Pedro Portal / EL NUEVO STAFF
5/30/07 -- Members of the Venezuelan
community living in in the Doral area
gathered at the El Arepazo restaurant
located at 101 NW 58 Street during a
protest against the closing the
RCTV
television station in
Venezuela.
It's been more than two decades since
Patricia Andrade left Venezuela, but it only
takes her a short drive into the city of
Doral for her to feel at home.
``When I'm in Doral I am transported to
my country,'' said Andrade, a political
activist who advocates for human rights in
her home country and works with newly
arrived immigrants in South Florida. ``You
go buy hotdogs with Venezuelan flavor on the
corner, you can buy delicious arepas and
cachapas. That's why they call it Doralzuela.''
The nickname is a testament to the
influence of the Venezuelan community on the
west Miami-Dade city, which ranks first in
the United States among municipalities with
the highest concentrations of residents from
the Latin American country. The city's
unofficial name appears on the occasional
bumper sticker affixed to cars parked at
strip malls. A novelty shop at nearby
Dolphin Mall
once sold T-shirts emblazoned with the
moniker -- a linguistic combination of Doral
and Venezuela.
Even Sushi Joe, a neighborhood Japanese
eatery on Doral Boulevard and 95th Avenue,
boasts an unlikely homage on its menu: the
``Doralzuela roll,'' a sweet and savory dish
that combines fried plantains and cream
cheese surrounded by white rice.
While the suffix has also been applied to
Venezuela-friendly Weston -- a.k.a.
Westonzuela -- Doral has become the
Miami-Dade gathering point for expats
looking to put down roots in a new country
or vent their frustrations with developments
back home.
The number of Venezuelans arriving in
South Florida swelled dramatically in the
years after Hugo
Chávez rose to power in 1998, with
many leaving the country out of concern for
Chavez's leftist politics and fears of
economic and political upheaval. The exodus
coincided with the last decade's spate of
development in Doral, home to a slew of
office parks and subdivisions.
``The birth of Doral coincided with the
first silent exodus of the Venezuelans,''
said Andrade, whose work with the Venezuela
Awareness Foundation takes her frequently to
Doral.
The city is home to a handful of locally
published newspapers and periodicals aimed
at the Venezuelan community, with news of
developments in Venezuela running alongside
local ads for private schools, orthodontists
and others trying to reach ``Doralzuelans.''
Local groups vocal in their criticism of
Chávez have protested on street corners in
Doral.
Perhaps no other Doral establishment has
become known as the go-to spot for
Venezuelans than El Arepazo, a
cafeteria-style eatery tucked alongside a
Citgo station at 10191 NW 58th St.
``Whenever there is a development in
Venezuela, people gather at Arepazo,'' said
Lorenzo Di Stefano, one of the owners. While
the original El Arepazo has been closed
since a 2009 fire -- the gas station and
mini-mart remain in operation -- the owners
have opened up a second restaurant,
appropriately called El Arepazo2, at 3900 NW
79th Ave. The original El Arepazo is set to
reopen this fall.
Di Stefano and his family arrived
permanently in Doral in 2001. Settling his
family and starting a business in the city
was an easy decision: ``A lot of our friends
were already here,'' he said.
Di Stefano's son, also named Lorenzo,
said despite the fame of the family
business, he feels little passion for either
American or Venezuelan politics; he keeps
busy with his studies as a business major at
the University of
Miami.
Likewise, his father says he takes no
political stance.
``I was never into politics in Venezuela.
People come here and they ask for our help,
and we give them the space to gather in a
private setting.''
Venezuelans flocked to the original
eatery to satisfy their passion for
dominoes, sports -- beisbol and fútbol --
and, of course, politics. Hundreds of
flag-waving expatriates flooded the gas
station's two-acre lot during the December
2007 Venezuelan election on constitutional
reforms. Such gatherings earned the
restaurant the title of the ``Venezuelan
Versailles,'' a reference to the famed Calle
Ocho eatery beloved by the
Cuban exile
community.
``As a Cuban-American, I have a lot of
sympathy for what Venezuelans have gone
through,'' said J.C. Bermudez, mayor of
Doral.
Last year, the city council issued a
proclamation declaring April 13 a day to
honor the Venezuelan exile community.
Doral may have the distinction of having
the largest population of Venezuelans
outside of Caracas, but Venezuelans by no
means make up the majority. Bermudez says
residents come from at least 77 different
nations. Out of about 39,000 residents, 76
percent are Hispanic and 18 percent hail
from Venezuela, according to the latest U.S.
Census numbers.
``Just on my block, there's a Venezuelan
married to a Colombian, a Guatemalan married
to a Bostonian, and a Peruvian on the
corner,'' Bermudez said. ``Venezuelans are
an important part of the community . . . I'm
glad that community is finding its
identity.''