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.

Today is a holiday, thus no one is working or going to school and I was not able to get my cajita (recycled box full of rice and 2 chicken drumsticks with the chicken juices poured over the top and cucumber with vinegar and salt) from the agro. Instead, I had to wake up at 7 in the morning in order to go to my film class that was pushed forward by 10 hours (due to the holiday) and was set to last 4 hours. In the end it lasted 4 and a half and we watched 2 full length films, which while fun and interesting, was also kind of exhausting. I also discovered as I walked out the door to go to class that someone left a dead pigeon in a plastic bag in front of our house. I’m not sure what that’s about. Perhaps I would be surprised or even a little disturbed normally, but it’s usual to see dead chickens in a bag in the street so I suppose it’s not weird to find a pigeon.
The holiday that is being celebrated today is the day of independence when Carlos Cespedes freed the slaves in Cuba and I believe also marks the beginning of the 10-year war in 1868. I’m not exactly sure because the explanation I was given for the holiday was rushed and I didn’t quite understand everything but I think that’s more or less correct.
The theater by my house, “The Charlie Chaplin Theater” is having a weeklong Ingmar Bergman film festival right now. Last night I went and saw my first Bergman film, Wild Strawberries and loved it. The first dream sequence was probably the best dream sequence I have ever seen and immediately was able to recognize the impact Bergman has had on other directors after him.
Now for some thoughts on being a woman in Cuba. From what I can tell there is a greater acceptance of differing body types here. You can have a large ass or small breasts and still be hooted at by men, which to some degree is really comforting. No one here seems to be starving themselves in order to maintain an impossible figure. In my eyes, these are positive things. I have never been one to fret too much about my own body, but I feel like during my time in Cuba I have started to feel more comfortable and even have begun to recognize and admire the physical strength I posses, which is a really exceptional feeling. What I do find awkward about being a woman here though, particularly a young woman, is that it seems there are only so many ways to express your femininity or womanhood. If you are not dressed in semi to very revealing clothing often your femininity will be brought into question. For example, we have had Cuban friends say to us, “You dress like a Cuban woman,” pointing at whoever is wearing a short skirt and a tank top, “But you don’t dress like a Cuban woman” pointing at whoever is wearing shorts and a t-shirt. It’s a very peculiar situation, perhaps even more peculiar for 13 girls who attend Sarah Lawrence College and have very wide and open views on what it means to be “woman.” This is something I have noticed and will certainly continue to think about, especially since I am realizing that there are certain outfits I can wear that get me far less attention than others.
I have big plans for this weekend, but I don’t think I’m going to talk about them until the weekend has passed just in case things fall through. I believe that I may have an opportunity to get some comic books though which are greatly needed and also see some good live music.
I feel like I had more to write, there’s always 600 things that race through my head when I’m preparing to write these things but when I finally sit down my head goes blank. I wish I had some funny anecdotes to share but often it’s hard to figure out where the funny anecdote ends and where my regular day-to-day life begins. I found that if I get very desperate I can get an amazing sandwich (with bacon!!) at the hotel where I use the internet for $11, thankfully I haven’t gotten that desperate yet.

Note: Above is a photo of Trinidad from the bell tower.

