(no subject)
well, i had been working a lot and with some construction going on sleep hadn't been great, so when i booked myself a trip i decided on a beach resort in Cuba. i booked 2 nights accommodation in Havana as well.
day one at the resort, and i find 7 words blaring through my head....'what the fuck am i doing here?' i'm in a country that i've been fascinated with for years and i chose this? thankfully i was going to Havana the next day. i was stuck in an ambercrombie commercial. nothing but 'bro's' and hollister girls. i couldn't tell anyone from anyone. and the arrogant, half-conscious, sloth mentality of so many first worlders was ever-present. people huffing and puffing cause they had to wait an hour for their room and other just as nauseating instances were around every corner. the way some people would talk to the bartenders, like a guy orders 6 rum & cokes and the guys serving them much healthier alcohol wise than you'd ever get here, and he's saying 'more, more' with no tone of any respect. i would look at these people square on and say 'por favor'. and they would mutter por favor to the bartender. night came and i had a nice walk along the shore.
i wake and it's time for Havana. the real deal. as we roll in i'm already thinking of how much longer i can extend my stay with the cash that i have. i left my passport and credit card in a safe 2 and a half hours back at the resort so there is no room for running out of cash. i rock up to my temporary home on 'ave de los presidentes.' i will be staying with a family who graciously put travellers up in their home and i'm excited. to up the ante it's a 13th story apartment with a balcony overlooking the entire city and the Caribbean ocean.
calm day
rough day
the family i stayed with were incredible. pure kindness. every morning i would have breaky on the balcony - pineapple, banana, papaya, watermelon, and eggs. it would have been impossible to imagine a more perfect situation.
as a traveler, i enforce a very loose schedule. one must stay open. too much regimentation and the genuine experience of that country gets lost. but i do have two goals in Havana - meet as many locals as possible, and see as much live music as possible. and of course like every country, see the national art museum.
walking as much as humanly possible is also something i practice when abroad. minimize cab indulgence. when you walk, you really feel where you are.
to my great pleasure, on my second evening there was to be a rumba performance outside at the national cultural centre a couple minutes from my abode. rumba is the music developed from the African slaves, sometimes referred to as Afro-Cuban. six percussionists, five vocalists and a pair of interpretive dancers. this was phenomenal. the passion was second to none, and the rhythms refused to let you stay still. i took a few video's so when i figure out how to do that i'll try and post. also, it was here that i would meet my two best friends i would come across in Cuba, Frank and Alex. between my broken Spanish and their broken English we could communicate rather well. i had a spool of 25 cd's i carried around in my bag to hand out to people, and when Alex said hip-hop was his life, i quickly reached for a Roots cd to give him. his eyes lit up, he know them well. upon pulling that one out he saw the Dead Prez one underneath and his eyes lit up even brighter. they invited me to the underground hip-hop show they were attending that night. fucking sweet. their friends that showed up all gave me props as if they already knew me.
by the way, the touque and layers are because it's winter. a frigid 22 degrees.
Cubans are among the most community oriented people you'll ever meet. after a couple days of talking to and observing people, i termed it - they have nothing, so they have eachother. people are just hitching everywhere, everybody picks up everybody, in my building people would enter the elevator and kiss the elevator woman, and everywhere you look people are just gathered, talking, and always very affectionate.
there was one thing that could throw a wrench in the jovial atmosphere. say the word Castro. politics. government. you will then see the underbelly, the fire inside. and especially with the younger people, rage. even at a tiny little cafe, the other half of my conversation would hesitate, looking sternly left and right, before leaning in to say anything negative of the government. you never know who's listening, and you can be taken away by the cops for saying anything remotely dissenting. my buddy's said they feel like they are in prison. they are not allowed to leave the country. no internet. the only news from the outside they get is from Castro's mouth. and everyone i talked to sunk when i carefully would try to bring politics up, or some would just kind of sigh and say what can ya do.
i am left wondering to myself what to make of it all. it's a man who's two primary goals with the country were health care and education. i wonder what could have been if the U.S. hasn't continually made things harder and worse. not just the embargo, but the destroying of their sugar and tobacco crops, the country's two main sources of income. i think of how in 1959 when the rebel army defeated Batista, Castro went immediately to the U.S. for support, when they said fuck you, he went to the Soviet Union, then backtracked and said we should never want anything from the U.S., i think of what may have been if Che Guevara had been the head of power....
