Turning water into diamonds...

There are little things, little moments each day that bring pure happiness into our hearts. They are the moments that are often passed by or are even easily forgotten when we don't pay close enough attention. These are the moments that help us make it through when there are inevitable rough patches but they are also the moments that make each and every day incredibly special.

There is a quote from Paulo Coehlo's book The Alchemist that says something to the effect that: when all your days start running together and each day seems the same as the next, it is because the person has stopped taking the time to notice all the good things that happen in their life on a daily basis.

With my 9 year old cousin at the beach a few days ago, there was beauty evident all around us, but my cousin showed me something even more special that I would have never found on my own.

She showed me how to turn water into diamonds.

While wading through the ocean waves, she cupped her hands and with the slightest movement threw the water into the air. I watched and saw as the arc of water droplets turned into "diamonds" before my eyes. With the sunlight glistening over the water, each droplet produced a tiny rainbow and shone as brightly as a diamond.

I think kids have this innate ability to find the beauty all around them and as adults, we sometimes need to be reminded.

This is a lesson I've learned before, but that I have been reminded of time and again while spending time with my family in Venezuela.

God has blessed me with so many of these good moments and I am so grateful for each of them.

So my unsolicited advice for today...
Catch your breathe, and close your eyes. You are here in this moment, and there is beauty all around you.  Maybe turn some water into diamonds.

Fighting for oil

I knew things like this had been going on, but it was a bit of a shock to the system to be a part of it personally.

At the supermarket again today, someone called out that a shipment of cooking oil had just arrived.

Within a matter of seconds people have thrown themselves to the floor. The cooking oil can no longer be seen from beneath the numerous bodies that cover it.

From far away they look like bees swarming around a hive. Each person is as desperate as the next to get their hands on a bottle or two of oil.

Up close, they are just as vicious. Elbows swing and sting my side. I fight to get my hands on a bottle, without regard for the person next to me.

As I see my grandmother hold up two bottles of Mazeite cooking oil, I feel a sense of relief and satisfaction come over me.

The battle was over, and we had won.

As my heart rate slows, the adrenaline wares off, and a harsh dose of reality sets in.

What just happened?

I'm not sure why I lunged. But I knew I had to. It was instinct that provoked my movement. There was no thought process involved.

In reflection, on the car ride home, I try to think  of something…. anything…. to compare this experience to. I stretch to make a connection.

The only thing that comes to mind is Black Friday.
A mob of parents surrounding the newest toy or gadget to have been advertised on the market.


A mob of parents surrounding the newest shipment of food to have arrived at the market.

A pirate's life for me…

I remember distinctly being scolded by my best friend's mother for trying to buy a pirated DVD while on a trip with her family to New York City. I must have been about 14 years old, and for the life of me, I couldn't understand what I had done that was so wrong.

She told me that the DVD I found in there would most likely be blank and that I would have wasted my money. I somehow trusted the man on the street corner selling me a DVD of a movie that was still in theaters. I relished in the idea that only I would be able to watch a movie at home, that everyone else would still have to watch in movie theaters. 

I was reminded of this memory today in Venezuela while attending my French class (Yes, I'm taking a French class while in Venezuela… it's a bit confusing, I know). One of my classmates said that he had the original copy of a French movie that my professor had mentioned. My professor stopped and looked at the student in shock. "You have the original copy? Did you buy it here…. in Venezuela??" 

He answered yes to both questions, 

and the rest of the class seemed to hold their breathe for a brief moment in unified disbelief. 

This shock may seem strange, but in Venezuela, pirated copies of movies are the norm. In fact, it is much more common to find a movie in its pirated form than to ever get your hands on the original version. 

You will find pirated versions sold in stores, just as you would find the original version in a store in the States. Though one girl pointed out, that buying the pirated version in a store is preferable to the street corner because you can return the DVD if it does not work.

So while my trust of the man selling DVDs on a street corner may seem strange, in another part of the world…. distrust might seem stranger.

In my next post, I hope to talk about driving in Caracas. Another subject, where rules seem almost made to be broken.

While shopping at the supermarket in Venezuela...

It was today while watching my Ata (grandmother) shop at the supermarket that I finally understood. Never again would I criticize my mother for the way she hoarded food (or really any other goods) at our house.

It was experience that had taught my mother to be this way. It was the everyday scarcity of food and basic goods that Venezuela and its people faced.

My grandmother stockpiled the things she could find, while shaking her head and saying "Es que ahora en este pais, no se consigue" towards the items that were no longer sold or had already run out.
In this country, you can't find anything.

No se consigue. How many times had I heard that phrase since I arrived 4 days ago?
It must have been close to a hundred by now.

When they had the extra large version of some item, for example laundry detergent or powdered milk, my grandmother quickly snatched it. Her rational… "Después no se consigue."
Later when we need it, we won't be able to find it.

Life had taught my grandmother, just as it had taught my mother, to save and stock up for the days when food was hard to find.
In Venezuela, it happens often and in recent years, that scarcity seems more pervasive than ever before.

In moving to the United States, a country where shortages of any good are virtually unheard of, it's hard  for my mother to shift a mentality that has been molded and learned over decades.

Save, stock pile, and conserve.
Porque después… no se consigue.

A picture of the front of El País newspaper today in Caracas.
The yellow portion across PAÍS reads "8 page edition due to the paper crisis."