CUBAN TRANSITIONS

Are you a tourist looking to visit Cuba? You’re in luck! Here you will find a handy guide to all your dining needs. For tourists, by tourists!

First off, are you a vegetarian? This could prove to be difficult for you as the Cuban people’s adoration of meat is perhaps only surpassed by their love of Che Guevera. Have you eaten your protein? Fun fact: protein is synonymous with meat in Cuba! The good news is that by all large all the animals and produce you will be consuming are local, organic, and fresh. In fact, if you’re eating at a paladar, chances are the reason you’ve been waiting an hour is that your chef is making an excursion to the market to buy the food you are about to eat. The average meal in Cuba consists of rice, beans, salad, the occasional plantain, and of course, meat, by which I mean pork or chicken. Fish is also available, but is not traditional, for as Joel attempted to explain, “Cubans are crazy, we live on an island surrounded by fish, but we eat pork.”

As to liquids, in Cuba, no matter what you order, no matter where you are, make sure your drink includes rum. Rum flows freely to tourists in Cuba, and as a tourist, take advantage of this. The rum will never disappoint you. By the end of your meal if you have not had at least one sip of a rum-based beverage you are either on the wrong island or have fully assimilated to local culture. You see, actual Cubans drink beer. And coffee, which is served ceremoniously after most meals to tourists and Cubans alike. Cuban coffee comes in espresso cups, and though usually not actually espresso, has a strong earthy flavor that is most aptly described as “delicious.” Also important to know is that Cubans believe it is even more delicious when the sugar to coffee ratio has surpassed 1:1.

Wherever you eat, be it a paladar or a government restaurant, the variety of food offered will be similar. There will often be large and extensive menus, but it is better just to ask the server what is actually available that day. Through extensive empirical culinary testing, I have personally ascertained that for practical purposes, the main difference between a paladar and a government restaurant is the gustatory quality. While the government should be praised for its efforts in agriculture and food security for all Cubans, government-run CUC restaurants for the most part are an invitation for disappointment. As one Cuban paladar worker tried to warn us, “they will promise you so much and give you so little.” A word to the wise: if the offer the restaurant promoter is shouting at you in the street as you walk by sounds too good to be true, it is. Similarly, either all of the restaurants on Obisbo Street in Havana have the “best food in Cuba,” or none of them do. Probably the latter.

The question thus becomes, how does a hungry tourist find a good restaurant? One might assume the easiest way to do this is to simply ask for a recommendation, but in Cuba this is more complicated a proposition than one might assume. As a tourist, it is assumed that you have all the riches of capitalism at your disposal and so from this assumption you will either be directed to a) the most expensive restaurant in town, or b) a restaurant either owned or operated by a friend or family member of the Cuban who recommended it to you. What this means is that for the most part you will have to strike out on your own for food.

Wander down a street. When you find a restaurant first check to see if there is a band standing by the ready. If so, you are most likely at a government restaurant, and if you would like some food with your music then, by all means, stay. As it is Cuba, the musicians will be magnificent. The food? Do you like cabbage salad? You will! To find a good paladar my rule of thumb is that the sketchier the location of the restaurant within a building, the more likely it is to be delicious. If you walk through someone’s living room to get there your palate is guaranteed to be satisfied.

Organic farms are also a surefire culinary delight.

As a tourist, most places you dine, whether private or governmental, will have their prices in CUCs. If you would like to experience the restaurants average Cubans might frequent, you must again hit the streets. There you will find ice cream, simosas, hamburgeusas, and, of course, pizza! Be prepared to spend anywhere from 10 cents to 10 dollars on your purchases.

Finally, my last words of advice are that you will not fully appreciate the simple glory that is the ham and cheese sandwich until you return to the United States and re-acquaint yourself with airport dining. But that’s another post. Good luck!

Cheers

“Revolution in Retreat” proclaimed the Economist on the cover of it’s March 22nd issue. It predicted that, while the massive economic changes that Cuba was undergoing today were a good start, they were also proof that the island nation has a long way to go in order to insert itself into the global economy and deliver prosperity to all its citizens. However, we Cuba must also make sure that the promises of its revolution are kept. If it were to fall to a position that Haiti or the Dominican Republic has, it would be political unsalient and the people would move back to the undemocratic dictatorship it has at current. As such, the Cuban government has to walk a delicate balance between having the freedoms the Economist espouses and reverting back to a US-dominated feudal economy that would happen were Cuba were to “open up” its markets completely.

