While growing up in New York, Monica Medina and her family would take extended trips to Venezuela nearly every year. Recently, she returned to Venezuela for the first time in 33 years, to see family and to size up the country, now on the path to socialism. Monica is also director of education and outreach for KPBS. She has spearheaded major outreach campaigns focusing on issues such as domestic violence awareness and prevention, substance abuse addiction, foster youth, and immigration.

This is the fourth and final installment in Monica's travelogue. You can see more of her photos on Flickr.

The rum hacienda.

Today, Fabiola has planned an outing to a rum hacienda (farm) in a pueblo called El Consejo. It is a 90-minute drive to El Consejo, and the hacienda is located on what was once a train station. It is early Sunday morning but the traffic leaving the city, as always, is bad. On the way there I see an endless parade of Chavez billboards.

I am told that El Consejo is the town in which my grandmother spent her childhood. Tia Olga says she visited El Consejo a few years ago and found my grandmother's house still standing. However, she's no longer sure on what street it is located so we don't get a chance to see if it's still there.

El Consejo seems untouched by time. Street after street, row after row of charming little houses festively painted in hues of pink, yellow and bright blue. The heat is more intense here. Once we arrive at the Hacienda Santa Teresa, we must wait for our tour time. We visit the gift shop where all kinds of rums are soldorange-flavored rum, coffee-flavored, clear rum, premium rum, to name a few. For as little as $4 (U.S. funds) you can get a bottle of rum. The most expensive premium rum, aged over 80 years, can be had for $21.

Fabiola tells me that when Venezuelans make a purchase of any kindwhether it be a loaf of bread or a new TV, they must present their cedula (a national photo I.D.). She is not sure why but assumes it is just another way the government seeks to control the people, by keeping track of what they are spending their money on and even where they are when they spend their money.

Sugar cane fields.

We spend the entire day at the rum hacienda. The grounds are extensive. Besides the tour, there's much to dohorseback riding, golf, listening to the music at the bar, and even paintball. On the tour, we see fields and fields of sugar canes and learn that the rum factory was founded more than 200 years ago.

The day is relaxing and moves slowly. As the tour ends, we are all served tall glasses of Cuba Libres and given certificates for participating in the rum tasting. The tour lasts hours and includes several trolley rides throughout the hacienda. By the time it is over, we are all a bit exhausted and hungry. We eat a late lunch and head back to the city, trailed by a beautiful sunset. We are worn out and it is time to pack.

Beatriz gently took Tia Olga's hand

and the two joined together in a merengue.

I came to Venezuela with some apprehension, but I am about to leave having had the time of my life. The U.S. State Department had completely unnerved me and I came very close to canceling this trip. Overall, though, my experience was wonderful. The shadow of Chavez and things to come hovered over us. Despite this, it seems people are largely unfazed in their everyday life by government doings. This new plan to overhaul education in order to raise a nation of socialist children is chilling. Cousin Hector says that this may be just the thing that will motivate Venezuelans to fight back. So far, there hasn't been a unified opposition. This could change as the new education plan is implemented.

For now, despite all the new rules and regulations, the essence of the people appears intact. I saw the goodness in people, their upbeat nature and determination to withstand any challenges or edicts thrown their way. They still go out to nightclubs and take their kids to McDonald's (yes, I saw McDonald's packed with families and kids choosing hamburgers over traditional arepas). They still like to shop and spend the day at the beach. I remember Beatriz at the rum hacienda. Listening to music played over the speakers, she began an impromptu dance on the sidewalk. Gently, she took Tia Olga's hand and the two joined together in a merengue. Surely, this was not the act of a woman who the evening before told me she was afraid for their future.

Would I go back? Absolutely. As long as it is possible. As long as the borders remain open. I will go back. And next time I'll take my daughter, too. I want my children to know their family, to experience what it's like to live as their family lives, and to learn about our culture and heritage, no matter what tomorrow brings.

With much trepidation I embarked recently on a journey of a lifetime, 33 years in the making. Thats how long it had been since I last traveled to Caracas, Venezuela, home of my parents, and where Id spent a good portion of my childhood.

Me (far left) and my siblings Regina, Miqui, and Rafael.

Id been planning this trip for six months. Along with my siblings, Rafael, Mqui and Regina, sometime last summer we decided wed visit Caracas together in December. Then, just a couple of weeks before the departure date, we learned that Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez would be up for re-election that month. Fearing untold violence on Election Day, we thought it best to postpone our trip until January.

