Sunday, December 13, 2015

Thanks for Reading

Within the next few days I will leave Cuba. My time here will end until an undetermined date. (I pray this will be the last internet card I will ever have to buy). 

These blog posts are more philosophical, rant-like, and opinionated than I anticipated they would be. Truthfully, I had no desire to describe the sights and sounds of the city, or the specific events that occurred here. It seemed all too redundant. Today, narrative depictions of our surroundings are reserved for tourist websites, Facebook pages, and Google advertisements--all of which are usually accompanied by many pictures. I do admit, uploading a few pictures to this blog wouldn’t have hurt (especially since Google hasn’t had the chance to take their camera cars around the island). However, considering that the connection in most places around the city is usually not stable enough to upload pictures, and that it’s also costly to sit and wait for those pictures to be posted--I decided to let it be.  

Instead, I wrote of my thoughts of this country and of the world that developed in my time here. If through this blog you were able to imagine the environment that led to the bud of those thoughts, then you’ve seen more of Cuba through my perspective than if I had described it as the setting of a fiction novel; or a better example yet (since I might get a something for writing this blog), than if I had described it as Columbus richly depicted the “New World” to his foreign benefactors. 

If this blog only made you more confused about Cuba, well that’s great too, because if you were like me (someone who didn’t think to ask let alone know what questions to ask) at least now you have a few questions to start with. Call me for lunch or coffee and I’d be happy to work out the confusion together. 

Perhaps I will continue to add to this blog for the first few weeks upon my return to include any post reflection that I may have, but for now this is it. Thanks for reading. 

Wednesday, December 9, 2015

Ready

One of the only expectations I had in coming to Cuba was to gain more confidence in my Spanish. That hasn’t happened. I don’t actually think I’ve improved my Spanish but I did learn Cuban Spanish. 

When I first got here I was shocked at how my cuban brother would talk to his grandmother. He addresses her frequently as coño or asere, the former being about the equivalent to calling your grandma güey. I thought he was just a rude brat but then I realized everyone talks to everyone that way. Forget using mande, Cubans say Dime. Dime. DIME. When getting a phone call you won’t ever get a polite Bueno or Buenos dias, or even an Hola, como esta. You get Oigo. Dime. without fail. Now I’m used to it and now I have a different idea of what’s considered rude; although, I can’t bring myself to call my grandma coño.

I feel more comfortable here. I walk the streets knowing where to go, where to get the things I need, and when exactly is the best time to j-walk. I know where to get my internet cards, the best people to change my money for me on the street, exactly what kind of rice to pick up from the market and from which venders, etc. I feel comfortable getting a maquina and exploring other neighboring cities. As I walk to the university, I am now surprised that I pass and greet many people that I’ve met along the way. 

As part of my study abroad program, I helped a group of American students here for a month long class. I was one of the only other Americans in my group that helped these students get around. 

I think these are all signs that I’ve learned what I can and that I am ready to move-on. Although I don’t feel more comfortable with my Spanish, I do feel more capable of taking on the world. 


Spaghetti

My grandma told me a story the other day of when she was younger. I don’t know how much younger but she said she used to be really good at biking. 

She told me how to used to be illegal to be in possession of American dollars. People would hide wads of it in the legs of furniture or they would wrap it in nylon and put it in the toilet tank. 

I asked her if it was illegal to have then why would people want to have American money? I figured there would be no market to buy anything with it. 

She told me there used to be special markets for foreigners and tourists that Cubans were not allowed to make purchases in. The markets would sell foreign goods, nothing fancy maybe pasta, and would have Cuban police guarding the entryway from other Cubans. People would wait on the street outside these markets and when the guards weren’t aware, they would have tourists make purchases for them with their stashed away American cash. 

One day my grandma and her cousin biked to the market and had a foreigner buy them some goods. A Cuban police officer got suspicious of their presence outside the market place and asked them to move to the corner of the block. Just after they finished a transaction on the corner with a foreigner, the police officer met them and asked them to open their backpacks. My grandma’s cousin had a second hidden zipper she put her goods in but my grandma refused to give over her backpack. She told the officer, sorry you can look at her bag but I will not give you mine (she had spaghetti inside). She then gave the cue to her cousin to get on the bike and go. They biked as fast as they could over the bridge because that was the next town over. My grandma knew if she got held in custody in the next town, her husband, Luis, would have jurisdiction and would be able to help her. Once they got to the bridge, they collapsed on the side of the road from exhaustion. The police officer said he was taking them to the station for suspicious activity and for evasion. My grandmother complied and knew Luis’s work was on the way to the station. As they passed-by his work, my grandma asked if she could let her husband know where she would be. The officer agreed and she yelled Luis’s name until he came outside. Luis pulled out his military ID and said, you’re not taking my wife anywhere.


And that’s how my grandma bought spaghetti with American money.