la torcha!

Cuba overview:

People wearing overalls count: 7
Bug bites: 5
Dogs hit: 0
New friends: 2
Torch marching: 1
Sunburn: NOT TODAY!

Today is Jose Marti's birthday and (rightly so) the steps at the Univ. of Havana were packed with people shouting "Viva Fidel! Viva Raul! Viva Cuba!" at the the top of their lungs. Others were more sedated and fascinated with constructing a *torch.

*Not your average torch: piece of wood+nailed soda can+lighter fluid

There was a barrel of gasoline next to us for people to refill their soda cans...but needless to say...we moved.

I found it especially unsettling to have such huge pelo (hair) around the fuego.

At midnight it was like a stampede was coming off the steps of Univ. of Havana. Hundreds of people had waited around until midnight just to march down to the malecon from the steps of the Univ. of Havana and from the outside (because I was not close to the steps) it was as if Marti had 1000 birthday candles.

No one acted like us being there was weird, which was comforting...especially amidst the many home-constructed fuego holders.

Torches aside, this week classes start and I've already enjoyed today's class being outside (even though today was a bit windy). I am still "fresa" in my residencia and probably will be until I leave...or resemble another fruit. ..or get huge thighs.

Until then,

todo mi amor.

la reina de fuego,
Sara

cuba!

Even after a week I still have to stop myself and say,

"damn, I am in Cuba."

Certain instances come to mind, like driving to the beach in a 1957 Buick or watching a dog get hit by a car.

Both make me stop and say, "Damn, I really am in Cuba."

Havana is not only old cars and stray dogs. Havana is walking to the Malecon at night and meeting someone from Paraguay. Havana is a Cuban indiscreetly yelling "hola fresa [strawberry]!" but you smile and take it because it's better than "hola [big thighs]" or "hola [pale skin]." Havana is WATCH YOUR HEAD for falling branches or sandwiches from the top of the roof. Havana is if you are blond, you are a tourist. If you have freckles, you are an alien.

But above all, Havana is old.

The second night we went to the Hotel Nacional and it was like walking into a time bomb. I wanted to expect spring breakers to come stumbling out of the bathrooms, but I should have expected Frank Sinatra to be singing in the main hall.

Instead there was a terrace full of eastern Europeans with jineteras (will explain later) and me, the alien, with nine other Americans.

At least the bathrooms had toliet seats and toliet paper. This is a very big deal.

The first week has been orientation so we've been exploring Havana through the Jose Marti museum (had toliet paper), habana vieja (no toliet seats or paper), illegal cab rides from Florencio to la playa Santa Maria (a beach) and the Latin music channel (we have cable).

I am making use of my own means to orient myself including carrying sunscreen, claiming I am Canadian and eating the best ice cream in the world for dessert...and sometimes snack.

But this is a place where the bookstores consist of ones about Fidel, Che and how to be a good parent to implement the two into your child's life. This is a place where museums label art with printed paper and tape, and this is a place where the nation's newspaper goes against every journalistic practice i've ever learned.

this place is old. and this place is different.

but damn, here I am and here I'll be.

todo mi amor xoxo
la reina de pecas (the queen of freckles),
Sara

emilie's puppy

is little. and sleepy.