Cuba
THE FLIGHT DOWN
Well I'm on the plane off for Cuba. Air travel was slightly worrisome for me because it's been awhile since I've been on a plane. The ride up was interesting. I haven't slept in quite sometime. Trumbull says that the first thing he noticed when he came here was the prostitutes. I hear some guy named Brian is really worried about them. We'll have to find out about that.
The guy next to me on the plane was the scariest part of the first part of the flight. Large beads of sweat formed all over his forehead and ran down his face. He was panting and mumbling.
The further south we get, the closer to our destination, the more "Hispanic" things get--I think that's the word for it.
We're in Houston: The diversity of the people is already surprising. Now that we are on our way to Mexico the bilinguality is obvious. I Wish I spoke more Spanish. I ended up getting on the plane sort of late--was trying to get something to eat with the girls. Now that we're on our way to Cuba things are almost all in Spanish.--I wish I understood Spanish, it makes me think those 4 years of German was a bad decision. I should've listened to mom, but I never expected to be going to Cuba.
MEXICO
Mexico was an interesting experience. It's very commercial, much like you'd expect in any popular beach town. It'll be interesting to see the difference between here and Cuba. Since we were going to be there for SEVEN hours we go to the beach.....I ended up sitting at the beach bar drinking with Shelly, Jen and Adriana. I wonder if I'll ever drink something called a coco-loco again?
As we depart I look back at the strip where the beach is. It's illuminated, bright, commercial---ahhh capitalism, will I miss you?
Ironically, maybe not so ironically, there is a Super Wal-Mart in Cancun. Other strongholds of Capitalism are also here: KFC, McDonalds and Hardrock Cafe. Bet I won't be seeing a Super Wal-Mart in 10 days or more--what would Penny Marshall think....hmmm....maybe that's K-Mart.....eh, whatever.
We're going to Cuba! No Super Wal-Marts or McDonalds or KFC. Although I did hear they might have Coke and Pepsi, oh yeah and planned Socialism.
I spend the flight listing to Tim (are there two?) have a very slow discussion in Spanish. He's saying something about Russia--I'm eavesdropping. Maybe it's stuff he shouldn't be talking about I don't know. Of course if I spoke more Spanish I'd be asking the same stuff.
I communicated with the lady next to me on the flight. It was something about the reading light--it would be easier if I spoke more Spanish. The stewardess (is that what you call them now?) came by and gave us sandwiches--my first taste of socialist food, it's like a convienence store sub. They told us to bring condiments...I don't know if I'll use the Worchestershire or not...heh.
With people's accents I can't tell if they're talking in English or Spanish. I'm tired, plane sleep hasn't done me well.
CUBA--Malecon, Marti, Mateo, and the Maine
The first thing you see when you walk through customs is a picture of Elian that says "Return our Boy." --this won't be the last time I see this I think.
The first day we see the monuments on the Malecon--the strip in Havana. We see Marti, Mateo and the Maine. There is also an outdoor ampitheater built for the specific purpose of Elian rallies.
Renovation is going on everywhere and the city needs it. There are monuments everywhere. But just like anything you'd expect in any city like it.
As we drive by the dilapidated hotels and housing we see the signs of once brilliant architecture on the left. The ocean is on the right. I Thought the ocean was dynamic, this city has seen a lot of change in the last century.
ALL I WANT
Jim is my roommate. I complained to him after the beach that all I wanted was an intelligent, liberally educated, socially aware, pop-culture elitist. I've added moderately well-read and slightly attractive since. The next day I met the Pitt girls. It seems like quite a few people on the trip fit into those categories. Ironic thought: I had to go all the way to Cuba to meet people from Pitt!
"LA CHICA CON LA MANO ROTA"
Liz is the girl with the broken hand. We spent a night on the Malecon talking. She's quite intelligent and has well formulated opinions! She tells me that there are some race issues and that the black Americans in the Pitt group have been hassled by the police because police assume they are Cubans trying to hustle the Americans. I get into an illegal cab with them and she tells me not to speak in Spanish. I think she thinks it's odd that I'm carrying this pad around and writing all the time. We talk about motivation, and incentives, and the society of indoctrination. She tells me not to say I'm a journalism major because some people may not talk to me as much as they would--not that I'm doing much speaking to Cubans anyway. Here are some useful phrases: "Me majore es communications." "Yo soy de Canada."
