On Monday a film that Gael Garcia Bernal directed and acted in premiered at the film festival. Our film professor had already told us that it sucked but we went anyway with the idea that perhaps Gael would be there since we heard he was coming for the festival (I was really going with the hopes of seeing Diego Luna since they’re best friends and I think he’s way cuter.) So we went and the movie was awful, one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life. It was about how hard it is to be rich and young and beautiful in Mexico and then oh my God, he didn’t get into Harvard and his parents don’t know yet and then his sister OD’s at a wild party and his girlfriend comes and then he can’t seduce this other girl and life is just so hard!! But despite it being terrible Gael actually did show up along with Diego Luna and they walked right by us and then talked about the film a bit and the entire theater was packed and everyone was yelling and taking photos. It was pretty cool and in real life they both are exceptionally beautiful men but they’re also really short and of course Gael’s movie sucked and received the most lackluster applause out of all the other films I have seen this past week. It was a funny experience because never in the United States would you get to go to the premier of Gael Garcia Bernal’s shitty movie but here in Cuba any person who can get there early enough to get a ticket that costs about 10 cents can go. An extra note: the next day a few of us went to Hotel Nacional because it’s the hub of the film festival and we wanted to buy some posters and shirts for friends and family and Ana actually met Gael as they were waiting in line to exchange money. She told him that she “enjoyed herself” at his film. Ha!
Christmas trees are starting to pop up in peoples’ windows and now when I walk down the street everything feels like a huge oxymoron. I’m in a short dress, sweating my ass off, and then I look up and see a fake Christmas tree with fake glittering snow in someone’s window and I am reminded that yes in fact, it is that time. There’s just something so strange about seeing Christmas trees in a tropical place and of course everyone should be able to celebrate Christmas with whatever tree they want but for some reason I was expecting to see lights on a little palm tree in a planter or something. Even the hotels are all decked out and it’s just so strange because Christmas is something I so heavily associate with coldness and darkness and not going to the beach or sitting in the sun every morning. I heard that theft increases this time of year too because people need extra money in order to buy their kids presents.
On Wednesday we went to the Botanical Gardens on the outskirts of Habana. It was an optional trip but we were promised a good lunch with a lot of greens, something we’ve severely lacked during the past 4 months. 9 of us went and fought through our hang overs since we had played a rousing game of Kings the night before and together we discovered that there are a lot of different kinds of palm trees all over the world. There was a Japanese garden that was kind of nice and they had a koi pond with huge koi that swam around in circles and if you dropped crackers in the water they’d pile on top of each other hurling themselves out of the water in order to eat. Aidan and I also found a huge white toad but we weren’t sure if he was supposed to be white or if he was sick. We ate at the restaurant there called, “Bambu” and it specializes in entirely vegetarian cuisine. It was a buffet of a ton of raw vegetables and good dressings and they had a soup that came to be known as the “womb soup” because it was so comforting. Unfortunately there were pebbles in the rice and when I accidentally bit down on one and felt as though I shattered my back molars I kind of lost my appetite. My teeth were miraculously ok though, which disproved my theory that my teeth have started falling apart during my time in Cuba (Dad, we should make a dentist appointment.)
Now I’m down to a mere three days in Cuba but it hasn’t hit me yet. Usually things don’t hit me until about 5 hours before I leave so I imagine that when I wake up Sunday morning for breakfast that’s about when I’ll burst into tears and then will proceed to cry until 3 in the afternoon when we take off, then maybe some more once I am on the plane, but I think once I get to Miami I will be ok because I’ll be able to talk to all my loved ones at my leisure and won’t have to deal with 20 second delays over the telephone.
This is going to be my last entry during my time here in Cuba and I feel like I need to make some sort of closing remarks but I don’t want to talk like I’ll never be back here. When I think of leaving Cuba on Sunday I think of it as ending one chapter in an entire book of experiences I hope to have here someday. There is no doubt in my mind that I will come back because I’ve never been anywhere as beautiful and complex and amazing as Cuba. Of course there have been moments when I’ve wanted to go home more than anything else, like when I find myself eating pork for the 6th day in a row, or the men are being particularly obnoxious (after 4 months here I’ve found the amount of yelled “piropos” in the streets has a direct correlation with how hot it is, the hotter the weather the more persistent the men), but Cuba is a place that comforts me to my bones and there’s nothing better than waking up every morning to a room saturated with sunlight and the sounds of palms rustling outside the window. I will definitely miss Cuba once I leave. I’ll miss the people and the buildings and the dogs and the insane drivers who honk at you instead of using their breaks and the crowds of people sprinting down the street in order to catch a bus and the old men who set up a table in the street to play dominoes, but I don’t necessarily feel sad about leaving. I don’t feel sad because I know I’ll be back here some day and sure it might be different but to me Cuba has an incorruptible spirit that will persevere over everything else.

