Cuba

I know I've been home for more than two months, but the obsession still hasn't faded. I think about the place every day, in so many contexts. It's a place that is just so different from anywhere else in the world, and though I understand it a little bit after having been there three months, there are still so many phenomena that are hard to understand.

In addition, having had numerous experiences in foreign countries, and with foreigners here, it makes me wonder if Americans are too cynical and emotionally stunted, though we would not want to think it of ourselves. I was watching Grey's Anatomy the other day (Season 3, Episode 23) and came across this quote: "The true dream is being able to dream at all". First, thinking about it, I thought about how it more so personified Americans, as opposed to Cubans (because, in all honesty, we have better chances to dream here, because theoretically we can reach out and take more advantages if we are inclined to do so). But then I thought about how Cubans still dream- dreams that are far out and seem crazy, because there is such a small chance of the dream becoming reality- and yet they dream it and hope for it, despite all odds. Their dreams aren't hemmed in or made smaller by conforming with reality, which is often how I feel many Americans live their lives. I think too often we are scared to see the true heights which can be reached.

Further Reflections

First off, my life has sucked ever since returning to the US. I'm not even being dramatic. The following calamitous things have occurred to persistently plague me:
-Return stress/TFA interview/Brief period of insanity (thanks Honorio and Danny for breaking the cycle, lol)
-Hard drive crashes
-In hard drive crash, I lose a half-written Spanish essay AND the movie that the essay was about
-Spend 4 days straight at my computer writing final music exam, Cine, and Capstone to have them all handed in on time
-Said stress produces a phenomenon called "Trenchmouth"- this happened to WWI soldiers; as they were in the trenches, stressed about being constantly bombed, typically benign bacteria in their mouthes would suddenly attack and cause serious inflammation of the gums
-This happened to me on a Friday/Saturday, which meant that I couldn't see my dentist until Monday
-He still doesn't actually diagnose the infection, and only gives me a pain killer and mouth wash
-Oral surgeon the next day finally gives me antibiotics, but I also need my wisdom teeth out, which, because the surgeons are so busy, cannot do it until May 21
-Fradulent charges appear on my credit card, which I have to cancel
-I get rejected for the TFA job

That brings me to today. Life just sucks right now, although I suspect it will get better sooner or later. I also still realize that life here is better than it is in other places, thanks to an email I got from Yohandy today. He wrote to me about wishing that he could be with me at graduation, and saying that the most he can do is send me positive energy from Havana and hope that it gets to me. It made me think about the machismo that is so pervasive in Cuba, and now I wonder if it comes out of a sense of helplessness, or is at least exacerbated by it, because circumstances prevent men from completely fulfilling the roles that they think they should play. That, in turn, may lead them into thinking even more that they have to exude this extreme male-ness. Just a thought.

Cuba: The Return

I'll have to quote Courtney's facebook status to describe how I feel: I am culture-shocked out of my freakin' mind. You can't imagine how it feels to go, in one hour, from communist Cuba with hardly any advertising, to Miami, with fast food joints and screamingly bright posters on every wall. The consumerism in the United States just smacks you in the face and you can't avoid it.

All in all, it's been a very hard transition. I made a life for myself there, friends, boyfriend, and more or less a second family, and now I don't know when I'll see them again. But out of this all comes the most important lesson for me. It's based on this Cuban phrase which, translated to English, roughly means "We only have one life, and you have to LIVE it". I realized after about a week of reflection now that while I embody that spirit abroad, and I take advantage of the opportunities I have while studying abroad, I don't always do that at home. We have one life on this entire Earth, and the time has come to make sure that I'm happy while living it. If there is something I know I want, and I can reach out and make it happen to bring greater joy to my life, it's time to do it. Grammy always used to tell me growing up that I can do anything I want to, and for a long time I was content to let the academic realm be the place in which I brought that statement to life, but it's time to expand it. No more passing up on happiness. When you have the opportunity, seize it, because you don't know when it will come again. I don't think I could understand how true that was until going to a communist country, where the meaning of that phrase isn't weighed in money, yet means more than gold.

Santiago de Cuba

You know you’re in Cuba when you get on your plane…from the back end…and your seat is in the front. Thus began our weekend trip to Santiago de Cuba. Other than that, the plane was fairly normal; a flight of about a hundred and fifty people lasting about an hour and a half. We then disembarked in the Santiago airport. As we were collecting our luggage, the power went out twice. This could have either been a normal Cuba occurrence or a specific product of the storm passing over Santiago at that moment. No one will ever know. After a long day of class and travel, I settled in to sleep for the night.

Friday was full of activities; in my opinion, the best excursions that we’ve gone on during any of our weekend trips. Frist we made a brief stop by the Plaza de la Revolucion en Santiago. Every major city has a plaza like this; while Havana’s is dedicated (with a huge phallic monument) to Jose Marti, Santiago’s honors Antonio Maceo, another hero of the War for Independence against Spain. After this, we headed to the church of the Virgen de la Caridad de Cobre. The literal translation is the Copper Virgen of Charity, and she is the patron saint of Cuba. People come from all over the country to pray in front of her for miracles. The church was beautifual, but even more amazing was the view from the church of the surrounding valley. We were among the mountains and looking down onto the nearby copper mines (for which the Virgen was named).

I have to comment again on the fallacy of statements made by Margarita Alarcon (see my private blog for notes on her identity). Anyway, during one of our classes, she told us that Cuba is better than the DR becauses here you don’t have people living in poverty in shacks on the banks of a river. Yes, maybe not right in the center of Havana, but yes, you do, around the outer edges, like on the banks of the Rio Almendares. And then here, in the eastern part of the country, MANY people live in such huts. It makes me so mad at Marg, not just at her as a person, but as a symbol for this entire furcked up situation where the government and its representatives think that they are doing such good things to help the people, but yet…I don’t know. And on the other hand, I was thinking of these people in the shacks and trying to put myself in their shoes. Granted, they live in crappy houses. But they lived in crappy houses before the Revolution, too. At least now they (or their kids) have free education, free health care (despite its low quality, I’m sure it’s better than what they had pre-Fidel), and guaranteed jobs and salaries. So maybe for them it really is so much better. I honestly don’t know. I’m leaving this country with even more questions than I had when I arrived.

