Hello all! Sincerest apologies for the delay, my three days in NYC were booked for family time and laundry before the 18 hour journey to Cape Town. I feel relaxed here in South Africa, I think partially because of some of the lessons I picked up in Cuba, on some of the images of poverty gleaned from our three weeks exploring the outskirts of Trinidad and Havana, and of the time spent away from home. The major issues here seem more similar to those of the US rather than those in Cuba, of massive wealth inequality and the consolidation of power into the hands of those rich few. A burgeoning problem for our southern neighbors. Though a police state, I felt there was a stronger disconnect between our casa owners and tourist industry folk with the average Cuban than between the drunk, salsa dancing cops and the people they enforced. The beginnings of privatization are creating some of the same class distinctions we see in other free-market societies yet on a smaller level. This was the most surprising aspect of Cuba, actually. It was in the little improvements, gifts from other travelers, fresh paint as well as some serious things like patched roofs and decent plumbing that divided neighborhoods. The few times I felt like I was really being scammed there, being led into a dark alleys for cheap goods or up a shoddy staircase for my golden cigars… I knew the cash would be circulated in those peripheral places and that maybe some of these lessons could be translated into solutions later on. Our weeks there and my few days here in S.A. have made me think a lot about how problems are sometimes replicated throughout history, they’ve made me question revolution and the roles of culture in times of political turmoil or suffering. Anyway, here are some of my notes on the Cuban trip:

Havana was the crumbling infrastructure of the colonial era reborn in the 50s and frozen there in time. Viva la revolución… Rubble, chicken bones and coconuts came tumbling off the rooftops in what felt like an endless party. Són, rhumba, raggaeton and hip hop came pouring out of cheap speakers on every street corner. There was energy in those ruins. People walked casino salsa, whistled and hollered. Spies tucked themselves in alleyways and the constant hustle stripped me of my pesos in less than a week. The two currency system does a really good job at directing us tourists on specific routes within the country, where CUCs are all that you have and their value is only accepted in certain stores (as opposed to the national currency). This becomes evident as you move outside of Havana and travel further east on the island. In Trinidad I came to realize how significant this barrier was, on how difficult it is to communicate given the preventative measures the government enforces upon its people. A card–a license–is given to those that work in the industry and that allows for conversation with foreigners. Discussions on politics become difficult to broach and nearly impossible given the law. I started feeling paranoia creep in and became more shocked by this aspect of control than by the dead dogs on the side of the highway or the one floating in the Cienfuegos bay (its sad bloated body in the shadow of a sparkling, Canadian cruise). It really started to get to me. Another American called me out in a coffee shop one day to his Cuban tour guide as a “definite supporter of the revolution… look at that nose ring and his tattoos!” I responded by drawing a crudely shaped penis and quickly flashed my notebook before fleeing the scene. I feel like a lot of non academics in the States try to understand Cuba in this way, through bold assumptions and an ahistorical logic. People neglect some of the ideals expressed by the younger Castro and Guevara in order to maintain their anti-communism and nationalistic upbringings. Our current president’s reversal of Obama’s attempt at reconnecting the two nations is a horribly misguided approach and confirmation of this mindset. Cuban domestic policies are certainly not what we should accept in the States today but global communication is of the utmost importance. And I made some interesting connections that showed a certain resistance to this aspect of Cuban governance. For instance, while spending a week returning to the same eatery, night after night trying to improve my Spanish with the same set of employee/residents (most private businesses are startups in the home), and eating the same cheap food and on-the-house bananas, I made an important discovery: pornography. One of the people I met at the eatery beckoned me over one night to look at his cellphone, he was a Cuban guy with connections in Australia (he told me he could never move there because of the gun violence and prejudice against his skin) and he was asking if I liked the ladies. He pulled up some b-rated porno and gave me a big smile but upon realizing my discomfort he got one of the servers over and the two of them sat gazing into the screen. Eventually another two guys stumbled in the doorway and plopped down for the show! Digitized sex is banned in Cuba and with the spotty wifi its not an easy feat to acquire it. People smuggle porn in on USB drives from other parts of the world. Along with music, movies and TV shows, these portable catalogues are black market commodities. They quietly chip away at the hegemony of state and the borders that confine the Cuban people.

