3/12- 3/14 Viñales

Katie and I arrived to Viñales at around 5:30 or 6. First to do was to find a casa particular. Casa particulars are the private homes that are rented to visitors. Most cost about 20 dollars per room. They must of course pay large taxes on each guest they have, and some places run unofficial casa particulares for this purpose. Well Viñales has no shortage of casa particulares, it seems, in fact, that every house has a room or two to rent. We traveled to one in the lonely planet, which was occupied, but she called her neighbor for us and sent us across the street. We set up camp, and after an awful experience at a government run restaurant, we returned back to the house of a huge feast of dinner for 6 dollars “student” rate. The quality of food at the private casa particulares is recommended over that of the public restaurants because the casas get more business when they get good reviews or by word of mouth recommendations, where as the government run restaurants don’t get paid by number of customers- there is no personal interest. Because there is no tipping, service in Cuba is really pretty bad- but understandably so…
Saturday morning we got up early try and find a cave with a swimming hole mentioned in the Lonely Planet. We received some vague directions from our host’s nephew: ‘a right at the end of the block, go straight as long as you can, then turn right and ask somebody where the entrance is’. We passed many skinny horses and also farmers who greeted us with a tip of the hat, or a quiet “Buenos”. A few people asked if we wanted to rent horses to ride while we were still near the town center. But soon, we were in the less traveled path (though the tourists that travel to Viñales are the backpacker type, not easily discouraged by distance. Anyway, when we inquired about our cave mostly people made a vague gesture ahead and said ‘over there’. We are accustomed to this type of direction. Where can I find ______? “that way”. At one point, after about half an hour of walking through the gorgeous Cuban countryside and surrounded by Tobacco fields and Migotes, we approached a small wooden house where a small boy his father, and what appeared to be his father’s father getting ready to go to the fields. After asking after our cave, the oldest gentlemen told us he would accompany us down the road a ways on his horse in the right direction (free of course, I won’t charge you anything- he assured us). We talked with him about some of the things we’ve heard from city Cubans.
“Is it true” we asked “that a man would serve more years in prison for killing a cow than for killing another man?”
He chuckled a bit and replied “Yes. Even the cows I have raised all my life, I don’t own”.
This of course leaves without answer about the capital penalty of killing the government’s livestock. It was an interesting question to discuss with him. During this walk we thought we heard water. We asked him about it and were detoured through his pasture (don’t mind the animals, they won’t hurt you!) to a valley between migotes. We thanked him and explored a little bit before settling down and eating a picnic lunch alone in the countryside. It was pristine. Half an hour later we were back on our pursuit after carefully closing the gate to the pasture as we had been instructed.
Not far after, as we passed one house on a hill a pair of women asked us to come talk with them. We introduced ourselves and explained what we were doing in the area (searching for a cave which at this point we were pretty certain we weren’t going to find). They invited us for coffee and assured us, that, as this is the country, they couldn’t charge anything, they were simply inviting us for the talk. It was such a kind gesture. Unfortunately, Katie didn’t feel wonderful, and we declined but promised to stop by if we passed back the same way and they were still outside. “Even if we aren’t outside! Come on into the kitchen” they insisted as we continued.
Eventually we got fed up with directions such as “turn left after the big house coming up" (trust me, there were no big houses) and we gave up. We turned around but traveled in a parallel path back to try and find the mural painted after the revolution by Diego Rivera along a giant rock face. We found it alright. It is… bizarre. I personally think it is ugly and jarring. As we passed the house across the “street” (path) from the rock face/a tourist restaurant I asked the couple outside if “they liked the mural, or if they thought it was ugly?” Luckily I mumbled the second half of my question. It turns out the man was one of the original painters. He told us what everything symbolized. The red alien people are supposed to be the indigenous people of Cuba. I have NO idea what the shells represent or even what the thing in the middle is. I’ll let you be the judge dear art critic readers:



Viñales continued:

Warning: I’m simply going to continue to write about the events from our weekend away in the country. Really nothing too cultural or specific to Cuba so… skip it! You can see by now that i’m clearly not good with brevity.

