It’s funny because I’ve been so busy describing all the beautiful things in Habana that I’ve completely forgotten about my residence. The place we’re living is a stunning colonial home located in Vedado, a beautiful neighborhood with huge Spanish style homes and streets lined with enormous mango and fico trees. Our home is a two story, stucco, lemon yellow abode with a marble veranda on the second floor that looks out at the Chinese embassy (another gorgeous mansion that so far has shown no signs of life). We’re able to watch the weather come and go from the veranda as we sway on bright blue rocking chairs and converse in the afternoon. Later in the evening we use the veranda as a dance floor and speak in Spanish as much as possible. We also have a nice porch out front where we can entertain guests with more rocking chairs and a small garden full of weird flowers and palm trees.
I share a room with Aidan and while its tiny, it’s cozy with long windows looking out over other houses, we can see people cooking and hanging their laundry, and can yell hello to the little girl next door who’s always playing outside. We have our own bathroom WITH a toilet seat, which we have discovered is a luxury, but no hot water. We also have a small dining hall where we eat breakfast and dinner everyday. We discovered the food we are given at our residence is FAR better than most other food in Cuba, although that’s not saying much. We get fresh guava and watermelon and these DELICIOUS fried balls of rice called croquettas. I feel really fortunate to live here and for the most part everyone that works here is really sweet and as eager to practice their English as we are to practice our Spanish which makes for these strange bi-lingual conversations.
Today Aidan, Allie, Eliza and I went to the beach. While looking for a cab a woman in once of those pre-revolutionary American cars drove up and asked us where we needed to go. She agreed to charge us 25 CUC to take us to the beach, wait for us, and then drive us home, so off we went in a 1949 baby blue Plymouth. The beach was 20 miles away but we weren’t able to go much faster than 30 mph so it took us 40 minutes. The car shook and trembled the whole way there and once we were forced to stop and pour water over the engine so it wouldn’t overheat. All the while, our new Cuban mother clucked over us telling us to make sure we don’t go off by ourselves with a man and pointing out all the different sights along the road. She told us about her family and how most of them are in Miami and when we asked if she wanted to go too she said no. It’s strange because most people I’ve talked to have family in Miami but rarely do they want to join them. Tonight a guy I was talking to said to me, “I am opposed to Fidel and don’t believe Cuba is a Socialist country but I am also opposed to the U.S. I think the Cubans who leave are usually the worst Cubans and I would never want to be associated with them.” He then quickly added, “Don’t tell anyone what I said about Fidel.” This actually brings me to a whole new topic about the different opinions Cubans have about their government, but I’m trying to tell the beach story so I’ll finish that up quickly.
When we reached the beach it was the most breathtaking place I had ever seen. Fine sand and calm aqua water. It was crowded but no one bothered us and we swam for hours. It was sublime. Unfortunately I am now nursing a sunburn on my chest even though I applied a lot of sunscreen numerous times, but it was worth it.
Ok, now back to the government. I’ve spoken with two people who have expressed entirely different views on the Cuban government. One was an Afro-Cubana woman in Santiago and another was a man who works at my residence of Philippino and Spanish descent. The woman in Santiago was very supportive of the revolution. She explained that her family had been slaves and then laborers who were paid very little before the revolution. Once the revolution occurred though, her family received the land she lives on now that had been passed down from her grandparents to her parents to her. She said that without the revolution she would have never been able to go to school or get a job other than domestic worker, or have any sort of healthcare. She recognized the problems within the government, mainly being that with the growth of tourism and the desire to send Cuban doctors abroad the quality of healthcare has decreased and foreigners have been given preference over Cubans. She also said that the food rations were often not enough. In the end though, she felt she had a better life because of the revolution.
