Part I: here and there and bleh
So I’ve been to the beach twice. It’s a short 20 minute ride to the Playas Del Este (East Beaches), specifically the beach
Santa Maria. The first time, five seconds after going into the water, I was attacked by a rogue jellyfish tentacle. Jellyfish are pretty rampant during this season, although when I went they were all washed up on shore and dead. They look like little blue plastic bubbles full of air. It’s really strange. But anyway, this tentacle latched onto the cool camera I told you about (underwater one) and then went up my arm leaving me with a burning sensation and bitterness. The easiest (and only, basically) cure is to get out of the water and rub sand on the sting. So I did that… definitely not the best option, but the pain went away after an hour, but it was still tender for a few days. Literally no jellyfish in the water, but ONE tentacle just floating…. Why me? Oh well, no pain no gain—do it for the story. It left a cool mark for a few days also.
But really the beach is awesome, albeit a tidbit windy, but the water is super blue and almost clear like all those beaches in Sandals, Jamaica commercials… just with rogue jellyfish tentacles. But no, it’s awesome and really close, although riddled with tourists of course, but also thoroughly enjoyed by Cubans. There is a ritual of partying and staying up all night then taking a cheap bus to the beach for the next day of passing out and swimming in the ocean. It’s like a year round MTV spring break special… but no, this privilege is of course 1000x cheaper than any adventure as such in the US, but for them, moderately priced. I still haven’t performed the ritual, but when I do, I’ll have better comments and probably a million times more accurate statements that make more sense.
The events of this blog may/may not be in any correct chronological order. Events/time is all warped here and it’s sometimes difficult distinguishing last week from the 3 weeks before. There is a huge event at the University that is an Olympics of sort, that I might have mentioned, but I, as in ME, was supposed to do a triathlon/biathlon… what?! Our friend/teacher/helper Jenni assigned us sporting events to do and I was apparently deemed qualified for the triathlon. Well, I didn’t get to attempt the feat, because I was getting my first real taste of the Cuban Bureaucracy or as they call it: burro-cracia (if you speak Spanish this will be funny). We went to the immigration office (which apparently moved, of course, to a new building in the last year so my advisor was really confused) to literally put a fingerprint on a piece of paper, have her judge our hair/eye color, and tell her our height… in meters which none of us knew. Another metaphor for
Cuba—US—world relations??? Oh, and also our parents’ names? That’s apparently the most important part (I am John son of Mark and Kelle, 1.7 meters high, here to conquer
Cuba with my new temporary residency card). A five second process for each of us that took, you know, over 2 hours. We get there at 8:15ish to be there for the opening at 8:30, but the first security guard/employee said it doesn’t open until 9. 5 minutes later, this was a lie, we’re waiting in the immigration office, that doesn’t seemed to have changed much from the 60s except for the few computers they had and the craziness the ladies add to their uniforms literally straight from the 60s. They were green and reminded me of what the peons of any old James Bond movie villain would wear. Very military-esque and very vintage. The ladies, to add any sort of flare, accessorize with intensely patterned fishnet stockings and any sort of makeup combination (our first helper was donning shiny blue-silver eye shadow).
Well the office did open at 8:30 so there we sat talking amongst ourselves while Anita, our advisor, tried to figure out what was happening. Well. The lady who is in charge of putting finger prints on the pieces of paper that then go into the immigration file with all our information couldn’t come into work until 9 because her child was sick. Which we all could empathize with, but as Anita said, you always need a plan B. This lady was the ONLY one in the office who was authorized to do this job amongst the several other employees and she also had the key, to unlock the files/get the fingerprinting gunk. Anita talked to the blue eye shadow woman about why/how this was happening and the lady was a little sassy. Next thing we know, a man donned in a straight up military suit came over and started a huge argument with Anita. Everyone in the office was just so confused/actually probably so used to it. But it was super intense. Eventually the woman came and our 5 second processes took place and then we left.
