A week at home

It's Friday. A week ago I was on a PUNCTUAL flight from Havana to Nassau, Bahamas...weird, I know. I didn't think it would show up on time...if at all.

But there I was and here I am. I am no longer sarainhavana, more so reflectivesaraingreensboro.

English is no longer my secret language, I am no longer "YUMA!" or "pretty lady" and I get questions of "How are you?" instead of "where joo from?"

I fear no sandwiches/electrical wires/rocks falling on me as I walk down the street. My dead goat/pig counts are zero. No sacrificed chickens have graced me with their presence.

Although I can't say I miss men cat-calling me down the street, I do miss some sort of interaction. I walk down the street and stare at people in the eye as they pass me just to see if they'll look...

they usually don't.

I've turned on the television to 1) fall asleep 2) watch the Flavor of Love Three finale and 3) laugh at The Office episodes with my parents. I am not so sure why so many channels are so overwhelming. I take that back...so many English channels...aye, mami....

My last week in Havana went by too fast. I'm not even sure it happened.

We had a good-bye cocktail with our teachers and got T-shirts from the Univ. of Havana (but on the back they say they're from Mexico...of course). Needless to say, I fear washing that shirt. It will probably rip apart.
or something. like most things in Cuba.

The last day Kristin, Caitlin and I went on a double-decker bus tour of Havana (one of Raul's new contributions) and we were possibly the worst riders that bus had ever seen. When the woman would say, "And on the left is the Calixto Garcia Memorial," it was hard not to yell "why yes, hello Calixto! Too bad you can't hide that bullet hole marked in your forehead from when you TRIED TO KILL YOURSELF." Or...

Calle 23? Yes, a very important and busy Street in Vedado. Also full of crap. Watch out when it rains.

The Revolutionary Square complete with Che memorial...you know HE'S NOT FROM CUBA. He was born in Argentina. And he's dead.

It was also hard not to get a lil misty-eyed on the bus. Every time I looked at the malecon I couldn't help but think there just had to be one like that in North Carolina...

but there's not.

I got off at the Hotel Presidente to get supplies for our good-bye dinner at the residence that last day. I made trail mix with magical shape cereal, raisins and dibus (chocolate teddy bears). Lizzie made Mac & Cheese...yummy!

We spent the evening drinking Cuba Libres, dancing Irish Step dance (courtesy of the Irish Step dance queen herself, Cayleen Ross) and sitting at the malecon.

All things Cuba. (even the Irish step dancing...can't think of anything more Cuban actually...)

Will continue to write. have lots of time to ponder.

If you are in a good mood and want to ruin it...check dis out:
http://www.cnn.com/2008/POLITICS/05/21/bush.cuba/

TWO DAYS

May 14^th, can it be so?

This week has already been a blur. I know this weekend I went to Guanabo, a beach next to la playa Santa María, and had one of the best nights of rest I think on this entire trip. I slept in an air conditioned room with tightly shut windows...aaand not to mention two puppies named Luna (moon) and Negrita (little black dog).

It made me really really really miss my couch.

And my furniture weight of a dog...my tilley.

Monday, Catherine and I bought a bottle of rum and developed two photos to give to our viejito (little old man), Nardo Mestre. I wanted to make sure we said good-bye at the beginning of the week just in case he decided to go to the beach or something…like he would sometimes do…and be late for boxing lessons.

Oh, cuba.

It turns Nardo has this baller boxing past where he trained with Kid Chocolate (a famous Cuban boxer…I recommend looking him up) and also went to China for a while to train the Olympic Chinese boxing team.

Now, he’s off to Yemen for two years to train THEIR Olympic boxing team.

Damn!

He told me his only worry was that there are terrorists there. Let’s analyze this situation: a terrorista cannot possibly compete with Nardo, a superhero of boxeo. No es posible.

He graciously accepted our rum and photographs and told us to make sure we e-mailed him as soon as we made it home. He then proceeded to say he hoped Catherine and I married the best men in the world and that our kids would hear about him one day. Also, when we came back to Cuba as rich tourists, we could come by again and say hello.

Reason x infinity Nardo Mestre is the man. Aside from the whole training Olympic boxing teams and all...

