CUBAN TRANSITIONS

Photo credit: Lauren Stamm

Friday afternoon, our last day in Cuba, we got to spend doing anything our hearts desired. Something brought Lauren’s, Hannah’s, Bianca’s, and mine to La Universidad de la Habana. Rather than walk we took a quick taxi over there–coming within millimeters of hitting a pedestrian on the way. As soon as we got there we began running up and down the main steps. Then we went and explored the main office and the bookstore. The men and women who we assumed were staff and/or faculty.

Upon strolling around, we happened upon a 28 year old Cuban man who asked us if we went to the school. We all shook our heads no, and when we responded with the fact that we were American, he immediately came closer, noticeably more interested. We proceeded to talk to him for ten or so minutes before a question about the Cuban Five provoked him to quiet down and glance hesitantly from side to side. When we asked him if he would be more comfortable if we were to stop videotaping him, he responded saying, “It’s difficult to talk about this stuff here right now you know. I don’t know if you want to go to another place you know because here in Cuba’s it’s a problem you know…it’s not about the recording, it’s about here, you know?”

And there our adventure began. We followed him for a good fifteen minutes, chatting the whole way until we arrived at a small paladar. He invited us inside and we ordered three drinks to share. From there we talked for another 45 minutes or more about everything from Obama to Jay Z to Tupac. In his opinion, “Obama received a pretty hot potato with the economy.”–he sympathized with the president, aware of the fact that at this point, Obama is a better choice from Cuba’s stance than any Republican nominee. He refuted the argument that the US was withholding bandwidth from Cuba: “I know people that have access to internet–there are journalists there are government officials who have perfect access to internet here.” And when it came to Raul, he was highly critical, mentioning that he thought he was worse than Fidel. Wesley also mentioned his dreams to be able to go to the United States someday, and although he was somewhat skeptical of his chances any time soon, he emphasized his perseverance in the matter.

When the conversation wound down and we told him we needed to find La Coppelia, he gladly walked us the approximate ten blocks to the ice cream shop, and upon his departure, we were sure to exchange email addresses with him.

La Coppelia!

The minute we landed in Miami, I turned my phone on and lo and behold, waiting for us all was an email from Wesley himself. He’s kept contact, each email shorter than the last, but his latest news is as follows!

Cuba is internationally renowned for its excellent healthcare system and for having the world’s highest number of doctors per capita (almost 6 per 1,000 people).[1] In recent years, Cuba has managed to turn its excellent healthcare system into yet another means of generating revenue, both through healthcare tourism and through deals like the Oil-for-Doctors arrangement with Venezuela. But even with the significant changes Cuba has experienced over the last two decades, the healthcare system is still one of the bastions of revolutionary idealism, particularly in its approach to education. Created in 1999, the Latin American School of Medicine (ELAM) is one of the largest medical schools in the world and trains both Cubans and foreign students to serve as doctors in underprivileged areas.

The Cuban government covers all expenses for students attending ELAM, with the condition that graduates are “expected to make a commitment to serve in underserved communities – their own or another – upon graduation.”[2] In 2010, over 21,000 students from 100 different countries were enrolled at the school’s multiple campuses throughout Cuba, including 117 from the U.S.[3] It seems remarkable that the Cuban government would pay to train students from the U.S. but it also demonstrates the depth of Cuba’s commitment to its international humanitarian mission. ELAM is just one part of Cuba’s mission to create sustainable healthcare systems similar to its own in other developing countries. According to the school’s website, “The Cuban premise is that medicine as merchandise has not – and will not – guarantee health for the world’s poor majorities; health as a human right must be guaranteed by health professionals who believe the same, and who are willing to make sacrifices to make it possible.”

