See You in Cienfuegos – Day 7

If one thinks that Che Guevara is everywhere in Havana, they haven’t been to Cienfuegos. He’s everywhere – the kids’ school uniforms, shirts, billboards, bumper stickers, flags…..I’m marginally surprised that his iconic visage wasn’t plastered inside of the toilets.

Cienfuegos is gorgeous. It’s clean, manicured, and happy.

I thought that Havana was hard to beat, but I’ll go out on a limb and say that Cienfuegos is the most beautiful city in Cuba. It’s certainly the most beautiful city that I’ve ever been to in my entire life.

One thing that does strike me is how much wealth there was here before the 1959 Revolution. The mansions are incredible. The infrastructure is awesome.

All of this is coming from a girl that grew up in very affluent towns in New Jersey, too. Their mansions make my neighbors’ look like cabins. I can certainly understand the resentment between the “haves” and “have-nots” in Cuba’s Batista years. The wealth discrepancy was certainly momentous!

The mansion in the above picture was seized after the 1959 Revolution by the new socialist government and now serves as government-owned restaurant. That’s the view from my hotel room. Sweet, eh?

Cuba still seems to be a country of “haves” and “have-nots”. Although their social “floor” is much sturdier than the US’s, there are still issues that Cubans battle daily. Unemployment seems to be the most frustrating issue that young Cubans face. Many have shiny university degrees and are unemployed or grossly underemployed – sound familiar recent US grads?!

There are many idle hands in Cuba, but so. little. crime. It nearly baffles me until I remember that they do not need to steal to feed their families. Crime in my hometown is directly correlated to the rise in unemployment according to the local police. Hrm.

I certainly feel safer in Havana and Cienfuegos than I do in Philadelphia, Washington DC, or New York.

And the cars are much sweeter.

Remembering the USS Maine

Remember the Maine?

(Morro Castle fortress on the right)

The US battleship that blew up in Havana’s harbor in 1898? And was justification for war against Spain – known as the Spanish-American war? Surely it was mentioned in your 8th grade US History class.

I am the great-great granddaughter of one of the 266 Americans that died in the explosion and sinking of the battleship.

I was fortunate enough to have had the opportunity to view the Havana harbor from the Morro Castle fortress for myself. 

Morro Castle Fortress – Habana, Cuba

Having seen the Maine’s mast in Arlington National Cemetery countless times, and seen my great-great grandfather’s name etched into its memorial, I feel as if I’ve tied some sort of loose end that I didn’t even know was loose.

Very eery, but humbling. I’m so grateful for this experience.

(black and white photo from Wikipedia page)

An American and the Bay of Pigs – Day 6

Getting up this early everyday is tough, but today was different. We boarded the bus to Cienfuegos bright and early after as many cups of espresso I could manage, and I nearly fell asleep as our tour guide read off our itinerary for the day over the microphone.

My inner dialogue had a field day as I slowly dozed off:

“Uhhh, I wish José would just let us sleep already…” I complained to myself.

“He’s just doing his job, Caitlin! Stop bitching!” I scolded.

“Why did I insist on staying up so late last night? How many drinks did I have? I didn’t smoke the last of my cigars, did I?! Hopefully I still have cash left! Goddamn politics keeping me from using my ATM card…”

“Shut up! You stayed up late because you’re in Cuba. The one place you’ve wanted to go since you were very young – and you’re getting the chance to see it before it becomes another bloody ‘Sandals’ resort. You shouldn’t be sleeping at all!”

Then the lone historian on the trip (yours truly) hears one of the most beautiful things that she could possibly hear – ever.

“We’ll be stopping at Playa Girón, soon – better known in the States as the Bay of Pigs.”

I shrieked.

No really, I did. And woke up the entire bus. 

I may have been the only one that cared, but that didn’t stop me from trying to explain to whomever would listen how and why the place is so significant to an American historian – and should be to all Americans.

Upon our arrival I ran off the bus so quickly that I forgot my camera to take pictures of the actual bay itself. Take my word for it – its gorgeous. Rocky shoreline, pristinely clear, sapphire blue water. Lovely. I managed pictures inside the museum, though.

I was most excited to see just how the Bay of Pigs invasion was depicted to the Cuban people in a Cuban museum versus what Americans are taught in school and American museums. As you can see, its pretty much the opposite of what we’re taught:

"Victory of Socialism" - ever think we'd see this in an American museum?