Liz broke her hand and went to a Cuban hospital. She said it was scary at first because it's not as clean as you might expect. She said it was dark and had no air conditioning. She got free service because she was with some Cubans who knew some people. If she would've went to a tourist hospital it would've cost her forty dollars I think. She said the service was efficient and they even rechecked her hand. She doesn't quite know if it's broke or not. She tells me she fainted and fell on it. Liz says that the X-ray machine was a GE one from the 30s or 40s....I wouldn't be totally surprised.
RADIO HAVANA
The first night I had an interesting conversation with Amelio--our translator Olga's husband. He's a journalist for Radio Havana. It makes me wonder how journalistic integrity can be maintained in a totalitarian regime. The purposes of the press are different though I suppose. It makes me wonder about the parallels between a state run media and the increasing corporatization of the U.S. media.
We ended up visiting the English department of Radio Havana. Three of us, me, Jim and Trumbull, got interviewed. Trumbull was worried that he may have said too much. I tried to be very unpolitical. Amelio is not quite a good journalist yet. Bob took pictures.
OLD HAVANA
Historical development is going on everywhere. Hotels are joint-ventures as we've learned. These hotels and the tourism that they will draw will help fund the historical preservation and renovation. There are police everywhere! They are very stern people. Jim offered one a cigarette. He didn't take it. We went to La Bodeguita del Medio it's a bar where Hemmingway drank a drink called a mojito. Mojito's are mint, rum, water and sugar basically. Trumbull likes them--a lot! Everyone in Old Havana wants our dollars. They sing to us and offer us cigars...no sex offers yet. We're told this isn't the real Havana money is being poured in here from projects and tourists.
THE HIGHWAY
People stroll lazily across the highway. There are old American cars everywhere. There are also old Soviet cars. Large semis are pulling "buses." There are political propaganda billboards everywhere. I comment that it would be strange if we had pro-capitalist billboards in the U.S. halfway through the statement I've already answered my thought. Maybe we do...but it's not as blatant as "PARTICIPATE IN THE FREE MARKET ECONOMY! SPEND MONEY TODAY!"--well maybe some of them are.
COLORS
The colors of Havana are diverse, from the soil to the people.
THE BEACH
We went to the beach. I got nicknamed "Casper." I usually stay away from the sun but I chose to indulge while here. The beach was nice. The water was warm. We drank and ate at a restaurant off of the beach. There was dancing....the first of much dancing.
THINKING CUBA
Maybe I'm not really understanding what's going on. Maybe it's too much for me to take in all at once. Cuba...everyone seems to have a view on it. And what am I thinking as I walk down the street at 2 A.M.?--Girls, well not just girls but intelligent, liberally educated, socially aware, pop-culture elitists. There are more socially aware women here than I've ever seen. Well, it seems like it anyway. PEOPLE WITH OPINIONS! From Pitt even!
A thought on travel: I think that to really experience the distance, to experience where you are when you travel, the best way to go is by boat. Maybe I'll leave that way!
PIMP DADDY
We went to El Floridita. It's where Hemmingway drank his margaritas. SIX dollar margaritas--no wonder he killed himself! I got there late and sat down by these two gorgeous women. I recognized one. I get to talking with the girls and I remember that I had talked to one of them, Jessica, at the airport. She was with her friend Lauren who she had talked about meeting. I hadn't expected to see her again. I bought them both drinks and left with them. As the door of the bar was closing I realized I was getting a standing ovation from the inside of the bar. We went out to a few more bars, drank and talked. As it turns out Jessica wants to study law down here--or at least that's what I gathered in my slightly drunken haze. We all had a very nice evening. I got their address, 1204 Neptuno, I didn't go back. For the next couple of days, my nickname had changed from "Casper," to "Pimp Daddy" --whatever. Glad that was only temporary. I think I have Shelly to thank for that one.
