Maria Cordero is supposed to be preparing to arrive in Caracas for the Christmas holidays, but at her home in Spain she checks notifications from her airline every few hours. His direct flight to Venezuela has been cancelled, and the only alternative he now offers is to land in Bogota and, from there, continue to the border to cross the foot of Cúcuta, the transformed Colombian city. In reality, At the new international gateway for Venezuelans. “Nos dieron donde nos duele,” he says. Today’s missing itinerary consists of thousands of passengers trying to return – or leave – from a largely unknown country.
In the past few weeks, Venezuelan airspace has been empty until it becomes a sky without planes. US restrictions on commercial operations around Maiquetia – the country’s main airport – have left Venezuela virtually isolated. Connection with Europe is now closed and the routes that remain active depend on very few points: Bogotá, with decreasing frequencies, and, until this time, Panama, whose airlines temporarily suspend their flights due to interrupted navigation.
With Maiquetia reduced to a handful of destinations—Curazao, Barbados, Manaus, Cancun, San Petrejo, and Moscow—the country has moved much of its international traffic to an unexpected point: the small San Antonio del Tachira airport, on the border with Colombia. However, weekly traffic ranged from 3,500 to over 5,000 passengers. Travel agencies are selling packages that include assistance crossing the Simón Bolívar International Bridge toward Cucuta Airport, which has been transformed into an impromptu international terminal for Venezuelans. Local airlines will double their number of flights in more than a year and more to meet demand, in a terminal that closed once a year and only reopened two years ago.
This border diversion on the ground affects anyone trying to return to the country. They also got in the way when they needed to leave urgently. Stefania Shehadeh spent three days in Panama, waiting to complete her trip to Venice, where she will participate in the Biennale programme. He had a ticket to his final destination of Venice and accepted the exchange of origin offered by his airline. He bought an additional ticket to fly to Panama from Caracas, but when he arrived at the screen he was refused boarding due to supposed irregularities in his documents. He guarantees that everything is fine: “My documents were completely valid, valid and fully compatible with the official requirements for entry into Spain for transit passengers, as well as for entry into Italy, my final destination. Therefore, your personal person refused to board the plane without explaining to me the reason, without giving me a written justification and without offering me assistance.” After a three-day trip, Shehadeh bought a ticket back to Caracas, before that route was suspended until at least December 12.
The scene is repeated at different airports. In Madrid, dozens of Venezuelans remain trapped in Barajas awaiting reprogramming or consular assistance. The diaspora has been organized to provide food and support to those who cannot afford housing. Among those stranded in Madrid, even in the home of a brother, is Clementina Orosa, 75, who visited her family in Spain and was banned from returning. “I said I would open flights on December 31, but I didn’t see myself that day playing with everyone and I was going to Bogotá and I didn’t have any money left to pay the bill to Venezuela. The bag was going to get one,” he says. “I’m under arrest.”
The scale of the problem is enormous. Solo between Caracas and Spain, 36 return flights are scheduled per week, each carrying around 300 passengers. The sudden suspension left thousands of people stranded or with tickets that were no longer suitable for them to reach their destination. European carriers that have decided to land in Caracas, such as Air Europa and Iberia, are offering changes to the departure point and destination or refunds to passengers, but each modification involves new stops, additional costs and uncertainty about whether these routes will remain open.
From the United States alone, he boarded flights with deported Venezuelans who, according to Venezuela, Washington had requested to resume amid political tensions. The crisis is worsening and travelers are trying to continue their plans in other ways, amid a state of complete uncertainty.
The avalanche has become one of the most visible aspects of the pressure strategy keeping the United States under the rule of the Chavez regime. On November 22, the airlines temporarily suspended operations in response to the US Federal Aviation Administration’s warning about increased military operations in the region until February 2026. Subsequently, Venezuela announced the cancellation of the flight licenses of other companies – Air Europa, Iberia, Plus Ultra, Turkish Airlines, Avianca, LATAM, TAP and GOL – summing up, according to the government, in Washington’s “acts of state terrorism”. But the series of cancellations continues, and is now fueled by Donald Trump’s announcement, which last weekend ensured the closure of Venezuela’s skies.
As US military planes fly off the coast of the Caribbean Sea, the tourism industry is trying to save its season. On Margarita Island, the beach destination par excellence, local authorities are ensuring that the suspension of charter flights for Russian tourists will not have a major impact. “We are aware of the fact that at this time most of the tourists are expected to be nationals,” commented Antonio Abreu, president of the Nueva Esparta Tourism Chamber. Every 10 days, 400 Russians arrive at this beach destination. During military threats in the Caribbean, the island expects to receive 110,000 visitors this season, 30% more than in 2024, and between 70 to 100 weekly flights, including some flights from Trinidad and Tobago. Abreu confirmed that the bills from December 19 to 12 were completely sold out.
There are times when airlines maintain operations and reprogram their flights to continue servicing the route during the day, avoiding nighttime, and ensuring that interruptions do not impact safety. The National Institute of Civil Aeronautics confirmed that it continues to “monitor airlines that continue their operations in the country, and certifies the operation and safety of Venezuelan airspace.”
Between the crossed connections and the military decisions that are made in the final letters, their traces appear in the dust: in the cancellation letters that Maria receives, in the signals that Stefania cannot use, in the nights that Clementina sails in Barajas. Venezuela is returning to a family state in an exceptional situation: few communications, uncertain plans and travelers forced to cross the border in order to leave.