Anyway, to continue. We arrived back at our casa particular with dirt in our shoes and a pleasant sense of exhaustion. A short nap later we sat in two metal rocking chairs in the patio. People from the house came to check if we had found the cave and were overall very friendly. They asked what we were doing for dinner. We had bought some bread rolls and told them we were probably just going to settle for that. Now, this experience was unlike many others we’ve had in this country because I think our hosts were very well off. The owner of the houses brother lived with his wife in Germany and seems to send euros home during his early visits. Of course, they also have access to the many times more valuable CUC rather than just national money. Anyway, one of the guys proclaimed that one simply could not eat dinner with out meat (a large population of Cubans can’t afford meat with dinner- or any other meal). Everything worked out in our benefit. “These poor students need meat” they proclaimed and disappeared into the kitchen. They returned with mojitos, tomatoes sliced with salt and some vinegar (which is salad here) and sliced chorizo with a really good sauce. We shared food (and contributed some star fruit we were given at a beautiful local orchid garden that morning), played dominoes, Katie won a game of dominoes, immediately stopped playing dominoes, and practiced Spanish. It was clear that the gentlemen in the family expected us to go out to the disco with them after all their generous mojitos, but we decided to go to bed at 1030 instead.

Sunday we woke up early. We had breakfast at the house and rented two old bicycles with questionable breaking systems. When we picked up the bikes, the man who lent them to us asked what time it was. 9:00 I told him. He asked a guy biking past. 10, he called over his shoulder. It turns out our early start was shifted an hour by daylight savings. Considering we had to catch a bus later, this could have been bad. Anyway, it was nice being in a city that was a bit more bike friendly than Havana. We biked into the national park and were honked at by tourist buses to move over and had a wonderful time. We settled on stopping for a natural cave that was actually on the map and walked through, finishing our tour behind a giant group of ‘Canadian dance troupe kids’. It was fun, but I’m not sure I’d do it again. Regardless, cave- check!
We took the bus home, a little reluctant to be done with our wonderful trip away.

12 March 2010

Katie and I decided to travel independently of the program to Viñales for the weekend after our two visits on the 12th. The visits were pretty cool. First we went to the center for genetic biological study. This is where a lot of genetic research is being done. A variety of projects are chosen to study, some address illnesses that can be cured in the following few years, then some require more time for research, and other long term projects are also taken on, such as a cure for cancer and AIDS. It is pretty incredible. The most lasting thing I took from the center was the motivation behind developing this research. 1) the primary goal is to eliminate the problem in Cuba. For example, they have essentially eliminated Hep B because they vaccinate all new borns. The next phase is collaboration and to take the drugs/research to the market. 2) The personal motivation for being a doctor is very different in Cuba. It is true that there are some in the tourist industry that may make even more money than a family doctor. Not only this, but patents are granted to the institutions for whom the researchers work, never to the researchers themselves. The guy we talked to worked on three of the now globally marketed projects, but when he leaves, he will have no proof of his contribution besides a personal satisfaction, which brings me to 3). Our genetic researcher who showed us around explained that he feels an immense sense of guilt that when he isn’t researching, he could be curing fellow Cubans. If the team of researchers at the center do no perform well, do not discover enough genetic mutations or cures even, they all but loose their jobs, demoted to less primary researching positions. It is very interesting to me, especially as I think about perusing biological research. We also visited a similar center of immunology medicine. Then, we got dropped off at the bus station for a three hour ride to Viñales.

11 Marzo 2010

Several times a week we have program visits. These visits are so informative but sometimes, such as after a week of classes, and Spanish, and readings, they are a bit hard to handle. On Thursday we went to a conference at CIEM- basically a center for the study of world economics. Hate to say it, but we’re not looking too good, people. We learned a bit about the free trade agreements and some counter movements which are promoted for more equality in the markets. (ALCA vs ALBA). Then we headed to the center of Asian investigations. I take my classes through at the center that is the Asian centers equivalent except for N. America. The presenters were a bit nervous because a lot of what they had to say had to do with the wrongs committed by the United States in dealing with Asia. They talked about some interesting stuff, but this visit was the most unrelated to what I’m interested in and experiencing here. Thursday was a day of visits (I am writing this on the 17th. I’ve gotten quite behind again).

