Venezuela: Cultural Immersion

I haven’t slept in a bed for month and I am the most rested I have been in ages.  Being here in Villa Marina, Venezuela, the childhood home of my husband, has reawakened my love of hammocks.  

Now I seriously wonder how I will ever sleep in a bed again.  The lower back and hip pain that has plagued me nightly for a year has completely disappeared.  Here I awake each morning feeling as if I have spent the night in an aerial nest.  

Kiko totally gets it.  His entire youth he slept in a hammock together with his younger brother, until leaving home to travel at the age of 16.  His mom, 72, only sleeps in hammocks.  I recall how upset she was on our previous visit when the hotel we brought her to in the mountains of Venezuela didn’t have hammocks.  She suffered an awful night sleep on the “nice” bed.  I can just imagine my mom’s reaction if we took her to a hotel with only hammocks to sleep on.  

The hammock is the perfect image to illustrate the change in travel style we are experiencing here in Venezuela, where everything has slowed down.  

Over the 15 years that Kiko and I have known each other we have traveled together many times to visit his family in Venezuela, each time fitting in one or more side excursions to some of the many diverse areas of this beautiful country.  Due largely in part to the current political and social unrest in Venezuela, (read more here) as well as the desire for some real family bonding time, we have chosen to forgo our customary excursions, leaving us one month to live in this small, sleepy, fishing town on the Caribbean Sea.

With the typical daytime temperature in the mid 90’s, the desert heat is oppressive and quells many intentions.  Much of the morning and late afternoon/evening hours are spent in front of Abuela’s (Kiko’s mom’s) house, where we are staying.  To take advantage of the consistently present wind we sit outside with the family, first on one side of the street and then the other, following the shade.  

Honestly I struggled, with ants in my pants, over this “idleness”  in the past, wanting to do something, eager for the forays further afield in Venezuela.  Luckily for me, because this is the longest continual time we have ever spent in Villa Marina, something changed this trip.  It is not that something physically changed here, nope it's pretty much the same as it was 3 years ago, and 2 years before that...,  but my mindset changed.  After “touring” Ecuador and Nicaragua at a decent pace the last two months I am content not moving every week and I have come to realize as the days go by and we simply “live”, that this is what I had imagined for the kids to experience during our year of travel.  This is true cultural immersion.  Without the solitude of a posada (small hotel) to escape to after a full day or the common “Gringo Eats”  restaurants where one can grab some familiar food, it is 24/7 Venezuela culture, food, language and environment.  

Zuki was appointed to award the trophy for the 2nd annual "Vicente Perozo Cup" Street Soccer

The more I think about it the more I appreciate it.  Sure there are programs where you pay for immersion, staying with a family in a home-stay situation, while taking formal language classes.  But for our family what we have here is pretty darn close to perfect.  This isn’t just some family; this is our family, who care about us and with whom we are truly interested in getting to know.  We are creating bonds that will carry on as our kids grow up.   The kids are literally connecting with their roots. 

Primos

Abuela & Zuki

Uncle Nano brought home his new pup the day we arrived making Zuki content to have a pet-for-a-month.

Kiko is one of ten children in a large extended family which spends a lot of time together.  Over coffee and homemade empanadas the family begins to gather daily at Abuela’s house sometimes as early as 4am, with people arriving and departing throughout the morning.  There is gossiping and planning and usually lots of laughing and making fun. 

Abuela making the morning empanadas

People come and go all day, family time easily flows with other daily activities.   Although after lunch there is a brief slowdown, as many people take the traditional siesta (nap) during the stifling heat of the day, around 5pm the family begins to trickle in again.  Dinner is often a spontaneous potluck, with whatever is not eaten by one past on to someone else.  The social gathering easily lasts to 10 or 11 at night. 

This isn’t only for special occasions or even particular days of the week.  This is every.... single.... day.  Family is life-life is family here.  

Of course children, no different then at home, are not content simply sitting and talking, and find ways in which to entertain themselves.  Zuki and Yoda have 37 Venezuelan cousins and there are a lot of neighborhood children so there are usually kids of all ages lingering around the house.  At first, Zuki and Yoda were shy, but the ice was quickly broken when Zuki pulled out the language-barrier-breaking, universally funny, photo-booth app that twists photos creating funny images.  Kids and adults alike were cracking up and friendships were formed.   