In pursuit of this goal, Cuba has consistently sent medical personnel to countries around the world both to help develop healthcare systems and train doctors as well as in response to specific events such as natural disasters. Cuban doctors were sent in large numbers to Haiti after the devastating 2010 earthquake there, to Pakistan following the multiple earthquakes there over the last decade and to Indonesia after the 2004 tsunami. Cuban disaster relief missions tend to stay in the affected countries much longer than teams from other countries, like the U.S. In Pakistan and Haiti, for example, Cuban doctors “stayed on after other disaster relief teams had left to provide preventive and curative care” and created dozens of field hospitals, some of which cost Cuba several hundred thousand dollars each to establish and run.[4]

Cuba has also partnered with Venezuela to create a program called Operación Milagro, which sends Cuban ophthalmologists to countries throughout Latin America to perform eye operations. The idea behind the program is that eye problems and blindness are some of the most debilitating yet often relatively easily fixed problems that affect people in underdeveloped countries. So far, the program has performed over 1.8 million free operations and, as a result of this success, the program is being expanded to Africa, with the recent creation of two eye clinics in Angola and Mali (Feinsilver).

Even though part of Cuba’s goal in sending out disaster relief teams, creating Operación Milagro and running the Latin American School of Medicine is political and intended to generate international sympathy against the United States embargo, it’s difficult to take issue with a government that is willing to spend so much of its own money providing healthcare in places where it is badly needed. Cuba’s strong example of humanitarianism has dramatically increased its international prestige and provides an example that other countries, especially wealthy nations like the U.S., should notice and not simply dismiss as propaganda campaigns.

Three Caribbean Ladies and our Cuban Friends

Before this trip and this class I was not foreign to race issues in Cuba or in the rest of the Caribbean for that matter. My freshman year here at Vassar I wrote a paper on the history of race relations in Cuba for my English class and also watched a PBS episode on being Black in Latin America with a specific segment on Cuba. My last conversation with a Vassar professor before flying to Cuba was about a trip she had to the island and the experiences of a female Puerto Rican student that was part of the group. In her story she relayed how this student felt uncomfortable constantly being labeled a Cuban and having to explain to many that she was in fact American. A couple of days into the trip, this student was ready to leave. I contemplated on these experiences before leaving to Cuba and I thought myself mentally prepared to possibly experience the “blatant racism” I had read about and everyone talked about.

I couldn’t have imagined that from day one in Havana and for the next two weeks I would undergo a constant internal struggle with the Cuban system but perhaps most shockingly with myself. Just in a brief disclaimer, besides traveling back and forth my entire life from my native Puerto Rico to my parent’s home in Connecticut, Cuba was my first time outside the United States and while I am sure my experience in Cuba is not unique to the Island, I can only based my opinions on this trip and nothing more.

My frustrations did not rise from being labeled Cuban; on the contrary, throughout this trip I enjoyed the ability to surpass the normal Cuban and tourist interactions because of my skin color and my native Spanish skills. I loved the easiness in which I could maneuver around in smaller groups without being hassled. In many occasions, specifically in the providences, as I walked around translating for my peers I constantly found myself explaining to the locals that I was in fact not their “guía” but rather their fellow student at a North American University and that I was not Cuban but actually Puerto Rican. This elicited a number of responses but all full of excitement that even if I wasn’t the tour guide I was still a Caribeña and this identity allowed me to breach the barriers between local and foreigner.

What really bothered me; however, was understanding fully well that the difficulties I was encountering in the more heavily tourist area was something that Afro-Cubans and just darker skinned Cubans in general experience on a daily basis. In my very first day in Havana, before being rushed off to see the ballet, I went to the main desk to see if they could exchange some money. Thinking that using my spanish would get me some CUC’s I asked the lady at the counter if I could exchange 50 american dollars. Not looking up at me, she quickly and dismissively informed me that she couldn’t exchange my money. Not thinking much of it I walked away but soon realized that Nick, my white classmate, was at the desk exchanging money with the same desk attendant I had approached. A bit confused I approached Professor Cohen and it took her intervention for me to get some CUC’s. It was my first experience in Cuba not being treated with the same level of attention or even respect than my classmates simply because I was perceived as Cuban and thus not a tourist and it was something that frankly persisted regardless of what region of the island we were on. While I often used it as a conversation starter, I once had an entire conversation with a young Cuban about what exactly was the Cuban term for my skin color after he informed me that I had a “Cuban color”, I couldn’t help but feel frustrated about my treatment because it was the same treatment non-white Cubans were getting. This frustration peaked towards the end of the trip when members of the hip hop group Hermanasos were not allowed to come to the rooftop of the hotel because “Cubans were not allowed in the hotel” despite the fact that hours prior a white Cuban had given us a lecture on the rooftop.