ETHEREAL ENTITY
Jim said he wished he didn't have to sleep while he was here. He said he'd like to be an "Ethereal Entity," and float around the city. That would be nice--if I knew more Spanish. But just to observe life, the goings on, without being noticed. Seeing things than only Cubans see. Hearing conversations that might not be held around someone from the US. --Especially a journalism major. "Me majore es communications."
JOSE MARTI--OUR NATIONAL HERO
Classes are interesting. We listen to people speak on different topics. The first day was a history lecture. We study at the Center for the Study of the United States. Afterward we head back and waited for our afternoon function. I think I'm going to be skipping out on lunch more. And breakfast--ants in the cheese, mmmmm! We went to the University, it's beautiful. They have a courtyard. I'd kill for a courtyard. We wouldn't even have to have the tank in the middle.
We also see Revolutionary Square--nothing too revolutionary, it's looks like a parking lot. The Che building is here--haven't seen enough of his face lately--and so is the Jose Marti national monument. Cubans don't say Jose Marti, they say "Jose Marti Our National Hero." Indoctrination, ain't it great? Nine out of ten times they say it that way. In rare instances you might hear "Our Apostle" added instead.
I talk to Bob about how I don't think I'm getting as much as I should out of this, especially from a writer's perspective. Bob says, "You can't really see things in a cyclone. There's too much shit goin on." Bob is probably right.
RUM AND CIGARS
Today the bus driver sold us rum and cigars. From what we?told, his profit from the sale of the alcohol alone will be more than his monthly salary. I buy a bottle of rum. He also told us that he could provide us with cigars for less than half of factory cost. He really didn't seem to know what he was talking about as both of the cigars he pointed out in my book were Dominican.
I finally bought cigars off of some friends of a guy name Arojilo, or something like that. He was shady but seemed OK at first...a creep later because he was a jerk with the girls. He has hooked us up though. He got us into this club one night and we didn't have to wait in line. I understand that he's just trying to get dollars. I'm being exploited....aren't we all.
I finally smoked a Cuban cigar. I smoked a Cohiba and got very very sick. I was out for the night. I wasn't even inhaling! It was a good cigar though.
I bought one more box of cigars off of one of the maid's brothers. We closed the doors of the house while making the deal. We're right across the street from the CDR. The guy there offered us cigars the first day. I bought this box for 20 bucks and a pair of cargo shorts--they really like cargo shorts.
PROSTITUTION
Prostitution is rampant yet I've yet to be propositioned--and eventually wasn't at all. Jim has been 3 or 4 times. Liz tells me it's because Jim looks like he has money. Whatever that means. Am I offended? Maybe slightly. We were in a club and I told Bob that I hadn't seen that many people for sale since I was in Washington D.C. They're everywhere. One of the Pitt girls, is doing research on the sex trade. It's very hush-hush because she's not supposed to be doing it. They tell me they'll tell me what it's about when we're all back in the states. I'm really interested in finding out. The goverment denounces it, but at the same time they pander to single Europen men for vacations---I wonder what they're coming for? Must be the ants in the cheese and ham breakfast sandwiches. The police seem to think it's some kind of joke. From what I hear one of the members of the group has exploited the sex trade, maybe more. He paid something like 40 dollars and a couple Mets t-shirts. Now wouldn't that be a story David Hardesty would love to hear?
POLICE
They're everywhere. Our neighborhood has them on every corner. Castro likes to keep a tight ship I heard someone say. I feel safer walking here at night than I do in South Park. I guess Paul and Jim were walking with a couple of Cubans and the police detained the Cubans for bothering the tourists.--one didn't have his ID card, that's not good from what I hear. My run in with the police was when I was in a cab that got pulled over. I was by myself so I had no clue what happened. The officer let the cab go on it's way. I was a little tense for a few moments thought when the cabbie left me alone in the car.
BASEBALL
The only thing as nearly as prevalent as police and prostitution is baseball. Kids are playing everwhere. I've already given away almost all of my balls. I've tossed with some kids on the beach. On our first day in Cuba, I went for a walk and saw some kids playing baseball with a dolls head. It worked for their streetball game.