 The above sign above is right beyond the front doors. It may make Bill O’Reilly’s stomach turn, but even he would have to admit that the Bay of Pigs invasion actually was a victory for Socialism. America failed miserably thanks to unnamed politicians, CIA, FBI, and military personnel. Pride clouded better judgement.

In this historian’s opinion the events surrounding the Bay of Pigs invasion and the Cuban Revolution itself says more about 19th, 20th, and 21st century America than any other event in American history. I was honored to have seen the invasion directly through the Cuban government’s eyes – because, yes, the government controls the museums in a socialist state and thus should be taken with a grain of salt (as you should always take something, mind you!)

"Now, in all cases, those Cubans that die like those at Playa Giron die for their unique, true, indispensable independence. - Fidel" (how's my translation, Spanish speakers?)

The exhibit was fascinating to me. The discrepancy between what I’ve been told my entire life and what I was witnessing could not have been any more different:

This particular caption I found to be incredibly moving.

That is not necessarily a false statement. In fact, its historically accurate. “La Coubre” was a French ship that was carrying Belgian munitions to Havana in 1960 after the overthrow of Batista’s government. With the Americans having just lost a lot of business interest on the island, Castro and the new Cuban government were rightfully fearful of an American-backed invasion (a very valid fear, obviously!) and had little with which to defend themselves.

It’s speculated that the CIA blew up the ship in harbor – killing at least 75 Cubans and injuring hundreds more.

Ironically enough, the fear of being disarmed (or prevented from doing so) is a core fear in US political circles. If Americans have a right to defend themselves, why doesn’t everyone else?

Just saying.

I just visited my own Mecca.

And yes, there are pigs at the Bay of Pigs.

The wild pigs that settlers found scavenging for food along the shoreline gave it its name.

The Beauty (and Humanity) in Simplicity – Day 5

We left Habana for Viñales in Pinar Del Rio Province this morning. The few hours’ drive was magical – the landscape is breathtakingly untouched. Being that I was born in Philadelphia and raised in the New Jersey suburbs, it was quite a novel sight for me. Random chickens and cows roamed alongside the highways, and there were hitchikers everywhere – something also very novel to me.

There is certainly a trust and respect that exists between Cubans that doesn’t not exist between Americans. I’ll admit that it makes me yearn for it here in the States.

And my hotel room for the night?

Hotel Los Jazmines - Viñales, Pinar Del Rio Province, Cuba

This place is so simple that there is no air conditioning and there are no screens. The mattresses were no doubt from the 1950s. I didn’t care, surprisingly –  the view more than made up for the lack of the creature comforts that I’m used to in the States.

And those hills in the background? They’re known as mogotes – 100% limestone hills that exist in the Caribbean, but Cuba’s are the most famous – and beautiful – in my opinion. Below my window in the foreground was a family farm:

The structure in the bottom right is a tobacco-drying hut. Certainly no frills, and I’m willing to bet that no electricity helps the tobacco-curing process in there!

Tonight I sat on the hotel’s pool deck under the stars with a cigar and a Cuba Libre (rum and “Coke” – I think Cuba is the only place in the world that does not import Coca-Cola!) and was able to pick the brains of a few Cubans that will forever remain unnamed. We talked for hours about politics, history, and the future for our two countries. Thankfully, they humored (what seemed to me to be) my ignorant questions, and I soon noticed that I was the one asking the questions – they weren’t. I was much more ignorant of their way of life, their politics, their point of view, than they were about mine, funnily enough. And according to our government, they’re supposed to be the ones living in ignorance! Not necessarily so. They were desperate to foster understanding and to show me that Cuba is grossly misunderstood in America – and I’ve come to understand that they’re correct.

I’m a self-professed politically, and historically-savvy person, but I’ll avoid soapboxes and rants here on my blog. All that I will say is that Americans need to stop taking the word of their government and to figure things out for themselves. Turn off the news and pick up a history book – come to your own conclusions. I understand that being a historian I am biased, but learning about our past tells us more about our future than any political pundit or economic expert ever could. This goes for people of all nations – not just America – but in America we have no right to plead ignorance whatsoever.

