Instead of talking about my whole trip to Cuba, I decided to just share my last full day in the lovely city of Havana. I woke up at 9:55 (at the historical Hotel Nacional), having to meet a local musician, Jesus, at 10am. I quickly shower, rush downstairs and find that he is not there. I go outside and order a cortado, in hopes that he will show up. 5 minutes later, he arrives and I order him one as well. He explains to me that because he is Cuban, he is not allowed to enter the lobby, luckily, Mark, the trip administrator saw him outside and the guards let him in.
Jesus is a 50 something year old guitar player who lives in the outskirts of Havana. We take a 15 minute cab ride into his neighborhood and get dropped off at the cafe his girlfriend works at. He introduces us and she quickly explains how talented Jesus is, and its only a matter of time before he gets discovered and becomes famous.
Jesus and I walk through his neighborhood and introduces me as his American friend who has Cuban and Mexican blood. Before getting to his house, we go into his neighbors place and I get welcomed and offered a cup of coffee. We chat, I get their phone number and we go next door to Jesus’s home.
I enter what seems to feel like a shack with two separate rooms. At this moment it hits me how much poverty is in Cuba, and though the mystery and rich culture of this communist island has so much to offer to foreigners, the locals are left hanging.
We sit in this closet size kitchen and drink home made pineapple soda. Jesus shows me the line of water (4 feet high), that flooded his home when the river over flooded a few months back, he lost a lot. We go into his bedroom and spend the next couple hours going through all the music he has written (over 700 songs) and sing Mexican music blasting from the tape player and dvd player, which he uses as a cd player. He shows me a television he made using a computer monitor and old tv box with a custom build antenna, the television too was destroyed with the flood. We go on to talk about how much he loves Mexican music and Mexican culture because he is originally from the oriental side of the island. Aparently this part of the island is heavily influenced by Mexico because of it’s location.
At around 2pm, I decide it’s time to head back to Old Havana for some picture taking. We take a 40 minute walk across the town. We run into some kids with a guitar and he takes the guitar and plays a song for everyone on the street to enjoy. We talk politics, music, education, under utilized citizens and religion. We get to a boat and cross a river into Old Havana for 10 cents.
In Old Havana we walk into random bars and he introduces me to other musician buddies. Walking down the street we run into numerous friends and women that have been part of his life. At around 430 we get back to the hotel, he takes his bike home and I go up to the room to refresh, grab a red bull, bottle of water and head back into a neighborhood that I fell in love with the days prior. At this point I realize I haven’t had anything to eat, but for some reason I wasn’t hungry. The excitement and interactions I was having all day distracted my body from convincing my mind it needed something.
I ask the cab driver to take me to a location I remembered. I get dropped off and walk a way before I begin interacting, I don’t want the black mercedes to make people think I had money. I approach a man, Adriel, I met a few days ago and we greet each other. He looks surprised to see me, but right away accepts me as one of his own. The last time I saw him he was painting his engine, I ask him to pop open his trunk and he proudly shows off his paint job. The lady, I believe is his sister who I also met the other day, comes by and asks me if I was ready to purchase the car from them ( I mentioned it would sell for tons in the states).
Adriel escorts me into his home and takes me up the stairs. Upstairs I enter a room where his father is sitting near a window watching people walk by. His father remembers me and we exchange greetings and excitement. All three walls were covered with bird cages filled with yellow and orange canaries from floor to ceiling. We talk about birds for a good 20 minutes. They show off chicks, eggs and the food they feed with. Right before I leave they tell me to make sure I come visit next time I am in town, the promise they will be in the same home, which was a joke after I told them I was born in Chicago, lived in Vegas and am currently in LA.
I make my way down several streets in hopes of running into more people that I would have recognized. At the doorstep of a lady I met is a 31 year old working on a bike. I ask him how long he has been working on bikes and if it’s his occupation. He proudly responds yes and points at several bikes he is working on. His mom comes out and starts laughing. She starts telling her son that she met me yesterday and that she was making fun of her neighbor on camera. Her son immediately opens up to me and begins to ask me questions. We talk about their relatives in the states and try to remember what city his sister lives in. They bring out an address and an email that was sent by her. The neighbor across the street yells my name and asks how I am doing. This guy took me on a bike ride the day before and got stopped by the police for going down a one way. I go over and chit chat about what I did. His father comes out and joins in on the conversation. After hanging out for a bit and meeting a few other neighbors and friends I say goodbye and let them know that I will be back soon. The grandma gives me her information and tells her son to take mine. She yells at him and tells him he better not lose it.