MARKET OF IDEAS
I got in an argument with one of the speakers. She wouldn't answer my questions. She wanted me to qualify EVERY part of it. Define socialism my foot. Answer my question. It was about freedom and choice and elections. She said there would be no point because Fidel would win. Of course, the system is set up so he would. The argument was pointless. And she was a conflict management specialist. How the hell do they resolve anything?
A multi-party system or at the very least some greater form of dissenting views within the party would be useful in increasing the market of ideas. They should at least have more freedom to discuss these matters, especially the people. I don't care much for repression. Even dissenting socialist ideas can lead to better socialism, right?
THIS IS RELIGION TO ME
"This is religion to me," Brie tells me as we sit on the wall of the fort waiting for the cannon to go off. It's a perfect evening. The sun has set over the city. Drumbeats echo off of the stone walls of the old Spanish fort. The procession gets closer, building the tension of the eventual 9 o'clock cannon blast. We hear Bob Marley playing in the distance--probably from the party boat in the harbor. Cameras flash as the spectators--mostly tourists--try to illuminate the "soldiers" for a better photograph. The men in the colonial garb prepare to set off the cannon. The anticipation builds The cannon is loaded with a loud clank. A man calls out the order in terse Spanish. The powder is stuffed inside the gun. The crowd watches intently as the final moment approaches. Men stand poised behind the cannon holding flags as the final orders are being given. A flame ignites the fuse and within moments the gun is fired. The startled crowd reacts with glee as the blast reverberates around them. And with that, it's over. The crowd cheers and disperses. The soldiers march away as they came, drums beating in time. Religion.
COMO QUESO
The Pitt girls--who I spend more time with than most of the group-- tell me that they've had some language barriers (I only wish I had their language barriers.) One of them is that they always call things "cheesy" and that there is no exact translation. They've taken to saying "como queso" literally, like cheese. They had to explain this to some of their Cuban friends, but they think it's catching on in their circle.
Shelly has taken to calling Trumbull, and other important people, Queso Grande. I wonder how well that translates?
FRUITY FIDEL
I've gotten to know Liz quite well. She's borrowed some of my stuff so I'll have to see her again when we get back to the states. I decided not to go to sleep on the last night here. We spent most of the evening at the Pitt house. Me and Ray co-invented a drink. It's half rum half Najita-an orange beverage; we call it the "Fruity Fidel." Jim wanted to walk to an all night chicken shack. Me and Liz went too. It took a long time. I may not eat fried chicken for awhile. I noticed tonight that I've gotten used to seeing the old cars. At first it was an interesting sight. I guess after you've ridden in the back of a bel-air that hasn't had springs in the seats in decades you kind of get used to it. I was a little weird earlier...I decided not to sleep again. Cancun will be here soon. I'm looking forward to a nap at the airport.
NICKNAMES
everyone seems to have one now....the ones I know:
Ray: Goober--by far the most popular one
Jim: The Great Communicator
Me: Casper
Tim: Elian
Bob: Croc Hunter
Paul: Porn Star--i'm not really sure what this is about
IN RETROSPECT
Now that I'm back and I have time to reflect I wonder what I got out of the trip. At first I thought that I did a little too much girl chasing and not enough learning about how Cubans lived. I did have some translated discussions with a few though and I think I was able to observe a lot. One Cuban told me that if I entered the house of a Cuban I would cry. I don't doubt him for a second. I wonder how these people get along--the ones without dollars. It is obvious that they do exist. One woman at a peso restaurant had never seen a pack of Luckies and asked Jim for one. I didn't understand at first because we had seen them everywhere, but we'd seen them in dollar stores.
I've been thinking about the whole "not being propositoned by a prostitute thing," and I've come to realize that being propositioned by a prostitute is possibly the biggest insult a person can give. They're saying "Hey, it looks to me like you couldn't get laid if you wanted, so why don't you pay me for it." --just a thought
I'm not sure trips to the rum factory and the scale model of the city did much to increase my awareness of Cuban culture. I wish I would've seen more of the authentic music. I bought a tape though there that's good and I'd like to find more here. I hope to go back someday. Maybe after the embargo/blockade ends. The trip has definetly created an interest in that part of the world for me. I think I may even take a course in Spanish.
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