My heart is venezuelan

I can't explain this, but it's true: I found this out recently. I can't have Spanish breakfasts anymore; yesterday, I was preparing tortillas and put in small slices of 'lechosa' and cheese. I can't stand the strong coffee anymore, I only drink natural toasted coffee from there! ... and I feel a deep emotion when I hear "Alma llanera". The other day, I was looking for small black beans in the supermarket to prepare the "Pabellon".

I want, I need, to get there a.s.a.p. I'm dying for seeing Choroní again and fishing, and sailing in this blue turquoise sea. I can't live with the sadness of not seeing Venezuela again!

I want to remain in Venezuela forever. I love the land and people. I love José Antonio Abreu and I laugh with the jokes about "gallegos". Moreover, I feel sympathetic to Gustavo Dudamel, which means to be in a very bad mental condition! So --I reckon-- I'm getting fucking crazy out here: I'm getting sick of nostalgia of a country which is not the mine.

I can't believe what is happening to me... I'm on the verge of tears when I listen to venezuelan music and I like to talk with latinamerican master students, because their accent reminds me the way the people talk over there!