The city of Havana is characterized by it’s old sports car taxis, it’s stark contrast of old, pre-revolution buildings and new, post-revolution buildings, and it’s stretch of concrete next to the ocean called El Malecon. Compared to Trinidad, it’s loud and bright, sprawling across a huge area. Trinidad feels much more like a small town, lacking the skyscrapers of Havana and crowded by horse buggies rather than sports cars. There are little to no traffic lights on the cobble stone streets and the city seems more welcoming to tourists. There are excursions to waterfalls and beaches on every street corner, hostels and casas up and down neighborhoods, and pop-up souvenir shops in new places every day. However, because of the emphasis on tourism in Trinidad, things are also more expensive. A meal of fried pork, rice, and salad in Havana for 5 CUC (about $5.65) would cost closer to 8 CUC (about $9.00).

The city of Havana is characterized by it’s old sports car taxis, it’s stark contrast of old, pre-revolution buildings and new, post-revolution buildings, and it’s stretch of concrete next to the ocean called El Malecon. Compared to Trinidad, it’s loud and bright, sprawling across a huge area. Trinidad feels much more like a small town, lacking the skyscrapers of Havana and crowded by horse buggies rather than sports cars. There are little to no traffic lights on the cobble stone streets and the city seems more welcoming to tourists. There are excursions to waterfalls and beaches on every street corner, hostels and casas up and down neighborhoods, and pop-up souvenir shops in new places every day. However, because of the emphasis on tourism in Trinidad, things are also more expensive. A meal of fried pork, rice, and salad in Havana for 5 CUC (about $5.65) would cost closer to 8 CUC (about $9.00).

The city of Havana is characterized by it’s old sports car taxis, it’s stark contrast of old, pre-revolution buildings and new, post-revolution buildings, and it’s stretch of concrete next to the ocean called El Malecon.  Compared to Trinidad, it’s loud and bright, sprawling across a huge area.  Trinidad feels much more like a small town, lacking the skyscrapers of Havana and crowded by horse buggies rather than sports cars.  There are little to no traffic lights on the cobble stone streets and the city seems more welcoming to tourists.  There are excursions to waterfalls and beaches on every street corner, hostels and casas up and down neighborhoods, and pop-up souvenir shops in new places every day.  However, because of the emphasis on tourism in Trinidad, things are also more expensive.  A meal of fried pork, rice, and salad in Havana for 5 CUC (about $5.65) would cost closer to 8 CUC (about $9.00).

The US and Cuba have a long history of tension-filled relations, so I wasn’t sure what to expect when going to a country not many Americans have been to.  Especially not being a fluent Spanish-speaker, I didn’t know how I would communicate with locals, but I was determined to get to know people around our casas.

In Trinidad, our casa was situated across the street from the home of Luz Mary (pictured above), one of the oldest neighborhood girls and clearly the leader of the group.  She could speak some English from lessons as school and loved to show us her photo albums and tell us about her family.  Many of the other neighborhood kids were her cousins or siblings, and she acted as a mother figure for them while they played outside, scolding them when they were mean to each other or telling them to go back inside when it became late.

We were lucky enough to be invited to her younger cousin Luis’s 8th birthday party one night.  The kids were planning on staying up until midnight so they could ring in Luis’s birthday with soda, pizza, and singing to him.  Luz Mary provided us with glasses and soda after we ventured out to buy pizza from street vendors, and we clinked our glasses to celebrate Luis.  He was a naturally shy kid but he wouldn’t stop smiling at the attention.  Luz Mary conducted us in singing to him, and threw homemade confetti as the crescendo to the song.

The day we left Trinidad, Luz Mary gifted us with beaded necklaces and waited for our taxi with us.  We were sad to say goodbye to her after seeing her every day for two weeks and playing soccer with her and her cousins.  We made sure to take plenty of pictures with her!

The other picture I included above is in Santa Clara.  While waiting for our taxi, an older man stopped by to chat with us.  Overall, Cubans were very friendly to us and just wanted to talk or hear about the US.  Many Cubans have family in the United States, mostly around the Florida area.  He asked to take pictures with us (after asking if I had a boyfriend) and grinned when we showed them to him.

One of my favorite parts of our trip was getting to know the locals and learning about their stories.  We made some great friends, which made it even harder to leave, but it just gives us another reason to go back.