No one speaks English here and the kids' Spanish had not developed like we had expected from the previous 2 months of travel through latin America.   In our minds we had anticipated that the simple act of traveling in Spanish speaking countries would magically fill their absorbent minds with a new language. I don’t know what we were thinking.  Sure we were surrounded by Spanish but Kiko did all the main communication since it is his first language.   A wonderful Spanish teacher in Ecuador gave the kids a few hours of lessons a day for a week but they were often too shy to try out whatever it was that they had learned.  

Interaction by interaction the kids have become more and more comfortable.  The combination of a vast amount of free time and an eagerness to play with children of similar age, something that has only happened a handful of times over the last two months, pushed them past their apprehensions, opening up a wonderful world of child companionship, social interactions, and language immersion.

Luckily a few steps away from Abuela’s house is a quite fisherman’s beach, where the kids spend anywhere from a few hours to all day making sand balls, digging up little “chippi chippi” shells for dinner or “tortugas” to use as fishing bait, playing football, and generally frolicking about.  

Unbeknownst to them, their endless hours of play equate to hours of spanish lessons everyday. I couldn’t have dreamt up a better way for them to learn Spanish.  After all this time it is actually shocking to see how quickly they are picking words up.  The Venezuelan family laughs as they hear the kids use local sayings.  One of the first words Yoda picked up was “yava” which is an uniquely Venezuelan term meaning “wait”.  A smile was plastered across my face as I heard Yoda’s reply “yava!” to the boys who were calling “Vamos a la playa (lets go to the beach)” outside our bedroom door while he changed into his bathing suit.

So it is true the kids are sponges they just needed the right environment.   Where I may need to ask “Como se dices en Espanol?” multiple times before having a new word added to my mind’s vocabulary database, the kids seem to pick it up as they go.  Its amazing to me to see them learn a new word and use it so appropriately; well sometimes not so appropriately.  The other evening while the entire family was enjoying each others company on the side of the street, Yoda was playing with a ball which accidentally went over the wall.   We heard “Con--  tu Madre”, (Super bad spanish phrase) which is somewhat commonly used here amongst the adults so it took us a second before realizing that it came out of Yoda’s mouth.  Although all the family thought it was hysterical I went over and told him that just like in English some words are not appropriate to say.   

As the kids gain language skills and confidence we have allowed them to live more and more like the local children.  They go to the beach in a group of kids of various ages, they accompany their cousins on errands to the many nearby “bodegas” to buy things needed by aunts and uncles, or walk to their Aunt’s house to play with their cousins.   

Yoda is fitting in so well that it is easy to imagine him returning on his own in his late-teens or twenties to spend the summer fishing with his cousins.  

Zuki was lucky enough to celebrate her 10th birthday here.  The family has been planning her party pretty much since we informed them of our travel dates.  I tried to warn my daughter who commonly has very high expectations and is often disappointed, that in Venezuela a party is different then at home.  I worried that the combination of Zuki’s easily readable expressions and the eagerness of the family to please could result in fiesta disaster.  But it turns out it was a lesson for me to stop worrying so much.    The night of the party she visibly beamed, absorbing the obvious love that went in to all the planning, preparations, and the event in her honor.  At the end of the evening it was declared the “best party ever” by the happy 10 year old.  