Next we hiked up a mini-mountain to see a monument honoring the Cimarrones, or slaves who escapted and ran away to form their own communities in the mountains. We found what used to be a well, and its basically a big pit now used for African ceremonies. The best part of it was the artwork. Meg and I were exploring it for a while before anyone else came over, and it gave me this awe-inspiring sense of all the history that weighed down on the moments; on the idea of these people who had been free, then had to endure slavery, but then freed themselves and were able to celebrate and live life again. I can’t really explain it but it was a tremendous feeling, almost sacred in a way.

After this, we stopped in the house of an “espiritista”, or shaman of sorts who uses all different sorts of techniques and rituals from the different Afro-Cuban religions in order to perform healing (or other?) ceremonies. He had some of the most beautiful artwork I’ve ever seen on the walls of his house.

After lunch, we stopped by the “Morro” of Santiago. Just as the Morro in Havana, here it is a fort on the seacoast meant to defend the city. Santiago’s was built in 1515. After this, exhausted, I passed the rest of the day in bed.

Saturday morning we departed for Guantanamo. Despite being told by various people that it was not a city for tourists, we all insisted on seeing this town which has been so closely linked with the United States over time. The drive there felt like we’d been transported back to the time of dinosuars. I swear I saw the head of a brachiosaurus peeking out from the mist as we drove through the mountain valleys. It was so beautiful and unspoiled. It is so different from the western part of the island, and reminded me so much of the Dominican Republic. Actually, this whole trip reminded me of DR. I guess people are right when they say that the eastern part of the island is more Caribbean that Havana and its environs- I definitely felt that way. It gives you almost a thrill, an animalistic sense to look at the countryside here- you feel a raw energy flowing through you.

The other thing I noticed on the way was what I’ll call hero stones. Basically, a lot of people had in their front yards a group of stones with the names of the 5 Cubans who are imprisioned in the US. The people in here would also have stones saying things like “they will return”. Seeing things like that, or pro-Fidel graffiti, always makes me wonder if it’s genuine and spontaneous, or demanded by the local brqnch of the CDR (Committee in Defense of the Revolution). Again, who’ll ever know.

So everyone was right about Gitmo. Not a tourist town by any stretch of the imagination. It definitely was poorer than Havana, although prices also seemed lower. It’s also clear from the amount of attention that we received from men that they are not accustomed to having foreign women in town. Other than that, it was a pretty quiet and sleepy town. We walked around, had lunch, and headed bacck home. Much to our chagrin, you can no longer even see the American military base from a distance. Apparently, Cubans would go there to “visit” and swim from a certain lookout point to Gitmo to get asylum. So now the Cuban military prevents anyone from getting too close.

Saturday night we went to a tumba francesa. It’s descended from the French contredanse music, and was brought to Ccuba when French plantation owners brought their slaves with them from Haiti as they were fleeing the slave rebellion which became the Revolution. So what we saw was a mix of French singing and dancing with African drumming- a great blend of aesthetics, and I really enjoyed the show. Also very exciting were the roles that two women had in the ritual. There were some women singing, dancing, and playing the maracas. There was also one woman drumming, and another, who led the singing, filling in one of the male dancer roles. The latter may have just been because one male dancer couldn’t make it to the show, but to have seen a female drummer was especially exciting; this Arara African tradition is a huge departure from all the other African drumming ceremonies that we’d seen in the past. Very impressive, in my opinion.

After that, we went back to the hotel and relaxed all night. I felt like perhaps I didn’t take enough advantage of Santiago and the time we had there, but for me it’s like a rest period. I know that I’m heading back to spend the last week in Havana with my boyfriend, and I figure that we will be doing all different trips and sights that we never saw the past few weeks- aka, little sleep for Tara.

The last event of Santiago was a trova concert on Sunday morning. Trova is related to the old European troubadours, musicians who would roam with a guitar and sing about current events. Fun fact: later trova in Cuba turned into protest songs, and they were greatly influenced by American artists like Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan. I’ll close this blog by talking about the first singer. She paused between songs, and was talking about life. I’m paraphrasing a bit, but the general message was “we only have one life, and you have to live it”. I cannot count on all my fingers and toes the amount of Cubans who have said that same phrase to me during my time here. I think it explains a lot about their resilience and in some cases their willingness to break rules or defy authority. With so little to look forward to, there’s this necessity to seize every opportunity for happiness, however short it may be, or however much pain it brings you in the end.

Our country is so screwed...

,
The Marines know nothing about Cuba, despite the fact that they are stationed here. I have little hope for our country after hearing all that went on last night...

Here's the deal with the party last night. We take a taxi to the address we were given and get out on a dark street in front of a barbed-wire fence compound. It reminded me a great deal of the military compound that gets attacked in the movie "The Kingdom". Within the compound were some houses, a pool, a nice yard, and a gym. We show up and thankfully as we walk in we see one of the FSOs who had talked to us earlier in the day. She pointed out the bar and told us to head on in. The barmen and -woman in question were actually the Marines themselves, so upon ordering drinks we also began making friends. In particular, I was interested to talk to the girl. I found out she was only 21 and had been in the Marines since turning 18. She served in Iraq and Senegal before coming to Cuba, and during this has been working with the Department of Homeland Security to earn a degree in Terrorism (just a suggestion, they should probably call it something different, although in some ways the US has practiced that itself over the years). Annnyway, I asked her if it was difficult to be a woman in the Marines, and she said yes, because first, it's more physically demanding and you don't get any slack (which is ok, but...), while at the same time you have to work twice as hard to earn people's respect even when you can complete the physical tasks. Figures.

