Mostly About Music

I can't begin to explain to the rest of the world how good it feels to be out of bed. I've had a week-long battle with a stomach bug which it seems I have beat into submission by eating a lot of…bread, bananas and rice – which are fortunately very plentiful here.

I have a few stories to tell:

Sunday, pre-sickness, a large group of us decided to go to a party hosted by a student at the University of Havana, but ended up being very perplexed because we couldn't find the party, despite the hoards of young adults wandering the streets that night. We ended up in my favorite park (which I believe is actually called the Plaza of the Fountains, about 4 blocks from our house), because we heard music being played. It turned out there was a random talented group of musicians playing in the park, a couple of guitars, a violin, and someone doing percussion on a violin case. Absolutely beautiful, We sat in the grass listening for about an hour. It was mostly drunken university men there, so it became a bit…stifling…because Cuban men really enjoy staring. I spoke with the violinist, William, afterwards, but it was nearly futile because he was drunk and this makes communication a bit difficult. They're supposed to be playing somewhere tonight, and I may make an effort to go see!

Did you know you can buy mojito in a box in Cuba? Apparently you can. And daiquiri in a box? I have a problem drinking anything out of a juice box, so I stay clear. But the people at the park really seemed to like them.

Skip forward, past the early nights of sleep and days in bed listening to music and reading The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down.

Friday, we went to visit a Policlinico, which is like a neighborhood medical clinic of which there are over 400 in the city of Havana. Like any doctor's office, it was full of people and crying babies and elderly people waiting to be seen – not much different from a Kaiser office except that the aesthetic is completely different – paint chipping off the walls, broken chairs, etc. There was an ingenious sign in the stairwell that said "Las escaleras son un gimnasio. El elevador es una jaula," meaning that the stairs are a gym, and the elevator is a cage. This may be because the elevator doesn't work very well, but it's also smart to encourage exercise.

The most uncomfortable part of the visit was going to an examination room a few blocks away, to peek in at a pregnant woman's visit. Of course she had consented, but the doctor really liked to talk and we all grew uncomfortable in the very tiny and hot room – and I'm sure the pregnant woman had places to be other than surrounded by people. Interestingly, we learned that in the Cuban medical system, doctors work in teams of specialists, primary caregivers, and psychiatrists with patients, instead of separating all of the fields. And of course, everything is entirely free. I keep wondering how much more amazing their medical system would be if the United States would stop being such a bully, if the Cubans had access to anesthetics and aspirin and new equipment.
Curiously, there was a large Fidel photo in the clinic room, which reminded me of that Diane Sawyer special in North Korea. There were pictures of their president everywhere…and it seems like Fidel fills similar shoes here. Even though Che Guevara and Jose Marti are the country's poster boys, Fidel Castro still holds a huge omnipotence over Cuba.

Almost ironically, one of the girls in our group was suffering from severe dehydration and got really sick on our visit, so she got to stay and receive medical care there, also for free, and was driven back later. We are aware, however, that as students and Americans, we are subject to better treatment than almost anyone else in the country right now. A few days ago we were told that there are lists with all of the people we hang out with in Cuba on file in the central government at all times, because if anything happens to us, all the people we've been seen with will get dragged to jail. We already suspected we were being watched, because curiously, Facebook stopped working in our residence, but we didn't know it was actually true until now. Kind of 1984-esque, and kind of scary.

Friday night, we were shuttled to ELAM (The Latin American Medical School, which is FREE to those who are accepted for 6 years of comprehensive medical training and practice.) to see a "USA Culture Night". Security was really tight and we almost didn't get in, because not everyone had ID (even though we were guests). But inside, it was interesting to see how Americans can be portrayed to other people. They did spoofs on TRL, Jerry Springer, they did step dancing and hip hop dancing, etc. I made friends with a medical student from Mexico, who may want to hang out at some point, though he made the point that he's very busy pretty much all the time with school.

After that, we begged to stay out a bit longer (we were supposed to go back right after the show ended), so we got to go to the town of Baracoa and dance for a few hours. It's amazing the diversity of people I met that night – people from Botswana, Bolivia, Brazil, Jamaica, Mexico, etc. It was kind of overwhelming, but I made a couple more friends that may hang out later on.

