Sketches of Parque Central in Havana

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Geo: 23.1168, -82.3886

Upon returning to Parque Central the following day, Jim and I were mesmerized for over two hours by the activities and relationships around us:
A group of men engaged in an dynamic and heated conversation - one man, hands held behind his back listening intently; another, arms crossed in front not quite agreeing; an ancient man leaning his ear in toward the speaker. The one monopolizing the talking is stabbing the air emphatically making definitive points, words flying in Spanish at a speed that I cannot imagine anyone is able to understand. Perhaps not agreeing, a man is pointing, punctuating his words, his arm reaches to the sky, hand open. Behind him, a fellow conversationalist is flailing his arms above his head; I'm sure they are doing a dance about politics or baseball.Two little ones, likely a brother with his sister, both under 5 years old, are sneaking up on a bird. Older brother is intent, holding onto his sister while she is looking up at him imitating his attention to their silent stealth. The bird takes off and the two run to two women on a park bench across from me to scarf down some water and a snack. Now they are fighting to sit in the available space between a woman, who is perhaps their mother, and me.The man with his mobile garbage collection and cleaning unit sits with a middle-aged woman with no front teeth wearing a red sweatshirt and sporting bright red manicured nails. His brooms are made of dried leaves, his beard is white with age, he wears a one-piece royal blue work uniform and a beige ball cap and his sun glasses are perched on the beak. His cough sounds like one of a long-time smoker. They are deep in conversation; they could be in love or discussing serious life questions or simply avoiding work. They look as though they are oblivious to the sounds of construction, horn honks and the hum of Spanish conversations around them.Three young men are parading by like peacocks. They stop and sit down, one talks on his phone, the other is reading something on his device, the third looks happy to boldly be on view for any hot chica that goes by.A large, middle-aged tourist meanders down the pathway. He carries a big camera around his neck and is sporting a Cuban sunhat. His lime green below-the-knee shorts are topped with a red shirt and the piece de resistance is the fluorescent green sneakers. He is one of many gaudily dressed tourists passing through the Parque.Wrapped up in each others' arms, walking and kissing, two lovers exhibit the infamous passion of the Latin American culture. How do they get anywhere? I don't think they care!
To get a new viewpoint, I move to another park bench. In front of me is a man of about 30 years old wearing a white shirt and pants and a black ball cap on backwards. He is bellowing at another man. He jumps up so he is at the same level, shouts something, sits down. They are accentuating their words by banging on the others' shoulders or smushing their faces into each others'. Are they drunk? Yes, it appears so and they each have a beer which somehow they are not spilling.I'm noticing a pattern of movement of young men in the park. They meet, shake hands, hang with each other then one meets up with another two, they walk away, one returns to the original group, two walk off and come back 20 minutes later. On it continues. Who is picking up whom? Who is buying drugs from whom? Are they involved in a theft ring? Are they circling me??!Havana is a feast for the senses with art, music, characters...life being lived before you.

All of Jim' images from Havana can be seen in higher resolution here:
https://www.flickr.com/photos/jimneale/albums/72157663759237863

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