After three green (hey, it was St. Patty's round 1) Sprite and 7 Years Rum, I hit the road for a dance club with Whitney and our boys. Meanwhile at the Marine House, peeps kept drinking green beer and discussion slowly opened up. We probably would have better opinions of them if it hadn't. More or less, none of the people stationed there really like Cuba. Why? They mostly don't leave their house. When they do, they go out in Miramar- read, really touristy and rich area where no real Cuban will do. Are they allowed to date or even really fraternize with Cubans? Not so much. What do they really know about Cuba? Nothing. BUUUT, they think lots of hilarious things. Like that it's a really dangerous country. When the girls told them we leave the city, they asked what kind of security measures we have! Please, children. It shows not only a lack of knowledge about the country but also a lack of understanding of the politics between our two nations. THIS IS A VERY SAFE PLACE FOR AMERICANS. The Cubans want the embargo gone. Something happening to an American here would be a deathblow for that dream. We are fine. Speaking of the embargo, there was a Marine who was apparently oblivious to what that even means. REALLY?? They also are convinced that the Commies are spying on us all the time, and that they are so good at it, we don't even know. But...how would they know, if they never leave the barracks? Anyway, it was just really depressing to me in a lot of ways, because the Marines also work at the Interest Section. And the Interest Section is the info-gathering arm of the US in Cuba. AND NONE OF THEM KNOW JACK SHIT BECAUSE THEY DON'T MEET CUBANS. I'm thinking of Sarah Palin all over again... I really feel that I might know just as much about Cuba as our diplomats here. Mom, I know you think it's ludicrous when I make this claim. But it's true. And maybe the worst part of it is that it comes from the top- it's American-enforced that the Marines don't interact much with the Cubans. Plus, the only Marine here that speaks Spanish is the Sarge (or whatever) in charge of the operation. The rest of them? Maybe a little here and there. What use are they?? Barack needs to consult our group- or the other American groups studying here, for that matter- to create policy, as we actually talk to Cubans and know what's going on. Right now I feel so angry that I could almost cry. Ignorance is killing the world.

We Have to Go Back, Kate

We went back to America today. More correctly, we went to Switzerland. That is, we visited the American Interests Section in Cuba, which is formally a part of the Swiss Embassy here. The US doesn't have an actually embassy because we don't have formal diplomatic relations with Cuba. It was a terrific visit (MUCH better than the Egyptian embassy visit where we just got the party line), and I wanted to share with you all some edifying bits of information. This photo is our professor Dr. Brown getting us into the building.


-First of all, the purpose of the US interest section is A) to help US citizens living here; B) to help Cubans who want to visit the US or receive asylum there; C) gather as much information as possible to send to US for analysis, this is especially important right now because Obama is reviewing our policy on Cuba so all the information they can send at this point in time is good. Their job with C, however, is made difficult by the fact that the Cuban government is very closed and cautious, and although the US FSOs try to arrange meetings with people in the Cuban government, the Cubans are slow to do this, try to avoid it, and failing that, the meetings are often denied by the Cuban government anyway. So the US often has to go through third party countries like Spain or Mexico, although they don't get a whole lot more information that we do either.
-The US interest section actually runs an internet cafe in order to give Cubans better access to the internet, and specifically, to international news. They have between 40-45 computers and get 100s of people each day who come in to use them. The one downside for the Cubans is that having visited the American Interest Section can have a negative effect on career mobility; depending on your job, you might have a harder time getting promoted if you've used the internet.
-Also regarding giving Cubans access to news, there's a scrolling news bulletin on the side of the building (although the Cuban gov't erected about 50 flags in front of it in an attempt to block the news. This originally started because the US wanted to use Jose Marti (Cuban national her0) quotes which would improve the US in Cuban eyes. Nowadays, on 4 days of the week, they choose different national or international news stories to scroll on the board just so Cubans know what's going on. One of the most recent and most interesting examples was the murder of a priest in the Villa Clara province about a month ago, which was never reported in the Cuban press (Dale, this is a somewhat roundabout answer to what you asked me about the press before- they just don't bother with the things they don't want to report).
-Very interesting tidbit, which corrects some erroneous reporting that I did to you all earlier. The US does in fact have economic ties with Cuba- in fact, we are Cuba's 4th largest trading partner in the world (behind Venezuela, China, and Spain). Last year alone, we did $717,000,000 USD worth of sales to them, in the form of food, medicinal supplies, and telephone poles. Fascinating, and proves that Margarita Alarcon is as crazy as her father. See my private blog for the full scoop.
-One final interesting piece of info. For Americans who travel here illegally, if anything should happen to you, the US Interest Section does not get you in trouble with the government- they do not enforce the travel ban, and will help you if you have problems while in the country. Wish I had known that earlier, but it's good to know for future reference.

Today was a busy day; we also visited the University of La Habana for a brief tour (the photo on the left was taken on the steps of the school). We were supposed to meet with some students; somehow that didn't happen. Now I'm about to work on some Teach for America paperwork and rest up- while at the embassy, we got invited to a Saint Patrick's Day party at the Marine house in Miramar. Green beer and jello shots, they told us. I'm really curious to see a Marine compound and find out more about the American expat community here in Cuba, so I can't wait to go.

Medicine, Men, and (Sea) Mammals

All I can say about the Cuban medical system is that it's certainly not all it's cracked up to be. Most of what I have learned about the system does not come from my own direct experience but from that of others, so I won't go into details. Suffice to say that A) the doctors are not nearly as on top of their game as they should be; B) if they do diagnose you properly, good luck finding your medicine; and C) if by some miracle you actually find the medicine you are supposed to take, you better hope to the high heavens that it fully kills your infection and doesn't just mostly kill it, only to have it come back stronger in a week or two. This is one medicine we're not sure about.