Last night, we went to an Afro-Cuban concert at the Palacio de Bellas Artes, for about 50 cents per person. It was absolutely amazing, and there were so many people of all different ages there. It was outdoors in a huge courtyard, which obviously isn't a problem because it's so warm always. We then went to our favorite sangria hangout, which I will be taking my "friend" to when he comes because for lunch, they have the $6 lobster paella that may be the best thing I've had so far in Cuba. A group of Cubans were celebrating a birthday at the table next to us and we had some pretty funny interactions with them, safe to say we make friends wherever we go.

On the bus ride back, and you wouldn't believe how many people are on the public bus at midnight, we had yet another encounter with a group of young Cuban men (and a few women). They assumed we couldn't speak Spanish and therefore ensued in a slightly perverted conversation in completely audible and understandable Cuban. They talked amongst themselves about how to invite us out in English, finally coming up with "We would like to invite you to have a fun with us." My reply? "We speak Spanish, you know!" (In Spanish, of course) which got the whole bus roaring in laughter. If I had been feeling 100%, we probably would have gone to hang out with them, because they had excellent senses of humor, but so goes life! Another such encounter is bound to happen in the weeks ahead.

It keeps getting better here, and more comfortable, but one thing I miss more than my family, my dear friends and Kyle (yes, you get your own shout out!), is pepperoni pizza. I think I'll do a separate blog on food later, but just about every meal I eat I imagine is pepperoni pizza, with Parmesan cheese and hot pepper flakes. Pepperoni is a very foreign concept in Cuba, but boy, could I go for a slice right now!

Love always,
Comrade CaitlinWarning...video has NO sound

What It Is Not

Cuba is not a playground, or a park, or a vacation. It's life. It's Friday night and I am inside my room alone, and why? Because we went to a house party that my conscience didn't like, and I ended up mothering a drunken, disillusioned friend and putting her to sleep. It's like home, and it's certainly not magic. But it is real, and that is perfect.

It isn't easy to make Cuban friends here, because I feel so adamant on being careful. I haven't really had more than a few sincere Cuban conversations since I've been here, because men seem to only harass you for being a woman, and women tend to stare you down for being foreign. This is definitely not a playground.

Somehow, I don't mind that every day has not been a giant adventure. I still have stories to tell. I still have so many things to see. But many of my peers here are so preoccupied by what this trip means to them, or with seeing everything, all the time. I need to find someone to slow down with, to see things slowly and happily. When I take walks myself, I feel so much more fulfilled than when I have to listen to English jabber in front of or behind me. So I am learning how to learn here, and sometimes it just has to be on a long solo walk, seeing the streets and cars and people and trees, seeing everything at my own pace and with my own open ears.


Yesterday I walked about a half hour into Central Havana on a pre-dinner expedition. Our Spanish teacher had explained to us how to get to the University of Havana, so I decided to try it out on my own. I found myself weaving through beautiful old neighborhoods, lined with huge draping trees like redwoods, except with whiskers hanging off them. Up a hill, past a fruit market, and onto the busy street.

It turns out the university is a lot like NYU, in that the buildings are really just all over the place. There's a center strip of grass and benches between the busy street I walked on, until I came to a huge monument to some seemingly unimportant Havana mayor of the past – this thing is giant, but altogether abandoned.

This monument is like others because it's beautiful and grand, but with fountains containing no water. Almost every fountain and decorative pool in Havana is a desert now, because of resource shortages. This seems to be what has happened to the houses too. When I walk past them, I can't help but imagine what they looked like 60 years ago, 70 years ago, and what the streets looked like. The most beautiful houses you've ever seen are all over my neighborhood of Vedado, but they are crumbling and grey. Columns and stained glass and incredible ironwork, huge wooden doors and twisted staircases are everywhere, but only a shadow of their former selves. It gives me a lot to think about when I walk, about what happens to things so wonderful in their own time.

Anyway, I decided to head back from the Central Monument to get to dinner on time, so I crossed the street and walked back down the way I came. Except, I made the mistake of making eye contact with a very gross, small and mangy dog. He looked at me with such pain in his eyes, and I knew he was hungry. I didn't have any food on me, but I thought…maybe he could benefit from a momentary friend, so I gave him a smile and set on my way. Except that this dog followed me. It clipped at my heels for a few blocks. I stopped, let him sniff my bag and hands, so that he knew I had nothing to give him. And I walked some more, and he kept following. I crossed the street into the center grass, and he followed again. I sat, and he sat across from me. We stared each other down for a good minute or so, and then he slowly came up to me and set his paws on my crossed-legs.

