Cuba Delegation - Feb. 2004

Because of the US ban on travel to Cuba, it's difficult and risky (you risk expensive fines) for individuals to travel to Cuba. So we went with Witness for Peace, as part of a delegation focusing on the economic effects of the U.S. embargo/blockade. We had some qualms about traveling with a group that had a very structured itinerary, and that is described as "faith-based."

The notes below are organized chronologically, with brief digressions on topics that don't fit that framework.

Since most of you may not have the interest or patience to read through all of this (how did it get so long? We didn't even write about the members of the group), here are a few general impressions:

• The people we spoke with in Cuba, whether we met them informally or as part of scheduled presentations, supported the Revolution and felt strongly that they did not want to "go back to the 1950's" or renounce socialism, though many had criticisms of the current government or some of its actions.
• For most of the time we were there, the weather was not great. It was probably in the low 70's, cloudy and sometimes drippy. This was unusual for February.
• One major surprise was that the people looked healthy, adequately fed and clothed. We stayed in one of the poorer neighborhoods in Havana, and in our walks saw far fewer "street people" or other signs of homelessness, dumpster diving, etc. than we would have in a comparable US neighborhood.
• People referred often to the Special Period during the 1990's, after the withdrawal of support from the Soviet Union and the tightening of restrictions from the US, which led to the most serious deprivations of the post-revolutionary period. We sensed a mix of emotions—relief and a certain pride at having survived the period and seeing things improve, along with sadness and resentment about the political forces that caused the difficulties of that time.
• The music was plentiful and infectious.
• Fidel Castro's image is almost entirely absent. There are very few billboards, statues, posters or any visible presence of Fidel. But Che Guevara and Jose Marti are everywhere, and Che's picture is a favorite on various tourist items.
• We didn't see a lot of police or military, and there wasn't a feeling of surveillance. While this might have been our lack of awareness of plainclothes security forces, the relaxed atmosphere seemed to support our impressions.
• People easily distinguished between the US government and the US people, and were very friendly, generous and welcoming towards us.
• Deirdre is the worrier in our family, and before the trip she was worried about the following: traveling with a group, having lots of structured activities and not enough free time, traveling with a faith-based group, not bringing enough cash, and not being able to sleep. None of these were problems except poor sleep (worsened by a Havana rooster who crowed through most of the night), but she doesn't sleep much at home anyway. While we would have liked more free time, we also didn't want to miss the scheduled events.
• Since Mark falls asleep early and Deirdre doesn't drink alcohol, we skipped most of the evenings out at neighborhood bars and places in Old Havana. Our trip would certainly have been a different one if we had joined others in the group for these adventures.
• There were so many things we didn't see or do, and we especially missed nature during this trip. Guess we'll have to go back.

2/13

We had a very stressful start, with a big fight the night before and late arrival at the Ithaca Airport. Then three planes, successively bigger, more crowded, with more kids. It was school break, and lots of families were headed for Nassau's all inclusive resorts. Finally we arrived at the Orange Hill Beach Inn in Nassau, The Bahamas. Over the door to the office is a sign reading, "Fawlty Towers, Nassau." The place is very low key and funky, only 32 rooms. There's an honor system bar. If you want a drink, you take it yourself and mark it off on a sheet of paper. There's a small swimming pool, games and puzzles, a basketball hoop. The beach is right across the road. We lucked out by getting bumped from our room into the owner's apartment, sort of like having our own suite, and at a reduced price. Went for a walk on the beach, but the water was a bit cool for swimming. The beach was covered by a stringy, papery brown/black/white seaweed. We ate a good dinner at the hotel, tuna, grouper, guava cake with rum sauce. Walked down the road to burgeoning development, condos and a barely rented shopping complex. The architecture seemed very similar to southern Florida retirement complexes. Sitting on a wooden glider overlooking the ocean, Mark is instantly relaxed, saying let's travel everywhere, let's live some place like this. Deirdre thinks it would be incredibly boring.

2/14

Up early, and went on a walk to find "the lakes" as shown on a map, but found development instead. Then a mediocre breakfast which might have been good had we been meat eaters. We lay on the beach and Deirdre swam in the clear, calm sea. Bought food at the Gourmet Market, five minutes from the Inn, which has organic vegetables, tofu, freshly baked bread, etc.

The flight on Air Cubana was comical, with overhead compartments popping open, ceiling panels coming down. In addition, most of our fellow passengers were self-described holy Christian warriors,--part of an evangelical, ultraconservative medical group. They were bringing medical supplies and expertise, teddy bears, clothing and their zeal to help bring down the last crumbling remnants of a decaying Communist regime.--(Quotes from their literature) Although we were proud of the two large duffle bags of medicine and bandages we'd brought, this group had cartons of blood supplies and other serious medical donations. While my seatmates slept, Mark was harangued by the surgeon sitting next to him, an up-by-the-bootstraps African-American doctor who insisted that if he could succeed, so could anyone else.

We had a long wait for other group members at Havana's Jose Marti Airport, the most distinctive feature of which is caged birds of all kinds: parrots, parakeets, lovebirds, cockatiels, canaries, etc. Then we loaded our bags into our guagua (bus)-- an old, yellow school bus covered with paintings and slogans, donated by Pastors for Peace. The bus is very noticeable, and a tourist attraction in itself. It also signals to Cubans that we aren't the typical tourists who travel in air-conditioned luxury vehicles (the holy Christian warriors drove off in one of those), and that we have a political purpose. The bus helped us meet a lot of people from many countries.

