About Me - Pablo Antonio Duran
A Journey of Reinvention: From Venezuela to the World
Avila mountain. Caracas, Venezuela
A Mountain That Watched Over Me
Every great city has its symbol. New York has Times Square, Sydney the Opera House, Paris the Eiffel Tower. Caracas, the capital of Venezuela, has El Avila — a majestic mountain that looms over the city. No matter where you are, you can see it. It serves as a guide when you’re lost, a source of comfort when you’re feeling down, and a silent companion when you need to reflect. It shapes both the city and its people.
For 21 years, I saw that mountain day and night. But for almost six years now, I’ve been away from Caracas — likely never to return. Like many others, I didn’t leave because I planned to; I left because I had to. I didn’t just leave behind my family and friends; I left behind a possible life, a personal narrative, and a piece of my identity.
I write this not for attention, but because migration is more than just movement — it’s reinvention. For me, it meant leaving behind a life I didn’t choose to abandon and forging a new path in places I never imagined calling home. This is my story of loss, resilience, and finding identity beyond borders— one that many, especially Venezuelans, can relate to.
I hope it helps others navigate their own reinvention, embrace the challenges of starting over, and discover that home is something we can build wherever we go. This is also my way of expressing gratitude to the many people who have shaped my path. Lastly, as I begin sharing my thoughts online, I want to do so without filters — fully and unapologetically. This is me.
The Unexpected Venezuelan
Whenever I tell people I’m from Venezuela, I see genuine surprise on their faces. I’d probably react the same way if I were in their shoes. Many assume I am British, Nordic, Dutch, or German. Someone once even asked me if I had ever visited Latin America.
Surprise! I am Venezuelan. Latino. Just watch me dance or talk about love. 😄
This reaction reflects a broader historical reality — one tied to migration. In the first half of the 20th century, many Latin American countries, including Venezuela, experienced waves of European immigration. Back then, the migration flow was in the opposite direction. My grandparents came from the east of Venezuela, bringing a mix of Spanish and Arabic heritage. Like many before them, they arrived in search of a better life — and they found it.
Decades ago, Venezuela was a land of opportunity, boasting one of the highest GDP per capita in the world.
In the 1950s, Standard Oil, probably one of the biggest companies of its time, described Caracas for the American viewer as:
Caracas presents some of the most beautiful architecture on Latin America. It is one of the busiest and most modern cities. New buildings seem to sprout up every day.
But history has a cruel sense of irony. Venezuela is not alone in its fall from grace. Other countries have followed similar trajectories — Lebanon, Argentina, Cuba, Greece, Iran. Prosperity, then collapse.
Like my great-grandparents before me, I would become an emigrant too. But before that, I lived a childhood full of love in a city where leaving was never part of the plan.
Growing Up in Caracas: Love, Comfort, and Arepas
My childhood was beautiful. I was loved deeply by my family, and looking back, I realize I was a bit spoiled — I had all the toys I wanted! More importantly, I grew up in a household where nothing was missing. We lived in a good neighborhood, in a nice apartment, and I attended a good school. We even traveled abroad occasionally.
My mother, father, and most of my family were born and raised in Caracas. There was never a reason to leave — it was home, and life was good.
One of my most beloved memories is of my mother waking me up for school. Every morning at 5:45 AM (seriously, WTF school system?), she would gently turn on the bathroom light, letting it softly filter into my room. Then, she would come in and lovingly wake me. I’d get dressed, eat the breakfast she had prepared — almost always an arepa — and head off to school. This happened every day for over a decade. No matter how many times I say thank you, I will never be able to fully repay my mother for her love.
A Curious Mind, A Stubborn Heart
My parents had lots of patience. I was not an easy child to handle — not because I was doing stupid or dangerous things, but because I always had an opinion. And I had to say it, especially when I disagreed with my parents, even though I was usually wrong.
My aunt, my mother’s younger sister, probably has the best stories. When I was five, during our bedtime prayers, I asked her, “What does ‘from your womb Jesus’ mean?” She had no idea how to answer. Three years later, while visiting her in Spain, I seriously asked how much she had spent on groceries — so I could assess if it was too much.
In hindsight, this tendency to question everything was a good thing. It forced me to think critically and develop my own opinions. But as a child, it made me exhausting to deal with.
High school: A Second Home
I attended the same school from kindergarten to high school graduation — an unusual experience. From six months old to 17 years old, Valle Abierto was my world. It was a small, community-like school, where everyone knew each other. We sat at tables instead of desks, in classrooms with about 20 students each. The school was ahead of its time in terms of technology and teaching methods.
I was the student with the longest tenure in the school’s history. Everyone knew me. And I felt cared for and protected.
Some of my best memories come from school trips around the country, Semana Deportiva (a full week dedicated to sports), and la pernotada (a sleepover at school). I had incredible friends — most of whom, like me, now live abroad.
