The Venezuelan personal space bubble

I had always had laughed inside about the capacity limit in elevators, thinking that the weight limit was excessive and unnecessary, but now I respect it! I had never known just how many people you could fit into an elevator, comfortably or otherwise. I think 8 adults plus 2 small children is the record I've experienced in Venezuela so far, and I'm not talking about a big elevator either! The elevator in my building probably has the area of a medium sized bathroom stall.

In the US, whenever the elevator door opens and you see a lot of people, you are expected to courteously wait for the next one. Here in Venezuela, when the elevator door opens, you quickly peer around the heads and shoulders to see if you can squeeze in too! A dog and extra bags can fit as well, right?

Lines at grocery store, or anywhere else for that matter, also illustrate the lack of personal space down here. When I first moved to Venezuela, I thought that people were rude, cutting in front of me in line! However, I quickly learned that it was because what I considered to be personal space was considered to be public space by everyone else! If you want to keep your place in line down here, you have to roll your cart nearly into the back end of the person in front of you. In fact, sometimes people actually do gently push their carts into you!

Aside from the closeness in line, there is also a wide view of what is "yours" and "mine" down here. For example, the grocery cart isn't "yours." It's a railing for any kid or adult to lean on if they happen to need to squeeze past you or just want a place to put their hand. When I first began encountering this behavior, putting a hand on "my" cart, I felt rather slighted. I have since gotten so used to it that I actually feel like I'm accepted as a Venezuelan when someone does it. I have noticed too that it happens more when someone (or I) strike up a conversation with someone before or behind me in line. That person feels that once dialogue has been opened, so has the cart. I have even had women put their items in my cart while we both wait in line, though for this they do usually ask permission.

There's another element of "yours" and "mine" about shopping down here that is unique to Venezuela. There are constant issues with scarcity, so the stores often limit how much you can buy of prize items. For example, milk is very hard to come by. When it is there, I often some woman will come up to me while I'm in line and ask me in her most persuasive tones, "Would you please do me a little favor? Let me put my 2 milk cartons in your load and I will pay you back right away- I have the money right here, see?" In that way, she can walk away with 4 milk cartons instead of the limited 2. Of course this only works if I am not already buying milk myself. I usually agree to these desperate requests, since I've been on their end of the receiving line many times. I empathize with their need, and I recognize that most of the women who approach me are mothers trying to feed their children and husband as well as themselves.

I feel that I've probably written about this before, but the traffic here follows the example of the grocery store, although with a more aggressive edge. It's every man for himself down here, with no stop signs in town and not enough traffic lights. If you come to a crowded intersection, you nose yourself into the center, wait for the smallest break in the opposing traffic, and barrel through!

Sporadic traffic lights help bring some order to the chaos, but you are welcome to yield for a red rather than actually wait for it to turn green. I admit that I have followed this risky example! I'm sure if you've ever driven late in the evening, you will agree that there are many moments when you feel like it'd be perfectly fine to go, seeing as no one else is going at the moment; even though the light is red. At night here it is expected to ignore the light, since there are safety concerns. No one wants to provide an opportunity for an unwelcome stranger in the dark, just because the light happens to be red.

All in all, by now I've grown accustomed to most of the jostling traffic and the small personal space bubble. The only times when it still continually frustrates me is when people (often kids) touch "my" grocery cart or when my newly formed aggressive driving or line-keeping skills fail and someone cuts in front of me. I realize too that the US is one of the few countries where personal space is considered a priority. I think most cultures have small personal space bubbles, so I have just had to learn to squeeze into a smaller place ;-)