I have a week left in Cuba now, which is terrifying. Luckily there is enough to do to keep me happily preoccupied. Right now I’m sitting outside on the veranda in the morning sun, watching doves flit from building to building and it’s really hitting me how much I will miss Habana. It’s funny because for a big city the morning sounds in Habana are no louder than what you might expect in the suburbs. The occasional rumbling of a car, some far off construction, a few people talking and getting ready for the day. I remember being in New York City a few times in the morning and realizing how much quieter it was but it was never anything like this. There were still massive amounts of traffic, people opening up their stores, yelling, and dogs barking, but here it’s so quiet I just heard a baby crying and it must be at least four houses down. Morning is definitely my favorite time of day here. When you walk in the streets the men are still sedated by sleep and rarely yell at you, you can walk in the middle of the street with no problems, and you see other people quietly enjoying the morning either on their front porch or on the roof of their building.
Currently the huge International Film Festival is happening in Habana. It shows over 300 movies in 10 days and they play at least 4 movies everyday in every neighborhood movie theater in Habana. The price of a ticket is affordable for everyone (about 25 cents) but the problem is actually getting one since the lines for every movie are usually so long. Thankfully, SLC got us passes and we’re allowed to cut the ticket line and just go in.
I really love Cuban theaters because they’re massive, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a movie theater as large as the ones they have in Habana and they fill up almost consistently no matter what film you’re going to see. In one of the films I saw, La Noche de los Inocentes there was a line that was something like, “In Santiago de Cuba people will break windows for soap and laundry detergent, but here in Habana people will break windows for movies.” That film, La Noche de los Innocentes was actually my favorite film that I’ve seen so far. It’s by a Cuban director, Arturo Sotto and was hilarious and touched almost every controversial subject in Cuban society today, interracial relationships, homosexuality, jineterismo, machismo, everything!
Cuban film is highly contextual and while you can never go to Cuba and still enjoy Cuban film, everything about the film opens up once you know Cuba. As a result, watching La Noche after having spent 4 months in Cuba with a Cuban audience was awesome. The theater was packed and everyone was roaring with laughter as one of the characters tried to figure out how to answer a cell phone and an Italian man trying to start a company in Habana blamed the blockade for why his Cuban girlfriend cheated on him. There were all sorts of excited chatter throughout the theater in between laughs and I truly believe that the film was a groundbreaking film in Cuban film history.
Yesterday was the anniversary of John Lennon’s death so Aidan, Tiana, and I went to Lennon park where there is a statue of John Lennon sitting on a bench and we had a picnic. We bought a bunch of sunflowers and put them in John’ arm and poured out some wine for him. As we were doing this, a security guard came and stopped us because he had to put John’s glasses on, which the security guard keeps in his pocket because people kept stealing them. It was really nice sitting in the park and watching people bring Johnflowers and get their photos taken with him. As we were getting up to leave 4 little kids with guitars and an old man walked up and placed a huge bouquet on John’s lap and then sat down next to him and started playing “Imagine” and “Hey Jude” and it was really sweet and people gathered around and sang along. Afterwards the old man gave a speech saying that John Lennon was a musical genius, comparable to Beethoven. Then the security guard told them they had to stop because people wanted to get their pictures taken so played one more song and everyone applauded. It was really nice.
In the night Aidan, Tiana, and I went to the bar at the top of the Focsa building. The Focsa building is the tallest building and largest apartment complex in Habana and maybe even in Cuba, but I’m not sure. At the top there is a bar with all glass walls and you can see the entire city. I drank my first bloody mary, which I didn’t like that much but I was craving tomato juice for the first time ever and although it wasn’t very good, the view and the strength of the drink made it seem pretty good by the end. I really enjoy seeing cities from above; I think the aerial view says a lot about the place you’re in and Habana is very unlike any other big city I’ve seen from above but mainly because there are very few cars in the road (comparatively) and nothing is as brightly lit.
Hopefully before I leave I will be able to write again but who knows if I can find the time. Cuba is unlike any place I’ve ever been before and I really hope that I will get to come back some day because even though there are things that frustrate me about it (men, inaccessibility to certain things, men, disappearing professors, and did I already say men?) I truly love it here.