A second revolution is also happening in Cuba at the same time. All throughout the country, organic farms are cropping up. Like anything else, this is not happening without government support. Still, the UBPCs (Unidad Básicas de Producción Cubana, Units of Basic Cuban Production) are an important part in ensuring that the Cuban government, and by extension populace, move beyond the old Soviet-era methods of state controlled production and into cooperative production, allowing globalization to happen within a socialist context. UBPCs are organic farming cooperatives led by the government which produce food for local consumption. They are managed and worked on by ordinary Cubans, who take home a share of the profits from these organic farms. Started during the Special Period in order to take care of the urgent food situation, UBPCs have transitioned into the cornerstone of reform in the countryside as well as a path to globalization which doesn’t threaten the revolution.

UBPCs provide abundance while keeping with socialist goals

While they have been referred to as “Neither Eden nor Wasteland” by the website Southern Spaces, UBPCs provide a lot more benefits than obstacles in terms of development which doesn’t increase inequality in Cuba. The main benefits that the Organic cooperatives give to Cuba are that they incentivize production for citizens by allowing them to make more money through market mechanisms, but in a way which does not create a landowning class, while at the same time promoting sustainable agriculture and taking care of food security. The collective nature of UBPCs not only ensures that profits are split evenly and that the farm will not switch into industrial farming, but also gives Cubans a taste of democracy, as leadership is generally elected within the cooperative. Even if Cubans cannot elect their national leadership, they are much more in control of their economic situation. UBPCs can be found in either urban or rural locales, meaning that the whole island has access to this method of growing food giving food security to the cities and economic security to the countryside

Organic Farms of all sorts litter the countryside

The future of UBPCs seem pretty certain. While profitabilty varies wildly from year to year and crop to crop, UBPCs are consistently more productive than state enterprises or small private farms. Given that a move to private industrial farming would likely be a move into soy (or even worse, back to sugar), UBPCs are also ensure that Cuba has food security, which is important for any small island nation. And the cooperative model can be moved into the industrial, finance, and other service sectors, as experiences throughout Latin America and with the Mondragon Corporation, something the Cuban government is eager to do. However, the Cuban government still exercises great control over the UBPCs, overseeing their construction and funding them. The government needs to find ways in which it can make UBPC creation and maintenance more controlled by the people themselves, either through mortgage banking or through other means. In this way, they can more fully use the  market functions of cooperativism and create take steps towards democratic governance.

Wandering the streets of Cuba in the free time we were given, Hannah, Lauren, Zan, and I discovered a different way of eating. An incredibly more personal, more frugal, and more exciting way of eating. With a pocket of only 2 or so cuc in coins, we began our journey around Old Havana looking for something to satisfy our sweet teeth! We started off with fried sugary chips–we got a bag that was enough for each of us to have two, for what we confusedly gave 25 cents.

Later that night, we decided to try the many different chocolate bars that were being sold at the mini window liquor store right across the street from the Hotel Plaza.

The Rigochoc was the better of the two–it was two milk chocolate coated biscuits and cost 45 cents. The Privilegio cost the same 45 cents, but was a chocolate bar filled with caramel. In comparison to your typical US candy, they weren’t as rich, but were definitely still good! They were also much cheaper than the M&Ms and Snickers bars that were being sold at the shop for 1.50 CUC.

The next place we went was part of a strip of shops selling fried dough balls. It was more savory than sweet, but the man asked if he could get a picture with Zan so of course we obliged.

At this place we also picked up some delicious soft serve that was being sold for 1 CUC–surprisingly expensive but we figured that because it was being sold right next to Obispo street, they were expecting tourists. Do Cubans just have to pay a price that isn’t posted to the tourist public?

The next day the adventure continued. This sweet was my favorite by far. It was made with spun honey and peanuts. I asked how much, and as I started to pull out  my change to pay for it, Hannah stopped me when he asked for “2”. Initially I had thought he meant 2 CUC which I was more than happy to pay, but he was working with Cuban pesos, so instead we just handed him 15 cents and were on our way!

As Hannah and I continued walking, we met a man on the street, standing next to who we assumed was his mother. He had with him a little boy, who shyly hid between this man’s legs as we spoke broken spanish to him. After chatting for a few minutes, we turned to the woman next to him and asked how much for the guava empanadas she was selling. Before she could say, the man hushed us both, and payed the woman using his own Cuban pesos. She seemed annoyed with him, but handed Hannah and I each our own delicious empanada. We were pretty bewildered, especially because we hadn’t experienced that kind of agenda-less generosity from anyone on the street yet. We thanked him repeatedly and he simply smiled and assured us that it was no problem.  The crust was a soft cookie like consistency, almost like shortbread. The inside was guava jelly of course–the whole thing very sweet. They were the best empanadas I’ve ever had in my entire life.

