SWIM MEET PICTURES!

SWIM MEET

Bronze medals: 3
Christians on the edge: ~300
One-armed interpreter for deaf people on Easter Sunday: 1

From now on, I will no longer be Sara la fresa, but “Sara la fresa mariposa leonesa.”
(If I ever decide to do Lucha Libre when I’m in Mexico, I got my luchadora name covered).

You’re probably asking…

Why fresa? Why Mariposa? Why Leonesa?

1. Fresa- Refer to earlier blog entries.

2. Mariposa- I swam butterfly this past weekend in “los juegos del caribe” for el departamento filosofía (the philosophy department…the one I take classes in) and I won three bronze medals! (Not just for mariposa…the other two were for relays).

3. Leonesa- I have huge hair. Refer to 5^th grade growth spurt.

It was probably the MOST fun swim meet of my life (next to making the finals for butterfly when I was 14). Everyone cheered just as hard for first place as last place, and the team genuinely appreciated that I even showed up. They were even more excited that I knew how to swim!

This mentality was WAY different than the one I’ve been used to of constantly competing against those damn kids in my age group that always broke 30 seconds on every 50 M they ever did…and you know who you are...

Although I had little to no faith in the meet moving quickly (I’m still in Cuba!), I was shocked to swim, hop out, swim again, hop out, swim again, etc… I was going to take a break and not swim backstroke (a.k.a. espalda), but the president of philosophy didn’t understand why I wouldn’t swim it if I knew how. And that makes sense. So I did.

It was worth wearing my body out for those three lovely spray-painted medallions I will treasure for the rest of my life. I’ve never felt so refreshed! YAY CUBA!

After my day of victory, I ventured to La Iglesia Metodista Sunday morning for el día de Pasqua (Easter).

And just when I thought I had experienced crazy in Cuba, Cuba proved it had a little more crazy up its sleeve.

Church was nuts! First off, I was put up front with the deaf people. Secondly, the deaf people had a one-armed interpreter who lost his shoulder in an electrical accident. Thirdly, I was not impressed with the pastor praying for a woman with a deformed face.

No offence, praying for God to fix a face of someone you’re making out to be a circus freak (people were grabbing their cameras to take pictures!) is not OK. It’s also not OK for this woman to cry so hard she faints and leave her on the ground because oh lawd! God is going to fix her face.

No, gracias!

It left a bad taste in my mouth.
So, claro, I went to eat icecream at Coppelia and get cornbread. And it made everything better.

yaay cuba!

la reina de mariposa,
Sara la fresa mariposa leonesa

GAMETIME

Top three things about Cuban Baseball games:

1. You can’t buy an Industriales (The Havana National team) T-Shirt or hat while the game is going on (because duh, the woman who owns the store wants to watch the game too).
2. To show support, Cubans remove their car horns out of their cars and honk them (much like we ring cowbells).
3. When the Industriales hit one out of the park and score a home run, the stadium goes nuts. Men embrace, women cry…and everyone wants to grab a baby.

It is hard to imagine this, but there are no advertisements or between inning entertainment for the fans. People are there to watch really great baseball and don’t even leave to get snacks (they might miss a big play!). Imagine being singled out at a Greensboro Grasshopper game (or Durham Bulls…or any team for that matter) for wanting beer or hotdogs.

(Of course there was no beer nor hotdogs at this game. There was popcorn. And it was delicious.)

In the spirit of such a game, Catherine and I decided to do a double-hitter and take boxing class back-to-back Wednesday and Thursday.

That means eight hours of my life in the past two days was with Nardo, mi profe, who asked for everything I had…and then asked me to run stairs.

Wednesday’s practice with China (pronounced chee-nah, the only other girl at the gym) was not so bad. Those four hours flew by.

Thursday was different.

Thursday, Nardo finally asked us why we were taking “el clase de boxeo” and we told him. We want to learn to defend ourselves. His intense eyes softened and he said, “Ok. No Problem.”

Then he worked us extra hard and showed us the good places to punch people. I.e. the chin and the stomach.