This weekend we ventured to Santa Clara, Topes de Collantes, and Trinidad, three cities located about 6 hours southeast of Havana. We spent a brief amount of time in Santa Clara, stopping only long enough to visit the Che Guevara memorial which had hundreds of chairs set up before it in order to prepare for the 40th year anniversary since his death in Bolivia. There was also a museum and his mausoleum beneath the memorial.
I thought the mausoleum was incredible. Che’s grave was surrounded by the graves of combatants who also died in Bolivia, each with an engraving of the person’s face. Che Guevara is an incredible inspiration to me and being able to feel so close to him was overwhelming. There’s always something so powerful about visiting someone’s grave. I think it helps you realize that the connection you feel with other people is more than physical, it transcends physical contact and it’s lasting
It’s a strange notion that it’s only been 10 years since they’ve been able to bring Che’s body to Cuba. After he was killed the Bolivian government buried him in an unmarked grave and then built an airplane runway over it. It wasn’t until the president was on his deathbed that he told where Che’s remains could be found.
After Santa Clara we went to Topes de Collantes, a gorgeous area in the mountains known for its healing powers and spiritual presence. We spent Saturday hiking down the mountain in order to find the 6th or 7th (we weren’t sure) chakra of the earth. The day before it had poured and so we spent about 2 hours sliding down the mountainside through the jungle until we finally found the right spot. Along the way our guide pointed out different plants including hallucinogenic mushrooms and these incredible ferns that fold up when you touch them. When we made it to the chakra we found it was where two different rivers converged, surrounded completely by dense jungle. There was quartz everywhere and we spent time knee deep in the river feeling for rocks at the bottom. I’m not sure if I felt the energy of the chakra.
The way up was steep and slippery but once we all reached the top I think we were all in high spirits and felt revitalized. I always feel so much better when I spend time in nature and outside of cities.
After Topes de Collantes we headed for Trinidad. Upon reaching the city I couldn’t help but think of Gabriel García Márquez’s Chronicle of a Death Foretold. The setting was perfect. A sleepy town with stone paved roads, parks and plazas, old gorgeous houses, a huge ancient church, and perhaps even almond trees if I was able to recognize them by sight. Within the first 15 minutes of being there we were practically run down by a drunk man driving a horse drawn cart wildly down the street, how could you get more Márquez than that!?
We spent the night walking around the town, stopping in various little bars to hear live music (this often included drunken singing from the table next to us). In the morning we continued to explore more. Aidan and I climbed to the top of the bell tower and looked out over the city and then found ourselves in some sort of meeting place where live harp and electric guitar music was being played and they gave us a tiny Venezuelan flag. It was strange, but strange is no longer surprising in Cuba. I also bought a tiny dress for my niece because Trinidad is known for its embroidery and I was able to meet the woman who handmade all the dresses. I’ve spent the entire day taking it out of its bag and fingering the little flowers, I can’t wait until she gets to wear it.
After spending a little time in the city we went to the Manaca Iznaga sugar plantation for lunch. We climbed to the top of a vertigo-inducing tower (147 ft) with ladder-like stairs all the way up its seven levels. The tower itself was incredible but the view was breathtaking. I know I’ve said this before, but truly, I have never seen anything as green as the land that sprawled below me. It was incredible. The tower loomed over the valley which then turned into gorgeous blue mountains that give the illusion you’re looking out at the sea, I’ve really never seen anything like it. The whole experience was really moving and made me think about my grandma. Seeing the fields of cane sugar, the mountains, and then sitting down and being served guava jelly with dry plain crackers nearly brought me to tears.
The bus ride home was long and exhausting. I slept, read, and looked out the window mostly. Cuba is undoubtly a beautiful country. When we finally reached Habana (without any bus breakdowns!) I felt like I was back home and arriving at the house to all the people who work here was a wonderful feeling. It’s nice to feel like you have a home away from home, a place where you feel completely comfortable. Although I loved Trinidad, I’m really happy that I’m here in Habana.

On a side note, Aidan and I have fallen into the habit of naming the dogs we run across, or mainly, I name the dogs and she agrees to refer to them by the name. In Habana we have Delilah, a little black dog who always sits at the bus stop on Linea and Paseo as well as Bob the Agro Dog who is one of the saddest looking dogs I’ve ever seen who hangs out at the agro. In Trinidad we met Gene Hackman, a gorgeous longhaired mutt with a mixture of black and red hair, and at a rest stop between Habana and Santa Clara we found Suzie, a short haired skinny puppy with oversized ears. We’ve also named a few chickens, Julieta, Beatriz, and Rosa, but its hard to tell them apart.
Also, in Trinidad we watched a special on “Mexican culture” and were all amazed that we could understand every word of Mexican Spanish and were even a little irritated by how slow it was. That was a really good feeling. Oh, also, my Latin American Thought teacher just cancelled class for the next 3 weeks because he decided to go to Colombia and he didn’t feel like finding another professor to fill in for him. Once again, another amusing development during my time in Cuba.