Looking back I wouldn’t trade the easiness of starting a conversation with regular people out in the streets or the warmth I received when I proudly identified myself as a puertoriqueña for better treatment in the tourist sector but I do wonder as the tourist sector continues to expand, will race relations in Cuba worsen? Ironically, the perfect conclusion to my Cuban experience occurred in Miami, when the US customs agent, American passport (with place of birth as Yauco Puerto Rico) in hand, sternly asked me if I had family in Havana? I couldn’t help but smile, even in the US I was Cuban.

To start this post, I would like to quote from my journal because I do not know if I can capture what I was and still am thinking in the same way otherwise. This took place on our first full night in Havana (not the night we arrived which was after 3:00 am).

“Anna and I tried to go out with some others but the guard at the door [of our hotel] discouraged us because there was a blackout. I hadn’t realized — I thought there was an acute lack of streetlights as an energy/austerity thing. Of course our hotel and many around us have generators. We went up to the roof and looked around. Except for a couple spots of what I assume is grouped hotels, it was dark.”

For the record, I have since come to understand that just because Havana is dark does not mean that it is dangerous. Even when there isn’t a blackout, there isn’t much light on the street but people still don’t bother you. I can’t remember who said this to me, but our safety was explained to me this way; many of the people of Old Havana depend on tourist money to make ends meet and if someone attacks a tourist, they are hurting their entire neighborhood by driving money away so it something that usually does not happen.

Periodic blackouts is something the average Cuban has come to live with over the years. This was a much bigger problem early in the Special Period. At one point in 1994, Havanaites were dealing with up to ten hours a day of blackouts. Yet even as the country has made somewhat of an economic recovery, energy and electricity is still a major problem, as we saw with our own eyes. Dissident Cuban blogger Yoani Sanchez has written of electricity  shortages and believes them to be a sign of a return to the shortages of the early 1990s. Electricity is not the only scarcity we experienced in Cuba that the average citizen of the United States does not have to worry about. There is an acute lack of toilet paper in Cuba, a problem one would not expect to experience in a country that is bouncing back. The hurricanes that hit the island in 2009 seriously effected the amount of raw materials on the island needed to make toilet paper. Cuba has also not been immune to the effects of the worldwide recession which has hurt its ability to import toilet paper (as well as pay for oil needed for energy).

The lack of constantly available electricity and of toilet paper are obviously very problematic. They show an inability by the Cuban government to provide the most basic things for their people. This lacking does not only apply to these two things; many food stuffs are limited to your average Cuban as well and access to many luxuries depends on whether or not one has relatives in Miami. Yet the shortages have not seemed enough to dull Cuban pride in the revolution. My classmates were very active in speaking to Cuban people (more active than I was unfortunately) and what I’ve gained from their conversations is that Cuba is filled with people who are frustrated some of whom truly want to leave Cuba and never come back, but others are still committed to the ideals of the revolution and willing to stay and deal with the many inconveniences.

Yoel controversially spoke to us about a feeling amongst Cubans that even when they go to sleep hungry, they take comfort in the knowledge that they are not the only ones hungry and that every one else is feeling the same way. Increasingly though, that is not the case and that is what makes me worry about the survival of the Cuban Revolution. We have talked a lot in class about the way that some Cubans, specifically light-skinned Cubans and mulatta women, benefit disproportionately from the tourist industry but I wonder how Cubans see the tourists. As I looked across a largely-pitch-black Havana that night, I wondered to myself,

“what it must feel like to be a Cuban person, lying in the dark and knowing that we have light because we’re foreign and bring in foreign capital. How can the revolution survive when the people don’t have the basics but see that even in their own country, others do and receive special treatment?. . . Passion and ideology can only go so far. If Cuba starts going down the road of some Latin American countries [such as tourist havens in Mexico] where the people are desperate but foreigners have everything right in their faces, another revolution must happen eventually if only because this is what caused the current revolution in the first place. Cuba has to be a good place for Cubans to be.”

