Homesickness (or Stockholm Syndrome)

I miss Caracas. I miss driving in the highway at the Avila, hearing the birds sing every morning on my way to university. The unceasing good weather is a good reason to live regardless of the circumstances. Wild parrots flying around my faculty if I got there early enough to see them before they took off to the mountain. Hiking on Sundays with my dogs. Eating empanadas with friends before class every morning while discussing the latest political happening with the usual accompanying indignation.

 

(The Cloud Shepherd by Jean Arp at Universidad Central de Venezuela)

 

I miss the sunny days, the busy streets and the sound of chaos. I miss the love-hate relationship with the subway and cursing the motor-bikers who scratch your wing mirror in an attempt to cheat traffic jams. Book club meetings at the botanical garden of my old university and drinking "chicha" ( rice drink) near the Aula Magna while watching other people graduate and take pictures; naively thinking that would be me in 3 years. I miss being at a one hour ride from the Caribbean.

I even miss protesting on the streets and watching on the news which other TV channel was shut down by the government and who else from the opposition was sent to jail. Waiting impatiently for the results of an election, ingenuously hoping that corruption, ignorance and greed wouldn't win again, that at least fraud wouldn’t be so obvious this time.

There is a positive side to living in a politically and socially unstable place: The sense of helplessness takes weight off your shoulders. It makes you realize that despite how much you worry, there are just too many things out of your control. All you can do is sit back and enjoy the now.

Living in such generalized chaos and getting used to uncertainty forces you to appreciate the present because it's all you have. I miss that. And I even secretly miss having an excuse to blame the government for all my problems.
 

Looking at the picture of a place you love so much feels odd when you know  you can't come back. At least not for now, at least not in a long time. It makes you feel like a piece of yourself is missing because it's still over there. But it's fine: that's where it wants to stay.