My fear of going was sparked by the many news reports about Chavez--his obsessive adoration of Fidel Castro and his desire to be like him, plus his almost manic hatred of the U.S.

But really, all you need to do is read the U.S. State Departments travel advisory on Venezuela and its enough to make you want to ask for a refund on your plane ticket. Heres a snapshot:

Violent crime in Venezuela has spiked in recent months. The country has the highest per-capita murder rate in the world. Armed robberies take place in broad daylight throughout the city, including areas generally presumed safe and frequented by tourists. Well armed criminal gangs operate with impunity, often setting up fake police checkpoints. Kidnapping is a particularly serious problem, with more than 1,000 reported during the past year alone.

My brother says the State Departments Web site exaggerates the situation but, frankly, I was ready to cancel. My siblings told me not to overreact. Theyd been there many times before and never encountered any problemsas long as you avoided certain neighborhoods, such as the center of Caracas, the old part of town, and certain market places, and tourist areas. I wanted to take my son to see the home of Simon Bolivar, the founder of the country. I remember going there as a kid and loving it. No, said my sister. Its not safe to go there.

So with such convincing arguments from my brothers and sister, I went. I took my son, Josh, a college student at UC Santa Barbara, because I wanted him to meet our family, to see the many relatives we have there. I also wanted to see for myself just what impact Chavezs government was having on everyday life and, especially, my family.

Day One: Chavez's Changes

The first change I noticed as soon as I arrived. Chavez had altered the name of the country. No longer called Venezuela or the Republic of Venezuela, it was now Republica Bolivariana de Venezuela. Chavez seems to have a hero worship for the countrys liberator and has practically re-written history to define Bolivar as a socialist. He regularly invokes the name of Bolivar to help him promote the causes of his government. Perhaps, too, because Bolivar is held in such high esteem as the Father of the Country, Chavez has hopes that some of this will rub off on him. There are even billboards throughout Caracas that juxtapose Chavezs likeness with Simon Bolivars. My brother pointed out that altering the name of the country wasnt the only change Chavez made. He also has modified the Venezuelan flag, by changing the direction the horse is facing in the coat of arms, and has plans to revise the lyrics in the national anthem.

According to the State Departments Web site, Incidents of taxi drivers in Caracas overcharging, robbing, and injuring passengers are common. So it is best to be picked up by someone you know you can trust. When we arrive at night (another State Department no-no), Hector, a cousin who makes his living as a chauffer, meets us at the airport.

The billboard reads, "In the Ministry of Energy & Petroleum and the new PDVSA, we work together recovering oil for the people!"

Hector used to work for PDVSA, the Venezuelan petroleum company. For 22 years that is how he made his living. But in 2002, there was a national strike and employees of PDVSA went on strike too. The strike went on for three months and ended with Chavez firing all the strikers at PDVSA. He also made it against the law for any other employer to hire them. More than 20,000 people were affected, including Hector. Without work and without any prospects of work, Hector began to drive his car for hire. Hector, who is a few years younger than me, beams when he sees me. Though he doesnt really remember me, hes thrilled to see me and meet my son. He has a warm smile for us, cheerful eyes, and a peppy personality. As we drive through the winding roads across the hills to Caracas, he doesnt stop talking. My Spanish is good but not good enough to keep up with Hectors speedy delivery, the words spilling out from him with blustery enthusiasm.

I learn that we have to take El Camino Viejo (the old road) to Caracas because the bridge that connected to the newer, more direct road, collapsed a few years earlier. El Camino Viejo is only two lanes with a rather steep incline. Trucks are parked along the shoulder and Hector explains that this is because trucks are prohibited from traveling this road during select times of the day, this being one of them. So they remain on the shoulder until its their turn.

The Pare (Stop) sign seems to mean nothing to Venezuelans.

In general, no one obeys traffic laws. I see many going through red lights, driving on the shoulder when traffic is bad (and here, its bad all the time). The sign, Pare or Stop, seems to mean nothing to Venezuelans. Hector says this is because there are no police monitoring the roads. No one cares how anyone drives. It is no doubt the least of the governments worries.

I decide to ask Hector about the situation in Venezuela. He quickly frowns and makes a face of disgust. He's not the only one who lost gainful employment. Cousin Marion, after working 34 years for the petroleum company, was also affected. Now she bakes cakes at home and sells them to local businesses. A couple of other cousins were also affected. I would meet them soon.

Monica's travelogue continues in two weeks. Coming up next: Day Two -- Arepas and a Hotel in Disrepair.