THE PAINTING PASSION OF ELIZABETH ORTIZ

LA VELA: SUNDAY, DECEMBER 3
The painter, Elizabeth Ortiz lives in La Vela. She has left a message for me at the hotel. I visit her in the evening. Her newly-built house on a mud road is part of village gentrification. She is a broad, dark, mature woman, comfortably overweight. She wears long skirts, lots of colours. She has travelled through a Catholic upbringing to Buddhism and brown-rice meditation. Now she is born again as a Baptist Christian. She is quiet but determined in her faith: it shines through her paintings.
Painting is her passion.

She is a school teacher and part-time cab driver in her own car. She has two grown children, never bothered with a husband. She is dismissive of men, men are nothing but trouble.
Of the Chavez Revolution, she says: "The cure is worse than the illness. Men vote without thinking. Now they've voted, they are home getting drunk."
She says: "Christians must become part of the nation's political life: we must declare ourselves."
I wonder whether she is endangered in expressing her opinions.
"I am unafraid," she replies. "Write what I say."

THIS DAY OF DECISION

LA VELA: SUNDAY, DECEMBER 3
Elizabeth Ortiz is a painter. Her work is exhibited in the municipal art center across from the Cathedral. She paints women. Her style is simple. Her paintings are warm and full of heart and belief.
I call her home number. She is away. She will return in late afternoon.
Referendum day: few cars are on the road - no trucks. I ride 20 Ks out of town to La Vela, a fishing village famous for its restaurants and fresh fish for Sunday lunch.
The village is mid way between collapse and gentrification. Rain fell in the night and I inch through slippery mud and deep puddles. All restaurants are closed. Villagers wait in line at polling booths. Women walk carefully in pairs, holding hands. A good number of men are already drunk. They slouch in groups at street corners, caps reversed, sleeveless singlets, patched chinos, cheap trainers. Bottles are much in evidence. I am an intruder on this day of decision, a foreigner, an outsider shunned by stone faces - a welcome so un-Latin American.

PIRATES OR HEROES? WERE THEY GAY?

first cross raised in south america

SANTA ANA DE CORO: SUNDAY, DECEMBER 3
Tradition claims that the cross raised in Coro was the first cross raised in South America. The cross is of wood and stands in a domed shrine in the plaza between a convent, the cathedral and a church. Secret cellars lie below the churches. The cellars were sanctuaries against pirate attacks. Francis Drake and his associates were the pirates.
I was taught at school in England that they were heroes.
The historians of Hollywood agree.
Brits only become villains with the American War of Independence.
Such is history.
Such is art.
All art is political declared Fidel Castro shortly after the Triumph. Homosexuals and politically incorrect writers and performers were excluded from the Artists' Union and banned from publishing or performing. Homosexual painters were forbidden exhibitions.
In Europe, Castro remains a hero of the Left.
Fewer and fewer English schools teach history.
Ah, well...

SHRIMP, LIES AND PARADISE

SANTA ANA DE CORO: SATURDAY, DECEMBER 2
Two guards sit on the steps to the Museum of Art. I am late. The museum is closed. The guards shift their backsides so I can mount the steps. The doors are open. One of the guards says, "Take your time..."
I don't ride at night. I take a cab to a Chinese restaurant. The cab driver is from Caracas. Violence made him flee the capital. He claims that Coro is a Paradise.
Maybe...However, shrimp at the Chinese restaurant are a disappointment.
I watch Chavez on TV in my mini suite at the Intercaribe. Chavez has been on all five channels for the past hour. He is attacking Western (US) media of monopoly dictatorship and broadcasting nothing but lies and propaganda. He names CNN as a major culprit.

WAITING OUT THE REFERENDUM

SANTA ANA DE CORO: SATURDAY, DECEMBER 2

Chavez supporters will be empowered by a Yes vote in the referendum. Big city riots are forecast. I want to witness the referendum. I want to witness the referendum from somewhere safe. Coro fits the bill. The Hotel Intercaribe is at the entrance to the historic district. It has a pool. Back a few years it was the smartest hostelry in Coro. The hotel is near empty. I ask for a room and am shown a damp poky cupboard. A second room has two narrow single beds. The third room has a double bed; it also has an air conditioner that could provide the sound track for a war movie. Finally I am shown a mini suite. The suite is great (though the carpet needs changing). I negotiate the room rate for three nights down to the price of a single. I park and unload and head for the pool.