The man who works at my residence felt completely opposite. His grandfather had come from the Philippines and at some point came to acquire an airplane company and multiple houses all around Cuba. This of course was all taken from him by the government once the revolution succeeded. He felt that Fidel had good ideas in the beginning and still, many of his ideas now are good in theory but it’s never played out in the way it is promised. He said that Fidel had been corrupted by his power and nothing was different than before the revolution, most of the people have nothing and a few people have everything. He said he couldn’t understand why you could find American products everywhere, shoes, clothing, drinks, etc but there were no supplies in the hospitals. When I asked him if he thought it was due to the embargo he said that he didn’t think the embargo effected anything, if Cuba is able to get American shoes through other countries they should be able to get medicine too. Him and Sandra both shared the same complaint though that tourists were treated far better in most aspects than Cubans.
What I found interesting about these two conversations was that they both had more or less polar opinions about the revolution but their family’s situation was also different. Her's was from a poor family who was given land and opportunity but his was from a wealthy family who had everything taken away. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of that had to do with their beliefs, they probably understand the effects of the revolution from day to day, knowing that they could either have nothing or everything if things had never changed. There is certainly a lot to think about here, so look forward to more. I miss you all. If you have any questions leave me a comment and I’ll try my best answer.

Being a woman in America seems to be different than being a woman in Cuba. I just returned from Santiago de Cuba, which is in the Southern tip of Cuba. Yesterday we went to Heredia Theater in order to see a private dance performance. The dancers are amongst the best in the world and performed traditional Afro-Cubano dance complete with costumes and live musicians. For the first time I was able to realize the difference between dance as entertainment and dance as art, and the dance we saw yesterday was the highest form of art.
Anyway, this whole experience made me think about women in Cuban culture and how they seem to be so much more comfortable in their bodies. Or they understand that they are sexual creatures but it is their own decision to express their sexuality how they see fit and with whom they see fit. They’re not afraid to move sensually because of what someone might think, and no one judges them for it. I feel like this is something many women in the US lack. Perhaps its cultural, in the US women are constantly bombarded with information about how to look sexy and different things that will “make your man go crazy” it’s all about pleasing a man instead of pleasing yourself, by dressing in a way that you feel sexy in, or moving in a way that is pleasing to you. Women in Cuba just seem to own their bodies and regard it as something precious, I think that is a huge difference than the women in the US.
Santiago is much different than Habana. Although it’s the second largest city in Cuba it feels more rural, more helter skelter, and poorer. At the same time though there seems to be a greater sense of revolutionary pride, I suppose it makes sense since Santiago is the “cradle of the revolution.” We visited the Moncada army barracks, where los Revolucionarios made their first attempt to instigate the uprising. Now part of it is a school and the other part is a museum, still ridden with bullet holes. It was a moving experience being there, imaging the spirit and courage it would take to try to take over a military barrack when you’re under armed and undermanned. In the end 23 of the guerrillas were captured, tortured, and killed and Fidel was sent to prison, then exiled (during his time in exile he would meet Che Guevara).
Lets see what else did we do? We climbed up to the top of the biggest rock in the world called “La gran piedra.” It’s in the Sierra Maestra mountain range and apparently from the top, on clear days you’re able to see Jamaica and Haiti. Naturally, once we got to the top it was so cloudy we could hardly see 10 feet in front of you. We also visited the Cathedral that holds “La Virgín de Cobre” which is the patron saint of Cuba and saw José Martí’s mausoleum. We got there right in time to see the changing of the guards, which was a technical military affair, but we weren’t allowed to walk around the cemetery to see the graves of other revolutionaries because some of the people who are on this trip suck.
The more I write and the more I photograph I realize that nothing will be able to capture Cuba. It is a country where all five senses are vital and maybe even that mysterious 6th one is necessary too. The smells, the sounds, the sights, the textures, and that feeling you get deep down in your gut, they all work together to make Cuba what it is. So I try to write to you, explaining what I’ve seen but it never feels right, and suddenly I’m understanding why when I’ve asked others who have traveled to Cuba what it’s like they don’t really have the words for it.
More soon hopefully, this week we start the terrible process of registering for classes which will apparently bring us to tears so wish me luck. Much love, I miss you all. Viva Cuba.