As we drove into Havana the air grew smoky. We were told it was sugar cane burning (in an urban area? Later we found out it was burning garbage). On arriving at the Centro Memorial de Martin Luther King, where we'll be staying in Havana, we found that there was no electricity, no air conditioning (though there were machines in the windows), our room hot as hell. To us, the accommodations are rather Spartan, bunk beds with very thin mattresses, shared bathroom with another couple. The MLK Center is very lively, lots of little kids running around, dogs, a valentine's party for seniors. We later found out that they sponsor a range of other activities, including building new homes and renovating existing buildings.

Electricity came back on during dinner. Some of the group went off to Habana Vieja, but we were too tired and settled for a video about Hugo Chavez and Venezuela. Air conditioning came back on before bedtime.

2/15

Up and walking at 6 am. It's still dark but there is lots of street life, people headed for work even though it's Sunday morning. We spent the morning in an orientation session at a nearby community center. Witness for Peace has been in Cuba since 1999. The morning was spent on introductions and developing a group process. The group ranges in age from 20 to 75. There's a heavy concentration from the Boston area, because Ellen, the US Coordinator for this delegation, is from Rockport and is an excellent recruiter. But people come from all parts of the US plus 2 Canadians, a variety of occupations, and plenty of third world travel and living experience. Our Cuban guide is Ariel Rojas, who works at the MLK Center. There are also two American International Team members, Marty and Patrick (who were also excellent translators). Marty's parents and aunt are part of the group. And Ellen is a lifelong activist who's been to Cuba and other parts of Central America often over the years.

We did some getting-to-know-you exercises, and talked about the process of check-in, reflection, and de-briefing. Also got some warnings and role playing about how to handle jineterismo (hustling) of various kinds. In response to some people saying they came to Cuba to see the country before it changed (after Fidel's departure), Ariel said "I've been hearing that all my life and that's not an accurate way of seeing things. It won't change that much." Witness for Peace does not arrange for us to meet with dissidents or dissident groups, but said they encourage us to do this on our own. I didn't hear of anyone in the group actually figuring out how to do so.

One member of the group is a cranky old lefty named Peter, a Canadian who's visited Cuba frequently, knows everything and disagrees with everyone. Of course, he and Mark bonded immediately.

Patrick and Marty assigned roles to various members of the group. Some people are in charge of logistics, two are the shepherds whose task is to keep us on time. Deirdre was a note taker, and took her job seriously, which accounts for the length of this report. Mark was the "vibes watcher". Witness for Peace has a ‘pedagogical' process that informs the delegation process – reflection/etc. As agnostics, we'd been somewhat concerned about traveling with a faith-based group, and staying at church-affiliated centers. This was not a problem. There were no prayers at meals, and though WFP talks about "prayerful reflection," that is defined so broadly as to include people of all faiths, and of none.

In walking back to the MLK Center we passed a nursery school with a lovely community garden of raised beds and varied crops. Also an herbal medicine pharmacy. LOTS of garbage in the streets, strewn around by the ubiquitous dogs.

After lunch, we met with Mavis Anderson from the Latin American Working Group. LAWG is a coalition of religious and other groups committed to promoting more equitable relationships between the US and Latin America. Mavis focuses on Cuba. (See the Mavis Anderson section in "Notes" for more details on her talk.)

Then we went on a tour of Havana, with stops at the Plaza de la Revolución, where Fidel makes his major speeches and the Pope celebrated Mass, Parque Central, the Capitolio building (a replica of the US Capitol) and Habana Vieja (Old Havana). It was gray, somewhat drippy and rather cool, though pleasant to our northern bodies. We saw many beautiful buildings, in various stages of decay. Old forts, hotels, lots of Hemingway memorabilia (the bar where Hemingway drank this, the restaurant where Hemingway ate that). Many people asking for money, trying to sell us cigars and the Che 3 peso, which is worth about 15 cents but is generally offered for a dollar or more. We walked along the Malecón sea wall, had a beer and flan at a café. Deirdre really wanted a cup of tea but couldn't find it anywhere.

We found the lovely Plaza de San Francisco and interesting museums, including a museum of antique cars, which we later heard houses Che's Chevy. But we didn't have time to visit any of them. One interesting thing is you have to pay more if you want to take pictures in a museum, and even more if you want to use video. There's a museum of religious art, housed in what was once a Catholic Church. But when the British occupied Havana in 1762, they used it as an Anglican Church, and the Catholics refused to use it as a church after that.

Then it started to rain, so we returned to the bus, and back to the Center. Before dinner, Celia Sarduy Sanches came by to pick up the package someone from Ithaca had sent for her, and invite us to lunch at her house. Celia brought us a bottle of rum as a present from her husband, and we shared it with the group at dinner, and for several days thereafter. Today was a day for getting to know the group, and feeling good about them, and getting a feel for Havana. Marianao, the area we're staying in, is so different from the touristy sections of Habana Vieja. No one on the streets asks us for money or wants us to buy anything. We're obviously not natives, but that doesn't seem to be an issue here.

2/16

This morning we met with Rev. Raul Suarez, pastor of the Ebenezer Baptist Church and founder of the MLK Center. (see NOTES) Rev. Suarez is a tiny man, but a big presence in Marianao and other parts of Cuban society. He's been a member of the national legislature for 12 years. Rev. Suarez talked to us about the history of the Baptist Church, and religion in general, in Cuba, his experiences as a legislator, his views on the revolution, and much more. After questioning from the group, he had us stand up and join hands while he led us in a rather low-key prayer.