Pt. 1- Thanksgiving
Usually Thanksgiving reminds me how much I love my family and good food, but since this entire trip has made me realize those things, Thanksgiving this year was more about how much I love to be in a kitchen. There’s something inexplicably wonderful about being in a kitchen, even if you’re not cooking. Perhaps it’s the sense of community or perhaps it’s the perks - like licking clean the bowls that held banana bread batter or chocolate frosting. Needless to say it’s always been my favorite place in the house and spending two days cooking up a storm was two of the most soulfully satisfying days I’ve had recently. One of our chefs at the residence Tato, went to all extremes in order to help us and even taught me how use a meat grinder in order to make perfectly lump-less mashed potatoes since we didn’t have a masher. I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but those mashed potatoes were probably the best mashed potatoes I have ever made.
The dinner was amazing. Tiana and I set up the tables in a big “U” shape and then made flower arrangements for each table. The food was set out on the inside of the “U” in a buffet style and everyone could pick what they wanted. We probably had about 8 dishes ranging from Mac’n’cheese to eggplant Parmesan. All the dishes turned out perfectly and we were worried about not having enough food but it was able to feed all they people who were eating and still there were leftovers. We invited our professors, our tour guide who has gone with us on almost every trip outside of Habana, some Cuban students we met with who are learning English in University, and other friends we’ve made during our time here such as an American woman living here and working for Granma. We also invited kids from Harvard and UPenn. In total we were probably about 35 people and the room rang with a mixture of English, Spanish, Spanglish, and Cubañol until that moment when the only sound you hear is forks on plates because everyone is too busy enjoying the food.
So that was my Thanksgiving. And of course I missed my family and I imagined all the good food that was being eaten at my sister’s house and how nice it would have been to be there, but our Cuban Thanksgiving was pretty damn good and I was surrounded by new friends and it was certainly one of my favorite Thanksgivings ever.

Pt. 2- Everything else
My God, where to start. It apparently has hit us that we only have 3 weeks here and we’ve all been trying to cram as much stuff into our free time as possible which has made it so I have a lot to write about and that’s not including what I’m learning in classes or in a paper I’m writing on immigration from Cuba to the US.
On Saturday Aidan, Tiana, and I went to Regla with our friend and tour guide Jesús. Regla is a part of Habana but it’s across the bay so you have to take a ferry to it that costs 20 Cuban cents. When we were boarding they searched our bags which was surprising and Jesús explained that it was because in the past people had high jacked the ferry in order to get to Miami and the last time it happened which was about 10 years ago, people were killed so now they check for weapons. As we crossed the bay we threw coins into the water for Yamaya and made wishes and discussed how much money must be at the bottom. The water was slick with oil and Jesús said that there was a refinery that dumps a lot of waste into the bay, you can see the refiniery from Habana with it’s huge smoke stacks, one of which shoots fire out the top. The day before we had had a class on the environment in Cuba where we learned that there were a lot of interesting things going on in terms of preservation and reforestation but they still had a long way to go and some initiatives were nearly impossible due to lack of money and they had to wait until they could find foreign investors, perhaps this was one of those initiatives. Already a power plant had been shut down along the bay because there was too much pollution.
A note about this class: We went to a huge park that sits on a watershed and separates Habana into two parts and it’s preserved existence is essential for Habana’s existence. As a man who works for the park talked to us about the environment and what Cuba is doing in order to build more environmental awareness we slowly all realized that both our vans parked outside were running and had been running for the past 30 minutes. This is a big problem in Cuba, the state awareness is there but on an individual level, it’s perfectly acceptable to throw your beer cans in the ocean or drop your crash in the street.
When we reached Regla we went to the Church of Regla, which was the reason we were going there in the first place. The church is interesting because it is shared by Catholics and people who practice Santeria. There are other churches in Cuba where this occurs as well such as one I went to in Santiago de Cuba but I still find it intruiging that the churches and the saints seem to be shared in relative peace. In the church is the Vírgin de Regla or Yamaya as she is known in Santeria. She is dressed in all blue and is the saint of the sea. What makes her unique is that she is a black woman, which I thought was cool since you normally don’t see any saints of color in churches, which I could go on about, but will refrain. The church itself faces the bay and during mass the doors are always left open so the Vírgin de Regla can see it. In reality, I wish I knew more about the church or the Vírgin but really, I am just regurgitating everything Jesús told us. There were a lot of people there though and it’s interesting to see the differences in a Latin American/Caribbean church and a European church, I think they’re both kind of creepy in very fascinating but very different ways. I only say creepy because whenever I go into a church I feel like I’m surrounded by ghosts, and ghosts give me the heebie jeebies.
After the church we went to Jesús’ mom and sisters’ house for lunch because they live right around the corner. They made us rice and beans and cut up hotdogs that were delicious and being around a family immediately comforted me, and when we had to say our goodbyes I wanted to stay a little longer.
