themarabinian

[themarabinian]

The Marabinian Ruins I: The Da Costa Gómez Mansion

“In the shadow of forgotten glories, the Da Costa Gómez Mansion stands—its bricks whispering ghosts of grandeur, exile, and memory. May we see it not as a haunted ruin, but as a living archive of Maracaibo’s soul.”

To speak of Maracaibo's old mansions is to invoke a vanished city—one of elegance, ambition, and architectural grandeur. The Paraiso neighbourhood once brimmed with such places: proud testaments to wealth made in coffee, copper, and commerce. Among them stands a structure that locals now call the "Palacete Loyola," often misnamed, always misunderstood.

For decades, it has been the subject of whispered legends: a cloaked figure rocking an infant in the tower, tunnels burrowed beneath its gardens, cries in the night. Children dared one another to touch its gates. Passersby crossed the street. But beneath the patina of myth lies a deeper truth. This is not simply a haunted house. It is a house that haunts us—because it remembers what we have chosen to forget.

The mansion was commissioned in the 1920s by Joshua (José) Da Costa Gómez, a Sephardic Jewish entrepreneur from Curaçao. An investor in Maracaibo's electric tramway and the famed Unión brewery, Da Costa Gómez symbolized a modern, cosmopolitan elite. His house was a statement: a sprawling, ornate structure on Doctor Portillo Avenue, shaped vaguely like a ship—perhaps in homage to his maritime lineage. Belgian architect Léon Jérôme Höet is believed to have been behind its eclectic design, mixing Italianate forms, neo-Renaissance flourishes, and the sinuous lines of Art Nouveau.

Da Costa Gómez’s story took a darker turn: accused of political dissent against the dictatorship of Juan Vicente Gómez, he went into exile and died in Curaçao in 1938. With his departure, the house fell into a state of legal and symbolic abandonment, stripped of both its owner and its name.

After Da Costa Gómez’s exile, the mansion became the official residence of Zulia's governor Vicencio Pérez Soto in 1928. It was later sold to German nationals, becoming the Colegio Alemán, and then repurposed by the Jesuit-affiliated San Javier Organization. It was during this Jesuit era that the misnomer "Loyola" took root, linking the site to Saint Ignatius of Loyola.

Over time, the house served many purposes: a school for girls (Colegio La Presentación), a trade institute, a visual arts school (Julio Árraga), and even a mechanic's workshop. Each incarnation layered over the previous one, eroding the original identity of the mansion while embedding it further into the city's everyday memory.

The Da Costa Gómez Mansion remains one of Maracaibo’s most visually distinctive buildings. Its brickwork, central tower, and grand staircase reflect a romantic vision of European elegance filtered through Caribbean heat. Inside, there once were imported mosaics, carved wooden altars, and a small chapel oriented toward 79th Street. Underneath, a network of tunnels connected the mansion to other estates, their supports resembling mining shafts—a hidden infrastructure that fed local legend.

But beyond the physical, the house acquired metaphysical dimensions. Stories of a nun falling to her death, of ghostly cries and creaking wood, became part of the folklore. These tales say more about collective memory than actual events; they are proof that the mansion still occupies a vital place in the city’s imagination.

By the 1970s, the mansion was home to the Pírela family, who lived there until the late 1980s. Thereafter, it stood in accelerating decay: overgrown gardens, shattered windows, graffiti-covered walls. Though declared of public interest in 2014 and briefly allocated funds for cultural restoration, the project faltered. A plan to turn the mansion into a cultural centre, artist's residence, and urban park never materialized. The building remains, in essence, abandoned—inhabited only by the myths it once inspired.

More than a haunted house, the Da Costa Gómez Mansion is a mirror of Maracaibo itself: glorious, neglected, misunderstood. It deserves more than rumours. It deserves documentation, preservation, and reanimation. Whether as a museum, archive, or cultural beacon, the house can become once again what it was always meant to be: a place where history is not just remembered but lived. Let us call it by its name. Let us restore it to our civic story.

[themarabinian]

I Was Born There, But I Come From Elsewhere

I am not your typical Marabinian. Perhaps I would have made sense in a different time—when Maracaibo was a kind of tropical Athens, full of poets, writers, and thinkers. A city that pioneered electric public lighting, that stood proudly as a port, that dared to imagine itself at the forefront of Latin American modernity before the curse of oil hollowed out its promise.

Today, most proudly call themselves maracuchos, embracing a demonym that—if we’re honest—began as a diminutive. A playful insult turned badge of honor. And while I understand the warmth and vibrancy behind the term, I can’t help but feel disconnected from it. The loudness, the bravado, the contradictions. A deep love for the homeland paired with a participation in its slow unraveling.

