Skip to main content

"When the revolution triumphed" - Havana, October 12, 2013


There was a purse snatching last night. One of the women in our group was walking back to the hotel from dinner, with a group of eight. A man with his face partially covered, ran up and slashed the strap and ran off with her bag. Luckily her husband had their passports, so she only had some credit and debit cards with her. Those don't work here, so I have no idea why she had them with her for dinner anyway, and that thief is going to be very frustrated.

Today was a long bus day. We were on the move from Havana to Trinidad, by way of Santa Clara.

On the way, our Cuban guide talked about remittances. Basically, how people get money into Cuba. She said that the Bush years were especially hard - if you wanted to bring something into Cuba, you wore it. She laughed and said, "People were wearing eight dresses apiece, they arrived in Havana looking huge!" Now they pretty much just do it Western Union style - although it did make me think back to the man in the airport with his multiple cowboy hats.

Santa Clara is located in the center of Cuba. It holds a special place in the history of the Revolution. In late December 1958, Che Guevara's Rebel Army took the town and derailed a train full of arms and reinforcements - Batista's last hurrah. He fled the island and the Revolution triumphed a mere 24 hours later. By the way, whenever anyone speaks about the time before the Revolution and the time after, they always use the phrase, "When the revolution triumphed." Never just "after the Revolution."

I have to admit that my knowledge of Che Guevara was minimal at best before coming here. I had seen the iconic image, knew he was a revolutionary, but just the basics. The Monumento de Che and the Museo de Che were an education. I started calling it The Cult of Che. Castro has nurtured this ideal with billboards and slogans. The martyrdom of Che seems complete.

Ernesto "Che" Guevara was born in Argentina. He met Fidel Castro in 1955 and joined the Cuban Revolution. One book I read said that "Che believed that liberty eroded moral values: Individualism was selfish and divisive." Which makes me wonder what he would think about his image on hipster t-shirts, but there you go. He certainly would despise the people wearing said shirts, no doubt about that.

We paused in Santa Clara to visit a little performance school. The school children were a delight. We watched a performance of Little Red Riding Hood - which had a lot more bees in it than I remembered. The little bees would sing and dance, while the drama played out between Red and the Wolf (who was more cute than scary).

We arrived in Trinidad for our stay at the Iberostar Gran Hotel. It was quite fancy. The bathrooms were huge and luxurious. Each day, a bath towel would be folded up, origami-style on the bed - you get the picture. The lobby was comfortable, full of yummy cigar smoke. 

The four single ladies dined together at the hotel. The giant buffet was closer to a cruise ship gorge-fest than the cockroach-laced wet fish we'd had in Havana….and they had vegetables. The obligatory band was playing during dinner, but they were quite good, and I bought one of their CDs. I asked them to autograph it for me, and they all took some time writing on the liner notes. Smiles all around.

Then it was off to the Casa de Musica. This is a nightly ritual here - an outdoor stage on some steps, a bar loosely attached, and tables everywhere. And music. Live, good music. Everyone dancing salsa. Lots of eager Cuban men asking if you need any instructions or a partner. Couples of all kinds dancing like mad. Older, younger, old and young. Just a wonderful celebration of the joy of movement, drinks, and music. I bemoan the fact that I didn't grow up in such a music-centric culture. Even the babies here know how to shake their hips and do a twirl.













Comments

Popular posts from this blog

And More Moscow, August 2019

.   The entrance to the restroom.   Pelmeni!

Jill Will Go To Ethiopia

January 9, 2013 Arriving in a city under cover of darkness is always fascinating. The city is planning a surprise party. I arrived in Tehran at night, or rather, the very early morning, to barely glimpse a city that looked abandoned. Quiet, peaceful. I arrived last night in Addis Ababa at nearly midnight to find a city still well populated. Merchants closing down shops, taxi drivers parked and gossiping, people everywhere. I can see nothing of the city beyond the hotel's front door - I keep thinking that when I will wake up, when the sun comes up, I will get to see where I am. What I can do now is hear it. The night is full of dogs barking, horns honking, life. The morning will bring with it not only a view of the city, but birds singing, construction beginning, and loud lobby music piped into the hotel. A different kind of life. At the airport an employee strikes up a conversation with me, asking me where I am from, what do I do? I tell him, American. His face lights up, the

More Moscow, August 2019

.             I've never had bloodier, more painful blisters. JC walked my ass off....but then he let me borrow his shoes until I could buy new ones. The girl at the store laughed when she saw my three pairs of socks and man shoes. And then I had NEW shoes - well worth every ruble.              .