At this point, I met up with everyone I knew and decide to walk down the street and and try and snap a few pictures. After a few curious looks I get interrupted by a girl. She notices I have gum on the side on my bag and asks if she can have a piece. I make a deal and trade her a piece of gum for a pic. Her grandma asks for a gum, than her sister, than her brother. I sit on their porch for a bit and the brother invites me over next door to meet some of his friends and take pictures of them. He runs into the market and pulls out a raw chicken thigh and leg and bouquet of roses as props for the picture. He cracks up and so do his friends. They ask me questions about my spanish and where I am from. Everyone says I have a Mexican accent, I guess I never noticed it. The brother gives me his information and asks me to send them a copy of the picture.
A guy by the name of Gisel is standing over his bike and just laughing at the conversations. He stays quiet but looks very interested in what I have to add to the conversation. I ask him about himself and what he does. He goes on to explain that he went to culinary school but only gets to work every other day. We talk about the buildings and architecture. At this point I am realizing I am losing lots of sun and really need to keep going on my way. I ask where I can get a cup of coffee and he takes me around the corner to a window. Gisel introduces me to a young girl as the “American Mexican with Cuban blood”. He tells her to give me a cup of coffee and tells me to give her 1 peso ( the equivalent to 5 cents). I have my coffee, I ask him if he drinks coffee, he says he gets the shakes and tries not too. The question I always try to avoid comes up, “where are you staying?” I lie and say my hotel is paid for and that I am staying at the Hotel Nacional and hoping to stay somewhere way cheaper when i get back. He tells me he has a place that he can recommend me. Its a friend’s apartment. I ask if we can take a look and we go on our way.
As we walk, kids pass us by with soccer balls, people are yelling out their windows, reggeaton blasts out the doorways, groups of people huddle around games of chess and dominoes, and young girls get hit on by dudes. He begins to explain that for 25 bucks I can stay in this apartment and have breakfast included. We walking an apartment, he greets a guy walking down the stairs, parks his bike and we make our way up. An old lady walks out, they exchange kisses, he introduces me and we keep walking in. He leads me into a bedroom where an old man is laying on his bed and an old lady is sitting on a chair, they are just talking. They seem surprised and excited to see me and quickly get up and shake hands. They give me a tour of the apartment, and encourage me to walk into every room and closet. I was surprised to see how clean, decorated, and modern the apartment was. The living room (with a flat screen tv), had french doors that lead to a balcony. We walk to the balcony and he opens his arms with a big smile, ” Mira lo que puedes ver! Se ve todo de aqui! (look at what you can see, you can see everything from here!).” The view was beautiful. I saw down 4 different streets, open windows and the ocean.
It was getting late and I had to make sure I made it home before it got too dark. We head down stairs and Gisel invites me over to meet his wife. We walk across the street around the corner and enter a more humble space. The living room, bedroom and kitchen were all in the same room. His wife was making dinner and quickly says hi and give me a kiss. They beg me to sit and she asks if I want a cup of coffee. Before responding, Gisel responds for me and says yes. They ask me about my life, my parents, the US, my spanish, everything that they knew about me. Than they bring up that they are Christian and ask me about my faith. I tell them I went to Bible college and believe in the ways of Jesus. They’re eyes opened up and they began telling me about their church. The wife pulls out a box and prays over it while Gisel and i are talking. She hands me the box and asks me to pull out a slip, she hands Gisel the box and he pulls out the slip, she than pulls out a slip. It was like Christian fortune cookies! We went in a circle and read out loud the Bible passages that were on our slips.
Right when I try to leave, Gisel pulls out flan from his fridge and tells me to eat it. I am not a sweets guy, but knew it would be rude to refuse. I took a bite, than devoured the creamy gelatin. It was probably the best flan I ever had in my life. I make noises and praise the flan. They smiled and watched me take every bite. I ask them for a picture and promise to mail them a copy. Gisel’s wife writes her information on a piece of paper and gives me information of another old friend from California. They ask me to make contact with their friends in the states and send them their love.
On my way back to the hotel I snap a few more pictures. A couple young ladies interrupt a picture and start laughing and smiling for the camera insinuating that I take a photo of them. I snap it, they laugh and continue on their way. A couple of young guys are kicking a ball around and I ask them if I can shoot some video fo them kicking the ball, they look at each other, shrug their shoulders and begin to show off for the camera. I walk pass two old men, one sitting on the roof of a car, and the other standing next to him. They are engaged in what is probably small talk, and quickly agree to a picture when I ask. They ask me where I am from and why my spanish is so good. These guys were a gold mine, if only I had more time to gain trust and ask deeper questions.