Funny fact: I graduated one year sooner than the usual, at 17 years old not 18. This happened because I entered school very young and went with the flow. The school advised my parent to hold me back one year because “I was not mature enough.” To which my father declined and said “I don’t care, I take the risk.”
First love
Like a true Latino, I was in love by default. At 15, I had my first serious girlfriend. We were together for seven years — through the second half of high school, all the way until I started my master’s degree. She was, and still is, an amazing person. We grew up and supported each other through so much.
Though we no longer speak, I wish her the best. I also wish the best for her family — her mother, father, sister, grandmother, and now, her husband.
A Mind Wired for Structure
From an early age, I loved building things.
At six, I was obsessed with Kinder Surprise eggs — not for the chocolate, but for the little puzzles inside. I assembled dozens.
My next building obsession became Legos. I asked my family to give the Legos during Christmas. My collection was big. My mother tells me I could go spend hours just building them.
By 12, I was drawing the floor plan of our apartment, carefully using different rulers and pens. By 16, I started to do my yearly plans.
All my yearly objectives from 2015 to 2026
Still today. For example, the way I organize (all) personal information in very detailed.
I’ve always loved planning, structuring, and thinking long-term. It’s just part of who I am.
Shaping My Identity Through Politics and Purpose
In the high school graduation speech I stated I wanted to be President. I mean: Why? Think big or go home haha… thank god I have humbled myself. During high school I participated in many debate competition imitating the legislative body. Being a politician was my dream.
My interest in politics stemmed from my family background. Our last name carried political significance, and my grandfather, on my father’s side, dedicated his life to it. Though he was a doctor, he wasn’t a full-time practitioner. I would listen attentively to my grandmother’s stories about him, always eager for more details. My father followed a similar path — he dedicated his life to public service and reached high-ranking state positions.
However, my motivation to pursue politics wasn’t just family influence; I saw it as a way to create large-scale impact. I envisioned myself as the technical expert, advising elected officials and shaping policy. Not necessarily in the front line. I had friends who have better communication skills — “D” would know.
I felt thrilled every time my father took me to his meetings. I sat quietly, absorbing every word, like a ghostwriter documenting history. I met senators, deputies, governors, and even presidential candidates — the very people I followed in the news. Being around them in a personal setting was surreal. I asked them endless questions and even challenged them in respectful debates.
But my dream of a political career ended — or at least was indefinitely postponed — the moment I moved abroad. Politics requires deep roots in one’s home country, and living abroad made that nearly impossible. Maybe if I stay long term in another country, could be the case. It was a painful realization — not only did I have to leave my country, but I also had to reshape my personal identity.
Losing My Father, Finding My Strength
My time shadowing my father at political meetings didn’t last as long as I had envisioned.
During my second year of university, my father passed away. He was an incredible father — truly one of a kind.
Three years before his passing, I was already aware this was a likely scenario. He underwent multiple heart surgeries, each one more complicated than the last.
The morning after his final surgery, the doctor said, “Papi falleció” (Father passed away). My mother and I heard it at the same time. I was calm. I didn’t cry.
At that moment, my pragmatic mind took control, suppressing my emotions and focusing on one obsession: Graduate from university and become financially independent.
People arrived at the hospital in minutes — family, friends, colleagues. It was so crowded that moving through the space became difficult. He was loved. Hundreds attended his funeral.
The Drive to Achieve: Where Does It Come From?
By nature, I struggle with doing nothing or engaging in activities that lead nowhere.
Reading has always been my way of seeking a better life or solving problems. During high school summers, I dedicated time to books. One summer, I decided to understand what makes a company great. I read three books on the topic and created a 50-page Word summary — no clear idea how it would help me, but I did it anyway.
On one trip back from the U.S., instead of buying clothes, my suitcase was filled with ten books.
At 16 (in 2015), I drafted a life plan extending until 2060. I mapped out when I would get married, when I would become a Deputy, the company I would found, and even my post-politics career — one option being President of the International Monetary Fund.
As a child, I had a natural inclination for entrepreneurship. At seven years old, when we bought a new TV, I repurposed the protective packaging into a mobile sales stand. I would walk around the house, selling imaginary goods to family friends — always at high prices. 😆
For a time, I became obsessed with biographies, reading about tech giants, politicians, and historical figures. My favorite? Benjamin Franklin. He came from nothing and succeeded across multiple fields — politics, business, science. His life embodied everything I admired: adaptability, ambition, and relentless curiosity.
The Final Debate: The Battle for University
Economics, Politics, and the Hardest Decision Yet
When it was time to go to university, my father and I, as usual, had different opinions.
