2011/07/18

Mis Sueños

One well-meaning friend calls it a "travel bug"; another skeptic reminds me about my fantasies of moving to New York shortly after a New York minute and my promise to wait tables in Paris if that's what it would take to repeat and prolong a romantic life in France.

I've always known myself to be a dreamer.



The point is, my head is still stuck in the clouds of Cuba. Every night, I dream of live music in the streets. I dream of tropical heat. I dream of complex clapping rhythms. I dream in Spanish. I dream that I am still in Cuba. I oftentimes wake up in the middle of the night, in my own bed, confused at the sight of my bedroom walls or guitar strewn at my side from the previous night's practice session. "Where am I?"

Five days in Havana and five days in Santiago was not nearly enough time for me to learn how to hold my own at the rumba dance clubs, jam with a Cuban jazz band, learn lyrics to a popular reggaeton song, formulate an opinion about the Cuban government, express myself in Spanish, or get lost by myself in the streets to the point of learning the streets and never getting lost again.

I have many stories to share about my experiences in Cuba and even more thoughts related to self-discovery and relationships between friends and strangers to detangle -- realizations and questions that I argue I could not have formulated were it not for a 1.5-week retreat from all that was familiar to me.

For now, these stories and reflections exist only in my memories and harried fragmented notes in my travel journal. I hope to soon find the time to begin piecing these together in order to thoroughly preserve the joy and wonder that I felt on this trip. I'll do my best -- if I fail, I can always find my way back to Cuba again.

Mis Sueños

One well-meaning friend calls it a "travel bug"; another skeptic reminds me about my fantasies of moving to New York shortly after a New York minute and my promise to wait tables in Paris if that's what it would take to repeat and prolong a romantic life in France.

I've always known myself to be a dreamer.

2011/07/13

Cuba: An Overview in Photos

Hello, Cuba! Day 1. A taxi driver pulls up to us on the street and claims to recognize Dr. T from the last time she was in Cuba. So excited to ride on of these oldie cars.
Chillin' parkside.
On my way to a private Cuban jazz show. Posters along the way.
What's in your bag? For me -- a fan, a book, a map, a chocolate snack, a water bottle, a music instrument, paper and pen. Meanwhile, I relax by the pool with an espresso and a cigar (not pictured).
Nothing beats sun, water, and a good book.
Saying goodbye to some new friends. I gave them my aviators and my The City t-shirt as parting gifts. 
Remember me, Cuba! I'll be back.

Cuba: An Overview of Events

Events:
  • visiting the doctor -- breaking out into hives that lasted for 3 days; receiving a shot, fainting and having a panic attack at the clinic; dieting on white rice and water only for two days; care and gratitude from/for my doctor
  • roaming the streets of Santiago de Cuba on the last night of Fiesta del Fuego 
  • dancing at Palacio de la Rumba
  • meeting people while dancing at the festival... going to the "majestic" beach with them the next day
  • visiting the babalawo -- santeria padrino: my readings
  • visiting many artists in their home studios
  • visiting monuments and cemeteries
  • visiting government organizations and a polyclinic
  • singing, dancing, and meeting people at the Malecon until 2:30 a.m.
  • clubs closing at 6 a.m., barely making it to see 1:00 a.m.
  • visiting an old slave coffee plantation
  • visiting markets for art, fruits, and trinkets
  • night walk -- ice cream and mystery food
  • lively Cuban jazz... from Oakland.
  • magic show
  • disorientation and culture shock upon arriving in Miami
  • waking up upon landing in San Francisco after a life-changing trip; glancing down at my watch to see it freaking out (it officially broke as we touched down) and looking out the window of the airplane, momentarily forgetting what city and airport we were flying into -- not truly coming-to and remembering where I was until I was on my way to baggage claim.

Cuba: An Overview in Photos

Hello, Cuba! Day 1. A taxi driver pulls up to us on the street and claims to recognize Dr. T from the last time she was in Cuba. So excited to ride on of these oldie cars.

Cuba: An Overview of Events

Events:
  • visiting the doctor -- breaking out into hives that lasted for 3 days; receiving a shot, fainting and having a panic attack at the clinic; dieting on white rice and water only for two days; care and gratitude from/for my doctor
  • roaming the streets of Santiago de Cuba on the last night of Fiesta del Fuego 
  • dancing at Palacio de la Rumba