This next one looked so good that we bought two. False alarm it was pretty gross. Not only was it extremely difficult to bite into (mine cracked and basically exploded all over me) but it was sickeningly sweet. It tasted like Havana Club and coconut but to a gag inducing level. Needless to say we threw them away, but seeing as we payed only 25 cents for both of them, we weren’t too bothered.

While we were walking around the giant indoor market down by the water, we happened to stop at the small cafe window by the entrance. I bought this cinnamon bun for 70 cents in CUC. It was also extremely sweet, but the brown sugar like frosting on the top was the selling point and we gobbled it down in less than a minute.

These last snacks weren’t necessarily from off of the street, but we walked into a tiny grocery store while hurrying back to the Hotel Plaza for an afternoon lecture. I got way too excited because this was the first time I’d seen peanut butter! For 12-20 CUC! I figured I’d be able to make it one more day without the best spread on earth so I passed on 20$ peanut butter. As soon as we picked out our things we ran to get in line. There were two or three people in front of us, but the cashier was in absolutely no hurry. In fact, it was astounding at the glacial pace that she was moving in and the less than chipper mood she was in. We automatically jumped to the conclusion that she had no reason to ensure customer satisfaction because of the fact that she was working for a publicly owned grocery store, and would be receiving the same pay regardless. However, in hindsight this might have been an assessment that we made  to try to understand the foreignness of such a socialist work force.

La Habana, the capital of Cuba, has enchanted travelers for centuries. Founded around 1515 by Spanish colonialists, the city quickly gained wealth as a stopping point for ships returning to Spain with the spoils of the conquest of the continent. The city was officially given status in 1592, and the centuries of warfare and pirate raids on the island led to the construction of fortresses and walls.

(Amsterdam, 17th Century image of Havana)

By the 19^th century, trade with other North American cities fostered Havana’s transition into a large and elegant metropolis. In 1863, the old walls were taken down to accommodate the city’s rapid growth. At the turn of the 20^th century, Cuba was occupied by the United States, before the “Republican Period” began in 1902. The country grew quite wealthy through the increase of tourism and gambling, although capital was concentrated in the hands of a tiny minority. With the revolution of 1959, Havana took on a different image, affected alternately by the Soviet-aesthetic and the scarcity of resources that resulted from the U.S. embargo.

Havana in the 1930s

This brief sketch of a timeline helps demarcate the rich history that has defined Havana’s complex morphology. Like a sprawling patchwork quilt, a palimpsest of different architectures forms this city of two million inhabitants. Walking through Havana is like reading a history lesson; however, this history is not constructed in some linear narrative, but like an undulating stream or a rhizome. Each architectural style–– baroque, neoclassical, art deco, mid-century modern–– appears in the urban fabric at random points, connected by imagined vectors of some shared aesthetic ideal. That is not to say that the city cannot be broken up into areas loosely defined by a singular style. There is Old Havana, Vedado, and other areas with some kind of unified image. But troubling those singular images helps reveal the true complexity that time and circumstance has rendered on to this city.

For example, we can turn to the Malecón. The broad esplanade with its busy road and sea wall is one of the major landmarks of the city. Its construction began in 1901, at the end of the U.S. occupation, and is representative of the changes the city has experienced in just the last century. Built in stretches, the first part of the street was from the Paseo del Prado. In 1923 it reached Vedado, and today it stretches all the way to the Sierra Maestra Hotel. The first part of the Malecón is defined by the dilapidated grandeur of the beginning of the century. There are large arcades and elaborate ornamented buildings with peeling paint and damage from the sea air. Interspliced into this section are large art deco buildings and streamline-modern apartment buildings. Further along the road is the Hotel Nacional de Cuba, the famous luxury hotel built in 1930. Continuing down the coast are the large mid-century modern hotels and casinos that typified the hedonism of the 1950s. The Malecón is a popular destination for both tourists and locals, and a source of income for fishermen.

