My first Christmas in Venezuela twenty years ago was definitely my worst. It wasn’t that I was expecting snow—living alongside the Caribbean isn’t exactly like being in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains in Cheyenne, Wyoming. But I did think that I would hear the refrain of “Silent Night” from time to time, albeit in Spanish instead of in English. It didn’t happen. Instead I heard, “Fire the cannons, Jesus is born.” Try that at midnight in the cathedral in Cheyenne. Then fill the sky with fireworks and see what your neighbors will say.

I have often said that my living in Latin America the past twenty years has been similar to being hit over the head daily, but in a very positive sense. I have had to see so many things from an entirely different perspective.

It probably should not have been a surprise to me, therefore, when I heard a Venezuelan colonel tell a group of visitors from the U.S. that Venezuela was in possession of missiles.

Then he clarified the matter.

He said the missiles, which Venezuela has and is already using, are missiles with books, missiles with medicines, missiles with food. I think you might interpret this as saying that Venezuela possesses WMDs – Weapons of Mass Development.

(En Español) When Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s Little Prince visited the planet Earth, he encountered a king who thought he ruled the universe. If the Little Prince were to have returned last week and should have landed in Venezuela, he would have had a moment of extreme déjà vu.

The king thought he was so powerful that even the planets obeyed his commands. But when the Little Prince asked to see a sunset, he was informed that he would have to wait until 6:40 p.m. because the king only ordered his subjects to do what they would do anyway.

For seven years, the opposition to the government of Hugo Chávez has acted as though they ruled this little part of the universe. One of their current leaders, Maria Corina Machado, even achieved a personal interview in the Oval Office with the God of Wars, George W. Bush.

Popular wisdom and concern in Venezuela was that the only option open to the opposition here to get rid of President Chávez would be to assassinate him. After trying a coup, a two-month long lockout/strike and finally the legal referendum to remove him from office, killing him seemed to be the only remaining possibility for them to try.

However, in recent days there is movement in another direction.

A few years ago I was visiting with a married couple discussing children, sexual preferences and a number of other topics that concern parents. One of their children had openly declared himself to be homosexual. The conversation took a turn and the father mentioned that, while he felt he understood something about homosexuality, he was never able to understand transvestism. The topic came up because a well-known Wyomingite had publicly acknowledged that he was a transvestite a short time before.

I have known the person we were discussing for about forty years. I have visited with him, his wife and children on various occasions and have eaten in their home. He is a brilliant man and it is intellectually stimulating to converse with him.

It has been over ten years since I last saw him and, since I am now residing in Caracas, it is only at Christmastime that cards are exchanged. But I look forward to visiting with the family the next time I am in that part of Wyoming.

In any case, we didn't spend much time on the matter of transvestites except to ask the question, "why?" to which we had no answer.

Last night I dreamt that I met George W. Bush. He and I were in a Caracas barrio attending a family parilla, a Venezuelan style cookout.

It was not a particularly large gathering, just the family, some neighbors, a few close friends, George Bush and I. Surrounded by salsa music, we stood in the patio alongside the simple structure that the family had built. Small conversations were taking place; the President was not part of them. He seemed to be in a daze, reflecting on the celebration that was happening around him.

I recently accompanied a group of U.S. citizens on a visit to the offices of the National Electoral Council in Venezuela. Our entrance was delayed a bit because of a question of protocol. A young man with our group had short pants. One of our hostesses quickly took him to a nearby store and bought a pair of long trousers. We were then cordially escorted to our meeting with three officials of the Council.

The pants situation was simply a matter of proper etiquette about which we were not aware before arriving there. But before we left, we were asked two very embarrassing questions about the United States that couldn?t be covered up by simply buying a new pair of pants.

I was in the United States for a few weeks this summer and, upon my return to Venezuela, I wrote the following essay but never posted it. Maybe today is a good day to do so. On this date, 513 years ago Christopher Columbus touched the soil of the American continents for the first time. A new era began, an era of new worlds and new wars.

Returning to the United States always disorients me a little as I try to balance what I see there and what I see happening south of the Rio Grande. Therefore, I have decided to write a series of articles from time to time, grouped under the heading of ?Life in (the old) America,? of which this is the first.

Not too long ago I was about to leave Caracas for the U.S. I knew that Delta Airlines wasn’t going to give me anything to eat between Atlanta and Denver and so before running out of my house, I made me a ham sandwich. It was confiscated by customs in Atlanta.

I wanted to eat the sandwich but the customs agent told me that I should have eaten it while I was still onboard the plane. However, after stepping on U.S. soil, I would have been breaking the law in doing so. He threw the sandwich into a box.

I have no problem with the United States not letting me enter with my sandwich. I suppose that the government has to protect the financial interests of Subway, McDonald’s or maybe even Halliburton: concerns that certainly override my stomach’s desire to eat on an airplane without paying the airline more than the $950.00 that one has to pay for an “economy” ticket from here to Denver. I just don’t like contributing more to the salaries of their executives as they lead their companies in bankruptcy proceedings.

But my question today is: should Venezuela be obliged to check passengers before leaving the country to see what kind of sandwiches they are carrying with them? Or, in other words, does Venezuela have an obligation to join the U.S.’s “war on ham sandwiches?”

Will it ever stop? Probably not. On the September 16, 2005 ABC television network program, Nightline, Ted Koppel said to Venezuelan president, Hugo Chávez, “You called President Bush an asshole.”