I've been thinking about what it means to have a relationship with a Cuban. I can't even explain how incredibly complicated it can be at times. Most of the time, in fact. First, there's the language issue. While I speak fairly fluent Spanish, there are the occasional mix-ups that are bound to happen in any multi-lingual relationship. Then, there are the cultural differences that are bound to happen in any multi-national relationship. It's interesting, because I sometimes feel that our boyfriends expect us to adopt a completely Cuban outlook. While in the context of my study abroad, I want to learn as much as possible about their culture, in the context of a relationship there needs to be a willingness for each partner to try to understand the other equally. The best example I can give of this is that when Jose and Whitney or Yohandy and I have disagreements about something, the guys will eventually say, "oh, let's just forget about it, continuing to argue will only make things worse". On the other hand, Whitney and I both come from the school of "let's talk it out or the problem will fester and get worse". This makes arguments an interesting time, but for the record, we always end up discussing things.

So on top of all those challenges, there are specifically Cuban issues going on, too. One is that by virtue of them having no money, Whitney and I have to pay for everything if we want to go out. While we knew to expect this before coming , it's a very singular experience and as you can imagine it occasionally leads to some awkward times, like when we were all going to get tattooes because we thought it cost 5-10 CUC and then mine alone was 50 CUC, so we had to leave and the guys couldn't get tattooes.

Finally, we get to leave the country. The guys are stuck here. There are certain solutions to this (I refer you to my private blog for more info) but none that Whitney and I are willing to follow up on right now. So it adds another level of guilt because theoretically we have the power to change their lives and we're just leaving them here. As I said, there are so many layers of complexity to these relationships and sometimes it's a bit overwhelming, to say the least. If you're personally interested in more, ask me, but this is all that I feel I need to say on the blog for anthropological posterity.

In other news, we visited the aquarium this past week. There wasn't too much to see, except for the dolphin and sea lion shows- those were fun. Otherwise, it took us about a half hour to see everything that was there. It's interesting because (though we paid a considerably higher price of 7 CUC) the Cuban admission fee is only 4 MN. That means it's accessible for pretty much any Cuban to go, which is good. On the other hand, they are gaining access to crap. Interesting contrast to the US where maybe not everyone would pay $12 to go to the aquarium in Boston, but those who do choose to go get their money's worth. (Thanks to Songe for those reflections).

Other advice to students coming here: Don't bring band-aids or Tylenol. Just bring caramelos (candy), because that's all anyone will ever ask you for.

Dale's Questions

Once again I have to thank Dale for the questions he asks that I would otherwise forget to talk about. Notes on a few topics:

-On Taxis
Much like the currency, there are two different types of taxis here as well. Some taxis you see appear to be on the newer side, say from the 90s or so, and might even have air conditioning. These are sure to be CUC taxis, where for instance it might cost you about 4CUC to get to Old Havana (about a 4 mile drive). Then there are the old American cars. These are not strictly taxis in the sense that they won't generally take you exactly where you want to go, but they'll leave you at a main intersection near where you are going (for instance, the other day we took one to the Capitolio, and then walked a few blocks to Chinatown to eat lunch). The insides of the cars are almost completely stripped down (definitely no AC!-here's a picture) and it's an interesting contrast to the gorgeous exterior. So these are the moneda nacional "taxis" that Cubans will take (and us as well). So the ride down to the Capitolio, which was about 3 miles, cost me 10 moneda nacional, or about 0.5 CUC. Granted, with the moneda nacional taxis, it's not private- when you hail one on the side of the road, there might already be people inside, so you have to ask if the taxi is going in the right direction that you want to go, etc. But it's fun and a lot cheaper. In addition to these types of taxis, you can also arrange a ride in a private car (OK, basically you pay to hitchhike)- people driving along a road that see you looking for a taxi will stop. The price of this is generally somewhere in between the other two types of taxis- a 3 mile ride back from Chinatown cost 2 CUC.

-On Cars in General
In terms of owning the cars, it basically seems like a lot of other things in Cuba- you need to know someone. My boyfriend's dad was a taxi driver but for the past 6 months he wasn't able to work; he had water in his lungs, had a tough surgery, and was recovering. He had to sell his car during that period. Now that he's able to work again, he needs a car, but it's nearly impossible to find one that you can afford. Even worse, the people that can sell cars ( I don't know how they can) often take advantage of the situation and squeeze people for every penny that they are worth. That doesn't really answer the question about how Cubans can afford to have one of those cars, but it's what I've been able to find out so far.

-Class Structure
Your choice of career can help you a good deal- although since pretty much everyone is at some level of poor, it won't help that much. It is interesting, though- tourism is one of the best industries to go into, because of the access to foreign currency or CUC, and there are doctors here who have to get side jobs because they aren't paid enough to save lives. And by interesting, I mostly mean sad and frustrating.

-Cuban Press
I also don't read the papers here that often. Pretty much every Cuban says they aren't worth the paper they are written on because it's all propaganda, and from the few articles that I've read, it seems to be true. It's so frustrating for me to see that, so I tend to stay away from reading them or I get too upset.

Only in Cuba...

I forgot to share about a nice little adventure we had one school day last week...the weather was crazy due to a cold front, and we bravely headed down the stairs on our way to school...only to be confronted with a mini-flood in the streets. We set off towards school, only to realize a few blocks away from our house that the road leading to school was completely awash. To our knees. As we turned towards home again, another wave washed up on the sidewalk- our exit was quickly being submersed as well. I don't want to know what things were in the water we walked through that day. But we couldn't go to first period because the streets were flooded. This was pretty much nothing, though- I can't even imagine what a hurricane would do. Here are some pictures.

Cienfuegos y Trinidad

If you’ll remember, the last weekend trip we went on to Matanzas ended up being agonizing, to say the least. Thus, with great apprehension we boarded the bus on Thursday afternoon to head for Cienfuegos and Trinidad. It was a long bus ride (about 5 hours), so Thursday ended with dinner and some Arrested Development.