10 Marzo 2010

Today is Katie’s Birthday! And my dad’s too for that matter. Happy Birthday everyone! So we’ve planned some surprises. I got up early and made French toast and then we all headed over to third world underdevelopment and politics. Throughout the day there were more thrills such as the powerpoint background in class and some chocolate. Veronika and I went to pick up the cake after Spanish along with some laundry we brought it back in a maquina and at every bump (of which there were many) I gasped. I spent much of the afternoon drawing on notebook paper for decoration of our wrapping paper tapped with duck tape none less! Then we had cake and presents with some fresh coffee. Later we took the bus to Jazz café, where there was some afro Cuban jazz. The food was delicious, the mojitos were fun and it all added up to a great night. Highlight presents include: the dinner of course, a dominoes set, Cuban coffee cups and some local crafts.

8 Marzo, 2010

This morning, a bit travel weary we got up early for our second diving adventure. Greater success this time. Also, it is International Women’s Day! Happy Women’s day? I like this holiday because our diving instructor, CoCo bough Katie and I chocolate bars before our dive in the pool. I can now share my extra respirator, successfully clean my mask (by removing it and reapplying it), and I feel a bit more in control. Today is also a day of groceries. Which means I must go to the bank again tomorrow. Luckily the Canadian dollar is stronger than ever (perhaps due to the Olympics) so it is a good time to do this business. This afternoon I learned about Coral Reefs and Reef Systems. As we’ve heard before, our reefs are dying and global warming has a large part to do with it. I cannot wait to see the corals here. Even the pictures alone are pretty inspiring.
Not too much cultural stuff to report today.

7 March 2010

Ten hour bus ride. Cuban country-side is still fascinating. Old cars zip by horses pulling buggies. Hitchhikers wave small bills as you pass. In the fields, campesinos overturn the dirt by hand and direct massive pairs of oxen to trudge through the red earth. Smokey air fills our nostrils when we pass one of several burning fields. Ribby horses on the side of the road munch on green grass under hulking palm trees. We bought some ‘maíz de maní’- a sweet peanut bar with milk and honey- and our driver bought a giant slab of cheese from street-side venders.

Pictures of Las Tunas and Camagüey

This is where you get everything fixed, from sole of your shoe to the tip of your umbrella.


Soon I will post a collection of billboards; in any case I like this picture for the car driving by and the frequency with which I see this scene.


This was the bus system not long before we got here- and clearly, in some places still today. Now we ride on crouded Chinese busses, but I have to say I'm glad I missed time of true Camelos. Check them out under google images.


And Lastly, the iconic Marti reading La Edad de Oro to a child.

March 6 2010

Las Tunas is a pretty small city. I like it better than Camagüey, but I can’t quite pinpoint why. There are very few tourists here, which is very nice. Today was a day of museums. I am pretty much museum’d out so I’ll save you all the details! In short, this morning we went to several museums that document both the recent revolution (the one with the victory in 1959) and also Cuba’s struggle for independence from Spain. Then we went to the house of a youth who had died aboard a Cuban plane bombed in the 70s. One point- a few of these museums have had rocks or stones from the various cities where famous events took place- one had rocks from Bolivia near where Che’s guerillas were killed-which is strange, because the rocks really have nothing to do with the history.
Tonight we have an event at a local CDR. Not sure what to expect!

I’ve just returned to our hotel after our visit to the CDR. It was incredible. I had been feeling pretty travel weary and disinclined to go out again after all this morning’s museums, but this excursion was well worth it. I really hate it when people put on a show and make a big deal about our attendance, but then again, it is a pretty cool way to get to know the country. Let me explain: We arrive to a closed off street. There are tables with lots of food set out, one with a giant cake, another with laces on display, and another with other handcrafts of Cuba. Lots of people are mulling around; some are congregated around a karaoke like machine, but it is playing traditional music instead of pop. They present the leaders of the CDR and of the neighborhood and sing the national anthem. A few of the children sing for us and one (dressed as a bee) goes to retrieve flowers and brings them back to us as well. They gave us each a bag with a book of stories about las Tunas, as well as a Spanish copy of ‘The Little Prince’ (oh, how I love that book!). Then, they escorted us through a procession of the tables, and fed us deserts and a stew they made for the occasion. The kids would run up and say something in English: “ I am smart” or “Will you marry me?” or, “where are you from” and would run away again to learn more before we could respond. Evidently they have these street parties when any visitors come, but it seemed especially extravagant to me. I think everyone had a good time, and Dr. McKelvey addressed the crowd to thank them and to say how he hoped our two countries could work together in the future and learn from each other etc etc. We got to talk with many of the neighborhood members and I hope we made as good an impression on them as they did for us!
Feelings: fat and happy. Dreading the 8.5 hour bus-sans-shocks ride tomorrow.