Malecón

While at first demarcating the street into these historic sections seems fine, it ignores the everyday use of the city. Considering streets, or cities in general, only through the lens of architects and urbanists can result in fatal inaccuracy. For every city in the world is composed not only of brick and cement, but also of the individuals who pass through it, re-paint their walls, embellish a window with flowers, or scribble on a wall. This change of scope for analysis breathes life into a street that through pictures can seem decaying, but is in actuality constantly changing. This type of reading is particularly relevant in Havana, where a lack of capital and completely different ideological governance from the “mainstream” of advanced capitalism have alternately preserved parts of the city and rendered it completely different from the development-machines of other cities. While we do not see the large-scale urban transformations of American cities in Havana, it is erroneous to imagine the city (or country) as “frozen in time,” a relic of history. For time does not have to pass through a place with a bulldozer, it can radically alter a place as much through the mechanisms of the everyday.

Calle Obispo

Having the look of a Caribbean woman in Cuba made my experience very different that most of our group. Going out at night with Ishaira and Jennifer provided a dramatically different experience that going out with the white students in our group. With white students, I looked more like a part of a ‘stereotypically American’ group, and so out on the street I was approached more with offers of souvenirs for sale, authentic Cuban food, and  the promise of a good Cuban time. I was also served fairly quickly wherever I went.  Because I was thought of completely as a tourist, however, no one wanted to have any serious conversations with me. When I asked about my project question, “What is liberty?’, I got very flippant answers. Generally something around “I don’t know. Would you like a T-shirt?” or “I don’t really think about that…now would you like to come and order lunch?” I was a tourist, but that wasn’t really the experience that was looking for or that I could enjoy.

Being out with Ishaira and Jennifer, among others, I was generally treated in a way that I was more comfortable. Really, I’m from the Bahamas. I cater to tourists but I have absolutely no idea how to be one. In fact, being around tourists so often, I have no desire to be one. Spending my days judging tourists at home was certainly not conducive to enjoying becoming one of them in Cuba. That’s why when I was out with a group of people who could be Cuban; the way I was treated made me feel so much more comfortable. We were consistently harassed less: people on Calle Obispo had to consider whether or not they would bother offering their goods because we might be Cuban. We were actually fed Cuban food because we found the places down darker side streets where, as tourists, we probably shouldn’t have gone, but as maybe-Cubans, we were totally safe.  I also had completely serious conversations with Cubans because even when they found out that I wasn’t Cuban, the fact that I was (1) from a country in the Caribbean region and (2) not American made me more familiar.

Dinner.

There was a downside that was to be expected. Being maybe-Cuban meant that at a few of the restaurants at the hotels we stayed at we weren’t served in the same way. Flagging down the waiter to order out drinks didn’t seem quite fair as the other tables were being overly attended to. We didn’t look quite enough like tourists, I guess. Again, at hotels, I often saw workers there doing a double-take as I passed. I was almost happy about the all-inclusive resorts: at least there, they could glance at my wrist and see that yes, I did pay to stay at the hotel even if I could be Cuban.

That was okay, though. I was glad to be confused for a Cuban. It made me feel more at home. It’s a totally different country with a totally different language, but I definitely felt more comfortable there after two weeks that I have after being in Poughkeepsie for two years. The mannerisms were more familiar; it was normal instead of extraordinary to dance with my hips; it was okay to have conversation on the street with that nice old man sitting on the corner. I was close to home, geographically and emotionally, and it definitely made my experience in Cuba a very unique one.

So many of the things we saw in Cuba struck me right away. I wrote them down as soon as I had the chance and sometimes I felt like drawing to express what I was feeling at the time. One of the main themes I was feeling while we were there was just confusion. How could there be such a disparity between what we hear about in the United States and what we were being told in Cuba?

Seeing everything for the first time was pretty scary. But then that night we learned to salsa dance and even though I’m sure we all felt pretty foolish at one point or another, we all got over it and just joined in.

The night of March 5 we noticed how different the club scene and dance scene seemed to be from American culture. Everything had a step to it, a certain guideline. There was one main type of dancing and it was salsa. Whereas in American clubs if you’re dancing with someone it sends a message of interest, here in Cuba, everyone danced with everyone and it didn’t feel like it had to necessarily mean something. You were just dancing because you wanted to dance, not because you wanted to hook up with someone. As soon I started to pull my own dance moves and do whatever I wanted, they laughed and asked what I was doing. I was over the whole counting thing.

