How many times have I wondered if I took the right path? A million times!

My journey in architecture started when I was little (let’s not mention how long ago that was). Traveling with my family to new cities sparked my curiosity about how everything worked. I’d constantly ask myself, “What would I do to make this space better?”—and that’s how I started believing that maybe, just maybe, I could actually make spaces better.

Venezuela is a beautiful country with many challenges, but I genuinely enjoyed my college years. Ironically, architecture wasn’t my first choice—it was simply the closest option to what I truly wanted. Unlike in the U.S., career paths were more limited; I couldn’t specialize as an urbanist, environmentalist, sustainable designer, or landscape architect—I could only be an architect. (Not to mention the confusion of realizing that in Venezuela, I graduated as an architect, whereas here, you graduate in a field of study.)

Then, I discovered that architecture is not generic—it’s cultural. Anyone who has gone through architecture school knows how it is: long nights, no sleep, piles of papers and models, and the constant cycle of designing and redesigning. You graduate thinking you know it all... how naïve.

Due to the situation in my country, I decided to move to the U.S. as soon as I finished my classes and thesis presentation. I didn’t even get to walk at my graduation—I just walked straight into a new life, in a new country, where I thought I spoke the language well, in a new culture, as a kind of adult, trying to figure everything out at once.

But hey, as a good Venezuelan, I don’t see barriers—I just don’t say I can’t. I figure it out and make it work with the resources I have. And so, my journey began.

Overwhelmed? That doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt.

New construction systems, new vocabulary in my second language, new expressions, the imperial system?! You can’t imagine my Google search history, but to give you an idea: “What’s 10-4?” “What’s a submittal?” “What’s an RFI?” A never-ending list of things I had to investigate on my own.

But beyond the challenge of learning codes, regulations, and permits, this has been an incredible learning experience. After four years of pushing through, I finally feel confident in what I’m doing. Every challenge—from college to moving abroad—has given me the tools to succeed.

Now, I’m starting to trust my own style. I’m noticing that every project I work on has a little bit of me in it. It’s a mix—adopting elements of American design while still bringing in my background, my creativity, and my perspective.

Starting over in a new country humbles you. It makes you see every challenge as an opportunity. It’s something only another immigrant or foreign professional can truly understand. But I’m proud of where I come from. In Venezuela, we didn’t have fancy studios, laser cutters, or 3D printers in our universities. Everything was figure-it-out mentality, and honestly? That mindset has shaped me more than any high-tech tool ever could.

Architecture is a culture. I wouldn’t design the same way here as I would in my home country—different lifestyles, different needs, different climates, different people. But at the end of the day, the goal is always the same: solve a problem and create the best space for the user. Because ultimately, architecture is about how we live in the spaces we create.