Cuba: An Overview of Bloggable Topics


Topics:
  • Making friends
  • the Cubanos who made my trip
  • learning how to dance
  • Solo exploration; feeling safe
  • negotiating meaning
  • feeling at-home -- familiarity and nuance: Cuba both reminding me of the Philippines and offering the fresh experiences that I crave after being stuck in a rut for so long
  • feeling deliriously happy
  • african drumming
  • learning to distinguish between reggaeton, reggae, cuban jazz, salsa, rumba, afro-cuban music...
  • building bridges across language barriers - finding commonalities in music, dance, culture, and sports
  • gratitude and humility -- a Filpina/American reminded of the realities of economics, materialism, and the importance of friends and family
  • Music, music, music
  • hot weather and reading... being outside and chillin' water-side
  • vices - mojitos, cervezas, cigarros, and cigarillos
  • meeting 20-somethings from all over the world
  • sleeping late, waking up early, and taking frequent naps anywhere and everywhere
  • saving and spending money
  • multiple daily espressos that meet my approval 
  • things to pack while day traveling: a hat, small bills, handkerchief, pen and notebook, camera, water bottle, toilet paper, map, book, musical instrument, bag of mixed nuts, sunglasses
  • not wanting to hide behind a camera; bringing a pen and small notebook everywhere, instead
  • running into new friends on the street
  • reading up on the political and cultural history of Cuba prior to arriving; learning and unlearning about the politics and culture of Cuba through conversations and visits
  • the diversity of Cuba -- feelings of solidarity, welcome, and uniqueness
  • español de Cuba
  • meeting foreigners from all over the world
  • getting caught in lightening storms
  • chivalry
  • learning about Cuban politics from new friends in a dance club
  • pride in representing my heritage
  • bittersweetness; hopes for keeping in touch and future reunions despite bad odds

    Cuba: An Overview of Bloggable Topics


    Topics:
    • Making friends
    • the Cubanos who made my trip
    • learning how to dance
    • Solo exploration; feeling safe

    2011/07/05

    Habana, Cuba (Day 2 unifinished, Day 3 thoughts)

    7/4/11 3:21 pm

    Change

    I somehow got dragged away from my journal entry yesterday. I’ll have to come back to that run later.

    Right now, I am wondering how I could ever return to my life that I left behind in the Bay Area. I feel myself changing. I feel my mind opening. I never considered myself a close-minded person, but I am just starting to realize how much I did not know. I am glad that I have kept (and will keep) my mind open to new ideas and experiences all these years, but only now do I feel my mind starting to fill with new experiences.



    A small part of me hopes that no one expects for me to sit with them and share with them my experiences in Cuba. I anticipate that it would frustrate me if they do not come to love my experiences and the Cubans whom I have met the way that I have. I fear that their prejudices and suspicions about the Cuban way of life will clutter our conversation about my time in Habana.

    This must be the culture shock that some friends have told me about upon returning to the United States from another country. Instead of feeling homesick, I am dreading the day that I will have to drop right back into the daily grind and attempt to act the way that one might after returning from an extended beach vacation.

    I’ll try to write more about this feeling of change once my thoughts have had a chance to settle and fitting together in a smooth, continuous, connected thought.

    Not even that makes sense.

    In fact, my thoughts may never click together nicely as I would like. I’m sure that’s all part of visiting a new world for less than 2 weeks – experiences contradict each other; things don’t fit into the paradigms in which I was raised; I am forced to face harsh realities of the world as a whole and my the world of my own.

    Bailamos!

    Last night, I danced the night away in a Havana club. The club was called Palasio de la Rumba. We arrived for a 9:00pm reservation to watch “the most famous Rumba band in all of Cuba”.

    What a night it was. I am always captivated by every musician and jazz band we pass in the restaurants, bars, and street corners, so it is difficult for me to appreciate as necessarily the best in all of Cuba. The band dancers were hypnotic. The male dancers were particularly flashy with their combination of smooth and jerky dance moves – all moves I have never seen before. My ears soaked in the Cuban jazz, but my eyes new to Rumba analyzed every dip and sway of the dancers. I love to dance, but I have never danced to Rumba music before. Regardless, I could not wait to hit the dance floor. I could tell that the men were good dancers here and were here for just that – to dance. I felt safe with my group and in this fancy pantsy club.

    It was on.

    Habana, Cuba (Day 2 unifinished, Day 3 thoughts)

    7/4/11 3:21 pm

    Change

    I somehow got dragged away from my journal entry yesterday. I’ll have to come back to that run later.

    Right now, I am wondering how I could ever return to my life that I left behind in the Bay Area. I feel myself changing. I feel my mind opening. I never considered myself a close-minded person, but I am just starting to realize how much I did not know. I am glad that I have kept (and will keep) my mind open to new ideas and experiences all these years, but only now do I feel my mind starting to fill with new experiences.

    Habana, Cuba Day 2

    7/3/11 8:43 AM

    The Never-Ending Malecon Wall and the Run and Journal Entry that Ended Too Soon. 

    Just got back from a 20-min run along the Malecon. I jogged off of the hotel property and the Atlantic Ocean and never ending wall…

    Habana, Cuba Day 1

    When: 7-2-11 10:00 pm
    Where: Hotel Nacional, Habana, Cuba

    The hotel is beautiful. The front desk made of endless dark wood, multiple chandeliers hang in the high-vaulted lobby, and cracked mosaics decorate the walls. An old-fashioned phone sits on the bar. I notice it, marvel at how cute it is, and then realize that the lady behind the counter is actually using it to talk to someone.


