La ultima pena

Tonight is my last night in Cuba. I've done almost everything I've wanted to while I was here. And the most amazing part is I've done everything I never expected to in my life. I stood in the kitchen tonight talking to Emma and we both fully, completely, absolutely realized how no one will ever understand our experience here in Havana. People will ask us how Cuba was and what do I say? "Oh it was great" would be the approachable, predictable answer. What I really want and should say is "Cuba is the most tragic, and beautiful place on Earth." Then I'll give them the link to this blog.

I glared at my room tonight after some packing and I just sat on my bed looking at the cozy, windowless room I've called home for the last three months...

Next time I write I'll probably be back in American society. 

And there I was...

There's this store down the street on 1st that we call the Galeria. The store sells no produce, peanuts are worth half a Cuban month's salary, and all the store clerk gals wear killer lace tights. We usually run there to stand in line to buy $5 rum along with Cubans who stand in line to buy chorizo-flavored powder for soups and such. 

Today I went there wearing my favorite Yeah Yeah Yeahs tee, walking zombie-like after a sweaty, shopping day through the aisles. I looked through the cookie selection and eventually made my way past the hot sauce when at the corner of my eye I spot a short man in a jerzee. He looks semi-familiar and when I look back I notice his jerzee says Nash. I realize I am in this Cuban store with Steve Nash. 

I am no sports fan, but I know Nash Potatoes through the famous Nelly Furtado song "Promiscuous Gurrl". I got a little star struck. I followed him and his lady friend and the closer I got I heard Spanish coming from the Nasher himself. Does Stevie speak Spanish??

I paid for my rum and cookies and walked back home. It was almost dinner time and I was hungry.

We WikiResearched and after consulting with Chaunce and Megan we discovered that Nashiffer speaks fluent Spanish along with his wife. 

Life in Cuba just keeps getting beyond bizarre. Unfortch, I see Honorio and Chaunce packing right now so our time in Cuba is coming to an end. 

Hola Estudiantes

We had the most absurd test today in our Music of Latin America & the Caribbean. Never had I, in my five year college career, had a test like this. The AUDACITY that DR. Leonard Brown has to give us a 4 page study guide is ridiculous for a six week-long course that non of us had the option of choosing for our Cuba trip. Keep in mind, the 4 page study guide is for a week and a half of class work. 

I wanted to throw up after taking the test today.

P.S. I googled one of the songs we had to memorize the first 20 seconds of learn called "Me voy pa'l monte" and came up with the following image. 

One Moment

The gang and me went to Cienfuegos and Trinidad this past weekend. The gal cities are about 4 or 5 hours outsides Havana. It was a good trip. That is all. 

At one point we walked towards this old dock where we sat on green benches and looked at the water. I can't explain it, but it felt right being there. The sun was about to glow to bed. The water was sleepy. Some little kids were running laps around us. I tried to take a picture of them in action, but they got tired and started walking. I can't blame them. 

We were also being ironic taking artistic pictures from different angles.  I took a bunch of pictures and one that I took sums up this one moment I wanted to live in forever. There's the gals, there's the little girl in the back, and her grandma in the corner sitting alone looking towards the beyond.

Ms. Frizzle and Her Magic School Bus

The day after our beach excursion we experienced a flood on our street. We thought we were safe from going to classes down the street. Usually we walk through the mean streets of our neighborhood, past the chicken stand, the liquor stand, the sandwich stand, the drunk guy on 3rd who can't stand, but this time the streets were flooded up to our knees. In a delightful haze we decided to buy some wine and rum boxes so we can deal with our problems AND celebrate the day away. I gave Emma some money. I told her to buy me a bottle of wine and a little surprise. I was thinking more along the lines of a chocolate bar or some cute digestive cookies. Homegirl bought me a flask of aged rum. Emma I love thee. 

There we were, the gang drinking wine on the stoop of our building watching the streets flood more and more as our minds flooded in white wine. Then we see this:

It's our school bus. They had come through the flooded streets to pick us up so we won't miss a day of school. If you look closely, the door of the bus doesn't shut all the way.

We eventually made it to class... wine bottles and anger in hand.

foto thanks to miss steph jones!

Ride That Smoother Than a Limousine

I spent possibly one of the most relaxing weekends during breakfast and dinner times. There was no rush for dairy or meat goods and everyone at the table in general was in a splendid mood.

Today I was supposed to spend "all" day studying for an exam and equally as cautious about a paper due tomorrow. Instead of worrying about academics I went to the beach at Megano. In this country people can't pronounce the name Megan, but they can sure pronounce the name Megano. 

On our way to the beach Songe contracted this gentleman 

who drove a private Russian-inspired-tin sedan who could take us for about $25CUC. There we were, Courtney, Steph, Me, Songe in the back seat and Emmcicle and Megan in the front. The car was about two inches off the highway with our weight. I blame the tin of Pinocho soda crackers Emma was cradling around. 

At one point I see Emma leaning forward towards Megan's lap. I had no idea what was going on, but I was offended by the suggested position. The driver explained that Emma had to hide because in Cuba a small sedan can only legally carry 5 people. We had 7. 

So there we were all family-like in the car when the cops pull us over. The driver gets out of the car to talk to the cop. Ahem, if you do that in the US the cops will shank you. You never get out of your car when you're pulled over. Anyway, the driver ends up getting a ticket and off we go again.

Everything was dandy until this blue truck honks at us and points to the back tire. Our driver starts pulling over and as he's doing this the car starts jolting. We were like gangsters low-riding and bumping in this tiny car as we pull over. When we get to the curb the tire slants off the car. One of the bolts fell off and we were probably seconds away from three-wheeling it to death.

The driver assures us everything is going to be A Ok as he unscrews a bolt from the front tire and bolts it to the back wheel. We stand there on the side of the road watching him, unconcerned about how safe this procedure is.

When we get back into the car he tells me to sit on Courtney's lap so we can fit 5 people in the back so the front tire doesn't carry much weight. As much as I would have loved to sit on Courtney's lap I thought it would be best that Megan sit on Courtney instead. And off we go. The doors are shut. Megan, Courtney, me, Sonya, and Steph in the back-seat while lucky Emma sits in the front next to the driver who at one point rub hers knee, for good luck I'm sure. 

In a matter of minutes the car gets pulled over again for the same reason, but it's cool because we already got one ticket and apparently we can't get another. Eventually we make it to the beach after about 45 minutes of car drama. That's the thing about Cuba. You think you'll have a simple car ride to the beach, but you never know what's going to happen. We gals are living on the edge.