesting” things, involved in a lot of political organizations, movements and projects, changing the world. Most involved on serious relationships and for those single, they had no interest in me (and I had no interest in them). They already knew I’m a terrible dancer, so no one was going to ask me to dance. In best case scenario I was going to sit on a corner, all night long, drinking cuba libre and watching all UCAB (my alma mater), Student Movement leaders enjoying themselves.

I still went there, against all my common sense. Because, after all, I’m a hopeless dreamer. I put on a dress my mom made for me, which was, well, a bit awkward but nice. I added a fuxia ribbon to my waist and let lose my hair. I did not look beautiful. But it was me. It was me telling the world I did not graduate on time, I did not become a political leader and I wasn’t – nor I’m now – involved in a lot of organizations. But I still could do something or say something. Or at least celebrate that somebody else was no longer a student, but a journalist.

He was there. There are many versions of this story. Of who introduce who, who started talking, etc. The only true version is that he was a guy I have never seen before, who did not belong to my university group and who seemed to be a great talker (or more likely, a great listener, because I have to admit I do talk a lot). We talked all night long. We also danced, he didn’t seemed to care how bad dancer I am. He only cared of how much I enjoy dancing. And smiling.

We haven’t stopped talking (dancing, smiling) ever since. And somewhere in the mist of this long conversation, I forgot all the story of a “free soul”. I wanted to share everything with him. All those things that made my life meaningful including my writings, my piano, my career, my family and politics – had not sense unless shared with him.

So I never thought of me as this kind of girl. The kind of girl who gets married. Until we meet and talked. And once he popped out the question, just a few weeks ago, he already knew my answer.

I know this blog is about politics, about being a witness of a very particular situation. About giving you glimpses of a life inside a country nor even I can understand. I know I should be talking about the upcoming presidential elections. About a president who is sick, but we don’t know how much. About the possibilities of a change bigger than ourselves, about a transition period. I should be complaining on the constant shortages and government abuses. On all those small and big difficulties we face on a daily basis. About disappointments and hopes. Human Rights, brain drain and crime. I know this blog is about all that. But this blog is also about me.

Against all odds, this is my moment. I’m getting married in just a few months. I’m marrying the love of my life, my most loyal companion, the person who embrace my craziness and supports it. I can’t think on anything else. I had to blog about this. And I have the right to.

PS: Image was taken from here.
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Voluntad Popular' Elections: Democracy or not?

There is a political party, a new political party, that everyone is talking about. Most of my politically – interested friends from my university have dropped their parties to join Voluntad Popular. They say this is the first truly democratic party of the country. Why? Because they recently celebrated internal elections to all charges of the party’ structure. Nothing new here, except for this party invited everybody – I mean every single Venezuelan able to vote even living outside the country – to participate on those elections. There are articles and tweets praising this nouveau move. And when I see my friends’ Facebook status, congratulating themselves for being part of Voluntad Popular, naming the word democracy too many times; I wonder if this is democracy at all. Or if this is just another populist move.
We have to start speaking about Voluntad Popular’ creator and main leader: Leopoldo López. He’s young and handsome and has both a great and a rather shameful record. Great: he was Chacao’ major (the smallest and richest municipality of Caracas) and proved to be a great manager. Not so great: Chacao is relatively easy to rule, he needed more harsh political experience but the people mistakenly believed that what it was good for Chacao, was just as good as everybody. Shameful: he left the political party on which his leadership was born: Primero Justicia after a well knowing fight. Then joined a second: Un Nuevo Tiempo and shortly after, he also abandoned that party.

Then he created Voluntad Popular but he was not honest at first: he claimed his organization was not a political party but a “social movement”; hence keeping an anti-political speech. Then Voluntad Popular officially turned into a political party. The fact that he changes his political affiliations just as he changes clothes, make me think that team work and Leopoldo are not matching words. Plus, make me suspects that he goes more for opportunities than values.

In the meantime of all this process he was inhabilitated to run for public office. The government presented corruption charges against him but no one believed them (at least I don’t) because the government disabled many other opposition candidates to run for any public charge as soon as they got popular enough to represent a threat to them. So it wasn’t about corruption, it was about the fact that Leopoldo could beat a Revolution’ candidate. Either way this political inhabilitation is still current. The country is waiting for a decision of the Inter- American Human Rights court in Costa Rica in September on his inhabilitation. But so far, he cannot run for presidency next year. Hence, he can’t be a candidate for opposition primaries.


Unable to run for primaries, what it was left for Leopoldo and his new movement? As a strategy he did something that soon proved very effective: Voluntad Popular would have internal elections and in those elections anyone could vote. Political participation in all its purity. But there are forms of participation that are just fake and this is just one of them.

