AREPAS EN BICI

There’s a certain kind of alchemy that happens when food, memory, and movement intersect. In Arepas en Bici, that fusion becomes both literal and deeply personal, as Venezuelan-born chef Victor Aguilera pedals through the undulating streets of San Francisco, serving up traditional arepas from the saddle of his bicycle. The film, just 14 minutes in length, is short in runtime but bursting with flavour—culinary, emotional, and cultural.

It’s tempting to call this a “feel-good” documentary, but that would undersell its emotional range. There is grit beneath the charm, resilience beneath the smiles. Victor’s journey is not romanticised. We’re reminded early on that this business was born not of entrepreneurial whimsy but necessity. After being laid off during the pandemic with just $60 to his name, Victor didn’t just start a new chapter—he had to rewrite the entire book. And he did it not by chasing profit, but by reconnecting with who he was before the storm.

At its heart, Arepas en Bici is about return. Not physically to Venezuela, but spiritually, culturally. We see Victor preparing food with the reverence of someone who knows exactly what’s at stake—flavours as vessels of memory, recipes as resistance to erasure. These aren’t just meals, they’re missives to a past life, to a mother’s kitchen, to a homeland left behind but never forgotten.

The filmmaking is refreshingly intimate. Directors Brennan McGee and Jonah Moshammer follow Victor not with reverence, but with respect. The cinematography mirrors his internal tempo—quiet moments in the kitchen, the hum of tires against pavement, the burst of energy when he delivers an order and receives a smile. San Francisco, rendered with texture and affection, becomes more than a location—it’s a co-conspirator in Victor’s journey. A city of punishing hills and fractured dreams, yes, but also of possibility. The way Victor moves through it, balancing hustle with hope, turns the city into something almost mythic.

But what lingers most is not the aesthetic beauty or the enviable street food—it’s Victor himself. Soft-spoken but steady. A man quietly wrestling with anxiety, with loss, with the American dream as it currently stands: faded at the edges, but not entirely extinguished. In a world where dreams are often reduced to Instagram slogans or left to rot in forgotten notebooks, Arepas en Bici feels like a necessary counterpoint. It reminds us that dreams don't always come roaring in with fanfare. Sometimes, they arrive on two wheels, carrying lunch.

This isn’t just a story about a chef, or a city, or even an immigrant experience—it’s a story about movement. Literal, emotional, generational. And in just 14 minutes, it offers more nourishment than most feature-length films manage in two hours. There’s joy here, and pain, and love. And through it all, there’s motion. Relentless, deliberate, hopeful motion.

Arepas en Bici doesn’t just deliver food. It delivers perspective.