In my opinion the CENESEX lecture was one of the most interesting lectures we were a part of on this trip.  Although at times it seemed like we were there to be sold this modern forward facing Cuba, we learned a lot about the lengths that Cuba is going to educated their younger generations about sex and sexual orientation. We learned that Mariela Castro had done the most work against homophobia in Cuba. We learned that condoms are very accessible, that people have a right to an abortion in Cuba, and that CENESEX has a very satisfactory relationship with the Catholic church. In Cuba, children are taught at a young age that sexism and constructed sexual norms aren’t acceptable. “Playroles from few months to five years old to break this sexist concept. Boys playing in the kitchen etc. They receive this education where very one is focused on a binary for the sexes-no pink vs. blue.” Another thing we learned a lot about at CENESEX is how children with GID or gender identification disorder, are received into the community. “If this person is the object of discrimination in the communities, then CENESEX visits those communities and provides a solution to the situations.”

This is a drawing of the speaker at the CENESEX presentation, Dr. Lázaro Hernández Coterón, with Joel translating in the background.

While we were in Cienfeugos, Leeja and I went for a walk one morning and met a Cuban man, who, upon meeting us, insisted that we wait for him while he went to run and get what appeared to be a conch shell. As we stood and watched him, he showed us a tattoo of a giant bald eagle and waving US flag on his thigh. He talked about his dreams to go to visit his daughter in Seattle, mentioning multiple times how repressive his government is in not letting him leave.

When we were walking around Cienfuegos, we stopped at a school and talked to the administrators and teachers in the school for twenty minutes or so. We learned about how crucial watching the news is to a child’s education. A high school student said to Ishaira, “I learn about Abraham Lincoln, do you learn about José Martí?” That question threw me aback for a moment. Why don’t we learn more about Cuba in high school? Is it because they are supposedly less of an influence in our daily activity? Is it because they’re so much smaller than us? Or is it because we have an embargo with them?

While we were on the bus back to Havana from Varadero, Joel talked about foreign policy. He also went into detail about the meaning behind each license plate color. The color key is above!

The above journal entry is reinterpreted from one of the student paintings done at the Art School we attended.

All of these things we’re being told by lecturers and teachers and experts here in Cuba often serves to confuse me. But maybe that’s because I’m trying to pick a side, and figure out which one is right. I took many pictures on this trip, and learned a lot about how Cuba feels towards the United States. Before going to Cuba, I had a lifetime of hearing about how the United States feels towards Cuba. Maybe that’s just it–we have to be able to present both sides, and come to terms with the fact that we just don’t know enough to infer which country is telling the truth in which instance. Part of being a Vassar student is to question everything; I think we were able to go into Cuba with lots and lots of questions. We left with arguably even more questions– but many answers as well.

I wander the streets expectantly. I know it was around here, but the metal lattice balconies, blues greens yellows and whites of peeling paint all blend together. Persistent bells of the mototaxis, the subtle scent of exhaust, food, and people. I gaze in wonder at this humming hive of purpose. Why does it all make so much sense when I’m not the one living it? I’m jolted from my reverie by a shout, “Ven ven ven!” I glance suspiciously across the street at a man waving his arms, beckoning me into his barber shop. But this isn’t the man I remember and I’m not in the mood to be asked for money. I use my trusted get-off-my-back phrase “Ya regreso!” and continue picking my way along the cracked and pit filled sidewalk. I look back to see the man still staring at me and then I see the bird outside in its cage. It is Endy; he’s just shaved his head and taken off his white santería initiation clothes.  We greet each other warmly; “no me reconociste,” he laughs. The barber shop Anna and I had visited two weeks ago is completely transformed. Not physically; the cracked and tarnished mirrors still line one wall, an old radio in the back crackles out music, faded baseball team posters hang limply from the walls, and the yellowed fluff from the swivel chairs pokes out at odd angles like the few popped kernels at the bottom of the popcorn pot. But the room is now swirling with activity; two men stare intently at a checkers board, a man with a sports jersey and white cream covered face stands inches from the mirror shaving with what looks to me like a WWII rusted razor blade, a burly man fiddles with the radio in the back, a young guy yells good naturedly into the telephone pulled on a curly wire from the wall. The rest of the customers lounge, watching the three barbers shave and trim heads of hair, and wholeheartedly participating in the endless stream of conversation. I sit down to wait my turn after Endy has assured me he can cut women’s hair as well.

The man with the WWII razor blade approaches me when he’s done. He offers me his name, Jorge, and a quick tour of the area since the wait is clearly going to be awhile. “Quick” meant a stroll down the street stopping to say hi to every passerby, a coffee in the café his soccer buddy works at where we see the second half of a US baseball game, and after I told him of my Ecuadorian connections, an introduction a block away to a barber who had lived in Quito. About an hour later Jorge brings me back to the barber shop, more purposefully chaotic than ever. At my request a shy customer named Oscar begins to teach me dama, the Cuban version of checkers. His explanations are cut short when it’s his turn to play; I may not have mastered the game, but I get a good taste of the unwavering attention it requires. A few of the men wave me forward even though they were there before me. “Al fin,” I grin at Endy as he sits me down and drapes a yellowing towel over my shoulders.

