Week One

My first few days here I kept imagining that I was in Mexico. The buildings, the sounds all very similar but still distinct making them foreign to me. I thought why didn’t I just go to Mexico? What was the point in condemning myself to a country with next to no Wifi, no spicy food, and an almost incomprehensible accent? Still deja-vu finds me everywhere. 

The thing is, if I had gone to Mexico I wouldn’t have felt foreign--out of place. I would of felt at home. 

With the US embassy opening-up and word that Cubans are excited to finally have Americans visit again my expectations for feeling welcomed were high. I thought my accent, my Californian style, and my outward expression of confusion would signal enough that I am American--then, that I would be greeted with smiles and small talk. 

Apparently, my Spanish isn’t as horrible as I thought. I’m regularly asked by new acquaintances if I was born elsewhere in Latin America (I’ve even had a Cuban ask me for directions).

Even when I’m accompanied by the 6ft. tall rubio in my program--who is greeted with smiles and small talk--I am hardly acknowledged. The professor looking at both of us asks if I am in the same program. 

Despite seemingly fitting in, I know I am unwelcome. Study abroad advertises to prospective students that once they are noticed they will befriend natives with ease. That the new part of the world they are in will help them navigate through the experience. 

I’m used to Americans being the bad guys in my classes. Our hegemony over a region, Our gross consumption of goods, Our bigoted sense of importance, Our inability to care about anyone but ourselves--unless of course--it’s beneficial to us in some way, etc. But I am also used to being included in the discussion; not being the subject.  

Sections of books read aloud talk about how the Yankees brought their style, English terms, and technology influencing Cuban art and society. The tone is one of resentment and hints at a cultural takeover. I noticed Spaniards are not resented in the intercambio community and I’m almost certain as to why. 

A history professor who seemed friendly at first stated that the last Americans in his class left half-way through the semester, possibility a fault of his own or that they just couldn’t understand. He continued lecture making jokes about the American perspective of history (many of which I thought were funny). In reality, the laughter aimed to mask what was really thought. At the end of class when it was time to exchange flash drives to download textbooks, it was clear that neither the professor nor his regular students were interested in sharing. 

I also feel unwelcome in another way. My professor for Marxist-Leninist Theory’s first name is Marxlenin. The first class, which was predominantly filled with American students, she rhetorically asked if we were all communists--assuming so. Instantly, I felt like a red in the Cold War.

I am not here to share my ideas but to listen to others; however, it is strange to feel so limited. Another professor, before lightly critiquing the university felt shy to express herself because the door was open. Professors at UCSD and even my high school teachers never gave a shit about such things. A professor at UCSD once shut down the entire UCSD network because he didn’t agree with administration.

Lastly, I was warned by a new friend to not make an expression that stood for “Cuba libre” because it could be dangerous depending who may be attentive. 

We learn by contrast. We can’t learn about the world from one place just as a bird can’t learn to fly in its nest. The comparisons we make, so long as we are open to viewing both sides, can help us grow and I’m sure it will.