Friday morning we boarded the bus early to head for Palmira, a center of santeria activity here in the country. We were dragged to god knows how many different cabildos, or societies, for different orisha-saints (here's Saint Barbara to Catholics, or Chango to Santeria creyentes). As not much was said, and they were all fairly siminlar, this was not an auspicious start to the weekend. Once we finally hit lunchtime, things improved greatly. The afternoon we had free in the city of Cienfuegos, and instead of doing a lot of tourist-like activities, we basically just milled around in one of the markets and then sat down on a pier to gossip about the boys. It made it quite an enjoyable day. My camera wasn't working well, so I have no pictures to show from Cienfuegos.

Saturday, though, was my favorite. We started out for Trinidad, which I was really excited to visit- it’s a UNESCO world heritage site, and we all know I’m a history nerd. Trinidad was gorgeous, it’s on a hill and you can see all the way down to the sea. All the buildings are quaint and old and painted in such Caribbean colors, and if you look behind the city you can see the mountain ranges. The only thing I must say against it is that there’s still a lot of disrepair; it’s a little like a poor man’s Santo Domingo- it has the potential to have that same level, only it’s not kept up as much. The other thing I wish I could show you in pictures was some reconstruction that I saw happening- only the material they used to brace the external structure wasn’t even cut wood; they were using actual trees. Granted they had hewn off the leaves, but it was the still-barky trunk of a tree holding up the restoration of an old church. Oh, Cuba.

So as soon as we arrived in Trinidad we basically had free time to do what we wanted. After spending time in an artisan fair, we then went to try the famous drink of the region, a canchacharra. Made of honey, water, and aguardiente, it is potent and dangerous. And so delicious. After three of those, well, we can just say the rest of the day was lots of fun. Our lunching spot had a huge tower that we were able to climb to see the countryside, which was more or less part of the Valle de los Ingenios, or the Valley of the Sugar Mills- an area where a lot of the old sugar plantations were concentrated. Following the tower excursion we made one more stop at a lookout point over the valley. It was beautiful. I keep looking at the photos I took and thinking that it is so perfect in a way that it looks fake. Interesting contrast considering the history that occurred there was so ugly. I’m a little disappointed; I thought we were going to visit an old plantation and talk more in depth about what actually happened, but I guess that wasn’t to be. All in all, though, it was a really fun and interesting day.

Hilarious Update: I did forget to share one fun moment of the trip, which was me poppin' a squat by the side of the road on the way home from Cienfuegos. Apparently we were over 70 kilometers away from the next rest stop...good times. So I hiked up over the bank by the side of the road and tried to hunch down behind a little hill, much to the amusement of the rest of the group, who was watching me from the van. So much fun.

Reflection of the Day: One of the Northeastern questions that we are supposed to answer is regarding advice to future students. Mine? If you come here, you’re going to feel guilty. All the time. Because of the advantages in life that you have that people here don’t and won’t, at least for a while. And if you don’t feel guilty here (even though you are conscious on another level that you’ve done nothing wrong), you are the coldest person ever.

Cannons and Cemetaries

One of the to-do attractions here in Havana is the Cañonazo. This happens at the Fortaleza Cabana, where the bookfair was as well. Basically, it’s a holdover from the times that this was a Spanish colony and there was a nightly curfew at 9 PM. A cannon at the fort was fired to let people know that the city gates were closing. This seemed like a romantic idea, so Whitney and I, Yohandy, Jose, Honorio, and Richard all went this past week. We arrived, but before entering, a guard warned us that it would cost 12CUC a person to enter, BUT, if we just paid him and his friend 5 CUC per American, they would sneak us in the back entrance. Ok, we thought, better take this deal, although I had premointions of fishiness. We follow the friend all the way through this field outside the forts, and we’re walking for a good five or ten minutes. We finally arrive at the back gates and have to cross the moat, which was a little frightening. Then we entered the back just in time to see a bunch of fellows in colonial dress doing a little drum and marching routine. They march all the way up to the cannon and after about 5 more minutes of commands and drumming, the cannon was lit and finally goes off. And that’s it. 5 CUC? Really? Not gonna lie, most of the night I kept thinking that it was probably free or 1 or 2 CUC at most to enter. Good news is, though, I just checked Meg's guidebook, and it would have been 6 CUC a person, plus 2 more to bring a camera. So while the guides lied to us, at the same time, it was cheaper than it should have been. The whole experience was very Cuba, either way.

The other main attraction this past week was going to the Cementario de Colon, which is an old cementary here in Havana. It was gorgeous, and basically this beauty was the result of a bunch of rich people competing to have better tombs (hence the pyramid, one fellow thought, hey, Egyptian kings were buried in pyramids so I too will be like a king if I'm buried in a pyramid, and I'll be the best in the cemetary). Our guide was very intense and dramatic, so it made the day rather amusing. Definitely worth the visit.

Captain's Log: Day Trip to Soroa in Pinar del Rio

Last Saturday a few of us intrepid adventurers set off for the province of Pinar del Rio, the only province further west of Havana Province. We were aiming for a day of nature and whatnot, with waterfalls, orchid gardens, mineral baths, and caves on our to-do list. As the areas we were aiming to hit were supposedly only an hour or two away, we thought that if we picked up our rental car shortly after breakfast, we’d be able to see all of that and return for dinner. We forgot that we are in Cuba.

9:15- Leave apartment building loaded down with our supplies for the day, including a tin of crackers about the size of a cubic foot.

9:24- Arrive at car rental place, slightly dismayed to find a rather large queue. Stand in the sun, deciding that at least working on the tan is a better use of time than standing in shade.

9:48- Line finally moves up enough that we are able to sit inside.

10:15- The majority of the group is able to move into the rental agent’s office (there is only one rental agent present). However, as the office is small and 6 of us are there, two of us wait in the foyer.

10:24- Danny signs his life away and we are finally able to head into the garage towards our car.

