“Oh, well, be careful, I’m nervous for you! Don’t they detain Americans there?”
“CUBA?! That’s so awesome! Take a million pictures!”
These were the two responses I got most frequently when I told friends and family that I’d be going to Havana over spring break with a class. The responses came from people my parents age and older, and people closer to my age, respectively. While I do, of course, understand the historical and generational factors that created these reactions, the juxtaposition demonstrates the contrast of the country itself.
In my interview, I told Sean and Jenny that I had been to both Paris and Haiti, so I had both ends of the spectrum. Cuba was somehow a combination of both.
Walking down the streets, beautifully restored buildings were located next to blown out houses, bricks crumbling, paint faded and peeling from the constant barrage of sea water over the Malecon. The architecture ranged from the kind you’d see in Europe - narrow alleys, archways, exquisite detail - to utilitarian - a nod to the Soviet influence - to eclectic. Rules and laws were somewhat juxtaposed here, as well. Technically, the law was one way, but having connections would get you far, and there was always an air of smugness, a sense that the Cubans knew more than they were letting on, were perhaps less satisfied with their situation than they “should” be, but would nonetheless figure it out and make the most.
Even the experience I had there was full of contrast. On this island, I had no contact with anyone I wasn’t face-to-face with. Refusing to pay any money for internet access, my phone was only useful as a camera and a clock. Making plans with the group consisted of setting a meeting time and destination (usually the hotel lobby), much like what my parents set up for us at Cedar Point as children, before the days of cell phones. One week without calls, texting, social media, or anything else to connect me to my friends and family. You’d think it would make you feel trapped. But the opposite happened. I felt liberated. I was experiencing this country in the way that I always say I want to experience life - unfiltered, undistracted. It was happening! And in a country that is beautiful and foreign to me!
Growing up in the states, Cuba is often looked down on. It’s an island of poor people living under a dictator. But if you go there, you realize that’s not what it is. First of all, they don’t consider the Castros dictators - if you ask a Cuban who the last dictator was, they’ll tell you Fulgencio Batista. (Yes, the Cuban President the U.S. backed, but who was overthrown by Fidel Castro.) Second, they’re incredibly welcoming. I didn’t meet one mean spirited Cuban. I felt safer walking around those streets in the wee hours of morning than I do in Clifton. Being in Cuba was like being embraced in a warm (and humid) hug for a week.
Because the experience is so difficult to put into words (as is true with any travel, but particularly for somewhere so shrouded in mystery like this island), I’m going to include just a few favorite snapshots of my time there.
Our tour guide, Zuli, said how if she was around in his prime, she would have loved Fidel. A man who had a way with words, who was soft-spoken but could be powerful when necessary, he enchanted women. Further, he made everyone feel included - when invited to parties, Fidel made sure to dance with the women who were less likely to get asked by other men. (This conversation took me a few days to wrap my head around because of the contrast with everything I’d been taught about him.)
Many Cubans we met talked about solidarity - they believe in the human spirit, above all, and in standing together for what is right.
Cuba has a lower infant mortality rate than the U.S. and will perform sex change surgeries for free.
Cubans feel more freely than anyone I have ever met. They’re full of life and spirit and they’re unabashed. As someone who is often teased for feeling so much all the time, I felt like I was among my people.
Walking around with my classmates, experiencing the ocean crashing up (and sometimes over) the Malecon, gave me a sense of deep peace. I laughed so hard on this trip I'm surprised I didn't come home with six-pack abs. The week was so surreal - and yet undeniably real - that everything was funny, ridiculous, and perfect.
We went to an organic farm, and that was a phenomenal experience. Not only did it help me understand the resilience of Cubans, but it forced me to think about all the ways the blockade has affected the country. Like most reprimands against nations, the everyday people are affected far more than the government we disagree with. Cuba is no exception, and it broke my heart. For more on this experience, click on the travel narrative option from the dropdown “Honors Experiences > Cuba” at the top of the page.
This experience helped me grow so much. I learned more about the world, more about a country, and more about myself (something that always happens when we travel).
Zuli had something that sums up America’s view of Cuba quite nicely: “Everyone can tell history in the way they think is truth.”
History is subjective. Cuba, a country that I had associated with either nothing or “bad” for most of my life, turned out to be one of the best, most freeing weeks of my life. Let us not forget that history is subjective, truth is subjective, and the only way to really find out is to go there and experience it first hand.