La Huerta, Caracas, Venezuela, December 2025

There is something tender and quietly resilient about spending the festive season in Caracas.

Late December has arrived, and while the backdrop may be complex—economically, socially, emotionally—what continues to shine, perhaps more brightly than anything else, is the spirit of the people. Christmas 2025 in Venezuela has not come without its shadows, but it has brought with it a depth of light that can only be found when joy is chosen, not given.

The days leading up to Christmas were a tapestry of small, meaningful moments. Walks through the city, with its unexpected pockets of colour and beauty, revealed trees wrapped in lights and music spilling out from balconies. Markets bustled with last-minute shoppers. Nativity scenes—pesebres—stood proudly in homes and shop windows alike, each one handcrafted with love and care.

One of the most special traditions I got to be part of this year was preparing hallacas. These parcels of maize dough filled with stewed meats, olives, and raisins, wrapped in banana leaves, are far more than food—they’re family rituals, they’re memory, they’re Christmas itself. Together with friends, we laughed, learned, and folded, our fingers sticky with dough and stories.

Evenings were spent gathering with friends, often around simple meals or under the blinking lights of modest but joyful decorations. In a city that dances between challenge and celebration, these gatherings felt like small victories of connection. They reminded us that festivity is not about excess, but about presence.

Caracas, too, surprises you. Its green hills, wrapping around the city like a protective cradle. Its murals, telling stories of resistance, resilience, and art. Its people—full of warmth, humour, grace.

There were moments of stillness too. Looking at the mountains as dusk fell. Listening to the city hum, not loudly, but steadily. Feeling part of something fleeting and, at the same time, timeless.

This Christmas may not have had snow or pine trees or carols in the traditional sense. But it had light. It had flavour. It had dignity. And it had a kind of magic that can only be found in places that insist on hope.

Feliz Navidad, Caracas. You’ve made this season unforgettable.

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