Puerto Cabello is, by far, the city with the most captivating views in my home state. It is an unprecedented combination of several worlds: the most devoted and traditional colonialism, dating back more than 450 years, and all the eras Venezuela has lived through. From the agricultural and rural tradition of coffee and its Black heritage to today, in the twenty-first century, oil and undeniable politics.
In that sense, it is impossible to forget how beautiful a city can be and truly is as a whole. When you visit a place, you become part of its history, its culture, and its capacity as a site of identity. That was my case here. Its cobblestone streets and houses, centuries older than the country itself, create a link to a nation that cannot leave its roots behind and its love for beauty. All you have to do is observe. Here, beauty is just another characteristic; it is not merely a descriptive device.
To wander is to know how to admire. To observe is more than simply directing your gaze toward a place. It is to understand and learn that, within a country, there are many realities. Beauty, as I have said, is the key in a city filled with a strange blend, you know? The smell of salt in its streets and almost everywhere else is part of the contrast with streets that could be a bit better cared for, yet remain spaces seemingly tied to a distant past and to a reality that has failed to take care of the city.
“By the sea, life is tastier,” says a popular Venezuelan saying. Personally, I have never been much of a fan of the ocean or beaches, but I do appreciate human warmth. And here, in Puerto Cabello, you find it on practically every corner. Locals are kind, mostly good-hearted, and possess a strong sense of citizenship. Venezuela is not just an idea; it is a living symbol. Flags, monuments from the present and the past, colors, flavors, and songs. A city beside the ocean that loves its origins and invites anyone to respect it and visit it with kindness and grace.
Life may have destinations for each of us that we simply do not know or are unable to understand. Perhaps this was my case. I came by a matter of chance and the most immediate good fortune. A neighbor showed us his intention to take us to the coast, and it felt ideal. The sea, a story, observing and learning to disconnect amid the relentless daily struggle to survive and the magic of the intangible. Because tourism and visits to magical places, how could we measure them? I believe there is much that cannot be placed on a scale, and for that, posts like this one on Worldmappin help provide understanding. In the end, friends, we are all gathered here because we love what we feel but cannot calculate. That is poetic, but also powerful.
