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My first wife grew up in an oil camp in Venezuela. She described it as pretty much like any upper middle class american neighborhood, with one glaring exception It was surrounded with razor wire and walls, to keep the campesinos (poor people) out. Her mother was american. Her father was a native venezuelan oil engineer who met his wife when in college in Tulsa. My wife was married before in Venezuela and, when I met her in Tulsa in 1980, had a beautiful four year old daughter who became my daughter. there was never any "step" about it. In 1981, she gave me a son, a truly amazing human being. The marriage didn't last, but the friendship did. And I have a wonderful relationship with both of my children.
So, My kids had made a pact growing up that one day they would venture to Venezuela to meet the family members that they had never met: Samantha's father and his family and their grandfather's family. Last winter, a few days before Xmas, that day came.
They both quicky began to learn spanish through immersion and found the local internet cafes. In Caracas and Maricaibo, crime is really bad. Even people who drive "junkers" have alarm systems. In Merida, a college town in the mountains, crime was almost unheard of.
So I guess I now find that I've shared my and my kids lives to make a point I guess I could have made a lot quicker.
They found that Sam's father's family, in Merida, absolutely loved Chavez and everything that he has done. They couldn't say enough nice things about him. They are working class people.
Their grandfather's family, in Maricaibo, was a semi wealthy family with oil company connections. They absolutely hated Chavez and eveything he has done. They spat Chavez name out with contempt.
But, maybe it's just due to something my wife always told me, even 25 years ago.
" It's always so hot in Maricaibo. It think that's why so many people there are angry all of the time."
My advice: Head for the mountains
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