Another aspect of Cuban life that I found to be incredibly heartwarming and charming was their utilization of local and in-season foods. They’re not importing Del Monte, Chiquita, or Dole bananas to sell at $0.40/lb – they’re purchasing mangoes from their neighbor or growing it themselves. Their carbon/food/waste footprint is much, much smaller than America’s for sure.

Early morning visitor outside my window

Don’t get me wrong – I love bananas – and I’m fortunate to have grown up being able to taste foods from all over the world during any season my little heart desires, but it does come at the expense of another.

Being a mango lover, however, I was grateful that there are plenty of mangoes in Cuba – they’re everywhere, and they’re the freshest and most delicious I’ve ever tasted. I don’t think that I’ve ever eaten so much fruit in my life – guava, papaya and honeydew are everywhere as well.

I can’t say however, that after this trip that I will be motivated to purchase mangoes back home at my local grocery store – I’ve come to appreciate the ultimate cost for consuming foods that have to travel such distances to my plate, and am more motivated to support local farmers – even if that means paying a bit more at the register.

The living in Cuba is much simpler than in America, unsurprisingly. While many would argue that simple is synonymous with poverty and misery in Cuba’s case, I must disagree. The Cubans aren’t living the materially extravagant lives that Americans are, but their lives are much richer culturally, spiritually and familially. I’m truly beginning to see the virtue in the Cuban way of life, and beginning to question my own back in the States.

I’ve certainly felt more human on this trip than I ever have in my entire life.

Where there’s a problem, there’s a beer – Day 4

View from Parque Central Hotel - Habana, Cuba

We spent the day in lectures at the University of Havana today. Going from the hot, steamy streets of Havana to comfortably air-conditioned classrooms took its toll on all of us (being in nightclubs until the sun comes up doesn’t help much either) – there was not a single soul in the group that was able to fight sleepiness successfully.

I tried my best to process what I was hearing between my own head-bobs – it was unfortunate that I was in the state that I was because the lecture seemed to be catered just for me. We were versed on the problems that Cuba – as a socialist nation that eschews foreign investment  - faces in regards to preserving and restoring their national historic treasures. And boy, does Cuba have them. In old Havana alone, there’s 500+ years of Spanish, French, American, and Soviet architecture and history. And of course there’s thousands of years of Taino (native Caribbean people) history to honor as well.

Plaza de las Armas - Old Habana, Cuba

So how does one raise the funds to restore and preserve such national treasures in a socialist nation?

A nation that also eschews foreign investment?

In a city that also takes a beating from the ocean’s salt spray and is in the line of fire for yearly hurricanes?

Typical limestone facade in Old Havana - needing some work (?)

I don’t know – its tough issue to resolve, and Cuba is still trying their best to figure it out. It was reassuring, however, to know that the Cuban people are quite concerned with remembering and honoring their history – one that is as colorful and as patch-worked as America’s. It makes this historian’s heart flutter!

(I will tell you though – its obvious that Cuba doesn’t have many archivists and conservationists. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw how some of their 17th, 18th, and 19th century national flags are displayed and stored!)

Actually, its Cuban-sourced limestone with fossilized coral and shells!

From the things that I’ve been fed in the U.S. media and over the course of my education, I expected Fidel and the 1959 revolutionaries to have destroyed everything that honored pieces of their history from times other than their own, but it was simply not the case. The revolutionaries left it all - from Spanish gubernatorial mansions to 1950s US department storefronts and 17th century stone fortresses to even a bust of U.S. President Abraham Lincoln (!) - they saw the value in displaying the patch-worked quilt that is their history. Heck, they even left the 1950s U.S. cars!

What was most heartening of all was to hear that Cuba was developing technical and trade educational programs for young Cubans that decide that a traditional university education may not be for them. Cuba is in need of woodworkers, ironworkers, and other types of artisans to help with the Old Havana restoration plans, and instead of bringing in foreign workers or outsourcing the work (ahem, sound like a similar sentiment, Americans?) Cuba plans to diversify its population’s skill set. 

The Capitol building - Habana, Cuba

 

Cuba is making the bulk of its money from tourism at the moment, and contrary to popular belief there is private enterprise on the island – providing private investment in community projects such as these. The funds trickle in but the Old Havana restoration plan is projected to take 45 years! Yikes.

Many in the U.S. hate Cuba for reasons I will not get into. Just as many think less of me for going and coming back with nice things to say about such a lovely place. Those comments seem to come from those that have not had the opportunity to experience the Cuban spirit in Cuba itself (Miami does NOT count)  - for if they did, they would see that Cuba (despite governmental and economic differences) faces the same problems that the U.S. does. They have the same wants and concerns.