Museum of the Literacy Campaign: Marianao was previously a middle-class enclave of Batista and his supporters. Not far from the MLK Center, in what were formerly the largest barracks of Batista's military, there's now the Ciudad Escolar de Libertad, a large school complex for children of all ages, and the Museum of the Literacy Campaign. In 1961, Castro declared that Cuba would be the first Latin American country to eradicate illiteracy. School was dismissed early, and thousands of high school students were trained to teach reading and writing, and sent into the countryside to do so. The first section of the museum is dedicated to the "Martyrs of the Literacy Campaign," several dozen young people who were tortured and killed by counter-revolutionaries. As part of their "final exam" after being taught to read and write, people had to write letters to Fidel, and the museum houses 5,000 of these letters. Currently, the officially stated literacy rate is 0.2%, and Cuba now advises and provides materials for literacy campaigns in other countries.

Deirdre asked about education for people with disabilities, and got a long answer about the various kinds of special education (no mainstreaming here), as well as the difficulties caused by the blockade, such as the shortage of paper used for Braille.

Scavenger Hunt: The group then broke up into smaller units, each with at least one person whose Spanish was passable. We were dropped off at various locations in Marianao with lists of questions to answer or things to find on our way back to the MLK Center. We teamed up with Sheila and Wendell. Our first stop was the Tropicana, the sole remnant in Marianao of pre-revolutionary decadence. In addition to lush landscaping, the Tropicana has extravagant statues, a nightclub, bar and restaurant. The cheapest seats for the evening show are $65 US. We had Mojitos at the Rodney Lounge, named for a former costume designer at the Tropicana. Four drinks and tip were $10.

Down the street we heard a backyard band playing and stopped in to listen. There were 5 singers with somewhat synchronized moves and about 8 musicians. The second song they played was about a girl named Sheila (Chela) who didn't want to go out and have fun. For Sheila, it was very synchronistic that they were singing a song about someone with her name.

Then we began a trek down 41st Avenue amid incredible pollution. Everyone is romantic about the old cars in Cuba without talking about how they foul the air. Among the things we located were: a movie theatre and a dollar store (where you can only buy with dollars, and there's far more to buy than in a peso store). We also had to find a bodega which in Cuba turns out to be a store where you use your libreta, your ration book. Everyone in Cuba gets a ration book and is assigned to a specific bodega. There they can buy very basic food which is supposed to last all month, but is generally concede to run out after about ten days.

Back at the Center, Alice Pedersen, the niece of friends from Ithaca, arrived just as we met in a group to process our findings from the scavenger hunt. Alice had just begun her semester abroad at the University of Havana and hadn't heard any discussion of issues such as rationing, the embargo, etc. We had a very lively discussion which Alice seemed to find interesting and informative. We talked about the rations system, which can be seen as a manifestation of scarcity, or as a system to make sure that everyone gets at least the basic minimum of food, in the same amounts.

With regard to the US embargo/blockade, Ariel said that if the US had ended the embargo during the Special Period, Castro might not still be in power. The embargo gave him an external enemy, a rallying point that held the people together and kept him in power. It still has the effect of strengthening the people's morale and resolve. Ariel said that "every day I work to end the embargo, but every night I light a candle that it will not end."

Alice stayed for dinner and more talk. It was interesting to hear about the university, and how it differs from American colleges. When we called a cab to take her home it took almost an hour to arrive. She's living in Vedado, a more up-scale area where she said cabs arrive almost instantly.

2/17

Awoke to find no water at the Center. They use cistern system, and theirs had run dry, so we had to wait till more water could be delivered. We took an early morning walk down 51st Avenue, a very busy street.

I refer to this as our "through the looking glass" day, because we met with diplomats from both the Cuban Foreign Relations Ministry and the US Interests Section. They talked about the same topics, both with conviction and documentation, but with absolutely different views of reality.

First stop of the day is the Cuban Foreign Affairs Office, where we meet with Florentino Batista Gonzalez. (See NOTES) There are the usual fish tanks, including one that's not real, but a video of a fish tank. We are served espresso and bottled water, sit around a big table. We've been prepped for this visit by being told that Batista will follow the party line, but that we should feel free to ask him anything we want, and we do. He sidesteps some questions, but his answers are smooth and friendly. At the end of the meeting, when Deirdre told him that her son worked for a Republican US Senator, he handed her his card and invited her son to visit Cuba "as his guest."

The Witness for Peace staff prepared us for our meeting with Matt Goshko at the US Interests Section (no embassy, since we don't have diplomatic relations, but we have more staff in Cuba than does any other country). They suggested that our purpose was not to lobby, but to get information. They recommend "respectful disagreement." We are not allowed to take pictures within 3 blocks of the building, or even bring our cameras with us. Also, Ariel is not allowed to go with us. He asks us if we will take notes and fill him in on what happens.

The Interests Section building is directly across the street from a massive monument reading "Patria o Muerte—Batalla de Ideas, un combate de Nuestro Tiempo--Venceremos." As we enter the building, we pass through airport-type security. On a small glass booth there's a sticker with a large picture of a gun, reading "Hunting Season on Terrorists."

We meet with Matt Goshko, who's on his second tour of duty as a Foreign Service Consulate Officer. (See NOTES) Previously, he'd been in the Peace Corps in the Philippines and the Foreign Service in Kinshasa, Congo. He described himself as a "card carrying member of the ACLU", and repeatedly expressed his admiration of us for staying in Marianao ("it's so dangerous, tourists never go to places like that"), having convictions, etc. We sit in rows, and no refreshments are offered, though we are allowed to use the bathroom. About halfway through the talk, Matt's superior comes in and sits silently in the back, which is rather intimidating to many of us. Afterwards, Mark engages him in conversation, and he presents a similar liberal façade.