Two years before finishing high school, I was certain that I wanted to study Economics. The reason was simple: it allowed flexibility between the private and public sectors. I saw the country heading in a bad direction, limiting opportunities in politics. That’s why I didn’t choose Law. To mitigate risk and open a career path in the private sector, I chose Economics (spoiler alert: I ended up in corporate finance).
Interestingly, my father, a layer, did not challenge my choice of degree. He always advised me to “be good at math and English,” and by then, I had proven myself in both.
The debate was about which university I should attend. For a time, my parents and I considered studying abroad. I got accepted into a prestigious university in Madrid, but financial circumstances changed, making it unfeasible.
I had to stay in Caracas. I applied to three top universities and was accepted into all of them, but we couldn’t agree on which one — a privileged dilemma to have. Unable to convince me himself, my father arranged meetings with two of his close friends, “C” and “F”. After those conversations, my choice became clear
My Alma Mater: Education in a Divided Nation
Universidad Metropolitana
The university itself is a reflection of Venezuela — full of contrasts and contradictions.
It was founded as a philanthropic, non-profit civil association by one of Venezuela’s most successful businessmen, Eugenio Mendoza Goiticoa — one of my idols.
Padros del Este highway dividing the La Urbina (neighborhood on the left), and Petare (biggest slum in Venezuela), on the right. (The university is not visible in the picture)
It was a Non profit, but the most expensive university in the country. Aiming to open opportunities to the Venezuelan young, wealthiest Venezuelan attended it.
More contrasting is the university location. On one side was a middle class neighborhood. On the other, the biggest slum you can imagine. Two completely opposite realities divided by a highway. And that was the country itself. Different realities next to one another, sometimes both ignoring each other other times in conflict.
Despite the context, the university delivered. I was educated by excellent (and demanding) professors. I participated in two extracurricular activities — Debates (Model United Nations) and the Student Council. Most importantly, I built lifelong friendships.
A Promise Fulfilled: From Caracas to Madrid
My father was a good friend.
My journey to Spain began in a hospital. I got the chance to say goodbye. In the emergency room, he lay in bed, waiting to be sedated. My mother and I stood by his side. We all knew.
His last advice: “Go to Spain.” That was the last time we spoke. This time, I didn’t argue. I just executed.
The first challenge was affording the last two years of university.
Sometimes life deals bad luck (your father dies). Other times, good luck: I was able to pay for university thanks to the Conrad Adenauer Foundation and my father’s best friend, L.
Could I just get a job? Well, I did. At that time, I started interning at one of the “Big Four” firms. My salary was 7–8 dollars per month. No exaggeration. I remember cashing my paycheck at the bank and converting it to USD. The conclusion was obvious: I had to leave to build a professional career. But I had the same problem — no money to go abroad.
I needed capital. Twice, I traveled to a developed country for summer jobs in construction. I sold my car. And then, another stroke of luck — my second father’s best friend, G, helped me fund my master’s degree abroad. Thank you, G. On top of that, the university in Spain granted me a generous scholarship. Thank you, IE Foundation.
Still, my budget for living in Spain was stupidly low — almost unmanageable. I had to live 1.5 hours away from the university to afford rent. And in Madrid, 1.5 hours by public transport doesn’t feel like living in Madrid. That’s when E came into play. Thanks to him, I was able to live just two blocks from the Business School, a difference that cannot be quantified. Thank you, E.
The True Self-Worth
Economically, my classmates were in another league. Some had private airplanes. One even had an airline. I was nervous — I didn’t come from the same background, nor did I have the same financial resources. G helped me buy a new suit for the Master’s opening ceremony (the one I had before was terrible).
I followed E’s advice: “Play where you can win.”
For me, that meant NOT dining out, NOT traveling, NOT indulging in the city’s luxuries. Instead, I focused on studying and being a valuable classmate. It worked.
To be honest, I was lucky again — my classmates weren’t just wealthy; they were incredible people from good-hearted families. They liked me for who I was. The only thing I had to offer was myself. That realization — that real value comes from within — helped me build my self-confidence. When I meet people that think the opposite, I automatically discard them.
Funny story: Years later, I visited one of my classmates at their family home. We joked about what it meant to be wealthy. I said, “Man, having an airplane — that’s another level.” He didn’t reply. The next day, during lunch, one of his siblings casually mentioned they took the family airplane for their honeymoon. HAHA.
The Second Master’s Degree: Job Hunting
Plan A was to get a job. In Madrid, there was no Plan B — Plan B was simply executing Plan A. I had around nine months’ worth of savings, which almost covered the duration of my master’s program. After that, my only fallback was my credit card — or sheer luck.
Looking back, I effectively completed two master’s degrees — one in business school, and the other in job hunting. I applied for over 80 jobs. In fact, I spent more time applying for jobs than I did studying.