I returned in 2018. What I found was a city that felt ghosted by its own greatness. Rusted vehicles, pillars of smoke from burning garbage, a yellow haze of dust and heat. The green was gone. The lake—once proud—continued to be a repository of sewage and spilled oil. It no longer reflected the sky, only our failures.

But I don’t despise Maracaibo. I don’t mock its people.

I grieve.

I mourn a version of the city that maybe never quite existed—at least not in the way I imagine it. I fell in love with photographs and architecture, with fragments of letters and books. I fell in love with a promise.

I am a Marabinian who believes in elegance, in dignity, in craftsmanship. I find comfort in Art Déco curves and Art Nouveau flourishes. I cherish the lost refinement of proper voseo. I still believe in poetry, and in the quiet power of restraint.

Once, people wore linen suits at 38°C and quoted Udón Pérez by heart.

The Marabinian exists because some dreams deserve to echo—even if all we have left are echoes.

[themarabinian]

Celebrating Udón Pérez: The Marabinian Poet of Zulia

Udón Pérez (1871–1926) is one of Zulia's most celebrated poets, known for capturing the spirit of Maracaibo through his literary works. His poetry, inspired by the beauty of the Catatumbo and the warmth of Zulian culture, immortalized the region's essence. Pérez also wrote the iconic anthem of Zulia, Over the Palm Trees, which remains a symbol of pride for the state. His legacy endures as a timeless representation of Maracaibo's cultural heritage.

[themarabinian]

The Santa Lucía Church, known as "Ecclesiastical Parish of Santa Lucía", is a Catholic parish church located in the traditional neighborhood of El Empedrao, a cultural icon of the Maracaibo municipality, Zulia state, Venezuela.

[themarabinian]

The General Rafael Urdaneta bridge is an imposing viaduct 8678 meters in length, also known as the Bridge over the lake, its construction began in the late 50s and spread over five years. It was inaugurated on 24 August 1962 by the Venezuelan President Rómulo Betancourt, where for several years, the longest bridge of its kind in the world and one of the largest structures built of reinforced concrete.

[themarabinian]

The popular belief says that colonial Marabinian houses were originally colourful because of their nearness to the ancient port of the city. The crews of many Spanish, Dutch and British ships would take some time of their stay in the tropical harbour to make repairs on the hull. These repairs would normally include a few layers of bright and oil-based paint. The locals would use the leftover pigments to partially dye the facades of their homes, which would end up decorated extravagantly, and as far as the paint would suffice.

[themarabinian]

The Santa Bárbara Church, called Ecclesiastical Parish of Santa Bárbara and Sanctuary of the Immaculate Conception, is a Catholic parish temple located in the Historic Center of the city of Maracaibo, framed in the Paseo Los Libertadores, in the Zulia state of Venezuela.

[themarabinian]

The Basilica of Our Lady of Chiquinquirá is the busiest Catholic temple in the state of Zulia in Venezuela, located in the center of the city of Maracaibo. A construction dedicated to the Virgin of Chiquinquirá, patron of the state of Zulia. The basilica has three naves and two towers, the main altar, a presbytery, and numerous niches dedicated to various saints.

[themarabinian]

The Baralt Theatre is a renowned art nouveau building of metropolitan Maracaibo, Venezuela, at the northwestern corner of the famous Plaza Bolivar. The original edifice was erected in the mid 19th century as a small performance hall, with subsequent auditoriums there having seen many different reconstructions.

The theatre received the National Monument designation in 1981. This designation recognizes the place as the site of the first film displays in the country. Today it remains an iconic part of Maracaibo’s historical center.

[themarabinian]

The Ever-Unfinished Maracaibo

As in most poor or suddenly pauperized countries, unfinished buildings represent Venezuela's permanent instability and political turmoil. Since its foundation in 1810, each new government often neglected the Pharaonic monuments of the past as a symbolic break from previous regimes, leaving empty architectural carcasses everywhere.

One of these iconic monuments is the obelisk of Republic Square, located near 'Avenida 5 de Julio,' a famous boulevard named after Venezuela's independence date.

President Isaias Medina Angarita inaugurated the square and its monolith on August 23, 1945, as a tribute to the death centenary of General Rafael Urdaneta, a national hero remembered as the last president of Great Colombia. Just two months later, a coup d'état would end his presidency, leaving the monument incomplete.

The central column has an approximate height of 49 meters. It rests on a rectangular base adorned with the coats of arms of the Capital District, the Federal Dependencies, and Venezuela, symbolizing the nation's unity and heritage.

The obelisk was conceived as a viewpoint, meant to be one of the tallest constructions in Maracaibo at the time. Inside, engineers planned to install an electrical system for an elevator, allowing visitors to ascend to the top and take in panoramic views of the city.