As a Venezuelan citizen, to vote in Voluntad Popular’ election is just as logical as to vote for the authorities of the Country Club (a social club on which I’m not a member and that I have visited perhaps twice in my whole life). Voluntad Popular’ leaders will have no actions on their voters what’s so ever unless they actually belong to the party. Outside the party, any other voter was just a propaganda tool to engross numbers that really do not represent much. I don’t understand how putting our noses in the internal affairs of a group is equal to democracy.

What amazes me is that the people who’s strongly supporting Voluntad Popular’ moves, are the same who fiercely denounced the Law for the universities’ project. The project after many protests, did not pass. One of it’s main proposals was to allow almost anyone able to vote – despite of its affiliations to a certain university – to decide on the university authorities. The idea was crazy and wrong in so many levels. And I wonder, isn’t Voluntad Popular elections the same idea? The same argument that goes “voting more and having a wider electoral universe is equal to participate more, equal to have more democracy”? Isn’t that exactly the constant Revolutionary move to maintain its democratic facade that we have rejected over and over again?

It scares me to see how theories, arguments, justifications that I thought were Revolution’ only property; now are used by the opposition. Which makes me think that democracy has been lost forever, even in hands of those who I thought, were supposed to rescue it.

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The comedy actor and what it could have been

In a parallel universe, a different life develops. I’m 26 just like I am. And I’m exactly who I am: a little neurotic disaster. I’m not taller nor beautiful. I went to the same school. Perhaps I didn’t. If I’m thinking about a parallel universe, I should consider a different school. But for the point of this story, it doesn’t matter. I went to school. My mom took me to a protest demanding an improvement on the education system. I didn’t attend a protest for anything else.

I went to the university. That can stay the same, in both parallel and real universe. During those years I was probably as happy as William and Kate in Saint Andrews. Or more. My classes were never interrupted due to political conflicts and I finished my first year on time. No classmate fled the country in the middle of a confusing general strike. Also, I could leave campus as late as I wanted to. If I depended on public transportation I wasn’t forced to leave campus before 4 Pm so I could get home before dark. I partied. I did that in both universes. But in one of them, I wasn’t afraid. I could just party.

I graduated on time (hey, this is a parallel universe, no thesis troubles for me) and got a job. The part of getting a job thankfully happened in both universes. But in one, I was better paid, the money was actually enough for a decent standard living and my job wasn’t at risk because the company was losing projects. After one year, I applied for a credit and bought myself a car. An average car, not expensive. Little, and easy to park. The kind of car you can take anywhere. A few months later, some friends and I decided to rent an apartment. I was the only daughter left at my house and it was time for me to leave home.

My mom help me packing and gave me some kitchen tools. I moved to a more centric area, closer to my job and visited my family during weekends. I didn’t had a luxurious life, but I could live independently. Just like many 20’ something do in some other parts of the world.

Then I met him. That happened in all universes. In the parallel universe I met him the same way I did in the real one; perhaps I didn’t got so drunk or said stupid things. Either way we fell in love and after one year or two we decided to take the next step. With his job, he could afford his own apartment so I left my flat mates and moved in with him. My mom was reserved about my decision but I did it anyway and it proved to be the right decision. We learned how to cook together. We could sit and watch a movie without being careful of where our hands stand because our families might be watching.

- Just to make clear, the whole part of living independent and then with my boyfriend happens in only one universe. In the other, I still live with my parents and my boyfriend and I, even considering that our salaries are way above the national minimum, cannot possibly afford to live on our own -

Venezuela, in both universes has received more incomes due to oil than ever before in its history. But, inexplicably, in only one of them Venezuela presented good economic numbers. There, poverty has been reduced even more greatly than in the real universe. And you see progress everywhere, new constructions, jobs, opportunities, immigration. We have loads of immigrants, skilled ones, who long to come here to work. Canada and Australia, Chile and Panama are only tourist destinations for must of us; not opportunities of a better- decent life.

We have said good bye to many friends. But in one universe, they only leave the country for a while. They study a masters degree abroad and in two or three years, come back. Because they miss home a lot but mainly, because they can live here. We are only worried, at most, of living our lives. We are not threatened by crime or by crazy politicians. When we hear the world “Revolution”, it remind us more of a fashion statement than a political movement. Also, with all the economical bonanza and a favorable investment on academy and research; there are more and more offers of graduate school here. As prestigious and tempting as anywhere else.