An added benefit of really living in a culture is learning the hidden social norms and idiosyncrasies of a place.  One day Kiko was trying to give his mom a sewing needle and she insisted that he drop it on the floor. Only once he dropped it on the floor would she pick it up.  Handing a sewing needle directly to someone is consider bad luck.  Luckily Kiko was prepared when the same situation came up with the neighbor grandmother.  Kiko simply dropped the needle on the floor and she picked it up without skipping a beat.  There is also the belief that if you sleep with your face uncovered outside in the light of the full moon, you face will swell significantly.  Kiko swears he has seen it happen to people when he was growing up.  There are all sorts of other things like not showering with soap when you are sick, swimming in the ocean at 5am to get rid of a persistent cough, and it goes on and on.  One truly inspiring incident was when a group of us, including Abuela, got together to go to the local modern mall to see a movie.  The movie theater was on the second floor.  Most of us had already gone up as Abuela stood at the bottom of the escalator.  I could she she flat out refused to get on.  But with in a few seconds of Kiko explaining how to get on she stepped on and stood stiff, not moving a muscle, riding up. Taking a overly huge step off she made it.  I was so impressed; that is one tough woman.   She had never seen an escalator before.  There aren’t many 72 year olds willing to just try something new like that.  She was scared but laughed after getting off.   These are not things you find in book about a country or learn about touring a country.  I consider these things secret gems.  

Carlo, a hidden gem himself, a barrel of laughs this guy.

Of course cultural immersion is not all fiestas and giggles.   “Culture Shock” is real and there are countless books written on the subject. 

cul·ture shock
noun
the feeling of disorientation experienced by someone who is suddenly subjected to an unfamiliar culture, way of life, or set of attitudes.

I would have a hard time believing anyone if they told me that they experienced full cultural immersion for any length of time yet failed to feel any kind of culture shock.  When completely surrounded by a culture different then the one’s own, difficulties emotionally and physically are bound to come up.  The three of us have all felt its effects  to some degree the last month.  Kiko, not surprisingly, is perfectly “at home”.

Physically speaking, the biggest difficulty for Zuki and I has been general sanitation and hygiene habits.   Funny enough, I don’t think Yoda even notices any difference on this front.  We are a neat and organized family, but not overly sanitized or germ-a-phobic by any stretch of the imagination.  But the obvious lack of sinks and soap here even has me freaking out.  I cringe to think about it.  Where do people wash their hands!  It is also common to air blow your nose here.  In case you haven’t had the chance to see this yourself, this is when one simply blocks one nostril and blows out the other into the air.  This seems to be appropriate anywhere, even in the kitchen!  

We’ve caught 2 mice (but saw more) in our bedroom and cockroaches seem to live in larger extended families here then they commonly do in Hawaii.  

The other big adjustment has been the lack of reliable utilities and services to which we are so accustomed to back at home.  Water supposedly officially runs twice a week here.  What I mean by that is that water is scheduled to come through the pipes two times a week.  In actuality over the past month it has only run 5 times, approximately 1.5 hours at a time, usually starting very late at night or very early in the morning.   When it does arrive people need to be awake to plug in the pumps and move hoses around to be sure to fill up all the tanks before the water unpredictably disappears. 

Kiko and family digging a hole in the street to install a pump to access water faster when it does come.

Sometimes the water reaches one house yet not the one right next door.  This was not the case in Kiko’s childhood or even when I first started visiting here 14 years ago.   There use to be reliable running water.  Over the last 10 years it has become less and less dependable and homes have been forced to purchase water storage tanks.  At first it was one, then two, and now Abuela’s house has four water tanks which often need to be refilled by water trucks between water service.  Getting a water truck to come is not an easy feat either.  Some seem to be providing free water from the government and others are a paid services but neither seems a phone call away. 

This lack of easily accessible water combined with the above stated hygiene habits creates the perfect breeding ground for germs.  When there is a limit of water the cleanliness of things is sacrificed.  The other day I went into the kitchen area to ask for a knife to cut a lime.  There was a knife sitting on the counter and Kiko’s brother said I could use that one.  I cut my lime and then looked over to see that he had a pile of freshly cut raw chicken in front of him.  Yum, salmonella with lime anyone?

Ok its not like I haven’t visited places that didn’t have sinks or have questionable hygiene practices but when I am actually living in the environment with my family for an length of time it changes things a bit.  This is were we sleep and where our food is being prepared.  My mind whirls with all the sanitation protocols we are told back home and it comes to one conclusion, “We are all going to die from germs here.”   