5/3/10

This morning we got up early for breakfast buffet in the hotel. I hate staying in these touristy places and not eating in the actual town, but they are the cheapest options available (by a lot). We were all packed and ready to go before hand so after the meal we hit the van and drove into town. Camagüey isn’t known for a particular event in the recent revolution here, but instead used to be a big sugar mill and cattle stock town. We went to a few museums, one remembering the students who fought for Cuban Independence (and later died with Che in Bolivia) and another that was an old Spanish colonial mansion dedicated to the 19th century of Cuban history. It was definitely cool to see what one of these old houses might have looked like. In one square we were admiring some public statues of local people sitting on benches, two lovers and the last statue depicting a man reading the newspaper. For this last one, we did a double take. There he was! The actual man (Norberto) was sitting next to his statue reading the paper. We talked to him a bit and kept exploring.
We are now approximately 8 hours drive from Havana. Even on the map it looks far! After our museums we drove two more hours to Las Tunas where we will pass the next two days exploring the city and the museums.

March 4th, 2010

Yesterday we began another month of Spanish classes, this time much less frequent just to keep us in practice. Because there are only three of us, they could not provide us with our own teacher as expected so we began class with the Alabama kids who live in our hotel (by chance- what a small island huh?) and guess what!? It was too easy. Kind of nice to feel like I’ve improved even just a little. Hopefully we’ll figure out some better option. After class we went to a 24 hour sandwich stop, a busy pizza place, and a stand by the bus stop- none of which were open for lunch. Oh well. That morning we started the day with Third World Underdevelopment and Politics class near the hometel where we got into a heated argument about a recent news story about a political prisoner dying of a hunger strike in a Cuban prison. It was exhausting.

Then today we got up early and hoped on a bus to Camagüey for a program excursion. Parts of my credit hours include various visits and these trips to other parts of the island. I had a really great time on the last excursion to Santa Clara, and I promise to take some pictures while here as I’ve left the camera in its bag recently- my apologies.
I don’t know much about Camagüey or Las Tunas, but it is an inland area in the middle of the island. We spent pretty much the entire day on a long (seven hour) and extremely bouncy ride (no shocks on the bus and bad roads) through the country. Totally worth it; I really enjoy the country landscape, the horse carts and the giant oxen trudging through the red dirt.

March 2, 2010

Quick recap of the weekend:
Sunday the 28th I met up with Eleanora on her last day here to go and see the documentary on the popular musical group here, VanVan. The film was called Eso Que Anda. It was a little hard to understand, but I definitely understood my ten cents worth. It was also really nice to finally see some Cuban film in a Cuban cinema that I’ve heard so much about. Our final meeting with Eleanora was too short. She returned to Italy on Monday and I hope she had safe and uneventful travels.
Then, Monday, with my mind at ease about my friends in Chile (and Hawaii for that matter!) we had a meeting with a minister of Health. Raj, you would have found this stuff really interesting after your research in Santa Anita. Also, as a side note: For all those Americans who cringe at Obama’s “socializing the health care system”, two things. 1) In no way shape or form is our health care system ‘socialized’. Quit being ridiculous and 2) the Cuban health care system, which IS socialized (and is one of the priorities of the Cuban government along with education), is quite admirable and impressive. Everybody (appropriately translated in Cuba as the Spanish ‘todo el mundo’ -‘all the world’) has access to free health care. And of course, Cuban doctors and medics are some of the most advanced in the field of medicine and medical research. After talking with the minister we visited a family practice (the first step of medical care- a neighborhood doctor where one would go if they had a serious cold). Like all other things in Cuba it felt very… vintage. My first scan of the small visiting room yielded a cloth draped over the metal visitors table, shots administered out of glass injectors- nothing disposable only reusable, and medical kits that look like they belonged in a museum. The larger Polyclinic where there is an emergency room and where doctors can provide more specialized services was not much different. In the blood works room were a few old microscopes, glass plates and slide covers. They had less than my public high school’s chemistry laboratory. It makes one feel bad about every glass pipette she has ever broken.
Of course some don’t seek treatment. I am thinking specifically of a few people who practice Santeria and wish to become saints in an effort to seek better health. But this is a minority. Remember that I “was able” to test out the Cuban health care system my first week here; all free. The Cuban health care system is focused on early diagnostics and early treatment in an effort to prevent more expensive and difficult treatment farther along in the infirmity. They also encourage more traditional methods of maintaining health such as eating certain foods and staying active. I’ve even seen some natural remedy pharmacies.