I wonder how much the average Cuban resents tourists for their wealth or how much they resent their government for giving the tourists things they cannot give their own people. In our state-owned hotels, we had everything we needed.

When we were leaving Havana, we were asked to give any toilet paper we had left to our bus driver Duniel or our junior tour guide Adrianna because they could get it to people who needed it. I couldn’t help but wonder if those people were Duniel and Adrianna themselves, economically privileged as they are since they are involved in the tourist industry. This disparity must be addressed before the unequal distribution becomes enough to tip over a government that, truth be told, I do not completely ideologically disagree with.

Sources:

http://search.proquest.com/docview/303738328

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/08/11/cuban-economy-worsens-cit_n_256588.html

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/yoani-sanchez/the-ghost-of-power-cuts-p_b_223552.html

Okay, I’ll admit it. This is my fun blog post.  At least, that’s how this blog post started out. As I roamed the small aisle in our tour bus – especially during the longer or earlier trips – I tried to get as money photos as possible with people drooling, snoring, muttering or otherwise making a fool of themselves. But as I starting writing things down and structuring this blog post, I kept thinking to myself about the phrase “sleeping through transitions” not just as an awesome blog title but also what the deeper meaning could represent.

Was there a deeper meaning to “sleeping through transitions”? I mean, I had made up the title myself in the middle of Cuba and I was so sure that I was the only person who would have EVER made such an amazing phrase, I almost thought about copyrighting it. But the more and more I formed this idea; the more I thought it could really be a term of concrete value. Think about it – during the Civil Rights Movement in the US, we created a cultural climate change. For many people their lives were impacted by this movement, this revolution of sorts. But with any revolution there are also those who fight back and stay stubbornly in their past. Post CRM, we still had racists aplenty but the fact was, our cultural climate had indeed changed – a change many hoped was for the better. I think this could be a great representation of certain people in certain cultural shifts “sleeping” through that transition; in essence, they don’t ‘get’ the transition the culture is making and instead try to brush it off, ignore it or violently push back against it. I think it’s also important for me to notate that “sleeping” can also be a mechanism for avoiding hardships in real life. An escape of sorts, if you will.

Then I had a great epiphany – could the Cuban exile population be those in Cuba who had “slept” through the cultural shifts of the Revolution? It may be stretching things a bit far and slim, but I think the analogy could work. These are people (many but not all), who prior to the Revolution were wealth or at least middle class, and had a mostly fine life under pre-Castro rule. Then, as many cultures have experienced, came a socio-political change so rapid and new that many of these people chose to willingly flee Cuba, their home, to maintain some semblance of a prior life. They had actively “slept” through the Cuban cultural transformation. And in this usage of the term sleep, I mean they’ve actively avoided participating in this new change.

I think many cultures can display these sleeping habits but I think it was particularly interesting for our group. Many of us who did fall asleep on the bus (guilty as charged) did miss some sort of transmission that others got to experience – for some it was Yoel’s lectures about this or that, for others it was beautiful scenery many of us will only see once in our lives. So, in that way, we did all sleep through transitions. But I can proudly say that I think each and every one of us engaged with a culture that was different, exciting, intense, and maybe even a bit intimidating with as much aplomb as anyone could expect. Sure, we slept, but we also actively engaged and transformed ourselves. I wouldn’t have had it any other way, would you?

And now for the part that people will HATE me for (just try to laugh at these, will ya?):

leslie!

baynardo!

EMILY!

my first photo and muse for this post!

