Becky Friedman
March 2, 2015
I have written around four drafts of my first blog post, each entirely different from the previous one. Some I rewrite because my feelings have changed so drastically from the last time I procrastinated going to the WiFi centers, and once because I ended up without a computer. But the point is, it’s hard for me to decide to write about, which information is worthy of broadcasting to my friends and family whom I have communicated with only once since arriving in Cuba. It’s kind of a big deal, seeing as these blog posts and points of email exchange are turning out to be few and far in between.
Some highlights:
-I got a wicked sunburn yesterday at the beach, but I put my feet in the ocean
-I got sick, our friend Yoss calls it “Montezuma’s revenge”
-We started classes at an art school called el ISA, I encourage you to check out photos of the architecture on Google
-I got pickpocketed, and then my computer broke
-I’ve finally gotten a good grip on the transportation system here
-My Spanish is improving!
-Saw a great movie “La Pared de Palabras,” (Mom, we should watch this one together. It’s a tearjerker.)
-I went on the Internet once. It was awful.
-Have been seeing a bunch of great concerts and artists
-Overall feeling really great but really really sweaty all the time
I won’t lie; I am thoroughly enjoying the experience of being so disconnected from everything outside of Cuba (by the way, have they found MH370 yet?). I am more present, and absorbed in the moment than I feel I ever have been. I even started reading for fun, and TRULY for fun, which I haven’t done since middle school. I do feel homesick in some ways, homesick for kale, pine nuts, Brie cheese, and IPAs. And I’m always missing my dog.
Things are good. I was expecting to have such a difficult time adjusting to life in a country where there are no Starbucks, no McDonalds, no Kraft products and sometimes no toilet paper. Logistically and linguistically, things are much different here. Cubans speak as fast as Olympic track athletes run. And without such an established grid of communication like we’re used to in the US, sometimes things get lost in translation, like when you’re going to meet up with someone, or where. And while it may be frustrating in the moment, it’s a great lesson in surrendering to the flow. That’s really all that’s required of you…and the courage to ask Cubans to “por favor, puedes anunciar poco mas y hablar mas despacio?” But things are similar in that people are almost always willing to lend a hand when you ask for directions, smile at you when they figure out you speak infantile Spanish, and support you when you need to be supported.
It is true that in Cuba there are lots of old cars. But there is a lot less of what people were telling me there would be. For instance, if I brought back exactly one cigar for everyone who asked me (although some jokingly) to bring them one, I would not be able to fit them in my suitcase. The only people I see smoking cigars, though, are tourists. Most of my Cuban friends don’t even drink or smoke cigarettes. And while there are a bunch of old cars, there are also a lot of new ones. There is an enormous disparity between tourist Cuba and actual Cuba, and I find myself in an awkward in between position, scoffing at the tourists being led into restaurants by jineteros, smoking cigars they paid too much for, and using taxis and not public busses or boteros, but I’m also enjoying full access to the city because of the highly privileged financial position I’m in. It’s complicated and hypocritical. (The average Cuban salary is $20 CUC a month. And though I don’t spend it all, I am allotted $20 CUC a day to spend on food and transportation. I can eat at the fanciest restaurants each night without going over budget. It’s absurd.)
But the separation I referenced runs deeper than just the financial benefits that tourists themselves enjoy. Tourism in Cuba, for example, promotes racism. Hotels are more inclined to hire lighter skinned workers, and for unjustifiable reasons. Hotel workers may not receive a generous salary, but are often tipped by customers. Even a tip of one CUC (roughly $1 USD) is a day’s salary for an average Cuban. But on a good day, if a hotel worker gets five tips of one CUC, they’re getting essentially a week’s salary. You can see how the tourism industry is increasingly and exponentially separating itself from the rest of Cuba.
So there are a lot of these hard realities that I’m encountering, feeling angry about, and then reflecting on. I’m just not sure how to confront them yet. I know not to confront them with anger, which is my instinct to injustices, but that I should embrace them somehow. I think the right move is to go with the flow until I learn what else to do.
If you made it this far, thanks for reading! I’m not sure when the next time I’ll have access to the Internet is, but please email me. I love getting email!