And that brings us to today! My first diving lesson!
My hometel was being difficult and for some reason would not permit us to dive in the pool, so we gathered the equipment and drove to another hotel for the first lesson. In theory, it is SO FUN, but in practice, I find it a little tricky. Remembering to do the simplest things underwater- such as exhaling is easier said than done. I’m certainly not a fish yet, but I can’t wait for the next lesson to improve my ear pressure gauging skills.
My marine bio tutorial today was on macro-algaes and sea grasses. Pretty cool stuff; didn’t see any of it in the pool.

2/27/10 rain day

Rainy this morning. We watched some movies at the FEU office. Now I’m glued to the tv covering the earthquake in Chile and the Tsunami warnings in Hawaii. I guess all we can do is hope for the best.

2/26/10

Well. The last few days have been very disenchanting. Last night we wanted to go out to eat with our good Italian friend from Spanish class. As the three of us we were walking down a fairly large street a guy comes out of nowhere and grabs Eleanora’s purse. They struggle over it a bit until he pushes her to the curb and takes off. We ran after him for a spell, but he was quite tall and extremely fast. He turned the corner as we yelled “Ladron” after him and called for help. No one did anything. As we turned the corner ourselves one man indicated the direction in which he had run, but he was long gone. It was an unpleasant wake up call. The streets of Havana have many police officers (one way Cuba deals with unemployment is through construction and police jobs), but I think we had forgotten to be extra aware. The truth is, Cuba is a very safe country; it is highly unlikely you will be physically hurt. But, in part just being in a city, in part because of economics, and perhaps even due to the nature of humanity, petty thievery is common. Anyway, poor Eleonora had some money, her cell and her camera stolen so that put quite a damper on our evening. It was the first encounter I’ve ever had with theft, and it was a pretty aggressive act. The rest of the night we were pretty preoccupied rehashing it in our minds.
Not too preoccupied to notice a couple cockroaches (lets pretend they were beetles shall we?) crawling around, and to be especially put off by catcalls. “Do you girls want boyfriends?” a group asked at the bus station, to which Eleanora replied jokingly under her breath, “I’d be more interested in a boyfriend if I could have my purse too”. We also had an extremely difficult time finding transportation back to our hotel without having to pay the unofficial “gringa tax”.
In the last few days I’ve encountered more and more Cubans who present to me their worries and doubts about life here. In the last few days we’ve heard about how while the intentions and ideas of the leaders here are strong, they are not fulfilled or effective. What has affected me the most is hearing people I’ve come to know speak about faults of the system (with very balanced opinions, I’m not referring to any counter movements here). They speak with hushed voices, and encourage the dialog to be very quiet.
So, I find myself needing to be more careful. I should not feel so settled that I neglect to be hypersensitive to my surroundings (though, honestly, I feel like that robbery would have happened even if we had been guarding our purses like a fox guards its pups (considerably). I also need to be careful not to put any person in a position where they are made uncomfortable. As I learn more about the true relationship between this country and my own, my appreciation grows for the opportunity to study here and witness it, but I realize I’m not just a tourist or an exchange student either. Lastly, a blog is a very public thing. I’m not sure how valid are the fears that the censorship here extends into public places as surveillance, but I think I should save most political and social commentary for actual conversations with you all upon my return.
Anyway, we got back late, and for this reason I was very tired during our last Spanish class today. After, I picked up some laundry from the Lavanderia and we’ve pretty much called it a week since. It has been quite filled with activity and I’m fairly exhausted.