When this story was told to other Cubans, the response was generally unanimous: Bienvenidos a Cuba! But really, this experience is not too far off from experiences I’ve had in the US. Considered a socialist country, Cuba is notoriously recognized for having long lines and a teeming bureaucracy, but I’ve had my fair share of lines. Any DMV experience for example is a pretty pure example of how it felt here in the immigration office. You have to have the right documents at the right time in the right place with x, y, and z, just to get what? Something so miniscule in the grand scheme of life. I wonder how long the average wait/line length for the newest iPhone compared to the average wait/line length here for any sort of socialist rationing. Capitalism vs Socialism metaphor? I know I’ve waited in super long lines to see Harry Potter or buy things on their “release” day, but people here do it for basic necessities. Which system is worse? I don’t have the words or ability to grasp this comparison at the moment so I’ll leave it to you and continue documenting my experience.
Another interesting socialist(ish) event is the Festival de Libros (the Book Festival) that takes place during the month of February all over the country. It was in Habana for a week, and I got to go to one of the few places (the main one was held in a castle of course). You pay a small entrance fee and from there you check your bags (even my small camera bag), but it was full of food places, a stage with live music/random music just being played, games, other random things to buy, but most importantly: books. The selection was moderately large, but it was interesting to see what was available and for how much. There were a lot of history of the revolution books, about Che, about Fidel—most of them pretty in favor of Bolivarian-esque/Cuban revolution ideologies. Also a pretty big selection of children’s books (which the majority of my purchases were). Well, I bought a Che biography, The Brief and Marvelous life of Oscar Wao (which was on the Daily Show), random children’s books, revolutionary coloring books (hah), and whatever else looked cool at the time (it was hard to concentrate with dozens of Cubans all over the place and blaring music), but all of it was for under $3USD. Can you imagine buying any NEW, 2010 published book in the US for less than a dollar? Maybe a bootleg kindle version, but really, the government really promotes literacy and education here (what they’re learning is debatable, I know, I know). After the huge Cuban Literacy campaign that took place around 1961 in which the government sent trained teachers across the country to every inch, to every population basically, to teach them how to read, it worked with amazing results, illiteracy was basically eradicated. I love the idea of a national festival for books that are so CHEAP. Even for Cuban standards these books were cheap. I don’t know how much they were subsidized by the government, or how much publishers in the US jack up book prices, but looking at my childhood full of like 3 books and 3000 video games and TV shows, I kind of wish literature was a stronger component in my upbringing (I’m not blaming you mom and dad ;) ). But imagine a huge national festival in the US with Harry Potter books, history books, science books, whatever, for a fraction of the price? How many people choose to actually read the books is debatable, but a government that subsidizes such a huge campaign, something to think about.
Part II: El Bloqueo Social (the Social Blockade)
A Venezuelan grad student at the University here had been staying at our hotel for the past 2 years before he decided to move out and rent his own place. We became friends with him here and there, hanging out with him, so he invited us to his going away party! It was in the bar of our hotel and let’s just say DJJD came out (first debut in Cuba), but it was fun. Until the end. Juan Carlos is a server/employee here at the hotel and Lou, him, and I had a sort of heart-to-heart ordeal…. He told us how important it was to him and everyone that we are happy when they serve us, help us out, and that if they need to change anything we should let them know right away. We were so taken aback. We assured him everything is awesome and perfect and that it’s not that we don’t like the food, just sometimes we don’t want to eat something on our plate or a side dish, but that it’s not because we’re ungrateful it’s just our preference. He still wasn’t convinced and to this day (after hanging out with him more than once) still treats us as customers when he’s working, it’s depressing. I don’t want to feel like a distinguished guest here in the hotel, but that’s just how/who I am here. They take their jobs seriously (to an extent) and they want to make sure that we are always comfortable, no matter what. Every employee here is amazing and it’s sort of like a host family, just bigger and full of more drama. I just can’t be and won’t ever be Cuban, and it’s recognized that I am a guest estadounidense, but we’ll see what happens by the end of the trip.