i ignorantly asked if Raul meant any change. people just laughed. as long as someone named Castro is alive there will be no change. actually thats a lie, Raul implemented even more police, so you now have to be more afraid of saying anything.
i decided i could stretch my cash to 4 days. on my 3rd night i took my buddy Frank to the Jazz Cafe, the number one spot in the country. $10 gets you in and about 5 drinks, an amount i could piss on, but an extremely rare luxury for my buddy. and he loves jazz so he was stoked. we met a really cool couple from Vancouver and had a good convo. the music was awesome. it was only one of two times i got really drunk in the time away, but i still managed to remember not to spend my last ten dollars for the bus, as tomorrow i would be forced to leave.
i woke up and by the time i had my last breakfast and was able to tear myself away from this beautiful 13th floor vantage point, i had missed the afternoon bus back. i had no money to spend and was hungover so i would just find a little park to read till the 6pm bus would come. after i had given away my last few dollars (save the 10) i remembered that hungover people in hot weather need water. it hurt a little bit, the parched-ness got a little intense, but i rode it out. i went to the bus station at 4:30 just to be safe, rocked up to the counter and said 'me gustaria uno por Varadero por favor.' then the lady's words hit me like a shot in the stomach. it's sold out. ok, can't sleep outside - police, getting robbed etc. and i simply could not ask the family to put me up for free and they had turned the room over to someone else now anyways. i approached a cab and in my dehydration/exhaustion managed to spit enough spanish out to explain i had a credit card 2 and a half hours away. he said he'd do it for $80, and i couldn't care less as long as he said yes. sprawled in the cab i feel relieved. until the next thing hits me, what the f*#$ are the chances a bank will be open at this hour?? i scan the possibilities...maybe i'll put him up in my room and pay him double tomorrow?? somethin'....we finally arrive, and just in case i check the hotel bank. rocked up to that shit like 5 minutes before it closed. the moonlight walk along the shore was especially sweet that night.
the four days in Havana were exhausting but i didn't feel it for a second while i was there. back at the resort for my last two days it caught up, and i'm happy to have them. i will swim, relax, and take pictures, all the while reflecting on my four real days in Cuba.
day one at the resort, and i find 7 words blaring through my head....'what the fuck am i doing here?' i'm in a country that i've been fascinated with for years and i chose this? thankfully i was going to Havana the next day. i was stuck in an ambercrombie commercial. nothing but 'bro's' and hollister girls. i couldn't tell anyone from anyone. and the arrogant, half-conscious, sloth mentality of so many first worlders was ever-present. people huffing and puffing cause they had to wait an hour for their room and other just as nauseating instances were around every corner. the way some people would talk to the bartenders, like a guy orders 6 rum & cokes and the guys serving them much healthier alcohol wise than you'd ever get here, and he's saying 'more, more' with no tone of any respect. i would look at these people square on and say 'por favor'. and they would mutter por favor to the bartender. night came and i had a nice walk along the shore.
i wake and it's time for Havana. the real deal. as we roll in i'm already thinking of how much longer i can extend my stay with the cash that i have. i left my passport and credit card in a safe 2 and a half hours back at the resort so there is no room for running out of cash. i rock up to my temporary home on 'ave de los presidentes.' i will be staying with a family who graciously put travellers up in their home and i'm excited. to up the ante it's a 13th story apartment with a balcony overlooking the entire city and the Caribbean ocean.
calm day
rough day
the family i stayed with were incredible. pure kindness. every morning i would have breaky on the balcony - pineapple, banana, papaya, watermelon, and eggs. it would have been impossible to imagine a more perfect situation.
as a traveler, i enforce a very loose schedule. one must stay open. too much regimentation and the genuine experience of that country gets lost. but i do have two goals in Havana - meet as many locals as possible, and see as much live music as possible. and of course like every country, see the national art museum.
walking as much as humanly possible is also something i practice when abroad. minimize cab indulgence. when you walk, you really feel where you are.
