My departure to Venezuela set the beginning of a long-anticipated experiment, namely, what happens if I simply buy myself a one-way ticket to an absolutely unknown to me country, without a plan or direction? If you wonder how and why I chose Venezuela, let me clarify something, it wasn’t me who chose Venezuela, Venezuela chose me.
In the beginning of a beautiful autumn, I returned home from the USA, where I had lived and worked for over 2 years. I had saved up some small change and was trying to find the perfect investment for it. That was the time when a friend of mine mentioned her brother who had just moved to an island in Venezuela in pursuit of opening a small business in the food industry. We decided to ask if he needed an investor and a colleague, and he gladly accepted. So that is how my dream, to live in an entirely unknown world to me was born. I decided to take my time with the departure and purchased a ticket for a few months later. So far, everything was somewhat normal and there was nothing unusual except the destination country, or so it seemed.
Fast forward to a few days later, the aforementioned brother decided to change his mind and no longer intended to live or do business in Venezuela. Furthermore, he suggested that I cancel my plans too. So here I was, faced with the dilemma – should I stay, or should I go? Should I listen to my rational thoughts and not go or should I do what I’d always dreamed of and leave with a one-way ticket, not knowing what to expect, not having anyone to expect me, or not knowing anyone there at all? To be honest, I didn’t ponder on this too much, nor did I have sleepless nights over it. The feeling within was so compelling that I immediately made the decision to go, not only for a journey but to move there for good. Exactly as planned.
Needless to say, many of my friends and relatives tried to bring me to reason, however, as they spoke I pictured the alluring island beaches and the shining sun. Hardly any of the words they spoke reached me.
What did I know about Venezuela – barely anything. What did I learn before my departure – barely any more. The only information I permitted near me were short videos with collages from the island (the one you see below I played daily) and pictures I randomly scrolled through on the web. Nothing more, nothing less. Let me explain; not my brain made the decision to go, why bother feeding it information? The decision was made by something bigger and deeper, you name it; that thing, however, was not interested in anything but the rhythmic salsa, the beautiful landscapes, and the harmonious sound of the Spanish language.
I started a language course just so that when I arrived I could carry on a simple conversation with the locals. I completed two levels and stopped. What better way to learn than on the spot? After all, I had decided to emigrate there, and I was going to have plenty of time to learn.