Viva Cuba

  

In some ways it's very difficult for me to write this post, from the other side of much too short story,  with a whirlwind of thoughts and unsettled reflections. I've spent years dreaming of the day when I would travel to Cuba, imagining scenarios in which I would have to pass through another country to arrive, or seek out an educational cause to get me into the country, due to the political sanctions placed on travel from the United States. When travel restrictions lifted at the end of 2014, I felt a sense of urgency to go and see this tropical mystery that I had spent years learning about from Cuban immigrant friends and through university classes. I had learned so many conflicting stories, those of Marti, Castro, and Che Guevara, changing history and holding true to ideals of 'La Revolucion', contrasted by stories of the same men, keeping people oppressed, killing, plundering goods and homes for their own gain. How could perspectives be so extremely different? What was the truth?

               

La Plaza de La Revolucion

Cars of La Habana

View from El Hotel Nacional 

In the past two years the prices of airline tickets to La Habana have fallen almost ten-fold, and when my dear friend Chris and I started talking about the blank canvas of our upcoming spring break, it seemed perfect that we should aprovechar! It should be noted that Chris is a history teacher, and with me as a Spanish teacher by his side, we were quite the duo for such a trip. We booked 8 days to spend in 4 cities: La Habana, Santa Clara, Trinidad, and Cienfuegos. It was important to us that each day had an educational focus, because we were traveling on an educational visa. While the US government has opened things up, they have not yet created a "sit on the beach and drink mojitos visa"; or like the airline agent said to the woman beside us at check-in for the flight, "Ma'am, you cannot go for vacation", after asking her reasons for travel. In a lot of ways, Chris and I are both rule followers (maybe it's because we are teachers, and maybe it's because we didn't want any beef with the government); so we stuck to the rules. Our visa rules included: create an itinerary with educational activities, keep any ticket stubs from activities, document with photos said activities, and stay off the beach.  Done.

Early morning pic to start our journey! 

We left at 3:15 a.m. for our 6 a.m. flight out of Tampa to Havana, a short 1 hour and 15 minute flight. We arrived Sunday into Jose Marti International Airport, quickly passed through customs with very few questions asked, and then found our way to exchange some money. Surprisingly money exchange was one of the more complex parts of this trip. First of all, they use two types of currency in Cuba: the Cuban Peso and the Cuban Convertible Peso, referred to as CUCs. One is the currency for tourists and the other for Cubans. It's not possible to get Cuban Convertible Pesos (CUCs) at banks in the US, and if you exchange your US Dollar there they tack on a 10% fee, atop the already lame exchange rate. So, to get around the 10% fee, we brought Euros with us. We lost a bit in the exchange, about 3%, but it was worth the inconvenience. After taking care of business, we got in our first cab. A taxi driver for the State approached us to offer us a ride, he was official-looking with his badge on and all. I tried to haggle the price a bit, but he told us it was set by the state. I believed him. We walked past about 30 old cars, ones from the 50s, taking a moment to smile at each other at the novelty documented in the iconic Cuba photos all coming to life in front of our eyes. Then we got into a brand new Hyundai Sonata. While I was disappointed that I wasn't sitting in the back of an old Chevy for my first ride in Cuba, I was in some ways grateful for the first lesson in Cuban politics and economics I was getting while comfortable riding into town.

Our first Cuban cafe

We stayed at an AirBnB in Vedado, or as they call them, Casas Particulares. Both of us so happy to be greeted by Pena, the guy who would make our trip in Cuba truly unforgettable. He brought us up SEVEN flights of stairs to our apartment where we would be staying for the next three nights. After catching my breath, I was wowed at the view of the city and the sea we had from both sides of the place.  It was nice, clean, and just like the photos we poured over while trying to choose the right spot for our Havana adventures. A lot was closed that day, being it was a Sunday. Our first educational plan was out the door. We decided to stroll down the Malecon, taking in the sites of this fascinating place. We were still in amazement that the cars were 60 or more years old, the billboards were filled with not advertisements, but propaganda for La Revolucion, and the streets were somewhat bare for what was touted as a huge tourist destination.