I make my way to the Malencone (a famous boardwalk that spans along the edge of Havanna), and interrupt a couple for a light. I continue walking and run into a group of guys fishing. One of them was jumping over the cliff with a huge bucket and other fishing materials. I stand, watch for a while and ask them about fishing. We talk about how the waves create a perfect opportunity to catch fish and how the season was ripe for fishing. I wish them luck and watch the street lights come up.
At this point I was beat. I felt hunger set in and wasn’t sure what to do. I promised another musician I would check out his band, but at the same time, the group I was with, was invited to a local house for some seafood. I run into the group in the lobby and tell them I will be down in five. I go up, and right away turn around realizing I needed some time to my self and just rest for a moment.
I change shirts, freshen up and head to the back courtyard that overlooks the ocean. I light up a cigar, grab a beer and make small talk with other hotel patrons. At around 830 I go out and look for dinner. I was tired of eating cuban food for tourists. I wanted cheap street food that everyone else eats. On my way down a small street I meet a guy my age and ask him where to find good cheap food. We walk together and he shares his life story with me. He is 26 with a 10 year old daughter and another one on the way. He points at this stand up spot and says he has to leave but to look out for him cause he works construction in the area. I walk up to the counter and realize my bill are too high. My smallest bill was 10 Dollars and 24 pesos make up a dollar; the meal I wanted was 40 pesos! I order and the girl looks at me and quickly apologizes that she doesn’t have change. I walk to several nearby stores and no one has change. I was actually embarrassed.
I head back to the hotel and find a sandwich shop. I take a seat, order a sandwich and a beer. The waitress makes small talk with me and asks where I have been. She names places that I never heard of and begins to shaker her head with shame. She writes her number down and tells me to call her next time I am in town and she will show me around. As the cafe closes I walk up to the register and make small talk with the rest of the workers. The guy behind the register and I go on and on about rap music, naming artists and where they are from in the states.
It was time for me to head over to “El Palacio de la Rumba”. I ask a cab driver where it’s at and he has no clue. I show him the streets and he agrees to try and find it with me. After a few dodgy streets and alley ways I find a clear glass door with the name printed across it. I walk inside and Victor yells my name. He opens his arms, gives me a hug and introduces me to the rest of his musician buddies. He begins to give me a history of cuban music, points out big time musicians in the room, on the walls and on stage.
Victor is another musician I met with Jesus. Victor is a 41 year old guitar player who teaches Cuban music history and plays in several bands. His main band, ” Conjunto Chappotin” is his main project. He tells me how happy he is that I am here and that I am about to see some of the best musicians on stage. He names each musician and their role in the music scene. He begins to name artists from Buena Vista Social Club and their connection to each other. I and his manager move to the front as he goes on stage for sound check. Everyone in the room was local accept for a small table of europeans.
His manager and I talk for a good 20 minutes about music and what they want to do. He mentions his tours and travels and talks about how they cant wait to head to the US. The music goes on and we immediately stop. I was taken back in time. Every musician had a look to them. They were all geniuses. They were all old. The youngest, Victor, was 41, and the oldest was a trumpet player, 83.
The crowd begins to dance and the night was complete bliss. All I remember was wanting time to freeze, the music to keep playing and wishing everyone that appreciated son was in the room sharing the moment with me. I smiled the whole way through.
After the show Victor introduces me to the band and asks what I thought. I felt guilty. Why where they so excited? What can I possibly do for them? Victor and I made our way back to the hotel and we began talking about what we can do together. He kept bringing up the fact that I can create a facebook page for them and post their work. He stressed how much that would mean to them. Victor was smart. Victor new about Twitter and Facebook. Victor knew about Wikileaks and the latest news in Cairo. Victor was different from everyone else. He was young and connected to an elite group of cubans who had illegal access to the world online. The only problem was how often. We talked about social media, politics, gate keepers and cultural visas. We talked about business, music and how he takes every opportunity he can to get to know any foreigner he meets.
By the time we got to the hotel we hit every emotion on the spectrum. We stand outside the door for another 40 minutes, it was clear that both of us were tired and wanted to go home, but we both knew this moment wasn’t going to last forever. I was on my way back to the states the following morning, and he was going to go back to being a musician and hope for bigger opportunities to come his way. I remember Jesus told me earlier that day, he mentioned Cuba was an “island with prison walls”. That moment I felt it. So much talent and skill goes to waste in that country. We exchanged hugs and final words. As we start walking away Victor turns around and says, “oye mang, te considera como un hermano!, I turn around and say, “igualmente bro, que Dios te bendiga!”
MORE PHOTOS COMING SOON
