Many foreigners come to Caracas and are swept away by what Giulio and Miguelangel call The Phenomenon.
,
The Phenomenon is, in my interpretation, an insensitive, starry-eyed fascination with this country’s president, his followers, his outrageous claims; and also the levels of crime, inflation, and other aspects of present-day Venezuela that depress locals to the point where, when people say, Did you hear what he did today!? the only response is: I don’t want to know.
Another friend says that Venezuelans have experienced crisis fatigue for a while now. They are not outraged by, but rather tired of the threats and breaches of trust bucketing down on them from their leader. So that’s why I think The Phenomenon discussions are somewhat disrespectful: its followers come to Caracas and quickly arrive at brazen and superficial conclusions about the status of things, then have a neatly wrapped story to send home about how “crazy and wrong” things are “over there.” It’s insensitive because it’s a frustrating / difficult-to-escape reality for some, and for others, a passing topic of conversation, kinda like what bar you went to last night.
It’s also too easy to criticize The Phenomenon up and down; all the “shocking” observations are predictable and all the political themes are “sexy” as we love to say in the development world.
I recently read the NYTimes’ opinion piece on Japan’s “dysfunctional and troubling” hostess culture. Below is the one comment on it that rang true for me:
Analyzing Japan’s social customs is a silly and somewhat arrogant endeavor. Lefacido (sic) Hearn’s books and comments started it all and everyone since chimes in as if their comments register with someone somewhere in Japan. They don’t.
While I think the individual plight of a human being who is forced to sell her sexuality should be made known to a wide audience, I’m bothered by criticism of a culture as it presently is, as if any single person’s standard of cultural judgment is the correct one. I myself am guilty of this all the time (see: this blog). And while all traveling humans experience culture shock in some form, this is a call to all us expats to please keep The Phenomenon discussion to a (bare) minimum. As in, please do not discuss it or I will awkwardly interupt the conversation by asking what bar you went to last night.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
L'ultimo Bacio
Last night Giulio and I watched a lovely Italian movie rife with emotional running and screaming (which, as Giulio told me, is common for Italian films. Love it.). Its callled L'ultimo Bacio, a dramatic comedy with exquisitely gorgeous Italian women and their soon-to-be-a-father-angst ridden beaus, older couples lamenting their lack of passion, and other relationship/ life transition themes expressed through more screaming and running.
The actresses have luxurious names like Giovanna, and the men love yelling about their feelings in a way that's neither annoying nor threatening (lots of vaciliating between "TI AMO!!" and "TI ODIO!!"). It's the perfect mix of light--but realistic--drama plus comedy, and it inspired me to learn more Italian, if only to emulate the characters' hot-temepered convos.
Monday, August 3, 2009
1950 comes to Caracas
I just read a book that I (wishfully) thought would be a constructive critique of cuaimas, but is actually a full blown celebration of the cuaima.
If, in 300 years, an alien comes to Venezuela and reads this book, it will think that the life of a woman passes no further than her house, her child’s school, and her church; and that her self worth depends entirely on making her children lunch and ironing her husband’s shirts. The author forgets to feed herself breakfast while making elaborate meals for her husband and children, labels her plastic surgeon a “magical god,” and seeks guidance from a priest who informs her that the habits of her egoistic and alcoholic husband are something for which she needs to “be stronger.” And that the "strong" friends she really needs are the one that also cry when she goes to them with repeated sob stories about her husband’s behavior.
The narrator’s “breakthrough” moment is when she realizes that she doesn’t need to “clean what is already clean” (como se le occure hacer eso??); and that she can, in a motion of self discovery, take a walk outside with her friend, go window shopping at the mall, or go to the gym to pursue a “beauty routine.” Amazingly, even if she does not clean the house that day and pursues these “independent activities,” the house will still probably be as clean as it was yesterday--so worry not.
Throughout the book I found myself hoping for a sign that it was all a farce; that the author understood the nature of her codependent existence and wrote all that drivel as a form of mockery, or at least as the "what not to do" section of a corny advice column, or that the book was a reprinted version of the 1950 edition, but no.
I recently had a discussion with gringas and venezolanas about dating/ gender stereotypes here. Highlights:
-One friend was asked by an older woman, on three separate occasions, if her boyfriend was indeed single and not married to someone else.
-After getting a haircut, one friend was complimented that if her boyfriend was married, he would leave now indeed leave his wife for her. Congratulations.
-One friend's mother regularly tells her that if she does not stay pretty and cuidar a su novio, then he will unquestionably leave her.
If, in 300 years, an alien comes to Venezuela and reads this book, it will think that the life of a woman passes no further than her house, her child’s school, and her church; and that her self worth depends entirely on making her children lunch and ironing her husband’s shirts. The author forgets to feed herself breakfast while making elaborate meals for her husband and children, labels her plastic surgeon a “magical god,” and seeks guidance from a priest who informs her that the habits of her egoistic and alcoholic husband are something for which she needs to “be stronger.” And that the "strong" friends she really needs are the one that also cry when she goes to them with repeated sob stories about her husband’s behavior.
The narrator’s “breakthrough” moment is when she realizes that she doesn’t need to “clean what is already clean” (como se le occure hacer eso??); and that she can, in a motion of self discovery, take a walk outside with her friend, go window shopping at the mall, or go to the gym to pursue a “beauty routine.” Amazingly, even if she does not clean the house that day and pursues these “independent activities,” the house will still probably be as clean as it was yesterday--so worry not.
Throughout the book I found myself hoping for a sign that it was all a farce; that the author understood the nature of her codependent existence and wrote all that drivel as a form of mockery, or at least as the "what not to do" section of a corny advice column, or that the book was a reprinted version of the 1950 edition, but no.
I recently had a discussion with gringas and venezolanas about dating/ gender stereotypes here. Highlights:
-One friend was asked by an older woman, on three separate occasions, if her boyfriend was indeed single and not married to someone else.
-After getting a haircut, one friend was complimented that if her boyfriend was married, he would leave now indeed leave his wife for her. Congratulations.
-One friend's mother regularly tells her that if she does not stay pretty and cuidar a su novio, then he will unquestionably leave her.
But alas, things are the way they are, and no point in getting pissed off about them. Off to bed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)