On the Malecon, we met these two men passing by hoping to pick up a few pesos for playing some music. We declined their serenade, but then we started to talk and talk we did for a really long time. The Malecon, as mentioned previously, is the road that goes along the water with an amazing walk way and is full of the most interesting characters. Anyway, these men explained to us their political views (also another Malecon trait/Cuban trait). But they proposed to me a new idea. That the blockade hasn’t affected the governments anymore, it’s affected mostly the people. He described it as a social blockade. To keep up with the image of being the only surviving communist regime, sacrifices were made and rights were/are still debated on their level of actual freedom. They explained May 1st, which is national workers day in Cuba, is a big hypocrisy. If you don’t go because you have to work/don’t want to participate and if you’re caught, you’re questioned why you aren’t there. It’s supposed to be a day to celebrate the hard workers of Cuba, but if you’re working during the festival, you look like a counterrevolutionary. Of course the situation isn’t as black and white as this, but the men explained it as such. In the book I’m reading (Without Fidel) the author does mention the government’s extremes to keep the regime the way it is, cycling through employees, firing them for any sort of reasons, to keep the regime focused on the socialist, revolutionary ideology.
Imagine the US being the only “capitalist”, or whatever your definition of the US is, country left in the world, how would the government/people react? What if our economy began to plunder because no one was willing to cooperate with us because some other superpower declared our system of economics/government a threat, a dictatorship, whatever, would you stay as dedicated to the system? What if you were the government would you fight as hard as possible to keep things the way they are, the government you fought to get to the place it is? What sacrifices/methods/means would you make/do to get your ends? After being here in Cuba and empathizing with Castro (in whatever manner I have), I can understand the pride he has in this country and why not fight as hard as possible to keep the country the way you dreamed it to be? Of course there have been failures. After the Soviet Union collapsed, Cuba lost its $5 billion aid and had no back up plan (of course there is a very vague statement), but essentially, as someone else told me, Cuba lost its bubble of perfect socialism.
Many people fled to the US, many people stayed, but Cuba lost, I believe, about 10% of their population in the ultimate exodus to Miami, New Jersey, New York, wherever. Who knows if these people have found the “American Dream”, but they fled from what they saw as a lie, a failure, a breach on the Cuba they once knew; what’s ironic is that most of these people were for the revolution at first, but defected for whatever reason. What would happen if the same situation occurred in the US? Hypothetical situations are easier ways to empathize with things, although of course we can never know what it was like for Cuba when their economy was destroyed and people began to eat fried grapefruit rind steaks. True story. No government system is perfect, but the revolution brought Cuba to an interesting place and equality and nationalism were at an all time high. But slowly, as the US gained more power and Russia faltered, and pressure was put on Cuba from every which direction, obviously a country that’s main exports are sugar, coffee, and doctors, couldn’t self-sustain and plummeted. The economy here is now slowly getting better, but because (personal beliefs here) of the introduction of the dollar. Tourists can now come and stay in hotels across the country, take tours in brand new Chinese made buses with quirky phrases printed on the seats such as “Buest Guide!” or “Good Road!”. The tourism industry is booming, but few are reaping the benefits as the country is so profoundly socialist. The average monthly salary is still $10-$30USD, although capitalism exists here in Cuba. Now that US-Cubans can send as much money as they want, a reintroduction of classes has appeared that the revolution sought to eradicate. More on this later, it’s getting winded and I’m blah blah-ing.
Part III: This is NOT a Vacation
I know I’m living in a Caribbean country, with warm temperature, 4 day weekends, cheap rum; I’m not here on vacation. I’m not a tourist here, I’m a temporary resident here to learn about Cuba and Cuban culture, however hard that is for me, I still don’t know. But I’m in a place that I have no idea what I’m doing. Even going to a restaurant is a challenge sometimes. Using the internet has become an obstacle. Talking to someone I’ve seen everyday for a month here at the hotel is challenging. The classes are getting increasingly harder and more intense, and by the end of it, I will have to complete at least 3 projects. All of them, I believe have a paper and oral component, so by the end of this I will have researched 3 different things and written almost 30 pages of Spanish academic research writingish and given 3 however long presentations in a different language.
Talking with people is a challenge as they know very little about the US although they’d like to believe they are experts. I have to defend my country in surprising ways, sometimes things I don’t even agree with, but I have to get my message across. It’s not an easy process, but it’s what I signed up for. And it’s what I love. And it’s a challenge I accept full heartedly. But I don’t want anyone to think I’m here on a beach all the time drinking a mojito, or taking the easiest classes ever. Everything has become a challenge and I’m still learning everything here from the bottom up.
Meh, this is long and I’m antsy to just post whatever I’ve written.
But it’s so sunny and warm here, sorry
John