HERE IS A LINK FOR THE REST OF THE PHOTOS

(i didn’t want to make this post too long):

 

While exploring the Hotel Rancho Luna Jennifer and I stumble upon a hotel store that was hidden off to the side in a different building. As we went around the store I notice the coconut crackers that I had been wanting for so long but having no CUC’s on us we informed the nice husband and wife that we would return in a couple of minutes. On our way back to the store it started raining but determined to get coconut cookies Jennifer and I brave the elements and soaking wet begged the store employees to let us in. To break the awkwardness of us walking around the store, me barefoot since it was too slippery to walk with my flip flops, I mentioned how the storm reminded me of home and brought great childhood memories of late afternoon storms. Since they seem genuinely interested in me talking, I, with a bit of hesitation but realizing that the storm outside wasn’t going anywhere soon, began to ask questions about the economic and social changes that Raul had been implementing ever since becoming the leader of the island. Like most Cubans, the store employee believed that the changes were not happening fast enough or that they weren’t impacting him. I asked about the issue of private ownership and brought up the idea of him ever owning the store he and his wife ran, “Ya quisiera yo” was his response and like many things in Cuba, it caught me off guard and I realized that things on this island were far more complex than people like to describe them.

The idea of private ownership to me is capitalistic and thus anti-revolution. I struggle to understand how someone who stated was in suppor of the revolution could express such a great desire to open his own business and run it so that he gets the profits. Interestingly enough this guy was not the first Cuban that I encountered that expressed an interest in private ownership of stores and businesses. One of the first of many controversial statements that Yoel made was that perhaps when we came back to Cuba in the future we would travel using “Yoel’s tour agency”. This one quote of Yoel, along with the fact that if President he would kill all political prisoners, was one that I wrote down and continued to think about in the upcoming days. In another instance, speaking to my favorite book store owner on Obispo street, we talked about the changes to the ownership of cars and I questioned how his small shop fit into the changes that were being implemented. Fernando pays the government a fee for having his store and in many ways it is still a government space. He acknowledges a desire to be able to have his own space but is thankful for the opportunity that he has to sell his son’s paintings.

Cuba has undergone many changes in the last twenty years, among them the private ownership of cars and some restaurants, but from my conversations with many Cubans it seems as if their is a strong desire for more reforms and for the private ownership of  businesses. While I am in no way an economic expert it seems as if Cubans are moving towards embracing concepts that are capitalistic in nature. In hindsight, I realize I never directly asked any of these individuals if private ownership could still fit in with the socialist revolutionary model. However, as I sit here today I have come to the conclusion, who am I to question the authenticity of the future of the Cuban revolution?

While in Cuba, as we traveled around with our large bus and our large group, I was always intensely aware of my status as a tourist. But many of the places we visited were not isolated tourist spots, but people’s homes and communities. Everywhere in Havana there were residences right beside popular tourist areas. But two residential communities we visited where I felt intensely like an intruding tourist were the Jose Fuster artists’ residence and the Las Terrazas community.

Fuster’s home/workshop was incredibly beautiful. He calls Pablo Picasso his “spiritual father” and Antoni Gaudi his “favorite uncle”. He states that his motive for creating the multicolored environment is to make a place where he can “live among art”. The day we visited, the vibrant, tiles shone beautifully against the gray, overcast sky. But Fuster’s home and workshop was located in the off the beaten path neighborhood of Jaimanitas, smack in the middle of a residential area on the outskirts of Havana that, if Fuster was not drawing tourists by the busload, seemingly would be largely ignored by the tourist gaze. Fuster says that his project “involves all my neighbors”, that his neighbors are his “partners”, but there was one particular moment as we were leaving that made me question that statement, and made me incredibly aware of my presence as a tourist in this neighborhood. The streets of Jaimanitas were very narrow, which required a deft bit of driving from Duniel to turn the bus around so that we could head back to the Hotel Plaza. But this took a few minutes, and while he was inching the bus around, I noticed a woman standing in her backyard, watching us. I saw in her eyes a feeling of disdain. She was obviously anything but pleased with the presence of the massive tourist bus in her community, and I felt like a burden and an interloper.

Fuster's art, our bus, Jaimanitas.

A second experience with being a tourist in the middle of people’s lives was at the Las Terrazas Community. It was wonderful to see the old coffee mills and terraces and the beautiful landscape of the biosphere, but I felt terribly like an intruder when we went near the actual community residences to shop for gifts and enjoy a coffee. Even though I was well aware that the tourist CUCs we spent in the little shop would benefit the members of the community, I still felt distinctly that the lives of the Las Terrazas residents would probably be better if they didn’t have groups of 50 or so tourists coming through their community daily on massive buses and photographing their homes, their pets, even their laundry lines.

