Cuba 2003
April 14, 2009
I was lucky enough to go to Cuba for three weeks in 2003 through my school to study Afro-Cuban religion and shrines. The only thing I regret is that I didn't take more pictures, but the only camera that I had was my grandfathers 30 year old Canon camera that I barely knew how to use. It just goes to show how amazingly beautiful it was there that the few pictures that I did get came out so great. I cried for two days when I got home and developed the black and white roll and found out that I had put the film in wrong and all of the pictures were blank except the one of the Malecon.
We traveled from one end of Cuba to the other in a beat up, bright blue bus, staying a week or so in Havana, then moving on to see Santiago de Cuba, Trinidad, Baracoa, Camaguey, and Santa Clara.
We had rum and black beans at the "Bar Floridita", Hemingway's favorite watering hole in Havana, and were invited to an art show by a local artist who produced gorgeous woodcut and linoleum prints. He even took us to his studio where several other artists were working and told us about how, in Cuba, to be an artist (musician, dancer, painter, writer, etc) was the most respected profession. There was so much passion and pride in them, I didn't doubt it. Everywhere you look there is amazing architecture, murals, art, sculptures, colors & movement. If you close your eyes there is music everywhere at every moment, and the smell from the diesel cars burns your nose and imprints a distinct memory of Havana, so that even now whenever I smell diesel I'm taken back to that moment.
We roasted a pig on the beach of Baracoa in the pouring rain, while a smiling man in a shed poured us unbelievably strong rum and cokes (a Cuban original called a Cuba libre). Quite possibly the best day of my life.
I could go on forever, it's amazing how many memories fit into that short 3 weeks, whereas in contrast I've had months that go by where I don't remember a thing that happened. *sigh* I wish I wasn't such a wimp and I could go and travel by myself. I don't want to see touristy places, I want to see all the places off the map, explore!
We traveled from one end of Cuba to the other in a beat up, bright blue bus, staying a week or so in Havana, then moving on to see Santiago de Cuba, Trinidad, Baracoa, Camaguey, and Santa Clara.
We had rum and black beans at the "Bar Floridita", Hemingway's favorite watering hole in Havana, and were invited to an art show by a local artist who produced gorgeous woodcut and linoleum prints. He even took us to his studio where several other artists were working and told us about how, in Cuba, to be an artist (musician, dancer, painter, writer, etc) was the most respected profession. There was so much passion and pride in them, I didn't doubt it. Everywhere you look there is amazing architecture, murals, art, sculptures, colors & movement. If you close your eyes there is music everywhere at every moment, and the smell from the diesel cars burns your nose and imprints a distinct memory of Havana, so that even now whenever I smell diesel I'm taken back to that moment.
We roasted a pig on the beach of Baracoa in the pouring rain, while a smiling man in a shed poured us unbelievably strong rum and cokes (a Cuban original called a Cuba libre). Quite possibly the best day of my life.
I could go on forever, it's amazing how many memories fit into that short 3 weeks, whereas in contrast I've had months that go by where I don't remember a thing that happened. *sigh* I wish I wasn't such a wimp and I could go and travel by myself. I don't want to see touristy places, I want to see all the places off the map, explore!