ps. you will all be disappointed to learn that the food here has left me uninspired. Everything is fried fried fried and is either over salted or very bland. A few days ago we got to eat pizza and it was the most exciting meal we've had during our entire time here. There are these yummy things I like called croquettes though that are fried mashed up rice and they're pretty tasty, but besides that it's been a big disapointment. If there's anything well all talk about missing in the US its the food. Even Cubans long for something new!

I'm in Cuba!!!

It’s strange to think that I am a mere 90 miles away from the United States yet feel like I am worlds away. It’s difficult to organize my thoughts and experiences because already in the few days I’ve been in Habana there is so much to tell. I suppose starting from the beginning and trying to sort through the most significant moments will be the best way to go about doing this.
We arrived on Sunday afternoon in a tiny plane. My roommate Aidan and I nearly cried as we flew over the country, I have never seen anything as green and lush as the land below. We shared the plane with Cuban Americans who were visiting family in Cuba. We talked to some of them on the plane and it was interesting hearing what they had to say. One woman told us how important it is for the people in Cuba to have relatives in the States who send money, she said its nearly impossible to live with any sort of comforts without that money (Bush has made it more and more difficult for Cuban Americans to send money back and I wonder what effect this has.) This experience alone suddenly made everything I have studied in the last year and a half become a reality.
Since we were coming from the United States our plane landed at this huge 1970’s Soviet hangar (European tourists get to go to the newly constructed terminal). Shanti scared the shit out of us the night before by telling us that when going through Cuban customs they might ask all kinds of questions and its really important we answer them clearly and correctly. Of course, once we went through customs all I got asked was, ¿Eres Japonésa o Chinesa? “Are you Japanese or Chinese?” (Already another girl in our group, Tiana,is known as “La China” in our barrio). When we were getting our bags we had to get carts, the kind that you usually pay $3 for in US airports. When we asked how much it costs the security guard replied, “Where do you think you are? The United States?” Perhaps, if anything, that will be the quote to define the trip, or at least until we become fully accustomed.
I want to describe the surroundings but I feel like I don’t have the words or the poetics to do it. I guess I can only try my best. Imagine the greenest green you have ever seen and then image it covering an entire city. Add dashes of bright orange fruits, pink and yellow flowers, and the mellow brown of massive trunks of trees lining the streets. Then imagine the most exquisite mansions you can, with details only a true artist could draw from the wood. Imagine pillars and spacious porches, huge open windows and heavy doors. Imagine these homes with peeling paint, laundry strung over the cracked marble floor of the balcony, mold and moss growing in the corners. Children running up and down the stairs and men sitting shirtless in the windows, smoking a cigarette. This is Habana, more specifically our barrio, Vedado. Its only about 6 blocks from the Malecón, where Habana meets the Caribbean and waves crash over walls soaking the people who congregate there to find out what’s happening that night. It’s the most beautiful yet strange place I have ever been.
What more, what more? There’s so much! Something that is entirely new is this noise men make when you walk by. It’s almost like a “tsk tsk” or a hissing sound. This is usually accompanied with “ay, linda” and some mumbled words you can never quite catch. Although it is a bit degrading you don’t feel threatened and sometimes someone will be particularly poetic with their compliments and you can’t help but say thank you as you walk by. There is an openness and kindness on the streets. When Aidan and I found ourselves a bit lost a man asked, “Hey, what are you searching for?” And when we replied, “La Universidad” he politely explained how to get there. Even the women who give you the universal, “don’t fuck with my man” look will warm up if you just say hello as you pass.
More at a later date. I have all these thoughts and I haven’t even touched on the people I’ve met, or the food, or my Spanish class, or Habana vieja, or even politics. I can’t wait for the next 4 months.
Also, I discovered that rum and Ren do not mix Even one drink in the evening will cause me to kneel over the toilet the next morning. OH! Also, we bought a case of cigars to split amongst everyone. They’re good but I would only want one every so often. I will admit though, the image of Fidel in the 60’s looking like a badass with a fat cigar in his mouth raced through my mind as I sat out on our balcony and puffed away, and I was content.