Electricity is sporadic, sometimes not working for the entire day.  One day on which the electricity had not been working for over 12 hours the entire family piled into a couple of cars at 6:30pm and went to where the electric company trucks were working all day installing street lights for an important politician’s upcoming visit.  They protested, insisting that the electric company come and do the quick repair on the corner electric pole that had caused two streets’ all day electricity outage.  Luckily their numbers and voices convinced the truck to come.  After the arrival of the police to ensure everthing remained peaceful, some running around to get the proper tools, and jump-starting the electric company’s truck when it wouldn’t start,  the electricity returned with cheers from the gathering crowd.  

I could go on about the no-existent WiFi and the difficulty of washing clothes and just general difficulty in getting many things.  There are lines to enter many grocery stores, where they only allow a certain number of people to shop at a time.  I tried to send my broken camera back to the States but Fed-ex’s computer was down for weeks... 

In additional to the physical challenges there are cultural differences that are often emotionally challenging.  Venezuela is noisy.  Music is played at extremely loud levels here and it seems to come from everywhere.   Zuki and I were the only ones in a clothing store and the music was so loud we couldn’t have a conversation!  The normal voice here would easily be considered a shout at home.  Personal space is considerable smaller and the idea of necessary alone time foreign.

The hardest thing for Yoda has been the constant joking amongst the family.     Many people have nicknames here that would never fly back at home.  Negro (black), Gordo (Fat), Ojito, (big eyes), and it goes on and on.  Years ago there was a strong dark skinned boy called “Tonia Mojone” which translates to “little black hard poop”.  That was the name he went by.  His real name was Michael Angelo the exact same as his brother...but I digress. They also make fun of each other freely. Zuki and Yoda generally find it slightly disturbing but funny too, that is until it is turned on them.  Yoda has run back to his room crying a number of times, declaring his family “mean” because the cousins and uncles were teasing him for liking a neighbor girl, eating something they find strange like a raw pepper, or even a cut on his foot.  It is not a nurturing environment and I struggled with it for years but I have somewhat comes to grips with it by realizing that this is how the parents and family prepare them for a tough life.  No delicate kid is going to survive here.  You have to be tough in this environment. 

The kids also seem to be completely taken aback by the fact that if leave out any food or drinks it is often gone when they come back for second helpings.   They declared their items has been “stolen”.   Kiko has explained again and again that here things like that are considered communal but the kids struggle with it.   

So none of the above listed things are staggeringly difficult on their own but when thrown all together it can cause moments of breakdown.  Zuki has declared she will not return to Venezuela a number of times interspersed between wonderful times of playing, giggling, and dressing up “her pet”, Pepito.  

Although at first this may seem crazy, “Culture shock” is actually one of my favorite aspects of travel; maybe not during the process of it, but afterwards, in retrospect.   It is these “shocks” that open our eyes, minds, and hearts to other ways of life.  When you have truly experienced some of the realities of another culture you begin to see though different eyes.  Sympathy and understanding increases.  I find having a fresh look at something that you may have never even questioned in the past exhilarating .  For instance take into consideration that we did not in fact die of germs here.  The stark difference in sanitation levels here and at home started a good family conversation about the possibility that back at home the cleanliness habits may have reached an excessive level possibly to our detriment.  Especially when you consider recent research indicates exposure to germs creates a stronger immune system.  We have also had lighthearted conversations about what kind of culture shock our Venezuelan family would experience if they came to visit us in Hawaii.  Would it be too quite?, Would they get into trouble with calling someone “fatso”?, Would they miss their empanadas and arrepas?, Would they turn their noses up at the raw fish?  Would they grow depressed not being surrounded by their large family?

This month it has been like a seesaw.  On one end sits the unmatchable, idyllic, cultural and social experience and on the other end rests the physical and emotional discomforts of a different way of life.  The weights of each fluctuate multiple times a day.  

One day, when my phone’s 3G was actually working, I was sitting on the sidewalk flicking through Facebook I saw this quote:

Attitude is the difference between 

an ordeal and an adventure.  

And nothing could ring truer for our current situation.  I shared it with the family and talked about it in depth with Zuki, who struggles the most with the physical discomforts.  It doesn’t always work, but with this quote in our minds, I think most times we will choose the adventure over the ordeal.