Stroll down the Malecon

Each day began with breakfast with Pena, a yummy variety of tropical fruits, delicious Cuban bread, and an egg mixed with lovingly chopped peppers. During our conversations with him over coffee, we learned so much about what it meant to be Cuban. He was open and honest, at times so honest I wanted to pause the conversation and cry a moment. I didn't. He shared about going to school to be a teacher, like us. He had taught after serving his obligatory year for the Cuban army, the plan for all young men out of high school. He studied for five years to be a teacher, and taught for three. He made $16 a month as a teacher. SIXTEEN. The salary wasn't enough to live on, even with the rations of food to supplement him. He, like so many Cubans, left the profession for tourism. His story is not uncommon. Doctors served drinks. Engineers peddled taxi-bikes. In the back of a cab, when I asked about the State's plan for retirement, I learned it was $10 a month as we passed by a hotel that charged $529 per night. He shared about Cuban laws, for Cubans only, that forbid them from eating cheese or beef. Explaining that there wouldn't be enough for the tourists if the Cubans ate these things. No cheese? He had opened up a long conversation on justice after sharing that. No cheese!?! What?! My interest was peaked. There was more, so much more.

Our incredible breakfast 

Dinner with our hosts

A Cuban Feast 

Despite almost eleven years of studying Spanish, I still struggled to get every word in a conversation with Cubans. I felt frustrated asking someone to repeat or what words meant. I did it anyway. The story they were telling, the questions they were asking, the sense of hopelessness I found in many had to be expressed. I heard it and I felt sad. I still do.

In some ways, I wish I didn't speak Spanish. I wish I could have gone to this place like the other thousands of tourists pouring into La Habana Vieja, a well-kept, Spanish-colonial, colorful contrast to other parts of the city. I wish I could have stayed in the moment that we spent on our first day at El Hotel Nacional sitting staring at the sea with a mojito in hand. That was lovely. Except for that hotel costs over $500 per night, and we were served by a man named Hugo, who I imagine has more education than any waiter who has ever served me a drink.

I went to Cuba wanting to learn, to experience, to see the Revolution up close. I knew going in that Fidel Castro had died one of Fortune 500's richest men, and that education and health care were available to his people. There must be some good to be found, and I wanted to see what it all looked like in action. My heart is heavy after the brief encounter. My questions on education and its role in our world are racing, frantic, and unsettled after this trip. Some will read this and tell me to "Lighten up", "The world is full of injustice", "Why be such a downer?" I've traveled a lot in my life, and my perspectives are part of my journey.

There is so much more to say here about what we did, what we didn't do (yes, we came home 3 days early after spending a whole night sharing one toilet while experiencing the rage of something we had ate or drank that day), and whether or not we will return. I still feel lost and conflicted about Cuba's history, thinking that the message and ideals of a revolution for the poor and voiceless got lost in translation by greed and confusion. My hope is that this story, this history, is not yet done being written.
To end this heavy post, I will use the words of Cuba's beloved Jose Marti from 1892 in Our Ideas: 

Patriotism is a sacred duty when one fights to make one's country a happy place in which to live. It is painful to see a man insist upon his own rights when he refuses to fight for the rights of another. It is painful to see our cherished brothers, for the sake of defending their desire for wealth, refuse to defend the more important desire for dignity. 

Hasta la próxima!
Trisha

The Bumpy Ride Home and Lessons from the Road

We left Colorado the day after my birthday and decided to head east via Texas.   Unfortunately, Barley developed a very rough sounding cough the night of my birthday. The next morning when we woke up he was coughing every 3 to 5 minutes. Early on the 13th we chose to go to a veterinary clinic in  New Mexico to have him seen. The doctors office was willing to get him in right away and found out that he had an upper respiratory infection. Poor pup!