Matt says repeatedly that our visit illustrates the ability of Americans to disagree with our government and try to change it. He also says repeatedly that "no one" in the US government wants the violent overthrow of the Cuban government, and that there will be no invasion. His insistence on this makes some of us nervous. Why the need to deny it so much? In response to our criticism of the hunting permit sticker, he says that previous WFP groups had mentioned it as well, and he'd pass on the complaint, but that part of the building is run by Marines, and they feel that their colleagues are in danger, and are very emotional about it.

After a couple of hours with Matt, we all needed to unwind, and went for drinks to the 1830 Restaurant, named for the year of its construction, a beautifully restored building which overlooks the harbor. Colorado John (as opposed to John from Detroit) was celebrating his 23r d birthday, so that and the relief of being away from the various diplomats made us somewhat giddy. We sat on an outdoor terrace, and though it was cool and misty, enjoyed the drinks and the view of the harbor.

When we got back to the Center, we found that there was water again, which made us very happy.

Food: All of our meals were provided, at the MLK Center and the Guest House in Varadero. The meals were all at least adequate, sometimes better than that, with many different dishes served at each meal. The best part, for us, was the fruit at breakfast. Every day, we had papaya, grapefruit, bananas, etc–all very fresh and delicious, especially the bananas, which were the small ones, slightly pink inside. There was also white bread, jam and honey, scrambled eggs with or without ham, and overly sweet cold cereal. And lots of coffee—little cups of sweet, dark Cuban coffee, which was available in the Center's courtyard before we even went to breakfast. Rice and beans were available at every lunch and dinner, as was a salad, usually shredded cabbage circled by some other shredded vegetables. There was always a meat/poultry/fish dish, and until the last few meals there was a vegetarian alternative, which was sometimes textured vegetable protein. Desserts were very good—a coconut pudding, guava sauce, occasionally ice cream. The worst meal was a dinner of spaghetti with sauce and gloppy cheese, and pizza. The pizza, which is commonly available in Havana, is on doughy, undercooked white bread, and is rather flavorless. We rarely went out to eat at restaurants, both because we liked the company of the group and because the food was definitely OK. However, in Varadero it was a little skimpy, and one night a group of us went out to eat, we knew there'd be more for those left behind. But one morning in Varadero they served crepes! The only real restaurant meal we had was at a mid-range hotel in Varadero, where Deirdre had lobster brochettes and flan. The food was adequate, but still rather bland, and the menu limited. However, the restaurant was really set up for the hotel's German and Cuban guests, who were getting a set meal, so accommodating us at all was an accomplishment. Between Nassau and Cuba, we fell in love with guava. Mark also loved malangas, a tuber that unfortunately looks somewhat like skinned pigs' knuckles. Tostones (fried plantains) and plantain chips were also great.

The Artists' Houses: That evening we went to the house of Dapbarto Yaquinet, a man who lost both legs and one arm in a farm accident when he was 12. He is a painter, sculptor and poet, who also has an art program for kids. He moved around his house with facility, up and down stairs without his wheelchair. His major themes are Jose Marti and birds. Often the birds in his paintings are rather fantastic, merging in and out of each other and of people. He's been married 4 times, traveled to and exhibited in the US and Denmark. He said he needs to live in Cuba because he needs the Cuban light. His major inspirations are Jesus (of whom there was a large statue in his bedroom) and Jose Marti. He uses art as therapy, to address kids' problems. His house was also beautiful, with tiled floors, antique light fixtures, caged birds of many kinds and a fabulous courtyard garden. He said nothing about politics or the Revolution.

The second artist, Marlen Silvera, was a tiny woman in a small, modest house. She portrays the animals hidden in peoples' souls, and showed us a beautiful fabric portrait of a butterfly-woman. She has a contract, through which she employs several others, to produce 260 hand-carved humidor chests, which will be sold in England, filled with cigars, for $1200 each. She also sells at craft shows, where the government taxes her earnings at about 30%.

2/18

Our first stop of the day was at John Lennon Park. There's a statue of John sitting on a bench, and you can sit with him—great photo op. Engraved in marble in front of the bench, in Spanish, is the line, "You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one." Elderly people were exercising in another part of the park.

Since Mark is always drawn to children, he began speaking to three girls. They were winding down a birthday sleepover party, and the woman who was with them mentioned that she was the wife of the British Ambassador to Cuba. We talked with her for quite a while. They'd been in the country for 2 years, and were about to leave. She said that while the country was beautiful and the people wonderful, the government was terrible. She said it was too bad that we weren't seeing the "real Cuba". When we mentioned that we were staying in Marianao, she said that she meant away from Havana, where people didn't have access to the dollar economy. She said that the people were starving, and the churches were feeding thousands of people each week. Deirdre mentioned that the churches in the US did this as well (soup kitchens, food pantries), but she didn't want to hear that, especially as they owned a house in Greenwich. Connecticut, and her husband was about to start a fellowship at Harvard. Repeatedly, she said that "The people have no dreams." The government had robbed them of their dreams. (What about the artists we'd met last night?) As we talked, and she saw that we didn't agree with her, she grew tighter and tighter. Fortunately, it was soon time for us to get back on the bus.

