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Published: September 21st 2010
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You can call it the unknown, a mystery or a challenge, but whether it is getting into the VIP section as an ordinary mortal, squeezing that pimple against all good advice or traveling to a country where you are not supposed to go, there is something so alluring about doing things that have been forbidden to us. As a US citizen, Cuba has always had a special magnetism about it. Maybe it is because most Westerners have come to expect that our currency grants us access to the world (gracias capitalism), that we find ourselves attracted to the one who denies us. I am reminded of a friend of ours who once went to an animal shelter just to “have a look around,” and amidst all of the wagging tales begging for her attention, she walked out with the dog who had looked her up and down and then ignored her. I have to admit that I was definitely more nervous on the approach to Havana’s airport than I have been in a long time. What if they turned me away? What if they confiscated my passport? I had these images flashing behind my eyes of a red siren wailing and
bars crashing down around me as “Americano, Americano!” was blared across the loud speakers. So upon de-planing I crossed my fingers for a nice immigration officer or one who was just recently in love and having a fabulous day.
The woman behind the desk did not fit either criteria, but as I was buzzed through the heavy wooden door, I thought that maybe my garbled Spanish had been so impressive that she had just decided to let me in. That was, until I saw the armed guard waiting for me on the other side. While Karen breezed through customs, picked up our bags and walked through the exit doors, my passport was taken and I was escorted away. It’s hard to say who was more nervous about my fate, but Karen wanted me on the other side of that frosted glass as much as I wanted to make a run for it. I waited and watched with a rising sense of panic as the entire terminal emptied and I was the very last person left. I had to practice some serious meditation breathing while my heart raced, the drug dogs circled me, and I saw my passport be given
to five different officials. I have a whole different appreciation for people traveling to other countries that are suspicious of them, because for the majority of my life I have been from one of the lucky ones. I was getting more nervous by the second and sweating like I had just been busted by my mom for smelling alcohol on my breath. I felt bad for Karen waiting for me on the other side with no way of knowing where I was or how long they were going to keep me.
Finally, I saw my passport being given to a young, cute immigration agent and as he walked towards me I tried to pep myself up. I told myself that if there was ever a time to turn on the female charm this was it and all that practice talking myself out of speeding tickets had led me up to this crowning moment. Smile….stop shaking and sweating! In the end, I think that it was Cuba’s love of green eyes that got me through those gates….go genetics! The look of relief that washed over Karen’s face was a mirror of my emotions and I said, “quick let’s get out
of here before they change their mind!” So, now that we had both made it in we decided to have a really laid back visit and see what this country was really all about.
We stayed at a wonderful woman’s house in Havana (so wonderful that we both forgot her name - it started with ‘M’ was all Karen could offer) and she took good care of us during our stay with timely and advice and even hugs and kisses and a departing ‘send me some photos of you on the beach’. She used to be a history teacher and had wonderful insights into the current mentality of the people and the future of what Cuba she argued will become (even without Che - though his face adorns every possible spare wall).
It seems as though Cuba exists in a bubble and that there is no real question that the bubble will burst, just an ongoing discussion as to when. The natural beauty of the landscape and the people mixed with the rich history and architecture means that Cuba is posed to become one of the most popular islands in the Caribbean.
Sitting on the beach in Veradero,
I felt lucky to have seen this country before its inevitable face lift and witness some of the charming quirks that give it its flavor. I wonder when the change comes if there will still be two different currencies or if you will have to pay five dollars for a mojito in a bar and four dollars for the whole bottle of rum in a “super”market with mostly empty shelves. Yes, Cuba is communist…or socialist…depending on your point of view, but it’s citizens are as arguably capitalist as any other country and it is fascinating to see the mix a particular ideology vying for a position within this era. We found the people here to be as warm as the weather and almost as sweet as the drinks. I would love to see more of this country, because Cuba has as much beauty as the classic cars that cruise their streets, even if they are all being held together with duct tape, which is the kind of style that stands the test of time.
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Dawn
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Cuba- wonderful
Pop would have loved the photos. He always spoke of two places- the Cook Islands and Cuba. Keep having a wonderful time. Love Dawn xxxx