The Havana Chronicles, Maravillosa y Absurdo

Day 7:

My last full day in Havana. What to do?

I have to be honest regarding my inner dialogue on day 7: get me the hell out of Cuba! Not because I wasn't interested in exploring, it's just that I'd reached my adventure threshold. As I noted in an earlier post, travelling on one's own can be challenging. Havana has an added layer of challenge and complication - lack of access to basic conveniences, encounters with sometimes apathetic/resistant "service" personnel, a very expensive tourist economy and some additional language barrier. Add to that the fatigue from two back-to-back illnesses and the longing for anything familiar. Cuba is a lot of things. Familiar is not one of them. Which is why I agreed to return to tia Marcolfa's for an early dinner.

First, I wanted to make my way towards el capitolio to convert the loads of Cuban pesos I had leftover back to Mexican pesos. My limited experience with the Cubans up to that point is that anything that can go wrong probably will and there's not a whole lot you'll be able to do about it. I knew that if I waited to change my money back at the airport it would be a shitshow so I decided to change it all save about $120 worth of Cuban convertible pesos. Good thing, as I was correct that all three of the airport casas de cambio either refused the exchange or told me they'd run out of Mexican pesos. Same thing at the airport in Mexico City. The exchange desk in my terminal didn't deal in Cuban money. Ack! So I now have a somewhat sizable amount of cash that is not only incredibly inconvenient to change but totally against U.S. law for me to have in my possession. Uh oh! I heard rumor there's a desk in a different terminal in Mexico City that will do it. I have enough time between layovers on my way home that I can give it a go. Otherwise, any of you nice readers want to make a fee-free exchange of dollars/euros/Mexican pesos/rubles/shekels for 115 Cuban convertibles? Sigh.

Onward.

There is a promenade near the central park lined with local artists selling their wares which I wanted to check out. So glad I did that as I picked up three lovely pieces for an embarrassingly small amount of money. Art in Cuba is a really big deal. The people take tremendous pride in their work, and for good reason as there is a lot of talent in a very small space. Clearly the state has supported and encouraged the pursuit of art in a way that is so refreshingly different than how we approach art in the north. Many of the artist were also offering art classes for a small contribution or for free. In addition there were groups of children being mentored and taught to sketch and paint next to many of the artist stalls. Lovely.

While I was on my art stroll I came across a small gathering celebrating some event involving children doing a choreographed historical reenactment of what appeared to be a slavery-to-freedom scenario. Note that the two kids in the center of the photo are wearing paper chains on their wrists and ankles [click on photo to see full size]:

Just before I got close enough to snap the photo, all the kids in the back row also wore the same paper chains, but had broken them off as part of the dance. The cutie at the front was playing a Master and had earlier been wielding a whip - if you look closely you can see he's holding on to it draped around his neck. I know, it's rather startling. As I watched, I was also conducting an internal scan of my feelings in reaction to what I was witnessing. Big stuff came up. A dance like this involving children in the U.S. would be panned, strung up and probably taken to court for millions of dollars in damages for emotional distress.

We have gotten to the point in our culture where we now believe we are, at all times, entitled to live discomfort free lives. We don't talk about death, racism, politics or the brutality of our nation's history unless we're in a feverishly vitriolic state and that's usually veiled behind the anonymity afforded by the internet. This condition has no boundaries as it exists across the entire political spectrum, especially at either extreme. Is it any wonder we are circling back to rashes of violent rioting across the nation? It's happening as I type out this post - right now, go open any gringo newspaper. It is on. And don't even get me started regarding the veal-like manner in which the middle/upper-middle class are raising their spawn. Sparing your precious little one's any ounce of unease borders on cruel. I've never seen such a miserably neurotic lot of children as that of the privileged class. Slavery happened (is happening), people, and your children should be granted an unadulterated education on that and equally distressing subjects.

Phew! Sorry, I've been wanting to get that out of my system since I left the so-called 1st world. Thank you for indulging me.

I took the few hours I had left in the district to snap some more photos...

Spending supper at Marcolfa's that last evening in Havana was a perfect way to cap off my trip. She is truly a kindred spirit. I hope that with some strategizing, me and my family at home can figure out a way to bring her to San Francisco for a visit soon. She is getting up in years and I would love nothing more than to return the hospitality she showed me before it's too late for her to travel in comfort.

I got back to my hotel early enough that I had time for one last stroll before I called it a night. I even toyed with the idea of attempting another entry into one of the screenings at the International Latin American Filmfest. Over the course of my stay I tried no fewer than five times to get in with no luck whatsoever. I have major regrets about not being able to make that rare opportunity a reality. Sigh.

Sort-of side note: As I was scanning the long line outside the theater I encountered my young admirer from the first night. She called out and waved frantically at me as she was walking across the plaza with her friends, she yelled something like, "You and me, we're getting together. Believe it." I just waved, smiled and shook my head. Hilarious.

Day 8:

I packed very quickly that morning and waited eagerly in the lobby for my bus back to the airport. Very happy to be first on the route as they were a little bit late, which set them back enough for them to lose some of the subsequent passengers who were not able to wait. Such are things in Cuba.

Summary: Havana is a city of incredible contrast. Despite its state of utter decay, there is an inimitable beauty in the soul and pride of the amazing people who live there. They can be at one turn terribly unhelpful and then so generous of spirit that it boggles the mind. Marvelous and absurd. It is not a travel destination for the faint of heart or luxury seeking set. You should have a fairly decent grasp of Spanish as it will come in beyond handy. And, ladies especially, be prepared for public and bold advances in the form of cat calls and  being followed by men (and sometimes women). I was asked for my hand in marriage by Alex Rodriguez (every other man looks like A-rod) at least once a day. So weird. That said, it's worth noting that Cuba is incredibly safe and free of drug addicts and other socially unsettling issues we encounter daily in the U.S. Yes, I very much want to return to Cuba but with a companion, a solid plan for travel beyond Havana and a box of antibiotics at the ready.

Adios Cuba!