He then said we had a lot of potential. If Nardo says Catherine and I have the potential to kick ass for real, then my life is almost complete (it will be complete when he says we actually do kick ass...but I still have 2 more months).

The other pictures I'm trying to upload are:
1. Nardo and his French friends
2. Lizzie, Emily and Kelly after they played basketball in los juegos del caribe
3. Flowers my roomie bought to brighten our room


todo mi amor,

la reina de rositos de maiz (popcorn),
Sara la fresa

profe y yo, kristin and i give high-fives often, and a VENCEREMOS! SWEET VICTORY we made it to the top of the mountain shot!

spring break 2008

I've found my new happy place.

Santa Clara and the Escombry mountains are officially replacing Disney World as the place where I feel the most peaceful.

And this my friends, is the Cuba you put on a post card. Never mind the dead goats or old cars I was tempted to post before; I know now Cuba has more to offer.

My roomie Kati and I spent Thursday morning waking up with the sun and enjoyed the fact that in this place (for our spring vacation), there was no MTV Spring Break or swim-up bar (a.k.a. lifeguard's nightmare) and you breathe in clean air (BIG DEAL) not tainted from old 1956 Chevrolet's.

This may be a long entry so I will summarize if you wish to skip to certain parts:
1. Ernesto Che Guevara Memorial-namer of all men.

In the Che Guevara Memorial, to honor those who fought with him, a wall of plastered faces with nicknames from Che's journal welcomed us to explore.

Meet Pacha, Tuma and Chino.

I'm not sure how I'd feel about being called "Chino" on my gravestone if I am not Chinese. But that's just me.

And as a dedicated journal-writer, it's a bit unsettling for someone to put the names I call people as their grave marker. That would mean my sister would permanently be Tater, my friend Kristin would be the Clevage (long story) and Nardo my boxing coach would die the "ass-kicker." (But I'm not so sure he would mind that.)

What's even better is the museum had the following: guns, pictures of Che and a rock Che once saw in a river.

I kid you not... that's Cuba's hero.

2. Swimming

I am a full believer that if water is involved, it is fun. If water is involved as a lake, pool and ocean...it's unbelievable.

Thus, I had an unbelievably fun week swimming my legs off first in a lake (in the Escombry mountains), then in a pool (still in Escombry, even accidentally yelled at a child to walk...but, it happens...lifeguard tendencies never die) and finished in the ocean.

Sunday morning I was able to snorkel and see all these beautiful fish that were bright blue and checkered. I even tried to race one...but I lost.

3. Trinidad-Not Cuba.

The last two days of our trip were spent in an all-inclusive resort in Trinidad (where I swam in the ocean) and it was the first time, in two months at least, I'd seen a bathtub.

I screamed.

It was also the first time I knew (for sure) I would have water pressure in addition to a hot shower, food I could digest and a television with more than two English channels.

I clearly, was not in Cuba.

It was weird to be around tourists from Europe and Canada. I had a sudden urge to take French again because I heard it more than Spanish, but then I started talking to our waiter and realized where I supposedly was again.

Feeling French-y certainly didn't stop me from swimming, once again, and applying (and re-applying) SPF 45.

I am going to make many constellations out of my freckles when I get home. That's for sure.

As smooth as everything went, we still managed to have a Cuba moment when our bus broke down and we had to drive without AC (misery!).

But if that was the worst part, then I'd say, SWEET VICTORY CUBA!

What a way to celebrate two months...

running from red pants and traffic

For Eve.

To celebrate Women’s Day in Cuba (March 7), the University sponsored a 3 K maratón (marathon) for all students.

As a woman, I fully support the right to celebrate a day by racing in red pants, animal backpacks and sandals. However, I could do without the stray dogs and traffic.

It was the first time I’ve ever run (on purpose) to escape a stampede of celebration…by women…in flip flops.

I have to chuckle inside because we waited three hours to register and with the sky looking ominous, I was pretty sure the race was never going to happen (most plans don’t). As you can imagine, my mentality of “I’m fine just to run on my own” was abruptly changed with “Oh crap I’m going to get hit by a teddy-bear mochilla.”