Museo de la Revolución: Housed in a fabulous palace that was designed by Louis Tiffany and built in the 1920's, the building has mirrored halls, intricate chandeliers, and wedding-cake ceilings. It had been used by several decades of pre-revolutionary governments. Now it tells the history of the country, with an incredibly detailed account of the revolution. Ariel gave a fabulous tour, with much detailed information. As we moved through the museum, other tourists would tag along with us, often somewhat shame-faced, to get the information Ariel dispensed. There were (at least) two somewhat bizarre aspects to the museum. The first is that although there were English translations for most of the explanatory and identifying material, the translations were often quite poorly worded, ungrammatical or inaccurate. We found it strange that with all the expertise in the country, they didn't provide better translations. The second odd thing is a room devoted to Che and Camilo Cienfuegos. Cienfuegos was one of the early leaders of the revolution, killed when his plane crashed in October, 1959. (For some reason, he got the short end of the icon stick, and you don't see his picture everywhere, as you do of Che) There's a display of the two men climbing over rocks, and their figures are rather grotesque, almost like those in a wax museum.

The museum has an incredible quantity of detailed material, far too much to take in at one visit. They also have, outside the museum, the original Granma yacht that carried Fidel and his group from Mexico to Cuba (and yes, it was named for the owner's grandmother), various tanks and other military vehicles. Across the street was the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, which I looked at longingly and thought I must get back to, but never had the time. While Deirdre was absorbing more minutiae of the Revolution, Mark and some others escaped to...

The Cigar Factory: Years ago, in the eighties, I can remember visiting the Cuban pavilion at a World's Fair in Vancouver. My friend Pancho and I and our two sons were on a whirlwind transcontinental trip. We bought a couple of "contraband" cigars (the box rests next to my bed to this day), and later smoked up at our tent. The cigars provoked feelings of omnipotence, I think, because we immediately packed up, jumped in the car and headed for our dream destination, the last place on our map: Yellow Knife, in the Northwest Territories. But that's another story...

In Cuba, after learning much about the Revolution at the Museo, Tony led me across the street to the cigar factory. Housed in a busy building, buses parked out front, I felt like the nonsmoker who suddenly experiences a land of forbidden pleasure. Okay, I had tried one in Canada, but still I felt like a virgin. Through a door at the left of the main entrance was a splendid emporium (I'm told the real factory is elsewhere in the building) where just inside, a skilled man rolled fine cigars for the world of visitors. Beyond his station, there were three or four display counters where courteous but efficient sales people answered questions and of course provided the merchandise. Muchos dólares were endlessly scooped up and taken over to the central cash register. Deeper within the room was a discreet coffee bar, and nearby, plush chairs where you could relish the scene. I can also report that the men's room was really fine. You experienced a focused bustling about the place, a sense that serious business was being transacted. And I thank Tony for steering me toward the Cohibas and Monte Cristos, which I tolerantly bought for the guys back home who would appreciate the gesture.

Afterwards, analyzing the moment, the politically correct part of me sensed a contradiction in the revolutionary society that caters to the vice of smoking. But doesn't every society have its inconsistencies, that place where all the rhetoric is tossed aside in favor of those all-too-human habits that define us?

Then we had a 2-hour bus ride to Varadero, in Matanzas Province. Alejandro, our bus driver, was a master at coaxing the beast up long uphills and keeping it under control as we careened down the opposite slopes. I should mention here that he was equally adept at maneuvering through narrow city streets.

Rest Area and Yumuri Valley: There has to be a best of every category of place, and the high point above the Yumuri Valley ranks somewhere in that domain. Our bus lumbered into the rest area and we got out, expecting a brief bathroom break, maybe a snack. Instead, we experienced something wonderful.

We were perched high above an ever-misty expanse of green forest that seemed to waver in the light when you tried to focus your eyes, as if in a dream, as if you had entered one of those lush Latin American landscape paintings where light and air and subject mingle within a magical image.

But there was certainly activity in the rest area, a band, snack bar, an array of vendors, and the wondrous view beyond became just a background. Anyway, we would not get to explore the valley below, not on this trip. So we took care of business and got back on the bus. But the enticing possibility of Yumuri will surely linger in memory.

Varadero: What a shock after our days in Havana! Varadero is a thin peninsula on the north coast of Matanzas Province. The eastern end of the peninsula has big, luxurious, often "all-inclusive" hotels and resorts, many built in partnerships between the Cuban government and foreign companies. We stayed at the Casa de Carino (Loving Care Home), affiliated with a Presbyterian church. It's a lovely place, right across the street from the beach. During the winter they rent it out to groups like ours, and with the surplus from that, in the summer offer free beach vacations to the elderly, and to children with disabilities or chronic illnesses. The rooms were dormitory style, with 7 people sharing a room and bathroom. Deirdre lucked out and got the only non-bunk bed, which felt quite luxurious. Each bed has a handmade quilt, and the walls of the house are decorated with other quilts, most with religious/spiritual themes. There's a large outdoor terrace where we eat some of our meals, and several sitting areas. There's also a TV, which mostly showed soap operas, but at least once had CNN en Español.

It was too cool and windy to do more than walk on the beach, so we spent the afternoon browsing around the endless craft and tchotchke markets. Most of the stalls had the same items, but occasionally something different would emerge from the glut of merchandise. Probably the most unusual was a wooden crocodile standing on his hind legs. When you pulled his tail, a large, red, hair-trimmed penis emerged from under his stomach. Very exciting. Not being big shoppers (though we did buy Che eyeglass cases, among other trinkets), we soon tired of this and spent time sitting and chatting with Kay, watching the street scene. Kay came on the trip in spite of having broken her leg the week before, and we're in awe of her pluck and determination.

