The Ludmila Confessions

Ludmila in a cover magazine “Momemto”

Things were starting to look very black, or I should say red, in Venezuela. After Cuba, the people here also wanted a revolution. My great friend and lover from years back, Gen. Marcos Perez Jimenez, now had to flee the country. Venezuelan seam two us like haven after World War II, head worked, food, it was a very rich, beautiful and secure country for us, but now it had become chaotic.

My dear mama  had filed documents at the American embassy five years earlier, so now she was welcome in the U.S. as a resident. She had secured green cards for the whole family right after father left she did this; she was still afraid of being snatched back by the communists. My dear father  went back and we never heard from him again. The ways of the communist regime worked, this was not known to many people, but those who went back were all considered traitors! If an officer, he would be shot on the spot; if a mother with grown children, they would all be sent to Siberia. Younger children would be taken to state schools to be brainwashed. Mother did not want to have anything more to do with war, and the U.S. was at peace – at least it never had wars on its own soil, and that was heaven now for us.

Our friend Horacio was close friend to our home. He liked my mother and sister and generally admired our family, so he took us to the Aeropuerto de Maiquetia. But my sister could not leave because she had divorced from her husband with a daughter who was in the middle of a custody battle. So they  stayed behind. My sister’s second child had died and was buried on Venezuelan soil with others of her husband’s family.

There were tears of goodbye at the humble home where we had lived for many years now. The building was owned by Italians and I had met many Italian men- car racers, pilots and chefs I always loved to eat the Italian food in our friends homes, because it was so different and much richer than the borscht and peasant food of our family. I met lots of beautiful Italians, some humble and some rich. Most of them would go to the Tamanaco Hotel, which was the best in Caracas, and then to the Humboldt on the mountaintop, from which you could see the other side and the Caribbean ocean.

At the Humboldt Hotel we have been many times with William and friends and even with Gala for this last New Year and Domingo drinking champagne until morning, and than playing around.

I had many happy memories of spending New Year’s Eve and other celebrations at these hotels – too many memories are cluttering my mind as I am writing, (so you will have to read the book to find out about than).

Tears rolled from mama’s eyes and mine and everyone that was saying good to the two of us – I think they were more of happiness than sorrow, looking forward to an even brighter future.