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.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, November 5, 2007
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.
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.
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