As he begins to chop at my luscious locks it becomes abundantly clear that he hasn’t had much experience with women’s hair after all. I stop him abruptly. “Actually Endy, I want you to do what you’re good at. How about you shave a star into the back of my head so I can show my devotion to Che?” It didn’t take much convincing and as my star forms a crowd gathers to help hold my hair out of the way, offer trimming advice, and poke fun at Endy’s skills. I take the opportunity to ask as many questions as my awkward neck angle will allow. I learn that due to the new law allowing private businesses this barber shop became particular only a month ago meaning Endy and his partner Annia don’t have to pay rent to a middle man and to the government; now only the government must be paid regular taxes on their business. He explains that most Cuban men get their hair cut once a week and therefore the local barber is a vital gathering space to exchange news, discuss issues, and support each other through difficult times. “Si no tenemos nada, que nos queda pero reirnos, disfrutar, y compartir entre todos? Somos del costumbre de la conversa,” (“If we don’t have anything, what’s left but to laugh, enjoy, and share among everyone? We have a conversational culture”) he shrugs. This truly collectivist sentiment was always surprising to me in Cuba, for some reason I didn’t think people would actually think this way, but the camaraderie and solidarity in that barber shop was palpable. Slapping of backs, haggling over bets, sharing sports news, kissing newly shaven heads all came naturally in that space. As Fairley notes, “they continually discuss news, views, and gossip with each other in public and private spaces. Talking, chatting and discussing are key Cuban activities. The grapevine is rapid” (Fairley 86). I learn more about Cuba in that afternoon listening to side conversations and chatting with Endy than I did from every single government presentation on the trip. I ask him what I owe him at the end of a draining journey through the recesses of my hair; “Solo lo que tu quieres pagarme” (“only what you want to pay me”). I give him ten CUC, a small fortune for a haircut I’ve learned would normally cost 25 cents (5 pesos cubanos). Fond and extensive farewells and promises are exchanged.

I leave the barber shop with a shaven star, many scribbled addresses, invitations to a baseball game and a birthday party, but most importantly I leave with a truer understanding of life in Cuba. “True, deep, dirty, loud, joyful, collective, unrestrained, and unabashed Cuba came out in my unforgettable barbero experience in La Havana” my journal reads, “I pull my hair up high, gladly showing my cubanidad to the gathered men, grinning at the impressed murmurs. I walk out waving and glancing back until I turn the corner.” I think I’ll forever be glancing back at Cuba and the unforgettable life lessons I was given there.

Estrella del Che

Fairley, Jan. “Ay Díos, Ampárame (O God, Protect Me):Music in Cuba during the 1990s, the ‘Special Period’.” Island Musics. Ed. Kevin Dawe.  Oxford: Berg, 2004. 77-99. Print.

During our stay at Hotel Ancon in Trinidad, some of the class while lounging on the beach decided to build a sandcastle. A childhood activity that all of us are familiar with is usually a simple and childish activity but can become a complex and elaborate creation with a little effort. As highly intelligent college students the class took sandcastle building to a whole other level.

Thus the UNESCO world heritage sandcastle was built.

As our sandcastle grew the elements of the UNESCO site became more and more elaborate, including but not limited to;

Transportation, complete with tunnel and roads

Housing and a structured government

education in the form of a science institute and a long standing cathedral built during the establishment of the site.

Two quarries used for building, also from the establisment of the site                                                                                                                                                     (Alexis is sitting in the original quarry and Dylan’s feet are in the newer quarry)

The site also included a fortificated wall for protection and an art museum to show case the cultivation of the culture.

The sandcastle became less and less a simple sandcastle and more and more a manifestation of the things we had learned and seen about Cuba. In class we had studied UNESCO world heritage sites and while in Cuba had the privilege of  visiting several of them and experience what UNESCO is trying to preserve.