People asks us when are we going to get married. In both universes. Only in one they ask us when are we going to leave the country. In the other, people do not expect us to leave the country. Our families want us to stay here, and raise our children here. And we want that too, who wouldn’t? Who wouldn’t want to raise their kids right next to its grandparents?

A few days ago, in our parallel universe, we received some sad news. We were at our apartment, watching TV in our comfortable couch when a short clip on E! Entertainment show a doctor’s board having a press conference. They informed us of his terrible disease and gave us complete details, including his diagnosis, his symptoms and what exactly we should expect. We quickly opened his web site where he publish a message saying he’s facing the greatest test of his life, but like always with a smile on his face. The message had a banner of “cancer awareness” where he decided to start a campaign. His upcoming show was, of course, canceled and the company would return all the money from the tickets. Except those who wanted to donate that money to a cancer research fund of the UCV that he was promoting.

Me and my boyfriend decided to do that. Our “Stand comedy show with Hugo Chavez” tickets became part of the cancer awareness fund. After all, in both universes, we have lost family members due to that horrible disease. We wished for his soon recovery, in both universes. Although not for the same reason.

In one, we want him to come back, so he can still make us laugh with his shows and his comments. We are not entirely agree with everything he says or thinks, but he makes others think and other than that, he’s completely harmless.

In the other universe, we want him to come back, so he can face elections in equal conditions with an opposition candidate. We want him back so he can lose and we can have a democratic and peaceful transition. We want him to come back, so that after those elections; our children might live in that parallel universe we were never able to enjoy.

PS: I just felt in the need to add two more details of our enchanting parallel universe:
1) Transformers 3 is going to be shown in Theaters in Venezuela in the same time that is being shown in the rest of the world.
2) We have never heard of shortages and the cereal hallway of the supermarket is just amazing. Most cereals are made right here.

PS 2: Image taken from here. I don't own it.

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Chavez has Cancer, and this blogger, afraid

Now this change things but in what direction? As I write this, I just heard the news. Not hat I haven't heard them before, a well known journalist: Nelson Bocaranda; told us everything a few days ago. But there is something different about hearing a rumor and watching one short live speech of the president, one were he reads for the first time to address the nation. He looks pale, sort of yellow and skinny. Beyond his words there is something seriously wrong here. And we should be seriously worried.

I didn't knew. Like I told you on Twitter, I was in the movies with my boyfriend when it happened. We watched a sort of kids movie - the one about the Panda bear - and then he brought me home. We were in a sort of romantic mood and since the movie was short, once in my building, we were able to talk and kiss in the parking line. After a few "I love you", I take the elevator, open my door and my dad is reading the news. He doesn't ask me how did my date went, he just points at the computer and the headlines are pretty clear, with the words "Chavez" and "Cancer" in the same sentence. My dad is reading a serious page, a newspaper, not rumors, no gossip, no joke.

The government waited more than 20 days for tell us the truth, when our 200 independence anniversary is coming closer (next Tuesday) and his absence from such an event; including the Revolutionary Socialist Stravaganza Parade would be impossible to hide. And when it does come to give us some answers, the Revolution offer us the image of its leader looking uncannily weak; without giving much detail about his diagnosis: for how long his treatment will last, when will he be able to come back, how optimist is his diagnosis, what can we expect and where this Cancer is located exactly. This are questions whose answers are still unavailable to us Venezuelans (at least for what I have heard so far, remember I've just found out, and I'm writing this in a rush)

You might think that after a life time of literally hating the man, we would have a different mood. But at least I don't. And it is not only because I'm Catholic. But because I look at the possible outcomes of this, and I don't feel optimist. Like I said on the headline of this blog: this is both BAD news for the government and the opposition.

As a result of Chavez' disease, both Government and Opposition are facing the same risk (Isn't it ironic?): the risk of dividing themselves, on starting to fight for a power that we once thought to be strong and unbeatable. But it is as strong as a man, and as weak as him. It is Chavez' responsibility, of course. Everything is about him, he's omnipresent, he's everywhere, anytime, and influx every corner of our intimate life. No Venezuelan affect us more beyond our intimate circle as Chavez does and both government and opposition develop around him. He's everything, despite if you like him or not. He's the reason for putting a lot of people together, let it be for supporting him, or for the opposite.

With him at risk, those who are now together could start looking for their own interest. And fights could start. Between the government. Between the opposition. But even worse, between those who Chavez has supplied with arms; summed with the military.

As I write this, I honestly have no clue of what this situation can bring to my country. No one has a clue and uncertainty so far has not proved to give us any benefit. I'm just thinking on possible consequences. And tonight, I'm pretty much afraid of them.

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