I’m reminded most that I’m on an island when I’m homesick. It helps me understand why my mom left Hawaii, and it makes me wonder if half of the reason people want to leave here is for the same reason. In Oregon or New York I take comfort in knowing that I can walk, bike, or drive and be somewhere else. Here, no matter which direction I go, I will hit the ocean soon enough. I guess that’s the same with any place. Some islands are just bigger than others.
Cuba is funny because little cars sound like big cars and big cars sound like jets. If you tried to guess the size of a passing car based on sound alone you would probably almost always be wrong. This is probably due to the amount of mismatched parts working to make the cars run. I like Cuba because its surprises you like that. Nothing is ever as at seems, there are always layers and layers under what you actually perceive.
I’m not sure if I mentioned this, but I switched out of my political economics class and now am taking a Latin American thought class which I believe (believe, being the key word) is about the early philosophies that influenced various revolutions throughout Latin America. Despite a struggle with the language and ideas, I still find myself amused by the class. My professor is a grumpy man who so far has only once showed up for the Thursday class (he always comes on Tuesday). While he started out lecturing to the whole class, often looking around the room and making eye contact with each student, he now only talks to one student who sits in the corner by the window and asks a lot of questions. This makes for a bit of an awkward situation because the professor has his back to most of the class while he talks to one kid for an hour. This same kid jumps up at the end of class to light the professor’s cigarette as he walks out the door. Maybe I only find myself amused in order to fight off frustration, confusion, and disappointment, but I feel like in this case its effective. I also do a lot of my own independent research, which has helped since I understand little to nothing each class.
My Cuban film history class is quite a different story. It started two weeks ago and already I love my professor and the material. Within two classes I feel like I’ve already been exposed to so much. My professor, Alberto, is practically giddy while he teaches. Last class we watched Memories of Underdevelopment, a film I’m sure he’s seen countless times, and he still laughed at all of the jokes. It was probably the 4th or 5th time I’ve seen Memories but I understood so much more. I recognized street names and buildings, and I started to feel like I really truly understood the idea Alea (the director) was trying to convey. It made me think about the significance art can have if there’s an element of it that you’re already familiar with.
What more, what more? It’s been very stormy and a bit cold the past two weeks. A few times our electricity has gone out and we had to cancel “beach Monday” this week because it was too rainy. This has translated to a lot of movie watching, book reading, and intense cabin fever. We also have started playing a lot of cards. Perhaps I would be reminded of Oregon if I weren’t on a tropical island and speaking Spanish.
A few nights ago we went to the Cañonazo at El Morro, the oldest fort in Latin America. Our director made a few arrangements and we found ourselves being ushered down side stairs and guided through the emptied moat. We were instructed to remain silent (I got in trouble when the flash on my camera went off) until we reached another set of stairs and emerged in an outdoor corridor. We then followed the corridor to a large open space where hundreds of people were gathered. It was a pretty interesting ceremony. A blood red light was shone on mock-colonial soldiers as they marched to the cannon and then after some sort of military procedure they shot the cannon. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a cannon shot in my life and the sound is truly incredible. For some reason I wasn’t expecting it to be so loud though, and nearly jumped out of my skin. Afterwards, Aidan and I went to our favorite beer place because an hour after the cannon is shot they serve free soup.
This weekend we’re going to Trinidad and Santa Clara and I will write more after that. When I started writing this I felt awful and homesick but already I’m starting to feel better. Maybe just sharing a little piece of my life in Cuba is all it really takes.

Edit: Today in my Latin American Thought class my professor and the teacher’s pet got in an argument about Arielism and my professor spoke to the whole class. I was able to understand almost everything.