That evening we went to a community center where we heard a talk about Afro- Cuban religion, music and spirit figures. A band and two dancers demonstrated how the music has retained African roots, the dancers acting out four of the major African spirit/archetypes.

2/19

On our morning walk, we're amazed at the amount of "stuff" in the stores that line the main street of Varadero. We pass a bookstore, Librería Hanoi, but it's never open when we're there, which is too bad because we can see a lot of interesting titles. We also pass the Parque Josone, a municipal park with wildlife and a swimming pool, which is not open, but which we later find out is where Elian Gonzales's father works.

National School of the Arts: We drive about an hour to the city of Matanzas, and visit this school, which is part of a network of Cuban magnet-type schools. Children are tested as early as second grade, and by third grade are chosen to enter schools specializing in music, dance, science, sports, vocational skills and other areas. They receive the traditional education, plus special training in their area. Each province has at least one school for each specialty, and some students live at the schools Monday-Friday. The art schools began in 1962. They also train art and music teachers for the non-specialized schools. All of this education is free—dormitories, food, instruments, supplies. We're thinking about how much art and music education is being cut back in the US, as well as the long lists of supplies children have to bring to school, and the fundraising for trips, art supplies, etc.

As we arrive, a group of students lines the steps, waving red kerchiefs and singing a welcome song. Students of piano, violin and cello enter in third grade, other instruments and dance in fourth grade, and visual artists in eighth or ninth. In the first classroom, one girl plays the flute while another holds the music up for her. We're afraid that the school doesn't have music stands, but it does in the other classes. A girl plays the Beatles "Yesterday" on saxophone, and two girls read us a welcome in English. Another girl sings a poem she's written about the Miami 5. There's a shiny new Xinghai grand piano, in perfect tune. (Mark had been frustrated by playing the piano at the MLK Center) A children's chorus sang to us, and brought many of the group to tears. We saw the ballet class and three solo dancers, and an Afro-Cuban interpretive dance. Deirdre had asked earlier about the ballet body type, and whether that rules out African- Americans as it does in the US. Although we were assured that there was no color discrimination, the girls in the ballet class were decidedly light-skinned, and the girls in the interpretive dance group darker-skinned.

The art students are older, less well-kempt, looking to us like art students everywhere. They don't have any digital art resources. The government is building a visual arts school in the interior of Matanzas. Although they receive a lot of support from the National Center, they're also expected to provide some of their own resources. In the art program, they recycle drawing paper, pulping it and making new paper for the art classes to use. The model we saw for the life drawing class was also a teacher, with an intense, haunted face. Some of us talk at length with one of the art students, whose English is very good. He was really interested in 26-year old Jessica, but he tolerated the rest of us older women, and was rewarded by getting to kiss Jessica when we had to leave. He and the others wanted to draw us, but there wasn't time.

Although we're told that the school has been recently renovated, the buildings still seem rather shabby, by US standards (which, after all, are not the standards of the rest of the world). The Director of Elementary Education tells us about the current "revolution" in education, in which they're adding technology—TVs, computers–to all classrooms. She referred to the "Fourth Educational Revolution," in which each teacher will have 15 students, and will teach them all subjects. They feel that this is a more holistic approach, in which the teacher is in touch with all aspects of the student and his/her family strengths and issues.

Farm Cooperative: In the afternoon we drove east from Varadero through Cardenas, where Elian Gonzalez was reunited with his family, to an agricultural cooperative outside of Perico. We're greeted by the leaders of the cooperative, and women who have prepared an impressive spread for us—mango, pineapple, the little bananas, cookies, and coconuts split open for drinking.

The President of the Coop Board tells us that he was born a poet (in fact, we welcomed us with a long poem), but growing up before the Revolution, he was only able to go to school for two years. 1959, he says, was for us the sun that lit a new path in life. (See Notes for more details about the Cooperative and agricultural production)

We drive out to the potato fields, which are not treated with chemical pesticides, and look beautiful. One of our group is given a potato, but she isn't interested in it, so Deirdre takes it and smuggles it back into the US (our only illegal act). If it sprouts, we'll plant it this Spring. On the drive back to the cooperative entrance, our poet-guide entertains us with a long rap-like poem of love for Cuba and defiance of the US, in which he refers to Bush as "el senor doble V (W)."

That night we decide we've had enough of institutional food, and break out to a restaurant (see above).

2/20

It's finally warmed up, and the wind has died down. Many of us decide that it's time to swim, and the water is much warmer than the air, with gentle waves. We have crepes for breakfast, out on the terrace, and too soon it's time to head back to Havana.

The Family Doctor: That afternoon we go to an apartment complex, to learn about the family medical system. Cuba has one family doctor and one family nurse for approximately every 180 families. The doctor and nurse live in the communities they serve, and are on call 24/7. The clinic was being renovated, so we met in the doctor's apartment, which was on the floor above the clinic. Miriam, the doctor, had a wall-mounted TV, several fish tanks, and an ash tray holding cigarette butts. There's a rooster crowing on a balcony outside the apartment, but we don't know if it's hers.