to my great pleasure, on my second evening there was to be a rumba performance outside at the national cultural centre a couple minutes from my abode. rumba is the music developed from the African slaves, sometimes referred to as Afro-Cuban. six percussionists, five vocalists and a pair of interpretive dancers. this was phenomenal. the passion was second to none, and the rhythms refused to let you stay still. i took a few video's so when i figure out how to do that i'll try and post. also, it was here that i would meet my two best friends i would come across in Cuba, Frank and Alex. between my broken Spanish and their broken English we could communicate rather well. i had a spool of 25 cd's i carried around in my bag to hand out to people, and when Alex said hip-hop was his life, i quickly reached for a Roots cd to give him. his eyes lit up, he know them well. upon pulling that one out he saw the Dead Prez one underneath and his eyes lit up even brighter. they invited me to the underground hip-hop show they were attending that night. fucking sweet. their friends that showed up all gave me props as if they already knew me.
by the way, the touque and layers are because it's winter. a frigid 22 degrees.
Cubans are among the most community oriented people you'll ever meet. after a couple days of talking to and observing people, i termed it - they have nothing, so they have eachother. people are just hitching everywhere, everybody picks up everybody, in my building people would enter the elevator and kiss the elevator woman, and everywhere you look people are just gathered, talking, and always very affectionate.
there was one thing that could throw a wrench in the jovial atmosphere. say the word Castro. politics. government. you will then see the underbelly, the fire inside. and especially with the younger people, rage. even at a tiny little cafe, the other half of my conversation would hesitate, looking sternly left and right, before leaning in to say anything negative of the government. you never know who's listening, and you can be taken away by the cops for saying anything remotely dissenting. my buddy's said they feel like they are in prison. they are not allowed to leave the country. no internet. the only news from the outside they get is from Castro's mouth. and everyone i talked to sunk when i carefully would try to bring politics up, or some would just kind of sigh and say what can ya do.
i am left wondering to myself what to make of it all. it's a man who's two primary goals with the country were health care and education. i wonder what could have been if the U.S. hasn't continually made things harder and worse. not just the embargo, but the destroying of their sugar and tobacco crops, the country's two main sources of income. i think of how in 1959 when the rebel army defeated Batista, Castro went immediately to the U.S. for support, when they said fuck you, he went to the Soviet Union, then backtracked and said we should never want anything from the U.S., i think of what may have been if Che Guevara had been the head of power....
i ignorantly asked if Raul meant any change. people just laughed. as long as someone named Castro is alive there will be no change. actually thats a lie, Raul implemented even more police, so you now have to be more afraid of saying anything.
i decided i could stretch my cash to 4 days. on my 3rd night i took my buddy Frank to the Jazz Cafe, the number one spot in the country. $10 gets you in and about 5 drinks, an amount i could piss on, but an extremely rare luxury for my buddy. and he loves jazz so he was stoked. we met a really cool couple from Vancouver and had a good convo. the music was awesome. it was only one of two times i got really drunk in the time away, but i still managed to remember not to spend my last ten dollars for the bus, as tomorrow i would be forced to leave.
i woke up and by the time i had my last breakfast and was able to tear myself away from this beautiful 13th floor vantage point, i had missed the afternoon bus back. i had no money to spend and was hungover so i would just find a little park to read till the 6pm bus would come. after i had given away my last few dollars (save the 10) i remembered that hungover people in hot weather need water. it hurt a little bit, the parched-ness got a little intense, but i rode it out. i went to the bus station at 4:30 just to be safe, rocked up to the counter and said 'me gustaria uno por Varadero por favor.' then the lady's words hit me like a shot in the stomach. it's sold out. ok, can't sleep outside - police, getting robbed etc. and i simply could not ask the family to put me up for free and they had turned the room over to someone else now anyways. i approached a cab and in my dehydration/exhaustion managed to spit enough spanish out to explain i had a credit card 2 and a half hours away. he said he'd do it for $80, and i couldn't care less as long as he said yes. sprawled in the cab i feel relieved. until the next thing hits me, what the f*#$ are the chances a bank will be open at this hour?? i scan the possibilities...maybe i'll put him up in my room and pay him double tomorrow?? somethin'....we finally arrive, and just in case i check the hotel bank. rocked up to that shit like 5 minutes before it closed. the moonlight walk along the shore was especially sweet that night.
the four days in Havana were exhausting but i didn't feel it for a second while i was there. back at the resort for my last two days it caught up, and i'm happy to have them. i will swim, relax, and take pictures, all the while reflecting on my four real days in Cuba.