But what exactly makes a site UNESCO world heritage site quality?

the criteria from the UNESCO website are as follows

1. to represent a masterpiece of human creative genius;
2. to exhibit an important interchange of human values, over a span of time or within a cultural area of the world, on developments in architecture or technology, monumental arts, town-planning or landscape design;
3. to bear a unique or at least exceptional testimony to a cultural tradition or to a civilization which is living or which has disappeared;
4. to be an outstanding example of a type of building, architectural or technological ensemble or landscape which illustrates (a) significant stage(s) in human history;
5. to be an outstanding example of a traditional human settlement, land-use, or sea-use which is representative of a culture (or cultures), or human interaction with the environment especially when it has become vulnerable under the impact of irreversible change;
6. to be directly or tangibly associated with events or living traditions, with ideas, or with beliefs, with artistic and literary works of outstanding universal significance.
7. to contain superlative natural phenomena or areas of exceptional natural beauty and aesthetic importance;
8. to be outstanding examples representing major stages of earth’s history, including the record of life, significant on-going geological processes in the development of landforms, or significant geomorphic or physiographic features;
9. to be outstanding examples representing significant on-going ecological and biological processes in the evolution and development of terrestrial, fresh water, coastal and marine ecosystems and communities of plants and animals;
10. to contain the most important and significant natural habitats for in-situ conservation of biological diversity, including those containing threatened species of outstanding universal value from the point of view of science or conservation.

Each of Cuba’s 9 UNESCO world heritage sites has been evaluated and found to fit these 10 criteria and when visiting Trinidad and Old Havana it was obvious why they were chosen and preserved by the organization. The architecture, culture, people, and history of the sites we visited were each in their own right culturally significant. I believe that us as a class took those significant aspects and internalized them and somehow they manifested themselves in the creation of our very own sandcastle civilization.  A civilization that started with a simple idea and developed through many stages of enlightenment and cultivation and eventually became our own UNESCO site. I guess that’s what happens when Vassar students build sandcastles.

“Hay un son, hay un flow, hay un son que se oye en Habana” words that will be forever engrained in our memories as the theme song to our experience in Cuba. Hay un son by Orishas must have played over a dozen times on our trip, enough times for us to begin to understand and question the lyrics laid out by the French based group.

When we first were introduced to Hay un son by Orishas in class and it was explained that son was a style of Cuban music, that seemed the simplest explanation for the song title but there was a deeper meaning behind the son and while in Cuba I think we found a bit of what Orishas was talking about.

Hay un Son is a mix of traditional Cuban son and modern hip-hop creating a distinct and unique sound that allows Orishas to mix their own personal raps about life in Habana into traditional sung lyrics about the feelings and rhythm of the music. After one of the numerous chorus repetitions one of the band members sings a more traditional verse sounding more like the singers and guitarists we heard in the restaurants and streets than a member of a hip-hop group. His verse is immediately followed by the chorus and a rap verse touching on topics of Yoruba, an african culture and people that has been integrated into Cuban culture, transcending the limitations of Habana, and continuing the flow.

The last rap verse of the song brings up some hard realities about Cuban life, in their last lines they say “I am of Law, but today I took a break … if Cuba is not like it was yesterday, dress the way you walk…” hinting at the difficult truths behind government corruption and the desperate things that cubans have been driven to do to provide for their families.

The music video provides further insight into the meanings and messages behind the music. The three members of Orishas appear in black and white which begins to blur the racial lines that Cuban society has constructed. Throughout the video the three members literally morph back and forth into one another as they sing and rap the lyrics we know so well, but along with shifting between band members Orishas shifts between different animals, objects and symbols. These symbols include, traditional Yoruba masks, skulls, spiders, cats, and construction trucks, strategically placed during certain lines and raps of the song that correspond and enhance each image’s impact on the viewer. The video is carefully constructed to enhance the messages that Orishas is trying to convey to the Cuban people and the world.

For us Hay un Son was the anthem to our Cuban experience, for Cubans it represents the heart, soul and struggles that cubans have in dealing with their everyday lives.

Even before the two-week trip to Cuba, I knew that baseball was more than just a game to Cubans. I’d heard, for example, about the tradition of Cuban men to gather in parks and public squares to have intense debates (which might, I was warned, appear to my eyes as shouting matches) all about baseball. And sure enough, during our trip, baseball was present. Souvenir shops carried miniature bats with “Cuba” painted in bright colors, post-cards with famous Cubans like Che or Fidel pitching or batting, and of course, t-shirts for the most popular Cuban teams (especially the Industriales; see Jonah’s post, Industriales T-shirt & the Universal Sports Rhetoric from April 16th). At times from the bus, I could see baseball games or a game of catch going on in even the most unlikely spaces—in a side alley street or beside a highway. And the love of baseball was especially evident when I gave a baseball I’d brought with me to a new friend in the park and was subsequently followed around the central plaza in Cienfuegos while I tried to explain to a cohort of hopeful Cubans that I didn’t have any more baseballs to give.

