I’ve been missing Venezuela more than I had in the last 6 years I’ve been abroad. Maybe is the weather in New York that refuses to change, maybe is the thought that everyday the idea of returning seems further away. I try not thinking about it, because it makes me sad.
When I was returning to the States, an officer asked me where was home. I quickly responded New York, because here I have most of my siblings, an amazing boyfriend, a job, and a group of friends that I love- thats what I called home. But after my quick/ thoughtless response he slapped me back with “this is not your home. Venezuela is.” Like everyone, after a long trip I’m sure you want to pass immigration, get your bag and go home, so I didn’t pay too much attention to what he had said… it wasn’t until later that I started thinking about it. My brain couldn’t stop (and can’t stop thinking) that New York is not home.
I don’t know how to express what I feel… but I tend to cry with the strong and confusing feelings that I get in my heart. I’m sure there are tons of Venezuelans that feel the same way.
When I was living in Venezuela, I knew that I wanted to live abroad, and so I moved to Vancouver. Then I knew NY was were I had to be and I moved here, it never crossed my mind to go back to Venezuela, but in a very hidden place, I knew that if I ever wanted to return, my parents would receive me with wide open arms. That was 5 years ago. Today, my parents nor my friends would receive me. I’m sure they would tell me “stay there… living here is not life.” Most of my friends have moved, they are in US, Spain, Colombia, Argentina, they are in where ever they can find a masters, a cooking class, a specialization course, they run to and stay out of the country where there life is threatened by the watch you have, the car you drive or the place you frequently go.
I never imagined Venezuela would get like this ever.
Because I needed to get a smile, after getting these thoughts out of my mind, here are some pictures I found:
Like I’ve mentioned before my dad loves collecting things…. take a look: Pepsi vintage cooler,
I’m not sure what is that… but I think its what people used to do Casabe with it
This was one of my favorite tress, the tapara tree. I have no idea how to call it in english, but the indigenous people use to remove the filling (and throw it out because you can’t eat it) and create Maracas to play music with or Deep dishes where they could eat.
I loveed using them! Look at me having a blast
Here is a view of the house, when we used to go there there was NOTHING. Just dirt. I’ll look for pictures, and see if I can post them
My friends and I would come here over the weekends… this place is really full of amazing memories
And in this last picture you’ll see the oven we used to make fabulous pizzas with.