25/2/10- still deciding how to write my dates

Today was one of the most genuine tastes of Cuban culture we have experienced. I returned directly after Spanish class to our hometel to finish writing a response to Lenin’s Imperialism: the Highest stage of Capitalism. Then, directly after Third World Underdevelopment class we trekked to the bus station to catch the P-1 bus back to the university in order to meet our friends from FEU at the FEU office on campus. It had started to rain so after a little while we agreed to settle for a more comfortable and more expensive maquina. I was the first to get one, I settled into the back of a squished green wagon of the 50s. As we were driving I tried to imagine myself as a kid in the backseat when that car would have been the envy of all the neighbors. It was still in very good condition. In any case, before a certain distance, a maquina ride from playa is supposed to cost 50cents, and when you go beyond that point, one dollar (paid in Cuban pesos, of course). I told him a location before (calle H por favor) and handed him a 20 (same as 1dollar). He looked at me blankly. Change? I asked, “No” was the reply and then some curt explanation as to why I was wrong that I couldn’t understand. I walked up the rest of the way to the school. My shoes were wet. Everything was wet really. At FEU we met our friends. Some had important things to do, so our exhibition today would be solely with L.
We walked with L to another bus stop (P-11 this time) where we encountered the soccer team from their neighborhood just after winning their game. We spend the 25-minute bus ride talking with them and joking around with the team. They were very funny and were poking fun at each other the whole way (estaban dando chuchu). When we got off the bus a few of them stayed with us while L tried to find the apartment of a friend of hers we were to meet. Minutes later we were upstairs in the apartment of a young man (and family) who practiced reglas de ocha – or, Santeria. He was planning on having a party that night, but had to cancel because his mom wasn’t feel well (poor thing! It was her birthday too!), and his friends had been unavailable. But then he continued to explain that L had told him we wanted to learn how to salsa dance, and about his religion also.
Soon his speakers were blasting some traditional Cuban salsa music with the likes of VanVan, las Orilljas, and many others I have never heard of. they cleared a spot for us and the next thing we know we’re on our feet dancing away. Presently a few friends came in, an exchange student named Paula from Colombia, a younger brother and a friend. Soon we’re being taught the steps by everyone in the house and having a great time, though I’m not sure it was such a pretty sight. We worked up a sweat dancing so our friend asked if we might like to take a break. We collapsed on the couches. Then, he described the beginnings of Santeria and also its modern day applications. Santeria began under colonization by the Spanish when the Cubans went to the catholic ceremonies but secretely worshiped many of their traditional afrocuban gods. With their traditional and catholic religions combined, they saught to find similarities between their gods and those of the colonizers.
Today the religion of Santeria does not discriminate by race or sex. Each household varies in how strict they are. In Cuba one sees a great number of people walking wearing all white-which at first seems quite peculiar. Those in all white are on their way to becoming saints, and must be pure- so they wear white, carry parasols to avoid sunshine and rain in order to, as he implied, be as pure as infants because they are like baby saints. Those who practice seem to me to be very suspicious and to put much weight on ritual. They have little alters with bones and feathers and other curious items entangled within.
Once he had graciously answered all of our questions he asked if we would like to play a game of dominoes. They asked if we had ever played. “only when you line them up and then break them” I answered. From the lack of response to this comment, I don’t think they have ever seen such a game occur. In any case, that was not the dominoes game we were playing. This one involved strategy and skill and though I had beginners luck the first 3 games, by the fourth (my first without assistance) I lost by quite a lot.

Double your money

2/22/10
Today, though we waited at the University an hour, we had a rain-day from school. We drank hot chocolate with some classmates at museum of chocolate, took a very wet maquina ride home, and then curled up with Lenin’s Imperialism to read.
2/23/10
I have been here exactly one month. Very crazy to think about. Nothing too special occurred this morning. Had to wait for three buses to go by before we finally caught one. The grocery hasn’t been stocking milk so breakfast tomorrow may be a bit difficult.
After Spanish (this is our last week of Spanish class by the way) I bussed over to Biology where today I learned about estuaries and mangroves. My professor wasn’t as charismatic as the one from my first class. But when we finished early he took me on a tour (meaning, showed me around the closet sized room) of the lab were two biologists were doing work. He studies nematods (ugh) to see if they can indicate the nutrients of the sediment of their ecosystem. It was pretty interesting to see their lab supplies. They have a sink, a microscope and a computer (w/out internet). I asked how they got some of the literature that is published online these days (when I think about it, that is how I do MOST of my biological research). Their solution: they write to the authors and ask if they can send them a copy of the work, or colleagues in other countries send them recommended readings. It is a bit hard for me to imagine doing academic biological research with out the Internet.
And now I’m back to reading for Third World Underdevelopment and Politics.

