Venezuela in three acts

Photoessay

May 30

Written By Francesco Stumpo, Product Designer, Design Lead

Stories_Travel Journals7.jpg — Time between city life in Caracas, suburban history in Barquisimeto and farewells in the Caribbean shores of the Morrocoy National Park, Venezuela.

To return to your homeland, country and hometown after three years deserves a look in three acts:

Part One: Caracas, the Capital.

Being back in Venezuela’s busiest and most populous city was to say the least, an interesting experience. Overall, Caracas embodies the example of continuity of life in urban cities, even amidst socio and economic adversities, as neighborhoods and communities become living and breathing pockets of a city that refuses to stay dormant.

It’s a metropolis like no other, and one that reminds of the importance of civicness and public spaces. There, new and old facades are clashing next to each other, like Chacao’s Cultural Center, sometimes speaking to one another but primarily interested in engaging pedestrians on the streets. Between trips to the local Altamira Plaza in the Palos Grandes neighborhood, to the Chacao’s Municipal Market and the many civic and public buildings along the metroline, I couldn’t help to feel like a tourist in my own country’s context. During most instances, I found life and people indoors, secluded, away from the perils of the streets. Yet, gatherings were outside as well, spending time in patios, gated residences, closed communities and courtyards.

After all, precedents like the Central University by Carlos Raul Villanueva became a beacon of light amongst the darkness. As a clear example of how one building or campus can create such a difference in the collective consciousness of a nation. It’s hopeful, it’s heartbreaking but lastly impactful and profound. Spaces filled with light and shadow, of hope and dismay yet used by students cherishing the opportunity to build a better future.

Part Two: Barquisimeto, the hometown.

As we made our way inland on the main road towards the center of Venezuela’s mid-western countryside,, I couldn’t help to notice the continuation of what would become the trip’s theme: urban decay. Defined as a state or process of rotting and decomposing, I continued to call the ongoing duality between man-made structures and nature taking over, of negligence and beauty in the wear and tear, of cleanliness and the organic. It was refreshing and heartbreaking at the same time.

Any time I visit my hometown of Barquisimeto, it becomes a trip down memory lane, a nostalgic lane. Even though growing up there, I left to pursue studies abroad right after my friends and family whispered “Happy 18th Birthday”. Since then, I have returned over the years to visit family and relatives, but quickly continue to the next destination.

Whenever I’m in town, I make the time to visit one of my favorite places in the city, the colonial downtown. There, one of the main attractions is the lasting institution of Barquisimeto’s Museum. It was during this particular visit, after completing my architecture studies and having been practicing for a few years now that I noticed the impact spaces and districts like this have had in my life.

I paused, walked around, captured the falling bricks and nature in between the sidewalk and listened to the birds in the courtyard. My mother and friend Adrianna were around, so conversations were light and deep, all while trying to make sense of the art hung on the walls and the lack or overdone curation in the galleries. In and out of the rooms, light filled the space as spiderwebs hid and showed. It was right there and then when it became more clear why I like museums so much; rather than for the art that can be held inside, it’s mainly because it’s programmatic appeal and convergence of people and visitors. After all it’s about the contrast of public and private spaces, people watching, having a coffee with a friend and good conversations with the art as a backdrop to enrich the context.

While at the historic centre, grid-like with many one way streets and cobblestones, you can help to think the city was founded circa 1552 and it probably looks not so dissimilar from that time. Surreal how time can go by and erase some structures and frameworks, yet in places like this it seems like it never had an effect, positive or negative. What a dilemma!

Part Three: Morrocoy, a national park.

There was a time while growing up where we would spend every other weekend traveling for two hours on a Jeep Laredo from our hometown of Barquisimeto, to the town of Tucacas in the Caribbean Coast. To this day, I can remember the records we would listen to, the road, the palm trees and the smell of fried fish on the side of the highway.

Overall, this particular coastline of Venezuela remains very much an untouched landscape full of vibrancy, mangroves, a diverse ecosystem and endless islets or cays, among which are Pescadores, Sombrero, Sal, Las Animas and Los Juanes. Overall, I could not have asked for a better destination to complete the journey back home after 3 long years. To this day, the colors, the horizon lines and datums of Morrocoy live in a close memory of what it means to feel at home. It reminds me to choose the ocean, before the lakes, and the coastlines before the mountains. It always reminds me of where I am from.