After the doctors we got on the road to try to make the most of that day for driving.  About an hour later both Joe and I noticed a loud knocking sound coming from the driver side tire. We quickly pulled off the road and started to look for a mechanic. The first shop we came to didn't have any time for us that day, so they recommended another place down the road.  When we got to the second place Joe and the mechanic did a drive around the block to diagnose the problem. Unfortunately, the mechanic didn't know what the problem was, but was able to say, "it sounds pretty bad".  This, of course, worried both of us. We were sitting in a small town in Texas that neither of us could tell you the name of still, and car trouble is never welcomed. I should mention that the day before we got new tires put on the back of the car.  This was something we were hoping to do before leaving Florida, but time restraints didn't allow us to make it happen. So, before heading home, we got them done. Now sitting on the side of the mechanic shop waiting to hear the bad news, I am saying prayers and hoping for the best.  After some time, the mechanic came out and told us that the lug nuts had not been screwed on to the tire!  Somehow, we had driven for almost 2 hours and the tire had not come off of the car.  To me it seems like a full-fledged miracle that we had not been an accident. The mechanic shop sent us on our way free of charge, and with insanely grateful hearts for our safety and savings. We managed to drive another eight hours that day, making it about 20 minutes away from Louisiana.

The next morning we got up with a small hope that we could make it home to Florida; we were about 13 1/2 hours away.  Unfortunately, we didn't get on the road till about 10 AM, making our chances of an arrival home a whole lot less likely.  Nonetheless, we packed up the car for was what was going to be one of our last times, and started driving. After about 10 minutes on the road we smelled something burning, and saw smoke coming from the hood. "No!  How could this be?" we said to each other.  Joe quickly pulled off the road and tried to check things out under the hood. He looked at the oil, and it was good to go. He checked the transmission fluid- also good to go.  This was bad, really bad. At this moment, neither of us had much of a cell phone signal, and I had no data left on my phone (a product of being a passenger for over 7800 miles). The shop that Joe managed to pull up was close by to us.  We drove there, praying the whole way as the car smoked.  When we arrived the shop was closed. In a town that felt like the middle of nowhere Texas, or was it Louisiana?, things began to feel gloomy.

We found another shop about 3 miles away and drove there. We pulled up to find it, too, was closed.  How is it that at 1 o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon everything is closed? This town was dead.  Before driving any farther, I started calling some of the other numbers in the town. There were two more. The first number went to a quick disconnected line sound: do, do do...dread! The last one was our only hope.  There was a answer on the other line. I quickly described the situation to the man,  but he let me know that their shop did not do auto-service, yet only sold auto-parts. I asked him where I could find a mechanic in town, and he said that a new place had just opened up called A Firm Foundation.  He began to give me directions, which made no sense to me in this little unfamiliar town, but I tried to pay attention with everything in me. When we got off the phone, I looked up to the left and there it was in the next parking lot over: the shop he had just told me about. 

We pulled the car over to the shop, and we were quickly greeted by a little family of four. It was an older man in his 60s, a woman not too much younger, a little boy, and a grandfather.  The little boy and the woman quickly took an interest in Barely, while the two gentlemen chatted with Joe about the issues we were having.  Within 10 minutes they had diagnosed the issue, fixed it, and offered us to join them at church that night.  They charged us nothing! Trying to offer them cash with no avail, and apologizing that we couldn't stay around for church that evening, we went on our way. Wow, are we so blessed!?!?The rest of the day went OK, we had had a serious setback in time, and no idea where we would stay that night. Finally when around 8:30 PM hit, Barley and I started to get antsy (Joe could've driven forever if it wasn't for us).

I had talked about wanting to get pie in Alabama, because my parents had done that years ago, and had a really funny story that went with it. When we crossed through Alabama, we decided to try to find a diner, and re-create the pie moment that my parents had. We drove for miles and miles through the stage with no sign of a diner.  It was getting late, and we were losing hope. We ate at Arby's :(.
While that doesn't seem worthy of a frowny face,  we tried about six different exits to make it work. This was just a sign of what was to come.

For the next two hours, pulling off at almost every opportunity we could we tried to get a hotel. Grumpy and uncomfortable from sitting in the car all day, things felt worse than they had the whole trip. There was nowhere to camp, and nowhere to sleep. We drove until about midnight, when we finally found a sub-par Red Roof Inn.  Within 20 minutes everyone was asleep. 

The next day we realized we had made it to Florida!  With still about 6 1/2 hours to drive, we knew we could make it home!  This gave us some time to reflect on lessons we learned on the road:

1)  Time never moves at the pace you think it should.  Somehow life all works out beautifully, so leave time expectations and embrace things how they go. 

2)  People are nice and generous. Be that way with others.
3)  Playing outside is so important
4)  Everyone everywhere drives awfully. 