Habana, Cuba

The difference is – in Cuba many problems can be cured with a beer. Or so I’ve been told.

Awakening – Day 3

We had the rare and incredible opportunity to visit Cuban artist Jose Fuster‘s house on the outskirts of Havana. Words fail me, so please hang in there.

Perhaps I should just show you pictures. They certainly speak for themselves.

A nod to one of Cuba's favorite pastimes

The guts of a masterpiece

Inside Fuster's studio

Inspiration in a bottle?

Fuster’s daughter-in-law was kind enough to throw together a classic Cuban meal of rice, beans, fish, fresh vegetables, and beer for a group of 30! I thought we were fortunate enough to sit amongst gorgeous art during our meal, but Fuster sat with us and openly and honestly answered our questions about being an artist in Cuba;

Student: “How do you feel about not being able to keep the profits that you earn from your art?”

Fuster: ::shrugs:: “I’d rather see happy, healthy, educated children in Cuba than keep my profits.”

Cuba encourages and reveres its artists and musicians, unsurprisingly. Fuster’s profits go back into his community – into building playgrounds, beautifying his neighbors’ houses and the neighborhood streets, and helping his neighbors make necessary home improvements. Was he toting Communist party lines? Perhaps. But I found the man to be incredibly inspiring, insightful, well-educated, friendly, and sweet like any other Cuban that I’ve had the opportunity to meet. I’m smart enough to know when I’m being spoon-fed propaganda, and I failed to sense holes in Fuster’s sincerity.

Indeed. Neighborhood homes.

Of course I left with one of his masterpieces. Not only am I a sucker for beautiful art, I know that Fuster’s profits are going towards bettering a Cuban community and not towards a new Benz. Better to bring home something like that instead of cheap chotchkies, right?

The entrance to a playground under construction

No caption needed.

Sober acid-trip, no?

Amigos – Day Two

Dear Cuba,

Old Havana, Cuidad de Habana, Cuba

I’m still in Havana – or Habana according to Cubans – and given a lovely tour of Old Havana by Cuban architect Mario Coyula of the University of Havana and Harvard University. The man is not only lovely and friendly, but brilliant, insightful, and revolutionary. How fortunate am I to be given a tour of such a beautiful and historically-significant city by such a knowledgable and brilliant man?!

The Spanish, French and American architectural influences are very apparent in Old Havana – the most historical area of the city.

While being given the tour a young Cuban asked where we were from with a large smile:

Me: “Somos Americanos.”

He: …………silence…. “Canada?” His smile subsides.

Me: “No, los Estados Unidos.”

He: ……..more silence.

Me: (thinking) “Oh god, should I have said yes?”

He: “We are so glad to see you!” his smile returning. “Our countries have been separated for far too long over nothing. Cubans have nothing against Americans – we are neighbors – we are friends – Cuba is waiting to welcome you all with open arms – bring all of your friends to Cuba! We need to end this silliness!”

I couldn’t agree more. He hugged me tight and kissed my cheek before our groups parted ways.

The city of Havana is far from perfect. Paint is expensive so many buildings are in dire need of a good sanding, priming, and fresh paint, but when your country’s priorities are putting food in everyone’s belly, educating even the most remote of peasants, and caring for the health of everyone, paint is far from a worry. The rest of the Cuban infrastructure reflects this as well.

There are book vendors on every corner of Havana – selling highly intellectual books on history, science, poetry, and literature. An old man approached us and recited poetry in return for a peso. He even left some of us notes in our notebooks.

Poesia

I’m finding the Cuban people to be very friendly, highly intelligent and educated, sweet, well-mannered, respectful, and outgoing. The children are especially charming.

Hermanos

Just some random peacock walking around the city.

And of course, there are the famous “Yank tanks” that Cuba is known for. Yes, we’re referred to as Yankees. I understand why, but I still don’t like being called a Yankee – I’m a Phillies fan myself.

Funny enough, the Yank Tanks got me wondering why Americans feel as if they need a new car every 2, 3, 4, or 5 years. These cars are running beautifully after 50+ years – why get rid of them? Cuba is certainly lacking the consumer habits that America has.

Thank god.

Love,

Caitlin