These are two experiences that have stuck with me. I’ve tried to imagine how quickly I would tire of busloads of tourists walking through my backyard in suburbia. Luckily for me, none of my neighbors are famous artists, and the nearest popular sights for tourists are miles away. But I still vividly remember the piercing eyes of the woman in Jaimanitas as she stood outside of her home and stared down our bus. I only hope that she at least sees some form of profit from the wave of tourists who daily invade her neighborhood.

Source:

http://www.havana-cultura.com/en/nl/visual-art/jose-fuster/cuban-artist-painter-and-sculpture

I shouldn’t have been surprised, based on Cuba’s history. But I was. The variety of styles of roof that I say amazed me. Starting with the thatched roof we saw at Las Terrazas. You have to understand that thatched roofs are among the most annoying misconceptions about living in the Caribbean. “Does your house have a thatched roof?” is right up there on the list with “Does your country have electricity?” and “Do you ride dolphins to school?” There it was, though. Right on the top of the hill on our tour at Las Terrazas: a thatched roof. Luckily, that roof is just a part of the tour, and is there, along with the mill, as a relic of the nineteenth century.

The roof of the mill at the french coffe plantation at Las Terazzas. And Gordon.

The dining room of the French plantation had a very simple-style of overlapping clay tiles with a wooden A-frame ceiling. Clay is known for its even heat distribution and insulating properties. Highly impractical, and probably impossible to cool, I’m sure that eating in that dining room must have been like eating in a sauna.

The ceiling of the dining room.

What surprised me most, however, were the Spanish-style ceramic tiling that I saw very often. To me, having Spanish-style tiles on your roof is a sign of wealth. They can become cracked due to flying objects in the wind during hurricanes and they are a lot harder than shingles to repair. Also, these tiles, like clay, are fantastic conductors of heat. Although they’re fantastic at keeping out the rain because, unlike shingles, they won’t just wear down, again, if they do crack, they have to be fixed hastily. Because of the insulation properties, I also look at Spanish-style tiles and assume that anyone with those tiles has enough resources to have a fantastic air-conditioning system. Except for the tiles on the roof of the Barlovento, I highly doubt that this s the case in Cuba.

The roof of the Barlovento.

Our fancy hotel at Varadero was not the only place we saw these kinds of tiles. There was also this style of tiling at the slave dwelling near Torre Vigía in el Valle de los Ingenios. Again, this really did not  fit in with my impression of Spanish-style tiles. Just another way for Cuba to show me that I can’t assume the same things in all parts of the world. As a former Spanish colony, Spanish-style tiles are not at all odd, and they give no particular impression of the inhabitants of that particular building. It’s just another part of the rich history and culture of Cuba, and after a while I finally realized that and stopped gawking at every tiled roof that I saw.

During our trip to Cuba, we had the opportunity to stay at many different types of hotels. Our hotel in Havana, Hotel Plaza, offered a beautiful roof-top view of the city and is close to Calle Obispo and Havana vieja. Hotel Plaza was a multi-level hotel that had an indoor restaurant, gift shop, and money exchange counter. As we traveled around Cuba, we stayed at different hotels. Our next hotel was Hotel Playa Girón, in Cinega de Zapata. The hotel was outdoors, with houses spaced out throughout the area, all within walking distance to the beach. It contained two bars and multiple restaurants. Hotel Rancho Luna, once again located on the beach, had multiple bars and restaurants and a large swimming pool. What can only be described as a luxurious campsite hotel, Hotel Villa Guajimico has houses spread out on a mountain slope, with a beautiful lake at the bottom. Our next two hotels, Hotel Ancón in Trinidad, and Hotel Barlovento in Varadero, were extravagant tourist hotels, with both the beach and swimming pools, free flowing alcohol and extra amenities (like sailing).

