The other day, I saw a gentleman get out of the elevator in my building wearing no shirt, swim trunks and no shoes. Guess where he was from?

Yes, a new American family has moved in and this guy didn’t waste any time getting comfortable. Granted, he was heading to the pool, but that is just something you never see done here. From my first trip here, I noticed how the people on my flight – mainly Venezuelans – were dressed casually, but chic. The men wore nicely fitted jeans with loafers and the women also spruced up their outfits with blouses (as opposed to t-shirts) and accessories. This was a welcomed change because I’ve traveled with Americans who wore pajamas and never understood the rationale behind that.

Which brings me to something people, especially Americans, should be prepared for when visiting Caracas – the effort Venezuelans put into their appearance. Aside from the excessive plastic surgery, Venezuelans look nice everywhere they go. At the supermarket, I never see a woman who looks like they are making a quick stop because they forgot something. Everyone looks as though they got ready to go to the store – makeup and all. It’s nice to look at, but a pain in which to have to take part.

I don’t think I was at all a slob before coming here, but somehow my regular jeans and t-shirt made me stick out like a sore thumb. I didn’t change my entire wardrobe, I just re-coordinated my outfits. For instance, if I am going to wear jeans, I pick a nice blouse and add some accessories. I will never be one to forgo comfort for style, but these changes have been relatively easy and I always feel like I’m a little dressed up.

So, even though the clothes are tighter than what I’m accustomed to, Venezuelans are always impeccably put together and there’s definitely wrong with that.

Photo credits: Selenademi920 and NeoGaboX via Flickr

Aside from my experience with the cuckoo lady at the supermarket, I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the elderly in Caracas. They will not hesitate to ask for help crossing the street, carrying their groceries or accompanying them home. I always feel like I get a work out with my Spanish after helping one because I can never understand what they say at first. Eventually, after I say “como” a thousand times, we communicate just fine.

After I got over the shock of the first person who asked me to help them get to his apartment (he was also legally blind), I realized that I had never been approached to do anything of the sort in the States. Even when I was a teenager and took the bus everywhere, not once did an elderly person ask for assistance. This actually makes me sad. It’s sad because I think senior citizens in the States need just as much help doing every day things as Venezuelans; but, they must be afraid to ask.

While working in human services, I would always hear how the American society does not take care of its most vulnerable – the youngest and the oldest populations. When the going gets tough, programs for young children and the elderly are the first to feel the squeeze. It goes to show how that sort of thinking in government permeates the culture as a whole. So, we’ve become a culture that gets annoyed when children act like children and pretend we don’t see the 80 year-old struggling to get across the street safely.

What I hope is that these experiences will make me more aware of senior citizens silently struggling wherever I am. I also hope that I’m setting a good example for my kids, so that they see it’s not only okay to ask for help, offering it is even better.