Over the two weeks we spent in Trinidad, our group took four salsa dancing lessons with a professional instructor, Yusell Garcia. He teaches a version of Cuban salsa called “casino”, which is characterized by close partner dancing and connection maintenance (not letting go of one’s partner).
We started off basic: the front and back movements, side to side movements, crossing our feet behind each other, etc. Men always lead with their left foot, mirroring the women who lead with their right foot. As our lessons continued, Yusell added steps to our repertoire and included some spins and what seemed to us to be some pretty advanced moves. Each lesson we practiced with and without music, switched partners, and tried to move with the ease Yusell did. Following the steps was easy enough; it was the hip movement and attitude that were harder to emulate.

Besides the lessons, our group took to night clubs to practice our moves and I can’t help but think it was painfully obvious we were beginners. Many of the locals at the clubs were there every night and danced just as well as Yusell did.

One stereotype I had heard about Cuba was that men randomly grab you off the street to dance with you, something I hadn’t experienced in my time in Havana and Trinidad. In the salsa clubs, it was different. Men of all ages would ask us to dance with them. It seemed like no one was allowed to sit down at these clubs; there wasn’t a single song I sat out on.

All of the local men were amazing salsa dancers, whipping us across the dancefloor and spinning us until we were dizzy. Salsa is a social dance, so many Cubans have grown up dancing salsa and casino at parties and events. Boys also learn the female parts when they’re younger in order to better understand their job of “leading the dance”.

While I must have stepped on a million toes during my salsa dancing with locals, they never became impatient or aggravated, a testament to the nature of salsa dancing: it’s not necessarily just about getting the steps down. It’s about having a good time and connecting with others.

Cuban ceramics mostly seem to be bright and colorful, organic in design, and often glazed in a semi-glossy coat. We visited a ceramic shop on the outskirts of Trinidad where they make and sell ceramic pieces like vases and ashtrays. An older man sat at the throwing wheel with a cigarette in hand, placed a chunk of white clay onto the wheel, and went to work.
The process starts with the collection and mixing of the clay in the back of the studio in 3 large troughs. I was showed how the dry material is mixed with water to create a workable consistency. A garden rake is used to stir the trough. Next, the clay is laid out and allowed to dry just a bit in the next trough and then transported to a small, dark shed where it is covered and waits until an artist takes it to the wheel.
At the wheel in the front of the studio, the older man used a large chunk to create multiple smaller pieces, shaping the clay into a cone on the wheel and using the top point as his clay to create with. I watched as he molded a small bowl, pulling the clay out and in and occasionally dipping his hands in a water to shape with. After each piece was finished, he cut them off the larger piece of clay with a wire and placed them on a board, ready to dry out.
After the drying process, the pieces are loaded into brick, open air kilns on shelves above the flames. Typically pieces stay firing in the kiln for hours, but because the kiln uses direct heat from fire and is harder to regulate, these times vary.

After firing, the pieces are either left in their natural color or glazed/painted and put out on display for customers to browse and buy. Because the wheel is in the front of the shop, customers are also able to see where their purchases come from and watch the creation process occur, an experience that unique to the artistic process.

For two days every month, the Cuban government provides families within cooperatives cigars to sell to make some extra cash. On New Year’s Eve, the locals were selling the cigars for half off, so some of us students explored central Havana in search of the cheapest cigars. We met a Cuban percussion teacher named Roberto who took us under his wing and showed us the neighborhood where the cooperative is held. He gave us a quick pep talk, encouraging us to haggle with the sellers in order to bring down the prices. “Just look relaxed,” he told us.

When we entered the neighborhood, there were no signs advertising cigars, just seller standing in their doorways and waiting for us to approach. Roberto pointed out a young man, telling us to go talk to him. His name was Carlos and he led us up a narrow flight of stairs to a small room in his apartment with cedar cigar boxes. He let us smell the cigars, showing us how to roll them between our fingers to see if anything fell out, the sign of a bad cigar.

The cigars were more expensive than I had thought, up to $200 for a box of twenty. Sean managed to haggle, bringing the price down for $130 for 20 cigars and a picture of the room. Roberto was very proud and claimed that Sean was a better bargainer he was.

The cigars themselves weren’t bad; they were almost chocolatey in taste. Later on we all shared one around the casa porch, like many Cubans do.

Later on in our trip, once we got to Trinidad, we ended up finding packages of 20 cigars for 25 CUC and they tasted just about the same, but at least we got an interesting haggling lesson from our cooperative adventure.