I knew it would be tough. Moving from a developing country to a developed one was never going to be easy. What I didn’t expect, however, was a global pandemic to make things even worse. And it did. Companies stopped hiring. The job market collapsed.
I applied for over 80 jobs and got only three full-time offers and one internship. Was it a success? That also means I was rejected over 70 times. Did I fail? Yes, repeatedly. But I learned. And in the end, success is simply a series of consecutive failures.
Hard Work Meets Serendipity
Life is unpredictable. I meticulously tracked my job applications in a master-level Excel file, spent hours refining my resume and cover letters, networked endlessly for referrals, and executed a solid job application strategy.
And yet, after all that structure and preparation, I landed my job at a company I had never even heard of before applying. I was invited to apply via email.
The original email that changed my life — details omitted for confidentiality
Sometimes, we think we control every aspect of our lives. But in reality, we only control a few things. I controlled my preparation for interviews, but I had no control over which company would ultimately call me back.
Breaking Free from External Validation
When I applied to my first full-time employer after my master’s degree, I had already submitted dozens of applications. I thought, “Well, one more won’t hurt.”
I was so unconvinced that I submitted my application a few hours after the official deadline had closed.
At the time, I was mature, but not enough. I remember thinking, “A manufacturing company in the construction industry? Not a sexy industry. No prestige. Not for me.”
I was driven by external validation. I valued how others perceived my job more than how it fit into my long-term career. That was a foolish way to make a decision.
A fulfilling career is not about how impressive it looks to others, but about how meaningful it feels to me. That shift in mindset changed everything.
Who cares where you work? What matters is whether you are happy with it.
Pain Before Progress: Lessons from Moving Countries
Growth comes after pain.
After completing my master’s in Madrid, I lived in five more countries: Mexico (15 months), Panama (8 months), South Korea (3 months), Switzerland/Liechtenstein (24 months and counting). Seven countries so far.
I had incredible experiences, met extraordinary people, and expanded my worldview at an incredible speed. But the lens I want to use to reflect on the past four years is different.
I want to focus on the experiences that forced me to grow — when I struggled, felt like quitting, and had to find the courage to keep going.
Every time I moved, I deeply suffered. Some transitions were shorter, others much longer. Every move meant losing friends, heartbreak, adapting to a new professional challenge, and adjusting to an unfamiliar society.
Only by being present and acknowledging the good things in my environment did I find peace. The issue was that many of these “good things” were also new to me. It took time to identify and appreciate them.
Switzerland was the toughest adaptation. On paper, the country is perfect. In reality, coming from big cities, the transition was difficult. But over time, I embraced its connection to nature, cleanliness, calmness, order, and punctuality. These eventually became sources of happiness.
Comparisons are the foundation of sadness. I learned to control the desires of the “monkey mind.” Every time I moved, my first instinct was to think about what I had lost. Only after forcing myself did I recognize what I had gained.
When I was younger, I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted to achieve. Now, I focus on what I am achieving.
A Pragmatic Approach to Career Selection
Deciding on a professional career was not an easy choice.
I was fortunate to be in a supportive company that offered multiple career tracks. After two years in the company and developing a strong internal value system, it was time to determine the right career path.
Initially, I started in sales, but as I quickly realized it wasn’t the best fit for me, I began exploring alternatives: finance, marketing, logistics, operations, and more.
To make an informed decision, I identified the key factors that mattered most to me: a field where I could excel and one that offered strong career growth. I dedicated over 200 hours to this decision, creating a 20-page PowerPoint presentation to structure my thoughts. I discussed my options with over 10 mentors, both inside and outside the company, and had more than 30 coffee chats to gather insights.
Ultimately, finance emerged as the best fit. Two years after making this decision, I can confidently say — no regrets.
From Planning Everything to Trusting the Process
I am someone who enjoys planning. Thinking about the future comes naturally to me — probably more than necessary.
But life is unpredictable. Losing my father, entering the world of finance, moving across countries — none of these things were in my original life plan. If someone had told my 16-year-old self that I would take this path instead of becoming President of Venezuela, I would have thought they were insane.
At a high level, my goals now are different. I have a few simple wishes:
At a high level, my goals now are different. I have a few simple wishes:
I want to to be closer to my family, especially my mother and brother.
Build a strong, long-term relationship with my partner, M, with the perfect balance of geographical flexibility and time together.
Continue growing my professional career in finance.
More recently, publicly share my thoughts and build a personal brand.
Entrepreneurship/Tech is always in the back of my mind
I am a slave to my desires, so I don’t want to desire more. Instead, I want to focus on doing and let life surprise me.
For much of my life, I planned every step — until life taught me that some of the best moments come unplanned. I no longer chase titles or predefined paths; instead, I focus on growth, meaningful connections, and embracing the unknown. This is not just my story — it’s an invitation for others to redefine their own.
Can you tell me about your reinvention?