She's in her office from 8-12, and makes house calls from 1-5. They have strong pre-natal and pre-conception programs to make mothers healthier before they conceive. She makes daily or weekly visits to newborns, depending on their health. She says that they have no infant mortality in her community. They promote contraception, but Miriam concedes that abortion is common. The clinic has its own pharmacy. She deals with all family problems, so there's a strong psychological component to her practice. She also tries to do preventive education about alcohol, diet, smoking, etc. The next step in the medical system is the Polyclinic, for more serious procedures, and above those are the hospitals.

Q and A: AIDS-She says that the initial isolation of people with AIDS was to allow the national health system time to study it and develop a response. Now they still have sanatoria, but they are voluntary, and there is also out-patient treatment.

Effects of the blockade–The major impact is in terms of medicines. There is a waiting list, especially for cancer medications. There is not a wait for procedures or surgery.

The most common causes of death in the country are cancer and heart disease. The life expectancy is about 75. All children are vaccinated. They begin treating blood pressure at 140/90.

If she were in charge of the national medical system, what would she change? "Nada."

Back at the MLK Center, we met with Juan Valdez Paz, an independent economist. (See Notes) Deirdre had been saving up her questions about the economy for this meeting, and was very frustrated by Valdez's lecturing, his focus on the history of US-Cuba relations, and his unwillingness to answer questions about the economy.

That evening, after dinner, we set off with John and Pat in search of French pastries. On our morning walks, we'd passed a fancy French bakery, somewhat out of place in Marianao. Although the sign on the door said "Abierto 24 Horas", this was covered by another sign reading "Cerrado" (closed). We saw this combination many times in Cuba, and it didn't seem to be a matter of scarce goods, but rather a relaxed attitude about business hours. But we finally hit it at the right time, and stocked up on éclairs, napoleons and other goodies----two big boxes for $14.50. John overpaid by a dollar and the saleswoman gave back the extra money. (This happened several times in Havana) We walked back to the Center remarking on how inexpensive this was, and we were able to share the pastries with everyone who was around, including several of the Center staff. But as I was falling asleep that night, I thought about how we'd spent one month's wages for an average Cuban on those pastries.

The highlight of the day was our evening with Dulce Maria. On the rooftop of a newly renovated, beautiful hotel in Habana Vieja, Dulce Maria sang, led her band and taught us Cuban dance steps. The hotel overlooked the harbor, where at 9 pm a cannon is fired and lights flashed in remembrance of the colonial era, when the harbor was closed at night, and the cannon was fired as a warning that people had better get safe inside (protection from pirates?) Overlooking the harbor is a large white statue of Christ, illuminated and very dramatic at night, especially in a country that was officially atheist for so long.

It was fun to see which of our group emerged as excellent dancers. At one point we looked across at a nearby building, where an elderly man had opened his doors and windows to catch the music, and danced along with us for most of the night. We also had our major encounter with jineterismo (hustling), when a gorgeous young woman started dancing with Rob, at 20 the youngest member of our group—he was pleased to be able to drink legally in Cuba. But he found that she expected much more than dancing from him, and ruffled feathers had to be smoothed.

2/21

We took our morning walk in a different direction, through a somewhat nicer neighborhood, to the Ciudad Escolar de Libertad.

We spent the morning processing our experiences, and having Ariel answer our remaining questions (See Notes) Ariel mentioned that he had been nominated for the Young Communist League (leading to Communist Party membership) when he was in 12th grade, but he declined because of the onerous civic duties and the need to be perfect moral example. (Though we all thought Ariel WAS perfect)

We brainstormed ideas about actions we could take at home, and people committed to various activities. The group's reactions to Cuba varied, with some being totally enthralled, others much more negative about either human rights issues or economic failings, and a range of opinions in between. I think we all agreed, however, that US policy is nothing but destructive and needs to be changed as soon as possible.

In the afternoon, we went to Celia Sarduy Sanches's house for lunch. Celia is a friend of people from Ithaca who visited Cuba in January. Celia's invitation was very generous, as she didn't know us at all. Her house is in Kohly, to the west of Marianao, in a much better neighborhood. It's large and well-tended, with collections of glass, china and other decorative objects, plus a fish tank, a caged parrot and two smaller birds, and two dogs. Celia is a psychologist with the National Center on Sexual Education and her husband, Jose Luis, works in sales of food and other items, and travels monthly to Panama and several times a year to Argentina. Their 14-year old daughter Jessica (??) was very much like a US teenager. She was doing her English homework, and got in a little spat with Celia about how long she could stay out with her friends.

The meal Celia served us was excellent, beginning with sliced mango. Then came rice and beans; cabbage salad, this time with green beans; tiny shrimp in a tasty sauce; tamales, both with and without meat; and for dessert, home made (though not by Celia) guava ice cream. (I may be forgetting a dish or two—there was A LOT of food) Plus excellent coffee, beer and rum.

Celia is a supporter of the Revolution and loves her country, but she is also able to criticize some aspects of it. She felt that the paternalism of the state had taken away peoples' sense of responsibility. As examples of this, she referred to people not picking up garbage that was strewn around, but more significantly to the health care system, which we'd admired so the day before. She said that people in the US thinks it's all Fidel in the government, but there's an entrenched middle level of bureaucracy that will resist change after Fidel is gone.

In her field of sexual education, she said that the incidence of abortion is too high, used by some as birth control. Because of the economy, people only want 1 or 2 children. There is a high suicide rate, up significantly from the Special Period. Anti-depressants are very scarce. The country had been very homophobic, but this is changing.

Jose drove us home via Avenida Quinta (Fifth), a beautiful boulevard lined with large homes, banks, and topiary. He said that mostly foreigners live there.