That night Aidan, Tiana, Ana, and I set out for a jazz club called La Zorra y el Cuervo or The Fox and the Crow. We got all dressed up and then walked over, stopping to get ice cream from a man who supposedly has the best homemade ice cream in Habana (he has a scout who goes from house to house each day trying different peoples’ ice cream and whoever has the best one he buys and takes back to his boss who sells it in a little stand on the street). The club is underground and was everything a jazz club should be (minus the 80 year-old European tourists who apparently were unable to move their bodies in any sort of rhythmic way). It was dark, low ceiling-ed, smoky, and crammed with tables and people smoking cigars and drinking. The band, I wish I had caught it’s name, took a second to warm up and everyone sat a little tensely hoping the musicians would get more into it. When they finally did…I don’t really have words for it. There was a phenomenal piano player, a bass player who held it down, a kit drummer and a percussionist, and a mind-boggling trumpet player. They wailed their way through 3 hours of jazz and it was amazing. By the end all the old extranjeros had left and only the kids remained and the club was wild. They closed their set with a nearly unrecognizable version of “Dos Gardenias” and it was great, everyone was moving and hooting and I really wished that my dad could have been there because he would have been going crazy. When it finally ended it was about 2:00 in the morning and so we all walked home exhausted and reeking of cigarette and cigar smoke but so happy and we all plan to go back again before we leave.
I have so much more to write about but I also have a few papers to work on and I guess it’s time to do something academic after 3 months of enjoying the sun, reading for pleasure, exploring Habana, and taking naps. Hopefully I can write a few more times before I leave, I have 3 weeks now and it freaks me out but I’m trying to enjoy the time I have as much as I can.

Say anything you want about Hemmingway, he was an alcoholic, a womanizer, perhaps you don’t even enjoy his writing that much, but the man had impeccable taste particularly when it came to his home. His taste was so fine he could even pull off 20 different deer heads mounted on his walls, a cheetah skin strewn across the couch, lizards his cats caught floating in formaldehyde filled jars over the toilet, and the giant head of a buffalo in his study.
Hemmingway spent a lot of time in Cuba and owned a small estate called “Finca Vigia” which was originally a lookout point for the Spanish. Today, the home functions as a museum and on Friday after class we went to visit. It’s a fairly small house and all the rooms flow together, there are very few doors. From the back you can see the ocean, then the skyline of Habana, then the outskirts of Habana until you hit the edge of Hemmingway’s property. We saw all of his things, his ridiculous number of boots, his taxidermies from hunting excursions, his knick-knacks that he collected during his travels, paintings, and photographs, his anti-dandruff shampoo. The house was left exactly as it was. All his furniture was made with dark, warm wood that shined despite looking lovingly worn and the floors were all tile but were intricately patterned. He had left the walls white except in a tower he used to entertain mistresses and occasionally write which he had painted a bright turquoise that contrasted nicely. On the wall in the bathroom he had carefully noted his weigh for five years not from month to month, but instead from meal to meal or before and after exercised or different times of the day. We were shown his two “cat rooms,” it’s rumored that at one point he kept up to 55 cats at the house and he would place the photos of his preferred cats on the dining room table. The cat rooms were really just guest bedrooms that the cats had taken over. We also got to see his 7-man yacht that him and his buddies used to go out on in order to search for Nazi Submarines during WWII. I can only imagine a skunked Hemmingway with all his friends yelling that they’ve spotted an enemy sub and radioing it in, only to find that it’s a whale or a sandbar. They even had a secret society called, “ The Crook Factor.”
What I loved most about his house though was that almost every room was lined with bookshelves. Our guide told us that there were over 9000 books in the house and all of them were on those shelves. He had shelves of all different sizes, some big ones that reached the ceilings and then lower ones on top of which he kept collections of animal skulls, sea shells, feathers, wooden carvings, and all sorts of things. It was absolutely incredible and if I could have any wish I would wish to spend the day in Hemmingway’s house just looking at the books he owned, running my fingers over the bindings, flipping through the pages, and perhaps even settling on one and spending the afternoon reading it. I love looking through peoples’ books, seeing what they’ve read, what they’ve chosen to display or keep close to them, and I imagine Hemmingway’s selection would be very intriguing. I also realized that I hope once I own a home some day I want to be surrounded in books like that.