    Our room has a grand view of the city of Havana. My comforter is gold. I have multiple fluffy pillows and the bathroom is spacious. Two small rocking chairs sit with their backs to the view. The room is furnished with matching dark wood and gold tones.

    Upon my arrival, I couldn’t help but make connections to my experiences of arriving in the Philippines. We step off of the plane and are met with humidity and heat. Everyone around us are various shades of brown. Their language is beautiful; my English becomes truncated as I struggle to be understood by our hosts.  Inside of the airport, a bathroom attendant opens the door to the next available stall for me, steps inside of the stall to ensure that it is clean for me, and caringly ushers me into the stall. Afterwards, she makes sure that my needs are met as I wash, soap, and dry my hands.

    Outside, crowds of family members wait against metal barricades to welcome their loved ones home. This time, though, no one waits to greet me.  I walk past the expectant sisters, brothers, tias, tios, nieces, nephews, and cousins and follow my group to our tour bus. “Pssst… cheena!” a man calls out to me. He mistook me for Chinese. I soon found that this would be a recurring mistake that Cubans would make about me for the rest of my stay.

    As we walk across the parking lot, I notice the beautiful multi-colored, matte-finished and glossy, old cars. I take lots of pictures. I worry that I will not be able to enjoy Cuba behind a camera lens. I absent-mindedly consider the alternative – returning home with no memories to carry with me.

    = = =

    Forts. Churches. Music.  The sights, sounds, and feels are so vibrant, colorful, sensational, and absolutely beautiful. The people are friendly. A man on the street calls out to us, “Are you American?” “Yes,” some of us reply hesitantly. “I love your people! Your government, not so much, but you are good people!” We smile, now feeling welcome and at ease.

    Hundreds of used books line the cobble stone and wooden street and sidewalks; many books are literature from the revolucion. There are old-fashioned cameras for sale. There are images of Che Guevara on every surface, material, and product imaginable for sale.

    = = =

    Older men and women sit in doorways in ones, twos, and threes smoking the biggest cigars I’ve ever seen. Most wear bright colors which contrast with their deep, rich, dark skin. Some play hand percussion instruments and sing with each other. Clusters of shirtless teenage boys hang out, engrossed in each others’ company too much to notice a large group of American tourists.

    We stop at a sunny, sprawling plaza for a  late lunch. I have my second beer of the day, third drink overall (the first was a baby mojito, compliments of the hotel). Everyone around me orders the house special cocktail: a mojito with white rum, dark rum, beer,  lime, cane sugar, mint, and other indiscernible ingredients. I have a sip of my neighbors’ fancy mojito. Ahh. Surprisingly sweet. Refreshing. And Delicious.

    I opt for a combination of grilled pork and shrimp, knowing that I would regret overeating later.

    I feel myself slipping into an early siesta in a slightly less-than-upright position at the table before the food has a chance to arrive. All throughout lunch, I am quiet. I somehow survived the week in about half the amount of sleep that one should have in an entire week. I push through the afternoon by ordering a Cuban espresso after lunch. The strength of the espresso awakes me upon first sip. This is what I need. Rarely am I impressed by the strength of a coffee drink, however today, on this hot afternoon, I am pleased. I silently curse U.S. and Cuban customs in advanced for not allowing Cuban coffee to cross the waters that divide our home countries.

    = = =

    The taxi driver recognizes the most frequent visitor of our group of 6. He offers to drive us all about town. His friendliness, lack of English, and beautiful Spanish inspires me to attempt to speak a few phrases to him in Spanish. I resolve to learn Spanish as soon as I return to the United States.

    The time is now 10:22pm. I realize that I am slightly delirious and in a half-dream state while writing this entry. The sudden ringing of my room phone reminds me that I am not sleeping, I am in fact, clacking away on my netbook computer. The boys want to have drinks and take a stroll through the town. Without thinking, I aloofly agree to join in.

    I figure: depending on your deity, you only live once. And you most certainly only have one first-night-ever in Cuba. Looks like it’s time to slough through another late night and make the most of this trip. Oh, pity me.

    Habana, Cuba Day 1

    When: 7-2-11 10:00 pm
    Where: Hotel Nacional, Habana, Cuba

    The hotel is beautiful. The front desk made of endless dark wood, multiple chandeliers hang in the high-vaulted lobby, and cracked mosaics decorate the walls. An old-fashioned phone sits on the bar. I notice it, marvel at how cute it is, and then realize that the lady behind the counter is actually using it to talk to someone.

    2011/07/01

    Here I come, World.

    Talk about building a strong foundation.
    Talk about building from the ground up.
    Talk about new beginnings.
    Talk about big things.
    Talk about development.
    Talk about constructivism (...lol.).

    My new school: