“Welcome to the Maiquetia Simón Bolívar International Airport,” said the stewardess with a metallic voice as our plane touched down on Venezuelan soil. The excitement of a family reunion and anguish over the situation in the country shook me out of a brief sleep after eight hours flying from Paris. I was coming back to my country after three years of absence, in the company of my almost-2-year-old daughter and her father.
Read more at the Daily Beast
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
Of Diapers and Dictators in Venezuela
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