Even though we were still stuffed from Celia's meal, we made sure to be back at the Center in time for Saturday's dinner, as it was our last night with the group and we thought there's be some kind of farewell meal. But in fact, many of the group were away getting their last tastes of Cuba. We went to Habana Vieja with Sheila, but only bars and restaurants seemed to be open. We wandered around, looking at historical renovations in progress, including the restoration of parts of the original aqueduct dating back to the 1600's.

Lots of people hit us up for money, and one drew a good caricature of Mark, doing it in about 30 seconds, without breaking stride. It's kind of a marvel that anyone works jobs other than begging, as even on a slow night people seemed to be earning more dollars on the street in an evening (maybe in an hour) than the average Cuban's salary for a month. Sheila was interested in exploring the "non-touristy" streets, so we wandered down some of those, though most were so dark that we couldn't see much. At no time did we feel unsafe.

The cab driver who drove us back to the Center said he was a mechanical engineer who could earn more money driving a cab. But we were also told that "they all say that to get bigger tips."

2/22

On our last morning we went to Vedado, a fancier neighborhood with great Art Deco buildings, to find the main synagogue. Sheila and Peter (coincidentally the other nominal Jews in the group) went with us, and those two were like oil and water, really skilled at needling each other.

The synagogue was renovated in 1999, with US money. It looked very much like a suburban US temple. But it has no rabbi, serves Jews of all flavors, and sees itself as "conservative light." Sheila and I talked to 2 teenage boys who had both been Bar Mitzvahed. On the wall were photos, including some of Fidel at the temple for Hanukkah and other celebrations. There are rumors that Fidel had Jewish ancestors, and in the past the government has treated Jews better than other religious groups. Still, it's estimated that 95% of the Jewish population has left Cuba since 1959, and there are estimated to be only 1300-1500 Jews left in the country. (Though the two boys told us that was 1300-1500 Jewish families, and they said many were elderly.) Sunday School classes were going on, and there were displays about the Holocaust. Also a sticker of a Jewish star that read "Yo amo Israel". Since Israel is usually the only country, other than the Marshall Islands, that supports the US embargo in votes at the United Nations, it's a touchy subject in Cuba.

A tour bus pulled up and disgorged a group of Americans loaded down with boxes of medicine and cameras. Though sponsored by a US Jewish group, this was a tour for photographers, and they had fabulous equipment. Since I'd left my good camera at home, I was very envious. The synagogue had a very well-stocked pharmacy. The Shammes (caretaker/sexton), Solomon, had worked there for 40 years, and was eager for $1 tips from the photographers. A small, bird-like man whose parents had come to Cuba from Romania, he held out his hand and croaked, "Más? Más?"

We shopped at a craft market across the street, then walked over to the famous Coppelia ice cream store, where the lines were too long for us to get anything. Then back to the Center for our final lunch and departure. Ariel and his friend Eddie (who driven us on several occasions) took us to the airport, and I finally got to squeeze in my questions about financial services in Cuba. All of the banks are state owned. There's one kind for basic financial transactions, one for loans, one for joint ventures with foreign entities. Organizations can have accounts at this last type, but individual Cubans cannot. There are no credit unions or cooperatives other than in the agricultural sector.

Remittances: They only come through Western Union. People can receive a maximum of $300 once every 3 months, and they pay $15 to receive the money, no matter what the amount. So most people try to send cash with someone who's traveling to Cuba, to avoid the fees and the limits.

Departing from Jose Marti Airport is an exercise in patience, as you wait in one long line after another. Because we were traveling legally, we decided to have our passports stamped, which surprised the woman at the Customs desk. This plane was mostly full of Bahamians, who despite their laid-back reputation dashed madly off the plane as soon as it landed. Deirdre sat next to a man who manages the restaurant at one of Nassau's largest resorts. He'd been caving in Cuba, and talked about how glad he was to have been away from the hotel, because the weather hadn't been good that week. He talked about how nasty the tourists get when they're paying so much for their vacations and it isn't perfect. They complain, send their food back to the kitchen, and are generally very unpleasant.

Although our room at the Orange Hill Inn for this night was somewhat small and run-down, it seemed very luxurious. We had a bed that held both of us, a bathroom with a toilet seat, a kitchenette, etc. It was good to decompress before returning home. Dinner was very good–chicken satay and red snapper, and of course guava cake. There seemed to be some blurring of guests and staff, with various people helping out in the restaurant, at the check-in desk, cleaning up. All very casual and friendly.

2/23

This morning we walked past The Caves Condominiums and The Caves Shopping Center to the actual caves themselves, reputed to have been hideouts for pirates. Now they mostly hold bats and garbage, but are still interesting to see. In front of the caves is a larger-than-life sized throne of seashells. Before we left, Deirdre had time for a swim. The taxi that took us to the airport was an old Cadillac limousine, complete with bar.

Our flights home were uneventful, but during our layover in Philadelphia, we were sitting near a couple of boys (maybe 8 and 10) who were fully loaded with razor scooters, kites, game boys and other paraphernalia. They were utterly bored, whiny and tantrumy, and we had no tolerance for them, after the cheerful, polite children we'd seen in Cuba. Their mother had no patience either, and periodically lost her temper and screamed at them. Welcome back to the US!

The return home was remarkable in that no disaster greeted us, as it usually does after a trip. No blizzard, no trees down on the driveway, no flat tires, no flood in the basement, etc. Hard to believe, and hard to jump right back into work the next day, while we were still immersed in Cuba......

Page last updated: May 27, 2004