I couldn't pet him because he looked slightly diseased and I didn't want a foreign canine infection, but I offered him my cheek for a quick "hello". But he didn't know how to give a lick, I don't think. He stuck his dry nose into my cheek with such defeat. And then he backed away and sat down again. Having no clue what to do, I got up to walk away, and this dog began to cry. Not verbally, but in his eyes. Maybe I was imagining it, but he was just the saddest thing I had ever seen. So I told him "Vamos", and he got up and came trotting along with me.

We went along for about 12 blocks this way. He would wait at corners for me, catch up if he got behind. I knew I couldn't take him home, and I knew he was very sick. But for a few minutes he really loved me, and it gave me hope about being here. There's a reason, beyond the lost dogs. Maybe he was me, and soon, someone is going to invite me to walk with them. The heartbreaking part is I had to leave him behind. He stopped to sniff the grass and I kept walking, faster, because I could never bring him into the flat. What would I have done with him?

It seems like I talk about dogs a lot. But maybe that's because they don't judge you on where you come from, or your gender. Maybe you have food, maybe you don't. Maybe you have time for a walk, and maybe you don't. They are simple, and that's something I can really connect with right now. No drama, no purpose. Just a moment to be well fed and happy, and feel like you're home.


Love Always,

Caitlin

We Also Go To School Here!

The Museum of Modern Arts in Havana Vieja

Today marks our ¨more than a week of class¨ time, which are progressively getting better. We read a tremendous amount, and write a paper a week. The best part is that besides from just going to Spanish class, history class, and journalism, we also have guest speakers and field trips.

Tomorrow, a famous Cuban is going to speak to us about the evolution of Cuban nationalism, and on Friday, we´re going to the world famous Medical School of Havana.

My mom has commented that dogs don´t look so bad in Cuba, when in fact, they are incredibly scary. Dogs lie dying on the sidewalks..well maybe not dying...but resting from the heat. And they are tiny and scraggly and not fun to pet. I miss my Sheila.

A note about Cuban men: they like to hiss. I would like to ask them if they actually get anyone´s attention this way. They also like to make kissy noises, and say things like ¨Que bonita!¨as you pass. Too bad most of them are kind of scraggly like the dogs. Not meaning to be harsh, but Cubans have generally poorly cared for teeth (probably due to expensive toothpaste) and a kind of grumpy disposition unless you give them a good long smile. Not that men are particularly leacherous, but I think in the United States, men just don´t say what´s on their minds, and here, communication is crystal clear.

I wrote a paper this week on how volitile the tourist industry is to Cuba, because the only people who make good money are uneducated hotel workers and people who sell things on the black market. Having dual currencies is one of Castro´s less brilliant ideas. I think he tries/d really hard. I still have no idea if he´s dead or alive, but people here have the same questions I do- just not vocally.

I´m sending some photos taken by my friend Catie (who is actually also Caitlin!) that we took last Thursday after class in our favorite spot, Havana Vieja.

A quick note about the photos for everyone- I am wearing a cute orange dress, as you can see. However, in Cuba, if you aren´t wearing skin tight clothing, it is assumed you are pregnant. So that day, I was asked by at least 4 women if I had ¨BABY???¨It just got really funny after a while. Next time I wear that dress, I´m going to tell people eyes to see if they give me hugs or something.


Photo at the fountain: A giant group of resting Cubans watched us take this picture and thought it was hilarious. they really think tourists are strange.

The one at lunch: I had $6.00 lobster and it was amazing. We also shared several pitchers of sangria for very cheap. Even though Havana Vieja is super touristy, we´ve been given tips for really cheap spots by my favorite Cuban, Geraldo!

Love, Caitlin

Keeping Afloat in the Gulf of Mexico...

Dear faithful blog readers: Brace yourself, this will be a long one.