Baseball is a recognized national pastime in both the U.S. and Cuba, and therefore represents an undeniable cultural connection between two countries that are so often judged to be opposite in every way. Therefore, it is true that, as Jonah emphasized, baseball is something that can potentially remain “transnational…in spite of antagonistic political relationships.” However, it is equally true that, like so many things in Cuba, baseball is often inescapably intertwined with politics, and specifically with Cuban-American relations. A documentary on the Cuban revolution subtly reinforced this notion, saying that “The spectacular victories of Cuban baseball over victories over powerful teams from Latin America, Asia and the United States confirm our[Cuba’s] team as world leader.”

An especially poignant example is the recent controversy surrounding comments made by Ozzie Guillen, manager for the Miami Marlins, a Major League Baseball team. In a Time Magazine interview, Guillen said he “love[s] Fidel Castro…I respect Fidel Castro. You know why? A lot of people have wanted to kill Fidel Castro for the last 60 years, but that son of a bitch is still there.” The immediate reaction to Guillen’s comments was hardly surprising, despite the fact that this was not the first instance when Guillen has spoken positively of Fidel and other controversial leaders such as Hugo Chavez.

However, the reaction from the anti-Castro Cuban community was particularly fierce on this occasion because earlier controversial comments were not made while Guillen was the manager for the Marlins. Said another way, these comments were aggravated by the Floridian context of the situation. As summarized by Dan Le Batard in his critique of Guillen’s statements, “Given what the customer base is for the Marlins…given that Ozzie Guillen was hired to be a Latin voice and face for a team that would represent Miami, this is the worst possible thing that Ozzie Guillen could have said…”

Organized Cuban American advocacy groups in Miami, particularly Vigilia Mambisa, announced that it would boycott and demonstrate against Guillen until he was removed from his position as manager. The Marlins issued an official statement clarifying their fervent anti-Castro stance—calling him “a brutal dictator who has caused unthinkable pain for more than 50 years”—and Floridian politician Rene Garcia voiced his expectation that Guillen would be punished for his comments. Guillen quickly issued an apology for his statements, even flying back to Miami (from Cincinnati, where the Marlins were playing) on the team’s day off to answer personally to the questions of the Miami community. He said he felt “sad” and “guilty” and like he had “betrayed his Latin community,” and clarified his opinion of Fidel: “I want them to know I’m against everything 100 percent—I repeat it again—the way this man [has been] treating people for the last 60 years.” Guillen was suspended

All of this formed part of the immediate uproar and development of the controversy surrounding Guillen’s comments, and the situation is a quintessential example of the power dynamics in Miami. It speaks to the ways in which the Anti-Castro Cuban American community is capable of ensure that its political views permeate and influence both cultural and economic spheres in Miami . As Le Batard summarized, “You’ve got very loud, very powerful, very influential Cubans who want him fired…[the] pain of the older generation of Cubans—it’s loud, it’s strong, in Miami.”

Like in so many other instances, this demonstration of the Cuban American community’s power was not lost on Cubans. Julita Osendi, a well-known sports anchor in Cuba, closed her comments on the issue saying, “How does the much-ballyhooed ‘yankee’ freedom of expression look now?” And given the way Guillen had to “humiliate himself to the core to try to keep his job,” it is not a stretch to say that the whole scandal could be read as a questionable limitation of free speech. Indeed, it seems that a few native Cubans in Major League Baseball also sensed some sort of overreaction or injustice in the reaction of the Cuban American community. Alexei Ramirez, a Cuban shortstop for the White Sox, said “Everyone has their opinion…people should be forgiven. So if he’s going to apologize…hopefully, he’ll be accepted.” When asked to comment on the issue, the Cuban-born manager of the Atlanta Braves, Fredi Gonzalez, expressed similar thoughts saying, “hopefully he can win those people [the Cuban Americans of Miami] back somehow.” And a quick browse through some of the many hundreds of blog posts, comments, and articles on the issue express similar or more drastic thoughts about questions of limitations to freedom of expression.

If nothing else, the entire commotion demonstrates the way in which Cuban-American relations, even in cultural realms like sports, cannot be separated from the antagonisms that characterize the political relations between the two countries. Additionally, it serves as another example of the influence of the Cuban American community in Miami and its questionable use of that influence.

http://espn.go.com/mlb/story/_/id/7791970/ozzie-guillen-miami-marlins-return-city-answer-questions-fidel-castro-comments