Politics are everywhere. On the walls, in peoples speaking and greetings. I met a man in the street, and he asked me how I liked Chavez. I said I liked parts of the revolution, but not all things ... He then asked me to repeat: "Socialismo o Muerte!" "Socialism or Death" I said it, but then started singing Venezuela's national anthem, which made everyone laugh.

I don't think it's too often that a gringa comes to Marhuanta and sings the national anthem. It's not very often that a gringa comes to Marhuanta at all.

Rafael's niece was 18, and had lived in the U.S. for a couple of years. We were all discussing politics. She turned to me and said: "This is soooo boring." Which was just, like, wonderfully teenager of her.

I was quiet for a minute, then responded, "Well, it's not boring for people like your grandma and your uncle who are very affected by the Chavez government."

She agreed. "Yeah, it doesn't really affect me."

"Well that's the challenge for you ... finding the ways that it does affect you. Because I think you'll be surprised."

Zamira's friends went to the Bahamas and London for their winter break. And she believes herself to be stranded in misery, on a ranch with a couple of dogs and no internet connection ... with her relatives cooking and talking politics all day long. She wishes she was at the mall, shopping for American goods, chatting on instant messenger, or snuggling with her boyfriend - a guy who will buy her whatever she wants. She thinks she's an adult, because she lived independently for 2 years, while her mom lived and worked undocumented in the U.S., scraping asbestos out of New York City project buildings.

That's Zamira.

I suppose the Chavez government doesn't affect me, either. But I'm increasingly fascinated by it, just as I am with Truco, and the monkeys in trees, and the corn cakes and the afternoon siestas.

I want to go back. I'm love-sick.

More later.