2/21/10 Later

February 21st was fairly uneventful in the morning, I slept in and then made myself some tea and French toast for breakfast. In the evening, however, Katie and I decided to go to a gala performance of the National School of Ballet. We presented our student discount cards at the door, and our FEU cards and got our two tickets for five pesos, aka, 25 cents in total. When the curtain opened, we groaned. The stage was FILLED with tiny girls and boys doing simple plíes and arm positions. However, for the remaining hour and 45 minutes of the two hour show we enjoyed performances by students with seemingly professional skills. Watching the dancers really made me miss dancing on point. The school had a huge number of students, and I think we were the only two tourists in the entire audience, which was nice. I still would like to get myself to the national theatre to see the Cuban Ballet perform. This just wet my appetite. Also- shout out to my parents, i can only guess they must have felt through all of my recitals as i was growing up!

2/21/10 Behind

It has happened. I’ve gotten behind on my blogging. I guess it is a good sign that I’m quite busy and preoccupied with more than jotting down every mundane detail of my day-to-day life. Nonetheless, I shall try to catch up to date.
February 21st, we met our new FEU friends and a wonderful Italian classmate at the University. A. was about 45 minutes late. He seems to be very involved in, well, everything, so we forgive him though we hear is habitually tardy. We had proposed going to a part of the city where Santeria is practiced, but the guys suggested it wasn’t very safe and asked if we wouldn’t mind waiting to go there until they found a contact for us. As an alternative, we took the bus (not the P-1, a new bus route!) to a nice park between Vedado and Miramar (where I live). We were all starving so we walked to an Italian restaurant… where waited two hours in line. The best things in Cuba are at the end of a line. Needless to say we were starving by the time we were seated to eat. After lunch we walked back into the park and were led to a mini golf course! R. had brought a club and golf ball so we all took turns mini golfing and cheering for each other. A couple times the balls flew off course, but it seems no fountains function in this country, so we had relative ease retrieving the balls from where at one time there was probably an impressive water filled course. I am proud to say I came in a close second place. Turns out early bird doesn’t always get the worm, A. won our minigolf game, cut short by the impeding darkness of night.

We agreed to meet up again that night at Don Congrejos- We would cover the entrance fee, five dollars, seeing as they don’t make that much in a month of work. I think we all felt pretty bad about the situation by the end of the night, and let me tell you, dear readers (mom and dad), I have never felt worse about living in a hotel. L. lives about an hour away, so she decided she would come straight back with us to the hotel before we met the rest of the group at the club. As we were walking in, however, the guards whistled to her to come over. She was not allowed upstairs in our hotel even for just a second. This means we can not invite our friends over to cook dinner for them even though we have a kitchen and were planning on it originally. It was very embarrassing for everybody. L. explained that the purpose of the law is to prevent jinteras or hustlers and prostitution. Evidently the guards called after her when she left because they would have assumed she was a very flirty person. Finally the others came so we could leave the hotel lobby as a unified group. At Don Congrejo’s nearly everyone was a tourist and white. The only Cubans there were clearly better off than the majority. Regardless, we had a good talk and met up with the rest of the Italians from our Spanish class.

It was a difficult situation. Everyone was aware that each person in the club had dropped more money to dance and hang out then our friends could afford to. I don’t think it is appropriate to hide the fact that as an American student with the opportunity to travel abroad I automatically live in a different economy and am very privileged, but I also felt extremely uncomfortable that night. And this is not to mention that the embargo my country has placed on their country has cost them millions of dollars. We don’t plan to repeat that scenario again. It is also really hard because they demand that they pay for our bus fair- even as we protest. The bus is very cheap, but with a large group like ours it adds up! How does one be polite and appropriate when dealing with such huge differences in socioeconomics?

Feelings: a bit uncomfortable, lots of white guilt