After Hemmingway’s house I came home and took a little nap and then set out for an art opening called “Landings.” It was pretty mediocre and I think I missed the point although visually there were a few interesting pieces. All of Habana’s hip cats were there and that was kind of cool. It’s funny; no matter where you are art openings are always the same. On our way to the opening though, we were drawn into a yard where terrific jazz music was being played. A band was set up outside with piano, drums, bass, alto sax, clarinet, and soprano sax. We went in and no one objected so we sat down and listened for a few songs. The alto sax player wasn’t too good, I thought his tone was terrible and he couldn’t improvise but all the other musicians were phenomenal! It seemed like they were playing songs that were fairly new to them but perhaps that made it even more interesting to watch them signal at each other with different expressions when someone played something wrong or missed a cue or when someone should have started their solo.
After the opening Ana, Tiana, and I went to Habana Vieja because Thursday and Friday marked the anniversary of the founding of the city and there’s a special ceiba tree that you walk around three times and each time you get to make a wish. First though we decided to conclude our Hemmingway day by going to a bar called “The Floriditia” which is not only the “cradle of the daiquiri” but was also one of Hemmingway’s favorite hangouts. I got a coconut daiquiri and it was amazing, Ana got strawberry and Tiana got mint (I liked mine the best.) Unfortunately we couldn’t get a second because they’re pretty expensive so we had to sadly pay our bill and leave.
We made our way to the ceiba tree, which was only a few blocks away, but there were hundreds of people there so we had to wait in line. While waiting we started playing 20 questions and when we realized that everyone around us in line was watching we started playing in Spanish and everyone started guessing. This very sweet old man was so enthused about the game he interrupted on the 15th question with his own item that he described and we all had to guess. He continued doing this for the next hour but all of his words were antiquated or kinds of furniture that no longer exist, so when he finally told everyone what it was, no one had known the word anyway. We stood in line for about 2 and half hours chatting with people and asking them about school and where we should go in Habana, and trying to find out the history of this tree, which no one knew. Everyone got a laugh out of the fact that they had done this tradition almost every year of their life yet they had no idea why. The whole experience was perfect, it’s been very difficult for me to find people to talk to who I actually want to talk to during my time here so having an entire evening filled with good conversation in Spanish was great.
As you got closer to the tree a hush fell over the line and people were ushered into the yard where the tree sits in groups of 6. It’s a really beautiful tradition and feeling the smooth bark of this massive tree under my hand and stepping over roots with a wish repeating over and over in my head was a nice feeling and would have been a release from reality had these idiot guys not been yelling from across the yard, “¡Ay! ¡China! ¡Qué Linda!” Afterwards we said goodbye to all our new friends with the customary kiss on the cheeks and even exchanged numbers with one girl who we will hopefully see again. We then piled into an ancient rumbley maquina and fell into bed, exhausted.

On Wednesday, in keeping with tradition almost all of us girls at the residence celebrated Halloween. It was fun and Aidan and I dressed as the Tortoise and the Hare complete with ears, shells, tails, and running outfits (which was quite the feat when you see what we had to work with.) Although we didn’t go trick or treating, I was given a chocolate bar during my film history class and for an added spooky effect, the electricity went out although that has been happening every week for the past 3 weeks.
Our friend who has an apartment allowed us to throw a Halloween party and so we all set out, fully costumed while a hurricane apparently passed by but not through Havana. We were surprised by the strength of the winds and when we saw the waves breaking on the Malecón sending spray 30 feet in the air we all stopped and stood in awe. It was at this moment that I felt one of my finely crafted “hare ears” rip from under the bobby pins I had used to keep it in place and when I turned around it grab it, it was already half way down the block, riding on a gust of wind. I figured it was a lost cause to chase after it and continued on to the party missing an ear. Whenever someone asked, “What are you?” I had to explain that I was a rabbit but my ear blew away when we were walking to the party and everyone got an endless amount of entertainment from this and called me, “el unicornio.” Other costumes included the ocean, a skunk, Crystal (a Cuban beer), and peace. All in all, it was probably the best Halloween I’ve had in a very long time and I’m glad it turned out so well.
This past weekend we went to Viñales which is a small town west of Habana. It was by far the most beautiful place I have ever been with these strange low lying mountain formations that almost look like giant loaves of bread, soft red mud, and tobacco farms. Immediately I fell into a fantasy world and imagined myself on my own finca, plowing the land with my oxen, planting tobacco seeds in the fertile soil, and grinding corn to feed to my hens and turkeys. We walked through the countryside for 2 hours and the smell alone made me never want to leave. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so immediately connected to a place before and my only regret is that Sunday afternoon I got back on the bus to return to Habana instead of hiding out and staying in Viñales forever.
