One Morning in Venezuela.

Truly, there is no rhyme or reason or previous intention for this entry. It has come to the front because a friend asked me earlier if I had heard from another common friend in Venezuela…

… The answer is no; I have not. Unfortunately, there has been no news from this person in over 10 years. However, the uptake of this mini conversation is that it brought me around to thinking (nothing new here, right?) about Venezuela and a difficult morning spent there on February 4th, 1992 mainly because it indirectly involved the person about whom I was being asked.

Hotel Row in La Guaira...
Would you come to the seminar?

 Starting in 1981, my trips to Venezuela became a steady staple of my business life. Giving seminars to different groups of managers and corporate types, my name became fairly well known within the life insurance world in this country. Especially since most of our seminars were held at the Macuto Sheraton in the area of La Guaira, by the beach (This area was hard hit by massive mudslides several years ago, and the reconstruction has been lagging). We would hold and average of 4 seminars per month during 3 months of the year over there, and these were very popular amongst the sales managers … I would like to think because of the content of the presentations and the wisdom and experience acquired … perhaps the locale influenced the attendance just a little bit… well, some … OK, we marketed the hell out of the hotel, the pool, the beach and the Miss Venezuela pageant which “coincided” with our main May seminars ... Happy now?

 In any event, my visits to Venezuela would start in Caracas, with a 3-4 day sweep of all member companies; these individual visits were designed to meet with management, discuss their marketing issues and identify those areas management would like to see reinforced within the seminar(s). The visits also helped us resell the Association and remind them that the dues were payable twice a year, thank you. These would usually take the better part of the first week, starting on a Monday, and going through Thursday afternoon. Then, I would be taken to the seminar hotel, where I would spend some off time and some preparing time for the upcoming week long seminar(s).

Teatro (Theater) Teresa Carreno

Many friends were made in Venezuela, especially among the management cadre at several of these companies and usually, I would have dinner at the home of a couple of these folk during my stays. This made for a good visit and a good way to get to know them, opening the doors to future relationships. It wasn't all business though; there were some sound relationships formed which still last through this day, especially through the good graces of FaceBook.

One Tuesday morning, after barely getting out of bed due to a late arrival the night before, I went out of the hotel by the side door in order to get the metro train. As I was going out, it was noted that what would normally be a major, bustling avenue (Mexico) at this time of the morning, was unusually quiet; no cars and very few pedestrians. As my little feet took me around the back of the hotel building into the park, where the metro entrance was, a second observation was made: the metro gates were closed and there was a “no service” sign posted. This was Tuesday, right about 8:30am, a time when throngs of Caraqueños would normally be running around, trying to get to work. It started to dawn on me that things were not happening on a “business as usual” basis … This was not a holiday; these were usually checked and noted at my office during trip planning time, precisely to avoid this kind of thing. Something strange was definitely going on…

Hilton Hotel ... not shabby...

 It is said that not knowing is tantamount to not seeing or feeling. This was very true this particular morning. I set out to walk about 10 blocks, which is what separated me from the company I was to visit this morning and during the rest of my 3 day stay; with every block passed, coming a little bit closer to the central part of Caracas, the absence of people and of movement in general was a bit unnerving … considering this part of the city was nothing if not busy during regular business hours, for many companies and banks had either their main offices or major offices in this area. Finally, I made it to the building of Seguros Universal, which was my goal that morning.

 When in order to let me in a guard unlocked a door (after giving me a “twice over”) that would normally be open to the public at this hour, I knew something was definitely “off center”.  I asked for Diego, giving his full name and title. The guard said to me “With what’s going on, not too many people came in today”… “What’s going on?” I innocently asked… “We had an intento de Golpe de Estado –coup d’etat’attempt- last night”… “Let me see if Diego is in…” he added, going off to the internal communications console and leaving me standing there somewhat lost in thought ... at least it seemed I was lost in thought and not totally dumbfounded.  Which was the true status of my mind at the moment.

Parque del Este, one of
several green areas in the city

 Luckily Diego, one of those friends mentioned at the beginning, was in that morning.  He said to me when he came downstairs, as he was giving me a welcome hug, Latin style… “We had no telephone at home this morning and just I knew you were going to come in today… That is the main reason I came” … Then he added … “Now let’s go home; you are coming with me”. On the way home, Diego filled me in. Seems that, during the early hours, then Lieutenant H. Chavez (nothing like a Presidency to be able to give yourself an immediate whopper of a promotion to Commandant) had come in with some 5 armored companies in order to take over the Presidential Palace. The loyalist guard was able to effectively cut off his communication to the rest of the insurgents, and thereby rendered him useless (a status many still believe he is in) and forcing him to give up.

We finally arrived at Diego's house, where I spent the next 40 hours or so, until the air cleared up and we were able to return to work, at least for one day … and, of course, until the international flights resumed. So, you see… this chain of thoughts is what usually happens in my mind when a person or issue from the past is brought up… but you knew this, right?

Los Roques, a national park
not far from from Caracas

 Funny thing … when I came back to my office the following Monday, there seemed to be almost no knowledge of what had been going on the previous week in Venezuela… their reaction was surprise and concern and I thought … a little late for concern … kind of made you feel somewhat insecure and like being alone out there, or not? Of course, this was my gut reaction at the moment, but I knew these people would move heaven and earth if they thought or knew I was in danger.

Traveling internationally has defined advantages; not boring, meeting different people always, cultural awakenings at every stop and better (much!!) plane service; on the other hand, one does get exposed to these socio-political commotions every once in a while. Still, all in all … If I am going to get stranded during a trip, I always said this would be much more enjoyable if it happened in Rio, Buenos Aires, Madrid or Singapore, than if it happened in Cucamonga … wherever that is…

Be Well… Be Back!!!

Final Notes:

• Pray for those who are fighting an illness which may take them away from their loved ones… Every request is heard, and counts!!
• Follow us on Twitter … @RJAsPandora
• Any comments please send to otherboxp@yahoo.com
• Remember:  We are “On Air” every Sunday night at 6:30pm EST (GT –5hrs).  http://www.blogtalkradio.com/theotherbox If the link does not work, please just copy and paste to your address bar.