10:29- We finally have managed to cram four of us in the backseat and are more or less situated for the hour-long car ride. “Contact!”, as Poppy would say, and we are headed westbound.

10:52- Somehow we haven’t found the Autopista (the highway we needed to take) yet. Ask and receive set #1 of directions. We are apparently going in the wrong direction, and pull a U-turn.

10:54- We’ve gone past a road that we think was mentioned in set #1 of directions. Another U-turn and set #2 of directions, completely contrary to the first. Third U-turn of the trip.

11:02- We follow what we think is set 2 of directions. Apparently, all roads lead to Havana, because we’re entering the city again.

11:15- We’ve stopped at a food chain to ask for directions. We might have understood them. I open a beer and bless the absence of open container laws in this country. Tucker Max would be happy here.

12:45-Driving through a tiny town. We have no idea where we are, and as the majority of vehicles in this area are powered by live horses, we are receiving a goodly amount of stares.

1:00- We are on a road. We don’t care where we go anymore as long as we end up somewhere.

1:30- We finally got lucky and happened onto the Autopista. As this has already been a much longer trip than planned (though most of it occurred in Havana) we take a quick stop by the side of the highway.

2:15ish- Arrival in Soroa. Our crackers didn’t hold us over, so we promptly stop for lunch. Good news is that all in one complex, we can eat, see a waterfall, take mineral baths, and smell the orchids.

3:20- After an atypically fast lunch, we decide to hike to the waterfall. We are charged 3 CUC to do this, despite Chaunce’s arguments about us living here.

3:30- Arrive at waterfall, which, while gorgeous, is so far not worth the time it took to get here or the money it cost us. Spend some time swimming/sunbathing/being stared at by 14 yr. old Cuban boys, and decide to climb back up.

4:15- Out of breath from the steep climb back up from the waterfall, we sit and have the Tu Kola to which our 3 CUC apparently entitles us. Realize that most things close at 5:00, so we won’t be able to see the caves, which are about 35 minutes away. Orchid gardens or mineral baths? Having already done the botanical gardens, we opt for the mineral baths. So foolish.

4:30- Why would we ever have thought it was a good idea to swim in something that smells like rotten eggs? Though we don’t know it at the time, the smell is destined to stick with us for about 24 hours, despite thorough cleansings in the shower. Time for another beer.

4:50- After changing our clothes, we head for home. Cuba has defeated us once again.

Dianne Feinstein is a Commie Bastard

Kidding. But she has popped up here in a most unexpected place. Yesterday we went to visit the Museum of Dance here in Havana- and by dance, in this case, I mean ballet. It was surprising to me at first, but ballet has been popular here for hundreds of years. Obviously, though, Cuban ballet truly became famous with Alicia Alonso's leap onto the stage. She's world-reknowned, in earlier days for her dancing, and now for her choreography as well. So in the museum, there was alot of space dedicated to her, including proclamations from the governments of other countries about her prowess as a ballerina, etc. Imagine my surprise, as I'm inspecting these, to find a commendation from Dianne Feinstein, Mayor of San Fran. Granted, it was a bit dated, but she had pinko leanings! And to think how close she was to Obama during the campaign...oh no, the commies have finally infiltrated the government!

Kidding around, obviously. I feel like my writings are getting stranger and stranger, but it's just so that I can cope with the experience of being in Cuba. It's like we live in a state of constant emotional drainage here. I'm going to need a vacation, psychiatric help, or a beer (or all three) when I come home in order to recover. Not joking about this.

What else have we been up to? Recently, we visited a hogar materno. This is basically a rest home for women who are having difficulties during their pregnancies. It's actually very interesting. The Revolution wanted to combat health problems, and they realized that the best way to do that is to start young, so maternal and child health is really prioritized here. By going, we found out that the US isn't the only country with teen pregnancy issues. We met a 17 year old, very pregnant and boyfriendless girl while at the hogar materno. A note regarding teen sexuality here: it's rampant. We recently learned about the "escuelas del campo", or countryside schools. I already wrote about the schools where kids attend classes but also do agricultural work like picking oranges. The dorms of the schools are basically comprised of three story buildings, and on each level of the dorm is one long barrack-style room that houses about 80 kids. There are two dorms, one for the boys and one for the girls. So, in total, 240 boys, 240 girls, and little supervision. Sexuality starts young, and it's coupled with little privacy. This is why to some people (Americans) it seems like Cuban society is oversexed. But I think it's just a different type of sexuality than in the US, where it is at the same time celebrated and reviled.

In other news, this is my new tattoo. It's a dove, which is the symbol for peace. Has a lot to do with my modus operandi, and I think it's fitting inside the "siempre pa' adelante" tattoo. The dove is also the symbol of my orisha, Obbatala, who is the orisha of peace and purity. Fitting in so many ways.

Ruminations

So today I was thinking of taking our Cuban guy friends out of their context here and putting them into the context of the United States. Now, their ages are 24, 25, 26, and 30. However, except for Ruben (the 30 year old), all of the guys act much younger than their contemporaries in the United States. That's not to say less mature by any means, but it's more so that they are less serious than mid-20-somethings that I know in the United States. I can't decide if that's a positive thing or not. I guess I was thinking specifically of a lot of the coworkers that I've had over the past few years, and they (myself included as well) sometimes seem to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders. It's definitely not like that with our Cuban friends- despite the fact that they have their own set of worries. Just an interesting thought.

Donde lo consiguiste?

Today we had a class about media and communication in Cuba, and the most interesting thing to me was this phrase, which means "where did you get it?" The women who were speaking to us said that it's much more common to say that instead of "where did you buy that?" This is because it's so difficult to get your hands on commercial goods here, and most of what people do get is somehow or another under the table. Reflecting that, the answer to this question is usually "a la izquierda", or "to the left", signifying some kind of deviation from the straight and narrow (aka legal) path. The language is being affected and changing due to economic stresses in society.