Yesterday afternoon we met with the US Interest Section and it was weird 1) to hear other American voices (not that I don’t hear American voices everyday…it just happens to be the same 15 American voices every day) and 2) hear people who were defending the embargo, even though I think deep down they know it is silly…especially the visiting family visas that don’t consider your aunt and cousins family. That is crap.

But this is not a “why the embargo is silly” entry more so of a “holy crap is this almost done?” entry.

And HOLY CRAP. I leave Friday morning!

After our US Interest Meeting, we had a despierto cocktail with all of our professors and each other. It was nice for everyone to be together one last time.

I can’t go the next two days thinking “lastly” though. You know, like “this is my last Wednesday, Thursday, Friday”…that’ll drive me nuts-o.

I’m already going nuts-o.

But I get to see my family/dog/couch/friends soon!!!!!!!!!!!!

...was that enough exclamation points

cooking with Yare

a quick documentation of my last Spanish class before finals.

We took a gau-gau to Yare's neighborhood where we bought fresh fruits that both Dillion and Mickey enjoyed before we spent the rest of the morning on Yare's backporch.

sweet havana gust

So last night Rodney brought two magazines with articles written by students who came on the program last year. One of them wrote about meeting a barber on the street and how he called his wife fat and ugly (que surpresa!) and the other one was about an evening with Ernesto on his motorcycle.

Now, being the new critical and horrible person I am, I had a few problems with the second article. For one thing, Ernesto doesn’t own a motorcycle. Secondly, she kept describing the “warm, Caribbean breeze” she felt when riding the supposed means of transportation.

As long as I’ve been in Havana, there has not been, nor do I think there will be, a “warm, Caribbean breeze.”

There is exhaust. There is pollution. There is the smell of death…dead carcasses to be exact.

I have felt no “warm, Caribbean breeze” on my walks down calle 23.

But today as I was walking to the Habana Libre to work on my papers, a woman asked in Spanish if I knew where the Farmacía was. “No, no se. Pero hay un hospital cerca de la Universidad. Lo siento! Suerte!”

It was at that moment, I felt the supposed “warm, Caribbean breeze.”

It didn’t matter that a maquina drove by, most likely contaminating my lungs with its 1957 exhaust; I breathed it in anyhow and did a little dance in my detergent-stained blue birthday dress. If someone had enough confidence in my Spanish speaking abilities to ask me a question and expect an answer, then I sure as hell have no excuse not to have the same confidence in myself.

The thing about expectations in Cuba is that this country will surely meet every expectation you never had. If you expect nothing, you get everything.

And despite my dead goat count, dead pig count and sacrificed chicken count, I feel like you have the choice to wake up here and say, “Today I will chose to smell death or feel a warm breeze.”

And I sure as hell hope a maquina drives by and blows exhaust in my face as I choose to feel that sweet, sweet Havana gust.

lessons i learned from camping

1. Hershey train car switch in Hershey, Cuba. Founded 1912 for the Hershey factory
2. ON THE TRAIN
3. HERSHEY TRAIN




Lessons I learned from camping this weekend:

1. "Sleeping like a rock" means you sleep really well.

sleeping ON a rock means you wake up with pain.

2. Cooking pasta in saltwater will make you really thirsty. Make sure you have lots of (drinkable) water on hand.

3. Just because it's hot during the day, doesn't mean you shouldn't pack your long johns.

The days are dwindling but I'm happy I got to FINALLY go camping. I wouldn't think it was a great experience unless I got to nap/sleep two nights on rocks.

I would say napping on the rock was much easier than napping on the Hershey Train...which is my new favorite means of transportation.

As opposed to the P11 gau-gau, the Hershey train is old, rickety & AWESOME. The scenery was BEAUTIFUL...and we were able to enjoy it to its fullest because we had to switch carts twice and wait 5 hours for a new cart.

oh, cuba.

you can imagine my shock when the train was actually punctual on Sunday and we actually got home in less than three hours.

oh man.

dear time,
please slow down.
K? get back to me on that.
-Sara

1. Krisitin and I from Dillon's birthday. I tried to kiss her on the cheek and my hair got stuck in her armpit.
2. Quanic. is. pretty.
3. circus tent and mini tent
4. pretty
5. Quanic is still pretty.
6. holding onto lizzie because the train is rickety!