CARACAS - Traveling to Venezuela has never been a neutral experience in recent years. For many visitors, it has been marked by tension, uncertainty, and fear. My own experience last year, in March, was a stark example of that reality.
Arriving at the airport then felt less like entering a country and more like stepping into an interrogation zone. Military personnel were visibly present, and immigration procedures were openly hostile toward foreigners. Four different immigration officers questioned us separately, each asking the same set of questions over and over again: where do you work, what is the purpose of your visit, where are you staying, and who will be responsible for you while you are in the country. These are standard questions at airports worldwide, but being asked repeatedly by multiple officers—clearly checking whether answers would change—created an atmosphere of intimidation. The process dragged on for nearly an hour and felt more like a scene from a horror film than a routine border check.
That was then.
Something has clearly changed.
After the dramatic events of January 3, when U.S. forces removed Nicolás Maduro—widely regarded internationally as an illegitimate president—and transferred him to the United States to face justice, I decided to return to Venezuela to see whether the mood on the ground had shifted. One month later, I traveled again, curious but cautious.
This time, the difference was immediate.
The airport experience was calmer, faster, and far more civil. There were more foreign passengers than during my previous visit, yet what had once taken close to an hour was now over in minutes. Immigration asked only three questions: the purpose of my visit, where I would be staying, and to see my return ticket. That was it. From disembarking the plane to standing outside waiting for my ride took no more than ten minutes.
Just as striking was what I did not see. There were no visible military personnel inside the airport. Unlike before, there was no heavy presence meant to intimidate or control. Instead, civilians were handling airport operations in what felt, for the first time in years, like a normal country going about its business.
Outside the terminal, there were also more taxi drivers offering their services. It is still far from what Venezuela once was before the Chavista era began more than 26 years ago, but the difference is noticeable. Small signs of economic activity and movement suggest cautious improvement.
People do not talk openly about it yet. The fear has not fully lifted. But you can sense it. You see it in how things function. You feel it in the atmosphere. It is as if a long illness has begun to heal after the virus was removed.
I am not here to debate whether the U.S. action against Maduro was right or wrong. Some call it justice; others call it kidnapping. That debate will continue. What I can speak about is what I personally witnessed.
Based on my own experience—traveling to Venezuela during the worst of the crisis and now returning after these events—there is a clear shift underway. It is subtle, cautious, and fragile, but it is real.
There is a wind of freedom beginning to blow across Venezuela. And for the first time in a long time, it feels like a beginning rather than an ending.