While all of these hotels were in different places and offered different comforts, one thing was true for our group-whenever we knew we were heading to an all-inclusive hotel, we were excited! Personally, I imaged all-inclusive hotels as lavish establishments that allowed guests to do whatever they want, and drink and eat whatever they want. The concept of all-inclusive hotels was first introduced in “holiday camps in Britain during the 1930s” (Issa and Jayawardena 2003). The main purpose behind the all-inclusive hotels was to eliminate the extra charges that can be racked up during a vacation visit. The all-inclusive hotels in Cuba, such as Hotel Ancón and Hotel Barlovento, had each guest wear a wrist-band that defined them as all-inclusive guest allowing them to receive and participate in most activities. By having guest wear wrist-bands, they are creating a tourist visit that does not require guest to carry around money (Issa and Jayawardena 2003). All-inclusive hotels allow guest to be protected from the outside “foreign” environment (Issa and Jayawardena 2003). For Hotel Ancón, the location of the hotel itself isolated tourist, since it was around a ten minute drive to the town of Trinidad. While I was originally charmed by the idea of staying in all-inclusive Cuban hotels, I soon came to dislike their secluded location. Only our hotel in Havana allowed us to go explore the city at night.
Fun Facts

• “Cuba has become the third most popular tourism destination in the Caribbean region and the second destination in the region for Europeans” (Cerviño and Bonache 2005).
• “48 of the best 100 all-inclusive resorts are in the Caribbean” (Issa and Jayawardena 2003)
•  “The total number of hotels at the end of 2003 amounts to 263 with around 47,500 rooms, giving Cuba the second largest hotel capacity in the Caribbean” (Cerviño and Bonache 2005).

Sources
1. Cerviño, Julio, and Jaime Bonache. “Hotel Management in Cuba and the Transfer of Best Practices.” International Journal of Contemporary Hospitality Management 17.6 (2005): 455-68.
http://www.emeraldinsight.com/journals.htm?articleid=1515228&show=abstract

2. Issa, John J., and Chandana Jayawardena. “The “all-inclusive” Concept in the Caribbean.” International Journal of Contemporary Hospitality Management 15.3 (2003): 167-71.
http://www.emeraldinsight.com/journals.htm?articleid=867473&show=html

One of the first noticeable aspects of Cuba are the classic American cars, which is somewhat ironic considering the anti-imperialist rhetoric of the Cuban revolution, but at the same time is clear evidence of the U.S. embargo on the country. This is another example of Cuban ingenuity and resourcefulness and says a lot about Cuban culture. Rather than dispose of heavily used vehicles in junkyards in order to purchase new vehicles as is the case in developed countries, Cubans have satisfied their transportation needs by taking these old vehicles and remodeling them to the point where they seem brand new. A couple questions rise in regard to the classic American cars in Cuba. How did those cars get there in the first place? Why haven’t these cars been replaced with modern stock cars produced in China? How does the classic American car influence the Cuban national identity? My guess would be that U.S. Americans brought the vehicles in large numbers prior to the Cuban Revolution of 1959 when Cuba was the playing ground of gambling, prostitution, and drug abuse. After the triumph of the revolution, the elite classes left, but the classic cars remained and were probably distributed among the population where they became private vehicles, government vehicles, or taxis. It is amazing how the cars have lasted so long, but during a state of economic embargo and a period of crisis, the only choice is to constantly fix the American cars. With the recent trade with China, there is evidence of modern compact stock vehicles that are likely more fuel efficient than the large classic cars, however the classic car is the preferred choice for it is custom-made, unique, and a symbol of Cuban identity.

As you walk down any artisan market designed to sell to tourists, you will notice how the American classic car has become an icon of Cuban identity. Wooden and clay sculptures, paintings, posters, postcards, shirts, and toys that all resemble the American classic cars. It is somewhat strange as a U.S. American to purchase an authentic Cuban artwork that resembles an American product, but I assign my experience in Cuba to the product. Now every time I look at the souvenir, I see a Cuban artwork rather than an American product. Cubans have taken an American product, reproduced it in artwork, and sell it to us American tourists as a Cuban product. Cubans have now claimed the classic American car as their own. Does embracing the classic American car as a symbol of Cuban identity compromise the goals of the Cuban revolution?