I haven’t written recently because SURPRISE, the internet hasn’t been working for the last 5 days. The electricity had gone out on Monday and everything got fouled up. The best part of the power outage was that the elevator didn’t work, so up we went, all the way to the 13^th floor…about 3 times that day. In honor of the power outage, we instated “Happy Hour”, with low budget Cuba Libres and high class cigars. (I bought my first pack of tiny Cohibas yesterday. You really can’t feel Cuban without a really good cigar.)

Monday was the first day of classes, which are really interesting. We do a lot of reading and a lot of writing, so it’s pretty perfect. There’s a lot of very opinionated people in this program, which sometimes gets frustrating when we’re trying to learn things. Discussions get taken to extremes, often for hours after class is over. According to our professor Raquel, “Ideas have no time limit” which can be a bit annoying when I miss lunch.

On Wednesday we watched a great documentary called Fidel, which everyone needs to rent and watch. The history of Cuba is truly amazing, and the Cuban Revolution is nothing to take lightly. It’s strange how in the United States we are taught to think of Fidel Castro as such a monster, when in fact he accomplished some very admirable things. Did you know that the revolutionaries that based in the Sierra Maestra mountains, among them Che Guevara and Fidel Castro and a lot of WOMEN, started with only seven guns? Such an amazing and sad story for an island that has only been independent for about 50 years of its entire existence. We have had many discussions about the tragedy of American youth, not will to fight for anything. It is inspiring, and yet I’m not sure what to do with this empowerment yet.

I won’t lie to you, America. I’ve been a bit homesick lately. I had a couple good cries, found some very wonderful shoulders to cry on. It may have been brought on by this long and depressing discussion we had in class about feeling useless and American. I ended up convincing myself that I wasn’t good at anything in Cuba, and turned off my happy radar. Today I feel absolutely liberated. A group of girls and I went swimming off the Malecon, which is the waterfront right in front of our house. The tricky part about swimming in this part of Havana is that there’s no beach, just intimidating rocks and one lonely ladder. But the water is so blue (see the picture I posted of my view – it’s the same spot) that it’s worth dodging the rocks and sea life.

Yesterday was really great, too. Instead of class on Thursday, we do guided tours of different historical areas with Geraldo (my favorite Cuban professor I’ve met). Yesterday we went to the presidential palace, which is of course, is no longer a palace for any sort of royalty. The building is now a museum of the revolution, with artifacts and pictures from the whole process of overturning the Bautista Regime. One of the most prized pieces of the museum is the boat “Granma”, which brought over 82 revolutionaries from Mexico to begin their siege of the island. It’s kept in a heavily guarded glass building, kind of like our Liberty Bell, but so much better.

Some students and I are trying to plan a trip to Santiago de Cuba, which is about…eight hours away, but we hear it’s about $300 for a bus ride. We’re hoping we can find something cheaper, and hopefully slightly comfortable. Santiago de Cuba is the city where Carnival is held every July, and it also holds great revolutionary significance. And of course, it’s on the ocean and apparently breathtakingly beautiful. I’ll keep you posted on how that turns out.

Something really interesting about Cubans that I want to share is that they don’t believe their revolution is over. They don’t expect that what happened in 1959 was the beginning and end of changes. The Cuban people have been through so much tragedy and somehow have pulled through to near triumph. They are ready and willing to ride out the temporary storms, in order to achieve all socialist goals put forth so long ago. Yes, there are problems here. By American standards, Havana is a nightmare. All the buildings that used to be majestic are now literally crumbling down. Stray dogs are everywhere (and they are NOT friendly), and the city smells like fermenting garbage at night. But Cubans are artists of life. It seems that every Cuban boy plays baseball in the street at sundown, and all little girls run through the streets in tutus and ballet slippers. There is music and poetry and swimming and dancing. Geraldo, a university professor of History, is paid the equivalent of $60 a month, and yet he is so fond of his home.

It seems so obvious now, more than ever, that money will never be the key to our dreams.

Love always,

Caitlin

My First Sabado

So it´s my first Sabado in Cuba and I’ve come down with a case of traveler’s diarrhea. I win the prize for the first in the house to have such a fabulous experience, but I didn’t doubt it would happen. I suspect the day in the hot sun is behind it, but I didn’t burn myself! So I’m going to write a bit before I hit up the Immodium and get some rest.