I also got to stay in a casa particular, which was a great experience. The casa particulares are private homes that have a room or two that they rent out to people who are on vacation. The homes must be approved by the government in order to function legally and even then, the person staying in the home must have some form of official documentation which I learned too late and I was almost kicked out. I only got to stay because I agreed that I did not exist and if anyone asked where I was I would say that I didn’t know. Because of this, I feel a bit weary giving out the name of the owner in my blog but I will say that the woman who owned the house made me the 4 best meals I have had thus far in Cuba and all three generations of the family that lived there were the kindest and most hospitable people I have met during my time here. I also got to speak so much Spanish and feed her goat with her grandchild and talk to her about her life in Viñales. It was really wonderful.
I only have 6 weeks left here now, which is strange. In two and a half weeks we’ll be celebrating Thanksgiving which should be fun. I’m in charge of making the mashed potatoes and while I’ve never made mashed potatoes for 35 people I am confident in my boiling, mashing, and seasoning skills…because that’s about all the cooking skills I possess. We’re going to have two turkeys and we’re making mac’n’cheese, stuffing, cake, pie, eggplant parmesan (for some reason), roast vegetables, and a series of other Thanksgiving-ish type things. I have to admit though, I’m going to miss Thanksgiving with my sisters and nephew and already I can’t help but think longingly about my sister’s cooking, champagne with frozen raspberries, and Trivial Pursuit (Baby boomers’ edition), but I think Thanksgiving here with be a great success. I just hope we’re still all talking to each other after a day of fighting over pots and pans, burners and oven space, and spices and butter.

Extra note: The saga of my Pensamiento Latinoamericano class continues with our first class since my professor got back from Colombia. On Thursday he happily greeted us by telling us that class was cancelled on Tuesday. Then we had some sort of strange debate in which he berated a group of girls for reading directly from their notes. What I now am finding most frustrating about this class is that I understand so much more and I feel like I have a lot to offer but just don’t have the language skills to speak that academically. In class on Thursday we were talking about the idea of the “Cosmic Race” which is a man who is a mix of every race (white, indigenous, black, and asian) and would have all the best attributes of each race thus creating an ideal man. I wanted so badly to question the idea of races having “attributes” or an “essence” because that idea was being taken as truth but either I couldn’t find the language or I couldn’t find the nerve. I’m finding that those two things are tied up together very tightly.

This week my “internship” with the Centro de Trabajadores Cubanos (Cuban Workers’ Center) began after being put off for the past few weeks. El Centro de Trabajadores Cubanos (CTC) is essentially the national umbrella union of all other workers’ unions. The “internship” consists of going to different factories, businesses, or places of labor and speaking with the workers and the managers about what they do and how their union is organized. This week, the three of us who are doing the internship went to a workshop that provides both mentally and physically disabled people with jobs assembling different products such as matchboxes or chessboards. Unfortunately when we arrived there was a problem with transportation so the products they were to assemble that day never came, thus everyone was sitting at their tables talking and listening to the radio. The space was plain and modest sized with air conditioning and a television, which was immediately pointed out to us. On the walls hung a few photos of Fidel in golden sequined frames and at one point a giant cake was carried through the room although I don’t know what ended up happening to it.
We spoke with the managers and they took a lot of time to answer our questions and made sure we understood that the people who worked at the workshop received the same wages as any other person doing labor of the same nature. They also explained to us their systems of “ monetary incentives” of which they have three, but every year the workers vote to decide which one they want to use. They said that there are over 100 workshops such as this one all over Cuba and in more rural places materials will be dropped off in peoples’ homes so they can work from there. They continued to explain that each worker was expected to do as much as physically or mentally possible but there was no set rate of production and that 70% of the people in the workshop including secretaries, accountants, and trainers were disabled in some way.
I thought the workshop was very interesting but I wondered how people could keep themselves stimulated by making matchbooks eight hours a day. Certainly Cubans have been very resourceful in keeping their workers entertained. I remember in the cigar factory, everyday the news would be read over a microphone to all the workers, then a selection from the “classics,” followed by a popular novel, and maybe even poetry. I thought this was rather ingenious but I imagine there still is much to be wanted. It’s difficult because the government is trying to employ everyone and trying to make the right to earn wages equal but in doing so there are a lot of unstimulating or sometimes even unnecessary jobs and motivation becomes an issue. I was disappointed we didn’t have a chance to talk to any of the workers but when we asked the mangers what the main problems that came up during the union meetings were they all agreed it had to do with stimulation.