However, the coup d'état of October 18, 1945, which overthrew Medina Angarita, halted the installation of the machinery and left the monument incomplete. Today, the pillar stands as a silent witness to Venezuela's interrupted dreams and enduring struggles.

[themarabinian]

José Gregorio Hernández Cisneros, OFS (October 26, 1864 – June 29, 1919) was a Venezuelan physician. Born in Isnotú, Trujillo State, he became a highly renowned doctor, more so after his death. After his death, Hernández's stature began to reach mythic proportions. People around the country started claiming to have been granted miracles after praying for his intercession to God. At present, Hernández is commonly invoked as "José Gregorio" by both doctors and patients for healing purposes. He is also called upon for protection during overland journeys. Eventually, his name became known all over Latin America and Spain.

[themarabinian]

Happy 491st Birthday, Maracaibo!

Did you know? Maracaibo was founded for the first time on September 8th, 1529, by a German Conquistador called Ambrosius Ehinger, who was one of the first governors of Klein-Venedig (Little Venice), the given name of Venezuela until 1546.

Prince Bartholomeus Welser was a German banker who lent a fortune to Charles V, Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. Since Charles wasn’t able to repay his debt, he signed an agreement, granting a concession in Venezuela Province to Bartholomeus Welser.

Even Germany managed to colonize pieces of the Americas. It was only a few islands in the Caribbean that Germany ruled in the 16th and 17th centuries. But unexpectedly, the Welsers obtained the colonial rights for the Province of Venezuela. Hence, many Germans moved there between 1528 to 1546.

Wesler encouraged miners from Germany to move into Klein-Venedig. He also had 4,000 African slaves who worked on the sugar plantations.

Unfortunately, most German settlers who moved to the colony died from tropical diseases or got killed by the indigenous tribes of the area while searching for gold.

The Germans were mostly excited about searching the golden city of El Dorado, and their expeditions began as early as 1529. The project was initiated by Ambrosius Ehinger, who was the first governor of the Welser concession. Ehinger was also the governor of Santa Ana de Coro, the capital of the Province of Venezuela.

In his search for El Dorado, Ehinger went to Lake Maracaibo, where he fought the Coquivacoa, some of the fiercest indigenous tribes in the area.

After winning a series of bloody battles, he founded the settlement at Maracaibo on September 8th, 1529. Ehinger named the city Neu Nürnberg (New Nuremberg) and the lake after the valiant chieftain Mara of the Coquivacoa, who had died in the fighting.

[themarabinian]

Breezes of Zulia - Sound

[themarabinian]

Breezes of Zulia

Rocking the palm trees as if it were the rocking of ships, in my homeland, I start evoking the breezes from my gentle lake, like a fresh perfume like a touch of sweet love, provoking with warm breath the enrapture of the bright sun.

The waves of my lake resemble crystal gulls, which on feigned caravans follow a stream of beautiful thoughts.

The plethoric foams, subtle illusions of the sea, flee beneath the shade of an immense coconut tree.

Daydreaming, facing the moon, with my pupils filled with sunlight, breezes from Zulia, sweet lullaby I’ll always keep your caress in my mind.

—Original Poem in Spanish by Gloria Alba Molero Espinoza. Free Translation of B. Steiner.

[themarabinian]

Cruz María Salmerón Acosta (1892-1929) was a Venezuelan poet. His sonnets were influenced by the movement of modernism.By 1911 wrote his first sonnet Cielo y Mar (Sky and Sea) dedicated to his friend, the poet José Antonio Ramos Sucre. In addition, contributes in publications such as: Satiricón, La U, Claros del Alba, Élite, Renacimiento, El Universal, El Nuevo Diario and Broche de Oro.

[themarabinian]

Blue

Blue from such a distant summit

towards which my musing flies

under the blue peace of the morn,

colour that so many things, to me, reveals!

Blue that from the blue sky emanates,

and blue of this great sea that consoles me,

while I descry from it the vain illusion

of the vision of the wing of a sail.

Blue of the Aprilian scenery,

dismal blue of my lyrical dreams,

that my most intimate apathy calms.

You only anguish me when I suffer cravings

to kiss the blue of those eyes

that never again shall contemplate mine.

—Cruz Salmerón Acosta: Azul. Free translation by B. Steiner.

[themarabinian]

“Really, what does it matter how many share an emotion? One million or one are just the same. The important thing is to feel that the emotion has been intensely shared, and the most beautiful of poems would have been worth writing even for a single good reader.”

—Teresa de la Parra, Mama Blanca’s Memoirs. 1993. University of Pittsburgh Press. (Translation by Harriet de Onís).