The other interesting note about the press is how international news articles are written here in Cuba. Let's use the Israel-Palestine conflict. Basically, a Cuban news agency will take about 12 or so articles from international press bureaus, and piece together from this their own account about what's going on. However, at the same time, the articles must also be checked and aligned with the Cuban Communist Party line...

Valentine’s Day

Date of actual writing: 2-15-09

Do any of you have a holiday that you really enhoy, yet at the same time deplore the amount of commercialization that surrounds it? Celebration minus Hallmark is one of the pleasures to be found in this socialist stronghold. Valentine’s Day, or El Día de los Enamorados, is as big (if not bigger) here as in the United States, only minus the expensive cards and the CVS chocolates. Right after breakfast all of us girls received flowers from Geovannis, who both works in the building and who first introduced us to the group of guys with whom we spend so much time. All day long, no matter where you were, people would make sure to wish one another Happy Valentine’s Day. People even called the house just to say it. I thought that it was just such a nice custom, and based more truly on caring about people that V-Day in the US with the fake cards that say nothing real.

So how did we celebrate Valentine’s Day? With a costume party, of course. I love Cuba. While we came in costumes such as 50’s housewives or Romans with togas, the boys went all out with masks and facepaints. I almost forgot whether we were celebrating Valentine’s or Halloween, but it was terrific.

Terrific just like most of the time that we spend with Cubans here. Which is why my hatred of the system here grows by leaps and bounds each time that I hear about incidents such as the one that happened to some of the girls and the two boys they were hanging out with yesterday. While walking down the Malecon, heading towards the Havana book fair (a huge event in one of the Spanish fortalezas, where thousands of people cram in to buy really cheap books- I was in heaven), the police came up and started asking the two Cuban boys a bunch of questions. Eventually, they took the boys to the police station, despite the fact that the girls tried to protest. The girls took a cab and followed them to the police station, and kept questioning the police about what was happening. This included one of the police officers blatantly lying to them and said that the guys were under investigation for something. This was total BS because this was the third time the police had stopped this group of girls and guys together, although it was the first time the guys were taken to prison. The system here is so desperate to prevent interactions between tourists and Cubans that they jail people over this. It’s so frustrating and unfair- I get mad almost to the point of crying when I think of these things here. The worst part is when you think about it in general, the words criminal justice are so terribly ironic because so often no justice is to be found. I was thinking about when I used to work at HSTF and talked to some of the youth, and they used to tell me about getting stopped and searched by the police- sometimes twice in a day- just for being black. This shit happens everywhere. The world still has so far to come. That’s why, for me, the thought of bringing and child into this world is so scary- I am tormented enough by thinking about these things, why expose another human being to it?

Funky Spidermonkey and Other Such Tales

Date of writing: 2-14-09

Somehow yet another week has gone by without me noticing. Most notably, Whitney and I heard my favorite attempted pick-up line to date. As we were eating hamburgers and walking to exchange money on Línea, a young man passes us and says, “Quieren una salchicha?”…or, “Want a sausage?” I personally loved the timing of this, as we were eating hamburgers, and we all know the good American combo of burgers and dogs (or sausages), but I’m not sure that the fellow realized how humorous this might be to us. Good times.

It’s been a very musical week here for us. The Havana Jazz Festival started on Thursday night, and we were able to attend one of the inagural events: a concert by world-famous Chucho Valdéz. It was really incredible; not only was Chucho himself a treat to see, but he was accompanied by a heartbreakingly good trumpet player and three soulful sisters, who are Celia Cruz’s contemporaries and (to put it into American terms) could give Aretha Franklin a run for her money. Then last night we went to see Buena Vista Social Club. Their rendition of Chan Chan was…I’ll go with amazing, but that doesn’t really even cover it. I had chills down my back listening to it. One thing that was interesting to me is that the concert arena wasn’t even full- for BVSC! But then I talked to Ruben and he was explaining that it’s another generation of music and that most people now want to hear younger and newer musical styles. While I understand that, I know that a CSNY concert would still be packed in the US, with both young and older fans.

The other interesting thing in relation to the music we’ve seen this week is that in the concerts, we see a slightly higher level of commercialism than we do in other places. There are jazz festival banners up at each concert, and sponsors are listed at the bottom, including Bucanero beers and Havana Club rum. This is probably the highest degree of advertising that we’ve seen, and it’s a slight shock to the senses.

In other cultural news, we went to the National Museum of Fine Arts. It wasn’t bad, except for the fact that we were stuck with a tour guide and spent two hours there. I don’t particularly enjoy art tours; I just like looking at the pieces that strike me. My favorite was “Campesinos Felices” (Happy Famers) by Carlos Enriquez- it’s an incredibly strong piece of art which depicts the life of Cuban peasants. It was done during the era of a less famous Cuban president, but suffice to say that in that era they were all pretty corrupt and didn’t do much to actually help the people. I recommend that people Google it, but I’ll tell you ahead of time that the title is nothing if not ironic.

In order to get the best of Italy, you need to go to Chinatown. Strange statement, but it makes sense in Cuba. Whitney and I went on a date with our boos the other day. They said we were going to get the best pizza in Havana, so imagine my confusion when we roll up in Chinatown. However, they did not tell a lie. It was the best pizza I’ve had here, and would rival some of the lesser pizzerias in the US as well. That also ended up being one of the most fun lunches I’ve ever had, including lots of debate about whether the girls or the guys would win the next game in our soccer series (important note: we finally did beat them! The series is currently Guys 3- Women 1, but don’t worry, we’re going full steam ahead now. It’s quite satisfying in this culture of machismo to be able to crush the male ego, at least a little bet. Plus, with victory I won myself a massage too. Life is good.) We also spent time explaining some different English phrases to them, chiefly “spidermonkey”. The phenomenon of the spidermonkey abounds in old Cuban films. Mostly, it involves a sappy woman, an abandoned building, and a lustful Cuban male. The female spends the scene equivocating between her desire and her fear, at some points making advances toward the male, and at other points pressing herself to the wall while said arduous suitor forms the other side in an awkward sandwich, performing a move known to we canny anthropologists as “spidermonkeying”.