Teresa and I finally found some space where we weren’t on top of 20 other people, but we still stood out like a sore thumb because we were sporting running wear (i.e. tennis shoes, shorts and a T-shirt).

Take warning runners in the USA: Cuban marathons mean sweating not because you’re exercising, but because cars stop for no one. Not for dogs, not for celebratory marathon races---

POR NADA.

Of course we took it as an opportunity to challenge our running abilities. (CLA-RO.) Nothing gets you running faster than a 1957 Volkswagen and a stoplight.

You’ll notice in my pictures (that will hopefully upload one day) that we opted for “Eve Carson” signs rather than numbers. ..And it’s only appropriate. I was told the first week I arrived that all of Cuba cried when Eve Carson left two years ago.

You don’t have to speak Spanish to understand the magnitude of that statement.

Although no Cuban student knew her personally, the inquisitions were worth it. “Who’s Eve Carson? Well, she was here two years ago…”

We are not in Chapel Hill. But we feel it here too. And we wanted to do something.

So this is us, honoring you Eve.

This is us, missing you.

adventure, on!

It's amazing how much Spanish you know when someone is trying to rip you off.

This weekend in Vinales, in la casa particulare de Grisel (her name even sounds conniving), my Spanish skills moved beyond ordering at restaurants to full-throttle anti-swindling vocabulary.

My friends and I came in on the defense because Grisel tried to charge us $30 extra CuC because when she meant "5 CuC for food per day" she really meant "5 CuC for dinner, breakfast, drinks and napkins."

Hmm.

That did not work out so well. It would have been different if we hadn't specifically established a price at the beginning, 15 CuC per night and 5 CuC for food per day. This per day part was very important because she assured us she meant 5 CuC a day, not a meal.

We have been in Cuba long enough to know not to assume anything.

I may only be studying here, but I know by now there are people who are not looking out for your best interests and will try by any means to do whatever it takes to get what they want. My friends and I had our anti-swindle faces on and paid exactly what we agreed to pay, despite the remarks of how stupid we were or threats to call the police (and by calling the police her husband meant going out to the street and yelling “policia” and then sitting down on the front porch to smoke).

In my head I was thinking, please sir, I would love to talk to the police and tell them you are harassing tourists.

That is a major “no” in this country.

Despite the psychological exhaustion from the situation, I can’t help but see it as the time my not-so-fluent friends and I battled the beasts of trickery and prevailed.

On that note, Vinales turned out to be the ideal adventure with all the necessary components to make it grand:

Grand component uno:

Outdoor activities--- These included horseback riding, swimming (in both a lake AND CAVE), spelunking, bike riding and hiking.

Grand component dos:

New friends/Old friends--- William, our guide for Spelunking, restored my faith in Vinales and made me realize not all Cubans there were out to swindle. When two of our bikes got flat tires and we couldn’t bike home, he helped convince a group of tourists to let us take their cab. I certainly don’t take that for granted.

We also made friends with our horses: Choupa Choupa, Caramelo, Linda, Chiquitica, Moraina and Semi-Automatico.
Also, it’s nice to have flat tires and ride horses with friends who consider the outdoors to be as great as you think it is.

Grand component tres:

Cave bar--- Saturday night we went to a bar in a cave that just so happened to have a live band. After a day of horseback riding, biking and spelunking, how could you resist not being the first ones to dance?

Grand component cuatro:

Challenges--- My padres always say that character is built from adversity. As crappy as Grisel made our Sunday morning, I spoke (even if it was quite assertive) more Spanish than I thought I could have.

But was it worth the trip to deal with crappy rental bikes and a sneaky hustler?

If it meant jumping into a freezing cold cave pool and turning a white T-shirt to a spelunking shade of brown afterwards, you’re damn straight it was.

La reina de cuevas,

Sara la fresa

p.s. I changed my mind about cold fronts. They mean less of a wait for ice cream.