I knew that I would have to leave Venezuela in order to figure out who I was.
I knew from a very, very early age that I was gay, although in the social environment in Venezuela, you don't ever let that be known.
I don't spend the whole off-season in Venezuela. I spend a couple of weeks in Cleveland, go to Florida, take my son to Disney World. But I still have my home, and my whole family lives in Venezuela.
When I talk about democratic socialist, I'm not looking at Venezuela. I'm not looking at Cuba. I'm looking at countries like Denmark and Sweden.
I've become quite a serious explorer: I've been to Everest three times; I'm the oldest man to reach the North Pole; and I've just been to the lost world of Venezuela.
My parents sent me from Venezuela to the Convent of Our Lady, a boarding school in Hastings, which was horrible - like Harry Potter without the magic. Sometimes we went into town, and if we were caught chewing gum in our uniform, members of the public would take down our names and report us to the school.
One of my biggest inspirations is President Hugo Chavez of Venezuela. Yea, President Hugo.
At some point in your life, if you live in Venezuela, you come across or own a cuatro. Either at school, either at camp, either at a friend's house, at a birthday or Christmas or bar mitzvah, you end up with a cuatro. It's like a must.
Growing up in Caracas, Venezuela, the ubiquitous music is salsa, cumbia, merengue, a little bit of samba.
Venezuela is incredible, but Caracas? Oh God, I hate it. The sidewalks get smaller every time I go back.