In final exciting news, I gave my boyfriend hives. More accurately, the acetominaphin that I gave him for his aching tooth caused an allergic reaction, and at about 5 AM this morning he was covered in hives. That’s what you get for helping people. No, but it was pretty bad- I never even thought that someone could have that type of reaction to a Tylenol-like substance. Happy Valentine’s Day, honey. It makes me think of different allergies that people have- in the US, people are prone to peanut allergies, but in Africa that’s the main substance given to kids suffering from malnutrition (thanks Megatron). Or lactose intolerance, and how it’s common in some people and not others based on their proximity to cows in early historical times. However, I won’t be giving more acetominaphin to other Cubans in order to test this theory.

Massacre at Matanzas

To what do I refer with this powerful word "massacre", you might ask. To which I would respond: the hearts, souls, and spirits of twelve American students who had the mishap of being yoked for a three day tour with a tour guide who had never been to said areas and a professor who had never thought about logistics. Though I will write a greater explanation, you should know that this picture says it all:Our first morning in Matanzas dawned grey and cloudy: an omen. We boarded the tour bus and set off for our first destination, a famous old theater. My first inkling of the issues to come was that the theater was not yet open. I guess if you thought your tour guide should know such things or have planned out a schedule, you'd be wrong. The next planned destination, a seminary, was not yet open either, so we had to kill time (we hadn't done anything and we were already trying to kill time...) by stopping at a pharmacy which opened in 1882 and has been preserved ever since. Cuba thinks its such an important place that it charges visitors a whopping 3 CUC to enter. We students did not feel it was so important to see this place, and were prepared on such an "opportunity". After much negotiation, we were made to enter the pharmacy, and told to pay "what we felt appropriate" as we were leaving. I realize right now that this makes us sound like a bunch of ungrateful SOBs. I promise you, that really wasn't the case. Everyone started off excited about the Matanzas trip and we really wanted to get to know another part of the country. At this point, so many things were working against our enjoyment: the early morning, the last dregs of confusion and horror from the previous night's sex show, the fact that our tour guide was an imbecile...etc.to wait outside while our professor went it. He, rather than taking responsibility for the fact that A) the trip was poorly planned, and B) we weren't supposed to have to pay for anything besides meals on this trip, instead seemed to think that we were crazy and a little cheap for not immediately opening our wallets.

Anyway, the most interesting thing from the entire pharmacy debacle was (as another student pointed out) that most modern Cuban pharmacies don't even have a fourth of the products available that they had in other times.

Onward and upward to the seminary, which was indeed situated a bit outside of Matanzas on a hill. Mostly we checked out the view and spent time talking with an older theologian who talked to us about the different religious theories developed since the Revolution. The most interesting to me was the "Theory of the Absurd", which, while I still don't quite understand the name, was created during the Special Period in Cuba. The Special Period was during the nineties, right after the dissolution of the Soviet block. Because that was Cuba's major trading partner, the country suffered severe economic hardships during those years, and it was a very frustrating time, especially for the youth of the country. This theory more or less centered around trying to instill in these youth a sense of hope for the future. It seems to me that this theory should still be in practice right now, only I haven't sensed any hope in the youth we know, just the frustration.

The seminary was followed by lunch in a hillside restaurant. To cut to the chase, we waited about two hours for undercooked, bloody chicken. At some point during the wait, Honorio and I decided a bottle of wine was a good idea. An even better idea was getting a second bottle to go when lunch was finally done. We made one more stop at a little workshop that makes handmade books, and I passed the afternoon and most of the evening in a pleasant state.

Anticlimactic as this day was, it was nothing compared to what was to come. We found out Saturday morning that we were driving two hours away from Matanzas to see some rural villages. Interesting concept, executed because Profe wanted to, despite the fact that our tour guide had never been to these towns...It went about as well as you can imagine. We arrived in the first town, whose name will be forever lost in the annals of my history (in there?). We were told to disembark and walk around for 15 minutes before returning to the van. Imagine this, please. A rural town, in Cuba, which means dusty and poorly (if at all) paved roads. Many of the buildings are in a sad state. It was not a work day, so most people were out and about in town. Some cars could be seen, but it was apparent that biking or hoofin' it were the main modes of transportation. We roll up in a nice, AC-blasting tour bus and walk down the steps into this other world. I experienced some discomfort because everyone was staring at us, which was only natural, given the circumstances. But even more discomfort came from the realization that we were there more or less just to state at them as well. Oh, hai, we're a bunch of Americans and we're going to tour your town like it's something really strange. It's not that I didn't want to see a rural Cuban village, but I don't like making others feel like their life is under the microscope.

So we departed from this town and headed to another, called Jaguey Grande. En route, we passed miles and miles of orange orchards, the big industry in this part of the country. There are also a good deal of schools out in the countryside, and the students attend class in the morning and work picking oranges in the afternoon.

Jaguey Grande was...well, refer to the first picture in this post. This trip was full of half-assed (brief and inaccurate) and unnecessary translations, a random man that we picked up on the street to tell us about the town, and unsatisfying food despite the fact that a fantastic burger joint was just down the street. My favorite experience, however, was walking into an old, dusty building. A few chairs and some dilapidated boxes were in evidence, but not much else. We continued through into an inner patio. Where were we, we wondered? That's right. We were in a run-down building that contained nothing. There are plans in the works for it to eventually become the Municipal Museum of Jaguey Grande, but in the meantime, zilch. Actually, that's not true. They had one artifact, an ancient gasoline-powered iron. Good times.

I can't even write much more about this trip, except that for a short time it took away my will to live, because I also got sick in Matanzas, and suffered a sore throat since then until yesterday. Sunday we did spend on the beach, but I needed about a week's worth of beach days after that weekend.