The famous Patricia. She never wanted me to take a picture of her, but yesterday I took her to the movies as a thank you for everything and managed to snap this shot. I told her that my camera was out of batteries and then snapped this one after she let her guard down.
María´s room at her family´s home, which is located in Guatire, a commuter city about 45 minutes east of Caracas. I have spent three nights with her and her family since I have been here, each time sleeping in this bed. Perhaps I should change the color scheme of my apartment in Washington, DC.
Yelitza works at what can best be described as a cross between a spa and a nail salon, I guess. When she has afternoons without patients scheduled, we will often meet for a coffee or pastry. Here she is cutting some linen to make the strips that Steve Carell made famous in The 40 Year Old Virgin, which I found terribly amusing.
One of the most interesting events I attended was the celebration of La Fiesta de la Virgen de la Candelaria, on February 2 (I think). The Virgin of Candelaria is the patron saint of the Canary Islands, from which many Spanish immigrants arrived in Venezuela over the centuries. She is depicted as a black Madonna, which you can see above. Since I live in the neighborhood of La Candelaria, and for another reason explained below, the biggest celebration of the holiday in all of Venezuela took place in my local church. Several thousand people crammed into the church, many of them with candles.
The church in La Candelaria is one of the most famous and popular in Caracas not just because it is the celebration site for February 2, but also because it is the resting place for the body of Dr. José Gregorio Hernández, who may be Venezuela´s most popular religious figure. José Gregorio, as he is known here, was a doctor in the late 19th and early 20th century in Venezuela. Apparently he was a widely beloved physician, but as far as I know he was not a religious figure in any way during his lifetime. In 1919 he was struck and killed by an automobile, which, as I have heard over and over, was ¨the only car in existence in Caracas at the time.¨ Talk about bad luck. Sometime after his death, people began attributing miracles to him after they prayed to his body or spirit. Today he may be the most common help invoked in Venezuela if someone falls seriously ill. In 1949, the Venezuelan Catholic Church began his process of his beatification, and in 1985 his canonisation by the Vatican finally started. However the process seems to have stalled. Many attribute this to the fact that there is a cult religion of its own that reveres him as its leader, and to his general cultish status amongst so many Venezuelans. Whatever the reason, he needs another miracle certified by Rome to have come from him before he can achieve sainthood.
The Mass was performed by the Archbishopof Venezuela. I don´t know how he is as a spiritual leader, but he he has a fine baritone voice, which was accompanied by a choir with maracas. And his sermon was quite interesting for me, very much fire and brimstone. He attacked religious cults, saying that it was impossible to be both catholic and santero, which I believe roughly translates to venerating saints and other cultish figures. However he want on to plead for the sainthood of Hernández, saying that as we all know José Gregorio needs a miracle attributed to him to clinch his case, so if anyone knows anyone who needs a miracle, please bring them to the church. Next he shifted into daily life and pleaded for peace and brotherhood between all, explaining that Jesus is neither socialist nor republican. He used Michael Jackson as his example for someone who had all of the material success in the world one can have, but still died unhappy, which I found surprising. And his closing words were ¨Viva Jesucristo! Viva la Virgen de la Candelaria! Viva la Iglesia Católica! Y viva el Papa!¨ Just a different speech than one you would get by an American priest.
After the Mass had ended, the figure of the Virgin was taken into the streets and paraded for a couple of hours, with a large group following. Then she was returned to the church where she will remain until next year´s celebration.
Changing gears, here is my favorite magnet I saw in Venezuela, at the bootleg miche bar in Borotá, Táchira. Translation: ¨Adam was lucky he didn´t have a mother-in-law.¨
My favorite advertisement: ¨I don´t know anything about baseball, I came for the boy.¨ Doesn´t apply to anybody I know.
Pablo Pérez´s candidacy for president was supported by a bewildering array of political parties. This picture, along with the next two, was taken at a march he held in Caracas two days before the primary.
I couldn´t keep track of all of the groups and colors.
María Corina Machado´s final campaign event, in the main plaza in Chacaito, Caracas. She was probably the most impressive candidate, at least the best campaigner, amongst the opposition, but her elitist personality, hardline views, and lack of support from any political party doomed her chances from the start.
Having an ice cream with Abraham, Yelitza, and their friends Scarlett and her mother (I don´t remember her name). Abraham and Yelitza had wanted to introduce me to Scarlett for a long time. Until the day I met her I thought her name was Carly based on how they pronounce it. Proves there are pale skinned people in Venezuela, and blondes to boot.
A mural in support of Venezuelan-born international terrorist Carlos the Jackal, for all of you Frederick Forsyth fans out there.
Abraham´s mother Mirella´s birthday celebration at her apartment, located just a few blocks from mine, where I spent a lot of time in recent weeks. She is seated next to Abraham, in the green shirt.
The infamous Gaby.
A picture of some of the players enrolled in Carlos Guillén´s baseball academy in Maracay. Look for my story on the academy to appear in Baseball America in June or early July.
You may remember that I did not get off to a good start with Patricia´s cat, who does not have a name. Patricia only calls her ¨La Gata.¨ For close to two months she ignored my existence or worse, biting me if I tried to pet her. Two weeks ago, without reason, she reversed course and took to me as though I had always been her best friend. She would not leave me alone if I was in the apartment, climbing on me if I dared to sit or lie down, and insisting on sleeping on my bed. If I shut my door she would shreak and cry like a human baby, making sleep impossible no matter which route I chose. Then two days ago suddenly she went back to mostly ignoring me, though she no longer bites if I pay her attention. Patricia thinks she must have been in heat. In which case Delores, as I have decided to name her, is either a very confused or a very progressive cat.
A socialist arepera, which are funded by the government.
And prices its arepas accordingly. Here is a chart explaining how it is able to charge 7.50 bolivares for an arepa while a capitalist shop charges 20. I wonder whether anyone has ever tried to order a capitalist one. I could do an entire post on silly socialist labels on products and billboards, but this is the most comprehensive.
Lest there be any doubt about Venezuela´s merits, I did not see any Tyler Hansbrough jerseys while I was here.
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