Today we spend the morning and afternoon in Havana Vieja, or Old Havana - where the colony was first established. I was in my element because much of what we talked about had to do with history...so I had a lot to say, though that’s not abnormal. Remember Puerto Rico, family? That’s what I thought Havana would look like, but it turns out that only Havana Vieja is like that, with brightly colored buildings and cobblestone streets. In fact, the oldest streets are made of wood here, that have been replaced as they wear down. In this area there are art museums, restaurants, shops, historical museums, a craft/artisan fair (where people sell LOTS of tourist stuff), historical buildings, etc. There’s also an awesome used book outdoor area. I’m going to go back soon. It’s a regular tourist trap, with prices well beyond necessary for those gringos that I’m proud not to be a part of. But we are wiser.

Geraldo is a professor in Cuba, and he works at the Casa de las Americas (where we study). Today he was the one who showed us around and he is simply wonderful. His wife, Amarylis, was also there - I hope I get to take pictures with them eventually, because we all get along great.

For lunch, we taken to the cheapest place in the area - El Jardin del Oriente- (Cuban food, not Chinese), which came out to about $102 for 25 people. You do the math! We had drinks and dessert too!

Geraldo doesn’t like to speak English (it embarrasses him) so we have students rotate translating for students who are just beginning to learn the language.

I’m happy to report that I took over translating for a few seconds - the only non-native speaker to do so! Somehow I feel no fear with Spanish here, even if I’m not brilliant yet.

I’m going to teach Amarylis how to make pie.

One interesting thing about Cuba is that there aren’t people everywhere trying to sell you bracelets and key chains and everything. People who sell things, especially in a popular place, have to have a government license because of course, private enterprise is forbidden. I saw women crocheting dresses (I’m going to buy one eventually, maybe also for Kiera!) who had government ID cards on stating their occupation. Police are everywhere where tourists might be especially, so since Big Brother is watching, you can’t get away with a lot. Kind of scary, but...no disturbances yet!

Mommy is posting my pictures for me, since dial-up and this ancient PC have a hard time publishing them. A few notes:

The photos of the ocean and buildings: that is the view from our room balcony on the 12th floor. Our room is also all windows on the ocean side so we can see all the time. It’s one of the most amazing things I’ve ever had constant access to.

The money: Apparently a $3 Convertible Peso has a picture of revolutionaries fighting tanks with grenades and guns. There is also a train burning. Look carefully - it’s really interesting!

The man with the thing you might not recognize: We visited the only legal cigar shop in Havana today. I’m going to buy a lot to bring them home - if they don’t have labels, I can tell the customs officers I got them in Mexico! The man making them has had cigar making in his family for 3 generations. You may not know that the first union in Cuba was for cigar makers, and it was very influential in the forming of the colonial society. He made one for us and we got to all try it. Cohiba is just lovely. It’s heaven to smokers and non-smokers alike, being in the store.

The Bodega: That is where Cubans get their rations. For a month, rations of coffee, rice, beans, sugar, soap, chickpeas...and a few other things...comes to about $2. I’ll tell you more about this labor. If socialism does anything, it certainly keeps people from starving.

The Sunset (above) right outside our building yesterday, on the Malecon. We were going to the hotel down the street to exchange some money. The attendant looked like Barack Obama.

Love to all. It’s not the same without everyone here,

Caitlin

Mucho Photos!!!!

I had wonderful chat with Caitlin this afternoon. She is so happy and speaking a lot of Spanish. In fact, the people in Cuba encourage her to speak the home language.

This post will be a series of photos Caitlin has sent me. She promises to write more and to add more photo captions but the slow dial-up prohibits her doing so on a regular basis...that's why mommy is posting from the USA!!!
View from Caitlin's bedroom!

Caitlin's bedroom shared with three other girls.....

The "local" cigar maker.
Empty shelves of the WINE SHOPPE!

Room With A View

Good morning! I’m happy to report that I slept excellently on my first night in Havana. I was so tired it took hardly any effort at all. At ten, we were given our first desayuno, nothing like any breakfast I’ve ever had at home, but apparently typical for what we can expect. Scrambled eggs cooked in bell pepper, some sort of pork meat, some sort of yellowed cheese, fresh guava, fresh pineapple juice, fresh coffee that is amazing (no sugar needed), and rolls. According to Cuban standards, we live like kings.