5)  This country has a LOT of open spaces.
6)  Travel regularly, it's good for the soul!

Thank you all for sharing in this journey! It ended up being 26 days of incredible adventures with my puppy and my husband by my side. Peace and love to you all! Trisha

*neither of us had it in us to take a selfie after 3 days of helish driving, so I added some of my favorite selfies from times past to give something fun to look at!

My Colorado Cumpleaños

Those who know me well, know that I take my birthday very seriously. I have a great advantage of always traveling for my July birthday, and this one in particular felt like an exceptional opportunity. I got to chose between Lake Tahoe, and Colorado this year. While I love Tahoe, it felt like Colorado was calling. We left Utah and headed east. 

This drive felt almost magical; each turn provided a new mountain or river view more beautiful than the next. We decided to make the first day of driving a shortish one, only 5 or so hours. We ended up in a town called Glenwood Springs. This town is known for its hot springs, and adventure park (with a roller coaster atop a mountain peak and all). While we didn't make it to the roller coaster, we did enjoy all of the beautiful sites. Wow, Colorado is stunning! 

While it seems a bit strange to share this story, I just must. While we were in Glenwood Springs, we decided not to cook and to order a pizza instead from a local joint called Uncle Pizza. Joe placed the call for pick-up, and then we headed over to pick it up. I went in for the pizza and the man behind the counter asked for my name. "It's for Joe", I said. He responded, "We don't have a pizza for Jill". "Joe", I said. "Jill for Joe, huh?" he said, and then asked me to return in ten minutes. I went to the car to sit with Joe and wait. At ten minutes I went back in, and a couple walked in before me. I didn't hear the interaction, but they quickly left. Somehow I took the brunt of their interaction. "We serve pizza! We don't have darts or TVs" he angrily said. He then continued on to pick up the phone and yell at the customer on the other line, "If you ask me one more question about your pizza, it's going to make 8 pizzas burn, and then yours will be in line behind those. Is that what you want?"  I didn't know how to respond to this whole scenario, so I stood there and looked at the art on the wall (a picture of a fat chef making a pizza). The phone rang again, he answered, "Yeah, if you want a pizza within an hour you better drive down here and get it yourself!" Man, Uncle Pizza was a crazy jerk. He finally looked at me again, about ten more minutes had passed, and said "Jill for Joe, right?" I said, "Yep", paid for the pizza and quickly left. I've never seen someone yell at clients, but somehow this was working for Uncle Pizza. It made me want to go back one day and see if he is a business success. The pizza was pretty good. 

The next day we headed to Boulder where we met up with a friend of mine, Jamie. I met Jamie in Santiago, Chile when I was down there traveling. It was great to see him three years later. He showed us downtown Boulder, which is a really cool city. It has a pedestrian road with cute shops and restaurants that passes through the middle; and looks almost identical to Charlottesville, Virginia. Afterwards we went to a great little creek that passes through Colorado State University. We let Barley enjoy swimming and running through the creek, while we all stood in the creek trying to escape the 99 degree temps. 

That night Joe and I camped at the most beautiful site I've ever camped in, Gross Reservoir. The short twelve mile drive to the site took us an hour, to give an idea of the type of roads we traversed. There were moments with no cell signal and all sorts of nasty noises that came from the car, that made me think we would be in a bad way on the top of this mountain. Instead, it worked out so beautifully I can't even believe it. We slept below the most spectacular-star-filled sky I've ever seen, and beside a deep blue lake surrounded with mountains. Happy birthday to me! 

The great thing, it still wasn't my birthday. My actual birthday, today, we hiked through Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs, ate lunch at Manitou Springs Brewing Co, and ate truffles from a local chocolate shop. Life at 32 years old 

seems just blissful. I am so grateful for our adventures in Colorado, and ready for whatever good this year has in store!

Utah, Who Knew?

The drive into Utah was full of vistas I could have never imagined. We came from the north, camping in Idaho the night before, and making our way to Moab. Moab is known for hosting a series of national and state parks, all filled with incredible red rock structures.  Each hour driving through Utah proved to be stranger and stranger. The forms that shoot up from the ground are this bright red, and crazy looking art that we kept trying to make sense of, saying things like, "that one looks like lasagna", or "that's a moustached man".  We needed a geologist asap.