On to a completely different subject, I am currently reading Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe. I mention this because I would probably never had read it had I not come to Cuba where any novel in English is eagerly snatched up by any one of us girls on the trip. Never have I been surrounded by such insatiable readers and the transfer of books in the house has become quite a political situation. Already there are people lined up to read Ana’s copy of 100 Years of Solitude or Aidan’s copy of The Motorcycle Diaries, both of which I have already been lucky enough to get my hands on. In addition “book etiquette” has come into question and issues such as one person wanting to share a book but the other person wanting to read it solely on their own has been a topic of debate. It’s funny how desperate we’re finding ourselves in our quest for literature. Last night I started reading a horrible book aloud to Aidan that we found in the house yet we both are enjoying it immensely and it’s nice to read aloud and I suppose it’s nice to be read aloud to as well. I think for most of us this is the first time in a number of years we’ve found ourselves with enough leisure time to actually read for fun and we’re all trying to take advantage of it. For awhile we were functioning under the hopeful idea that our families could send us small packages with a few books but when we found that to be impossible we all became more persistent and far more organized in our rotation of literature. Robinson Crusoe more or less fell into my lap because my friend who works at the residence has a collection of a few novels in English and he agreed to loan me something to read, well actually he agreed to loan Aidan something but Aidan snatched up one of the books Amanda brought once she finished it so I got to read Robinson Crusoe since all other books are being read right now. Needless to say, I’m enjoying it a lot and am trying to read it quickly so that Aidan and I will finish our books at the same time and then we can swap.

Now, to end this already incredible blog I will tell the story of how I almost died in a rainstorm. On Wednesday I experienced my first authentic Cuban aguacero while coming home from my Cuban film history class. We have a driver, Abel, who comes and picks up Tiana, Ana, and I from our residence and then our professor from his work. This is necessary because the class is late in the evening and also about 25-30 minutes away. Abel then comes and picks us up after the class and drives us all home. Today when he came to pick us up the electricity had gone out where we have our class so we were all standing in the dark and a wall of rain separated us from the car. We all ran and jumped in and as we started driving we immediately realized that there was no way to see anything more than 5 feet in front of us due to the rain and constant fogging of the windows. Abel continued driving and our professor tried to make us talk about the movie we watched in order to distract us from what appeared to be our looming death.
After blindly driving for about 15 minutes Abel stopped the car only because the water was high enough that his tiny hatchback was desperately struggling. We waited until the rain let up a bit but in the time we waited the water rose about 6 inches. When we finally started again the tires were almost completely submerged and Abel begin to desperately search for higher ground. In his search though, the water rose higher and higher until it started flooding the inside of the car and we all had to sit with our feet hovering over the pool of water.
At one point we found ourselves stuck behind two other cars that had broken down and when we tried to go around them an ancient Plymouth without lights had the same idea. Abel was unable to see the Plymouth and our shouts were too late so he ran the front tail light of his car right into the side of the Plymouth. The Plymouth continued on since those cars are built like tanks but Abel cursed while our professor tried to calm him. We ended up having to turn around and continue searching for higher ground since we were still very far from home. We found what seemed to be a decent road with little water but we found that at almost every intersection the water collected and at it’s deepest it was probably about 2 feet.
I’ve really never seen anything like it before. You couldn’t tell where sidewalks started and roads ended and people were out in their rain boots trying to sweep the water away from their house. Our professor, who lives at one of the lowest points in Habana told us that he has a boat in his house that he has used on multiple occasions and since we were dropped off first I have no idea how he and Abel managed to get him to his home. Really though, the whole experience was unbelievable. People were walking through the streets with water to their knees and countless cars were stranded. All through the city you could hear the howling of sirens and the rumbling of thunder with occasional flashes of lightening that turned the sky purple. Somehow Abel’s car made it through even the deepest parts and even though my feet got soaked and a little pruned it still certainly was an experience, I just hope his car is ok and no one suffered too much damage.

Last week, Friday the 14th, I had the opportunity to visit the Latin American School of Medicine with the others in my group. We were given a brief tour of the facilities which was right along the ocean, a truly gorgeous campus. What amazed me the most about the school though was the global effect it was making. The school offers free medical schooling for not only Cubans but also other foreign students and then sends students abroad once they’ve graduated. Already they have a medical presence in a significant number of African and Latin American countries. Often the doctors that they send into these countries are the first doctors communities have had access to. In exchange for the doctors the countries trade other goods (Americans are most familiar with the trade of doctors for oil between Cuba and Venezuela).
