Getting Close To Home

One morning, I woke up and decided that I wasn’t homesick anymore. I think it stems from the prospect of seeing everyone I love in less than a month, including my “friend” in little more than 2 weeks. In fact, it seems like I’m running out of time. There are so many things I won’t be able to do, whether from financial constraints or otherwise, but it only gives me reason to come back one day soon to see what I missed.

Last week was filled with theatre and music. I believe I already mentioned modern dance and Brazilian circus, and on Thursday we went to a Trova concert, but on Friday we got to see an amazing thing – the Contemporary Dance Company of Havana put on an AMAZING show in the most beautiful theatre of Havana, the Gran Teatro.

Getting to the Gran Teatro was somewhat of an adventure. Some friends and I got on the wrong bus, taking us to the National Theatre instead of the other one. We got off in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, and tried to catch a cab. When we saw one, we ran like crazy across a park only to discover it was a cop car, and then we turned around and ran the other way. Our savior taxi driver we also ran to got us to the theatre right on time, and we sat down as the curtain opened.

The second act was particularly impressive. Beautiful men and women danced in white underwear (and the women, often without any top) in an amazing gymnastics/dance/movement/yoga thing. I wish I could describe it better. But I was so impressed I almost cried.

Yesterday we went to the Playas del Este with some Swiss guys my friends met in Trinidad (the city, not the island). My mom would appreciate their driving techniques, as driving in Havana reminds me very much of driving in Spain. We got lost a couple times but the drive was beautiful, along the north coast of Cuba. The beach was beautiful. Hundreds, maybe thousands of Cubans go to the beach on weekends. The water was clear and clean. We made friends with a beautiful Cuban baby boy playing in the shallow water, who was very belligerent when his mom tried to take him home. He was happy to pull tiny sticks out of the water and show us, or to throw sand in his hair (which his mom remedied by telling him to shut his eyes, dunked his head underwater, and the baby responded by making a spitting face and blowing salt bubbles out his mouth).

The Swiss guys were also interesting (my age). They’re going into the army after they get back in a week (I didn’t realize they have an army in Switzerland, which doesn’t fight in anything). Their Spanish and English wasn’t very good, but they spoke German and Italian. Language barriers are really hilarious sometimes.

The beach surprised me. Because the only Caribbean beaches I’ve been to were on our family cruise, I’ve only seen tourist exclusive beaches, where chairs cost $5 apiece and locals only come to sell necklaces or hair braiding. In Guanabo, families bring poles and blankets to make makeshift umbrellas. Young men stand in the water with bottles of Havana Club rum. Families toss volleyballs and drink orange soda. It’s so pleasant, because it is obviously just as easy to have fun at a beach without fancy chairs and food and games.

On a similar note, did you know that there is a huge initiative for community gardens in Cuba? The message they are trying to send is that food is for eating, and not for profit. A woman at a foundation we visited told us “The right to eat, and eat well, should be a human right for everyone.” When I get back to Davis, I plan on going to town in our garden. In Havana, people plant vegetables in beer cans, and collect rain water for their plants. Perhaps I won’t have to go that far, but I realize that gardening is not about aesthetics so much as it is about being proud. Almost all my life I hated when my mom would ask me to work in the garden, and now it’s practically the only thing I want to do.

Cuba has grown on me. I’m not sure how I’ll feel without dirt sidewalks under my feet, or living without plastic bags and waste. I won’t have to save my leftovers in paper to give to hungry dogs, and I won’t be able to see the ocean from my window. Walking outside won’t feel like walking into a wall of warm water. Every day, I am more fond of my temporary Caribbean home.

Love,

Caitlin