We checked into our little motel, The Red Stone Inn, upon arrival to Moab. We decided not to camp because none of the parks let Barley onto the trails, and we were there to hike! The little motel was cute, but smelled like a sauna. It was about 100 degrees out and the place was made of wood. I had only heard about dry heat up until now, but I finally got it here. 

That evening the three of us walked into the cute little downtown and grabbed a bite to eat at a place called Eddie McStiff's. We shared some yummy small plates, and I have officially changed my favorite dish from eggplant parmesan to fish tacos after having one of the best ever in Utah. 

We got up at 6am the next morning to try and get a hike in before the heat hit hard. Barley stayed back at the motel while we headed out and grabbed coffees to help us deal with the early morning. I've gotta share, it's been such a treat to keep vacation sleeping hours. It was almost 8a.m. by the time we made it to the trail head for the Delicate Arch. The hike was pretty challenging, and had people not been there to lead the way, I am not sure we would have figured it out alone. The whole first 50 minutes were uphill and not a minute of shade. The way that the sun beats down against the rock face is insane. As we started to get close, people encouraged us, letting us know we were almost there. Phew, this Florida girl needed it! The view at the top was spectacular, and worth the challenge. I can't even begin to describe Arches National, so I included photos to help. For now, off to Colorado.

In the Citaaaay...City of Portland

We keep it local, we keep it friendly.

Alright, enough of that. We have hit the half-way mark of our trip, and after two nights in Portland, are heading back east. Portland was a blast! It's this cool mountain town filled with local restaurants, shops, and all sorts of good vibes. We arrived Tuesday night and met up with our good friends Amanda and Ryan. They moved here last year from Florida, and settled in a hip borough in east Portland. They suggested a place called Tabor Tavern for drinks and dinner, which was great! Just connecting with them again was enough to make us love Portland. The neat thing about the city is that it has parks and gardens within it that make you feel like you are in the middle of the forest. While Amanda and Ryan headed to work, Joe and I had the chance to enjoy Washington Park. It has one of the largest rose gardens, and a series of trails that connect to the arboretum. It was so nice to get outside in 75 degree sunshine and hike a little bit while not having to leave town. Afterwards we went to a cute coffee shop to plan the days ahead. We made some changes to the itinerary, and readers will have to keep up with the blog to see where we are off to next (we aren't totally sure ourselves).

That evening the four of us enjoyed a night full of yummy vegan Mexican food, local ice cream, and some fun games. Thier pup, Dakota, and Barley made for entertainment with their endless shenanigans. It was such a nice time to share this beautiful state, and part of our road trip with such good company. I would be lying if I didn't share that they made us want to live here. Part of me wanted to unpack the car and send a post card home to share with the world we wouldn't be returning. Instead, we loaded the car this morning and are headed back east. And, wow! What a spectacular drive! Oregon is GORGEOUS.

The Rocks' Retreat Seattle

We spent the last three nights in Seattle and loved every moment of it. We are so fortunate to have family that lives in the city who welcomed us to their beautiful home, that I will call the Rocks' Retreat (their last name is Rocks). My sweet sister-in-law, Annie, stocked the shelves with yummy organic groceries for us, had fresh sheets on the bed, and keeps the most beautiful garden with a hammock to enjoy. After long days of driving and nights of camping, we were thrilled to be able to relax in their beautiful home. Annie has three pretty awesome kids and a cool Coast Guard hubby, who I got to meet for the first time this trip. The days were spent checking out their eclectic neighborhood, cooking out, sleeping better than I have in weeks, watching puppies enjoy themselves to the max, having connecting conversations, and sharing family moments that I will never forget. We also did some great Seattle stuff too: a visit to Pike's Market, a stroll through the Chihuly Museum, about 6 coffees in 3 days, and a selfie taken at the Space Needle. I have always loved Seattle, and now I love it that much more now that I have my awesome family-in-love there. As we head out to Portland, well rested and ready for the road ahead, my heart is full of gratitude for the Rocks' Retreat!

P.S. I didn't mention the troll under the bridge that Annie was so excited to take us to see. I included pics with our best troll faces possible.