I woke up to an amazing view of the ocean today. It’s no joke that we are actually on the waterfront. A smattering of tenements and hotels surround us, but most buildings are small and you can see very far into the city. People like to spend time on their balconies, and it’s nice to wave to people and have them wave back without hesitation. In a few minutes we’re going to walk to the Casa de Las Americas, where we will have our classes. We don’t start learning until Monday, so today is just orientation.

Cuba smells like one overwhelming thing: unrefined oil. The cars emit a smell we don’t have in America, like diesel all the time. We passed a bread factory that smells exactly like the Earthgrains bakery by 880, and it felt like home.

Cubans are beautiful. The airport was overwhelming, and I am very happy to be among such diversity. I made a friend….though I can’t remember his name…unloading luggage yesterday. He works for the Casa, and he is Afro-Cuban. He was wearing all orange, which was kind of strange. He told me, in Spanish of course, that if you spend your time sleeping, you forget to live. Good advice for this trip, although I will be napping in a few short hours, to catch myself up.

LATER:

This morning we had a VERY long orientation at the Casa de Las Americas. I can’t explain what it’s like just yet…a government institution that is in a small building with lots of art where you aren’t restricted access to anything…

I think it’s time for my nap now!

Hasta Luego,

Caitlin

I Thought It Was Wednesday All Day Long!

According to my computer it is 1:03 AM, on Friday, April 4th, but my new surroundings teach me better – it’s 4:00 AM in Havana, and I’m wide awake after over 36 hours of no sleep.

I’m writing to the United States from a small couch on the sub floor of the 13th floor of our Cuban “Penthouse”. I have recently discovered that although plug adapters are not needed we do not have three-pronged plugs in my bedroom and I therefore am forced to do my writing in a common area. Not that I’m complaining – it’s a very nice room, and right now it’s moderately quiet.

A quick rehash of what has happened so far:
*There was an attempt to sleep during the 3 ½ hours to Mexico City, slightly accomplished.
*Waited/napped two hours in Mexico City to get to Cancun.
*My flying partner Avani and I decided to ditch the airport for 4 hours during our 10 hour layover and take a bus to downtown Cancun, which was hot and noisy and really cool. We learned the art of Mexican road crossing, which due to lack of crosswalks consists of running from island to island when there is a break in cars. Don’t worry: safety in numbers. We were very careful. Everyone in Cancun seems to really like to honk their car horns. It must be a really stimulating part of driving in a city so hot and poorly designed. We ended up walking about…2 or 3 miles down a hot road to get to a movie theatre, where we paid $3 to see a really bad horror movie in English. (It was air conditioned so it didn’t matter). At that point, my shoes started to blister my feet due to the heat, which will be fine eventually but the miles and heat and swelling due to altitude change got the best of me. Now I am bandaged and happy.

When we finally all got to the Havana airport, we were met by some very nice and helpful people who are employees of the Casa, who helped us fly through immigration (they didn’t even check our bags). One guy (incidentally from Santa Barbara, slightly socially stunted) had put his laptop in his checked bag and found it was stolen when he arrived. So we waited about another half hour for nothing to happen. The computer is long gone. Since then, the guy has also cut his finger on a window. What a bad day.

From what I can tell of Havana in the dark, it’s nothing like anything I have seen. It’s not like the typical Caribbean, not like Mexico, and certainly not like home. Most buildings are broken down, whether modest or huge. Even our building, one of the better places in downtown, is a bit shabby – but the people around it make it very comfortable. Everyone is so inviting and loving and always smiling. Gender roles are more defined here so we women were not “allowed” to lift or carry luggage anywhere inside the building. All the students are really fun and kind and it’s going to be great getting to know them.

You will be happy to know that I have used more Spanish today than in about a years time combined. Many people in the house already know I understand what they’re saying so they urge me to practice speaking to them in Spanish. Very little English is spoken anywhere except for by our teachers, and it’s already starting to help.

I am exhausted. In 5 hours it will be time to wake up, have breakfast (with café con leche!) and have an orientation. Then we were promised more sleep. Sounds fantastic.

With love,

Caitlin