I imagine the effects of a program like this will be huge and far-reaching as it continues to develop. The school is in its infancy; it’s only 8 years old yet the impact it has already made is phenomenal. I feel like the world is changing, particularly in Latin America and something big is going to happen that will force Americans to pay attention. It’s always been so strange to me that South and Central America are our neighbors yet generally we as Americans know so little about the history or the people there. Latin America has a history of Revolution, perhaps more so than any other area of the world and already huge things are changing that challenge the U.S. dominance that has always been assumed over Latin America. I am very anxious and yet excited to see what will happen and even more so, I wonder what role Cuba will play.
On Saturday there was a book fair by the Capital building. I was fortunate enough to obtain a copy of the highly sought after, 100 Hours with Fidel, which is a collection of interviews with, you guessed it, Fidel Castro. Apparently at earlier book fairs it was nearly impossible to obtain a copy. I also found a few comic books that momentarily satiated my need, but being a girl who is loyal to only DC, I was only momentarily fulfilled. The two-page spread of Hitler and Bush vs. Chavez and Castro at the end was certainly interesting though.
The book fair was like nothing I’d ever seen and a much different book browsing experience than I’ve ever had. Instead of leisurely flipping though books, you push and shove your way to a make shift counter, yell for attention, and then point out all the books you want to look at. Once you figure out which ones you want and you’ve paid you push and shove your way out of the crowd and then dive into another crowd swarming around a different booth. Throughout the whole fair a mixture of reggaeton and Salsa was blasting from massive speakers and vendors sold ice cream and street pizza on the outskirts. It was quite the experience to say the least but I loved every minute of it.
Following the book fair I went to see yet another Bergman film. This time they were showing Persona. So far I have seen Wild Strawberries, Through a Glass Darkly, and Persona and they’ve progressively gotten darker and stranger. So far Persona is my favorite and tomorrow I’ll go see Cries and Whispers then The Snake’s Egg and finally, I’ll end the festival with Fanny and Alexander. By the time I come back from Cuba, I will be a Bergman connoisseur.
During the past week I had (gasp) three whole essays to write but they actually were very interesting. The one I took the most time on was about how Cuba is a very socially developed country with a developing economy. Cuba is fascinating because socially, it is very highly developed. The infant mortality rate is low, the literacy rate is high, the life expectancy in high, and the birth rate is low which often indicates an economically developed nation yet the economy doesn’t reflect those demographics mainly due to the embargo. It causes a lot of problems here because while these social developments are good they also impinge upon the continued economic development of Cuba. With low birthrates the work force declines and since Cuba’s main resource is doctors, a shortage of youth is not a good thing. In addition, with the high life expectancy rate a lot of money goes to treating elderly whose treatments are often far more expensive thus more government money is being spent on medicine. It was very interesting to see the amount a country could do for it’s people by focusing its spending on social projects instead of weapons or wars. I can’t even imagine what would be possible the United States.
This weekend we went to Playa Girón or Bay of Pigs, as it’s known in the U.S. It was strange and I felt that the historical significance was perhaps lost for a lot of my classmates, or perhaps not lost, but never existed. I could be wrong, but nevertheless I am very happy I dedicated a year to studying Cuba fairly extensively before coming here.
I say Playa Girón was strange because there wasn’t much there. It mainly consisted of a small town with dirt roads that hosted a museum and a hotel. The museum was nice, very small, but had photos of all the Cubans who died during the invasion and some of their personal belongings. If anything, I think that may have had the greatest impact on our group. Some of the men who died were as young as 16 and we were told the famous story of one boy writing Fidel’s name on a wall in his own blood as he died. I enjoyed myself there except for a terrible headache that would not leave me alone and a tour guide who was absolutely convinced we did not speak Spanish thus would repeat himself in English. I also went snorkeling in the Cueva de los Peces which is a naturally formed hole that is very very deep and full of water. In the water there’s beautiful blue and red and silver fish but I didn’t exactly understand how the fish got in there and when we asked a guy who worked there said he didn’t know.
Today is my friend, Tiana’s birthday and we’re celebrating by going to the Bacardi building to get drinks and cheeseburgers which are apparently good there. I bought her a Monte Cristo cigar, the cigar Che used to smoke, as well as a chocolate owl from the chocolate museum. The chocolate museum is incredible and has by far the best hot chocolate I have ever had in my life. I often wish there was a way to capture a smell because the scent that wafts out to the street whenever the doors are opened is absolutely heavenly.
Last time I went there though, I was accosted by a woman who grabbed my hair in her hand as I walked out the door. When I stopped and tried to take my hair out of her hand she demanded that I allow her to braid it. I refused and tried to walk away but there’s only so much you can do when someone has a death grip on your hair. When she finally finished the braid she held out her hand and I reluctantly place 50 cents in her palm. So far, this has been the strangest situation in which I have found myself giving someone money.