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Impressions from My Recent Trip to Cuba

Written by: Andy Achsen 12/24/2009 3:53:56 PM
It is immediately apparent, once you pass through customs, that Cuba is a
country, which has been brought to its knees physically and financially.
But it is equally apparent that as a people, Cubans stand tall in pride and
spirit. Out of windows and doorways, music fills the air; and, on the waves
of rumba and mambo, clothes billow in tropical breezes off balconies.

At every turn, there is grandeur and dilapidation in the extreme. In its
faded glory, Havana is a city distinctly European in architectural design.
While Havana resembles a bombed-out, post-war Berlin, the people are
remarkably spirited and self-possessed.

Driven by a struggling economy, there is never a missed opportunity to
appeal for money. An elderly women knocked daily on our tour bus window
with outstretched hands. Men and women alike seduce you openly. A small boy
approached a fellow traveler and, for five Pesos, offered his mother, whom
he claimed was a virgin. A fifteen-year-old boy selling trinkets, after
giving me my change, plaintively asked if I had a bar of soap to give him,
which I did.

Images of Fidel, Ché and Marti are on the walls of buildings throughout the
city and country. Colorful, vintage taxis — mostly Chryslers and Chevrolets
— zip through Havana’s chaotic and narrow streets with crammed-in
passengers, who share these taxis. I have this crazy impression that the
Cubans are on their way to everywhere and nowhere.

People are generally friendly, but careful and decidedly guarded. And
almost every encounter I had, in which a friendly smile was exchanged was
interpreted as a prelude to an exchange of quite a different nature. And
lurking in our hotel lobby were the watchful eyes of overtly obvious,
smartly dressed, athletic-looking government spies. Stray dogs crisscross
and weave their way through Havana’s streets and roads. Mostly, however,
you see them curled up — lethargic and anemic — in the shadows.

Music can be heard everywhere and it is often spontaneous and occasionally
combustible. Example: We left a Babalow’s (Santeria priest) house, walked
around the corner down a cobblestone street, and found ourselves drawn into
an abandoned building, where a jam session was taking place with wildly
talented musicians. Attracting locals, we were soon surrounded by aged
women gyrating to the rhythms of their youth.

Cuba is an exquisite painting, a distressed canvas of vivid colors,
remarkable shapes and thrilling sounds, all framed in dictatorship and
black market. Exhilarating and heartbreaking, Cuba leaves an indelible
impression and its sensuous pleasure will linger on long after you’ve
returned home.
 




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