The Ludmila Confessions

Daud with Ludmila at one of the parties

( thoughts of the past, about Onda Nueva fiasco)
Preparing for the big party for New Years eve.and on…..

Somehow the toughest part of writing is writing itself! It is been said by writers much better than I. It has also been said by producers, film makers, and event publisher that the STORY is the most important part, and that is exactly what I have.

My dear readers, I just let life happen to me. I had no plans, not a clue what I was doing next, no plan B, not even plan A.

Jack was helping me organize our house for the New Year’s party. It was getting cold in the nights, so we decided to bring in all our small animals. I had been selling them to a pet shop in Beverly Hills, but now where to put them? The dining room could be closed in, so we chose that space for them. We took them out of the large garage and brought them in the house. The finches are tiny birds of all different colors that were in the garage. We decided to bring them in their cages, and the baby guinea pigs too. We put them on the formal dining room table, which happens to be too small for our New Year party dinner of 40 guests.

I could close the doors of the dining room so it would be perfect. We finished putting them in there. Everywhere in the dining room, including on the table, and on the chairs, was full of animalitos (little animals). “Now they all will be warm here,” Jack said. I just have to say, with no discrimination, that I have had enough husbands of all different religions to know the best. The Jewish man makes the best husband, because the woman is the queen of his kingdom.

Then it was time to set up a large table for 40 guests in the living room where there was plenty of space, and in front of the large rock fireplace which had seen many wild parties. And through the big sliding glass wall we could see the outdoor fireplace and the nearly professional size swimming pool. We checked that we had everything ready for our New Years bash night. As we worked, Jack and I talked, reminiscing about Onda Nueva, first World Music festival before the one in Chile. We remembered this union communist man, who stole all our cameras from the hotel rooms in the Tamanaco Hotel. And how Peter Graves spoke to them the night before the opening premier gala, and joking, doing guns with his fingers, pointing at the bad guy, while whistling the tune of “Mission Impossible”.

Ludmila in her garden

While negotiation was going on because we were needing more capital, I managed to get another investor to help us out. We had to hire a couple of Venezuelan union guys or else they would not let us start the festival.

Since we were all busy doing things to prepare for the festivities, the cameras and all the recording equipment were left alone and disappeared from the cameramans rooms. At that time it was my turn to go see every big important person in Caracas that I knew. I knew it would pay off that I had a life before in Venezuela, I kept my hopes high for good results. We had a  couple of days off at some point and Jack was not feeling good so I suggested we go to the Island of Margarita. Jack was happy for that, to see where I had grown up and gone to boarding school, at Inmaculada Concepción. I loved walking there, thinking of my dreams on the swing at school, that had become realities. The classrooms appeared so small now. Mother superior was still there and remembered me. It was sweet to visit with my husband holding my hands.

We drove and walked the entire island, on the beach and through a little park where I would swing high trying to reach the unreachable stars. Back then the cities of the island were old and primitive, but at that visit they were updated and new.

That evening after dinner, we went for a walk where I used to live near the houses of the fishermen in front of the caribbean sea. I remembered opening the oysters that they collected with their bare hands from the bottom of the sea. They would open them one by one looking for pearls and I was allowed to open as many as I wanted too. If I found any pearls they let me keep them. As we walked we passed homes with the doors wide open into their living room where families were watching TV. We could hear and see it from the sidewalk, then we stopped abruptly because Jack started nearly screaming at the top of his lungs shouting, “Stop look that’s you in the tube!” Then everybody turned to look at us, with their mouths opened. They recognized me from the opening scene of “Mission Impossible” with Peter Graves. The whole family was around watching the TV series of this show. What a thrilling moment that was, but we just said hello and we waved goodbye. We kept walking to our hotel, happy and excited, laughing at the small world we live in.

Back in Caracas, we went in the rooms of the cameraman since we heard that there was news to ask about. Something at the aeropuerto (airport)? Apparently a helicopter came yesterday and landed on the gardens of the Hotel to unload boxes that went to the cameraman’s rooms. When we arrived we went immediately to the rooms and found Jimmy Maddox laughing and telling us the story. Everything was back! So we hired two of the union cameraman so they could sit and learn the American way how to do a festival film, and today you can see a documentary of it.

It was no surprise that Walter did not keep any of his promises, not even a penny when one day I was in much need, and asked him for help. He ignored everything and later I heard he remarried. I also knew I did not need him now any more, and God was making my dreams come true.