Back in Havana

Hello! This weekend was fantastic, albeit full of tedious traveling. Friday morning we went to the airport and took a propeller plane to Santiago, on the eastern end of the island. We took a cab through the infamous heat and beautiful greenery of eastern Cuba to our hotel, the Hotel de Las Americas (we each had our own rooms with two queen beds each, which was absolutely GLORIOUS). We didn’t spend too much time in Santiago since we had to go explore other parts of eastern Cuba, but we did get a chance to walk around at night and get a feel for the city. The architecture is completely different from Havana; the city had the vibe of a small Hispanic port city… which I guess is exactly what Santiago is. Things are definitely slower-paced, but sadly there were more beggars and “street performers” than in Havana, which I attributed to the lack of any real industry in the town, the vast majority of which is devoted to tourism. Saturday we took a bus to nearby Baconao to see and climb a giant rock called, of all things, La Gran Piedra, and then go to a small local beach.

On Sunday we said goodbye to the wonderful continental breakfast of our hotel (oh eggs, how I’d missed you so), and took a 4 hour bus ride to Baracoa. Baracoa is your average mountain town, except that the mountains are covered in dense rainforests. The city itself was quiet but beautiful, but down by the harbor (also called the Malecon there) even buildings 50 meters from the wall’s edge had been completely demolished by the waves caused by Hanna and Ike. The scenery leading up to the city was absolutely gorgeous, and along the way to the town there were small, seemingly self-sustained communities with their own pigs, chickens, etc. Many of them had jerry-rigged a pipe system to bring water from higher up on the mountain, which was really neat to see. I think it would be enlightening to live that way for a year or so; it would definitely give me a better appreciation for the people behind the scenes of my daily subsistence, and for the advancements that have been made in technology since the times when all humans lived that way. As we drove past these communities, I noticed a more concentrated collection of revolutionary and Communist Party murals than in Cuba or Santiago (which is saying a lot). It’s pretty ironic that the most agrarian communities of Cuba (and the world, when you think about it, i.e. the farmers and serfs of Cuba and Russia, respectively) are the most enthusiastic about Communism, when they are without a doubt the farthest thing imaginable from the ideal proletariat that Marx had in mind. Once we got to our hotel, we mostly just relaxed and walked around the town, knowing that we would need our energy for Monday…

We woke up around 6 on Monday to go hiking up El Yunque. In Spanish, El Yunque means “anvil,” and that’s a pretty accurate description for this plateau covered in dense greenery. The hike was unbelievably intense, and at one point we even had to ford a river. So needless to say, about halfway through the 2.5 hour uphill half, Sandra and I decided to listen to our overworked bodies and let the testosterone-driven guys continue the journey without us. A few hours later, they met us coming down the hill, and we went back to the hotel to get our belongings and begin the ride back to Santiago. On the ride back I saw a side of Cuba that I’d never seen before: its grain fields. The sun set beautifully on wide fields of crops marked by electricity poles, but the effects of the hurricanes could still be seen in missing rooms from the top levels of houses, and barren fields that once held the country’s crops. It is truly a testament to the human spirit that these farmers can persevere to provide the nation with the little food they can, despite the constant reminder that there will be a food shortage for the next six months at the least; despite the threat of another hurricane; despite the fact that they barely have enough food to feed themselves and their families; and despite the fact that the fixed prices imposed by the Cuban government in the midst of this crisis prevent them from making enough money on their goods to recoup their immense losses.

After such a relaxing vacation (and after getting back to the residencia around 1:30 in the morning), most of us didn’t feel like waking up for 8 AM class on Tuesday. So we skipped our classes and were just lounging around, when I saw an e-mail that Carmita, our “Inge away from home” sent us about a great opportunity for us. Doctor Julia Sweig, the Director of Latin American Relations for the Council on Foreign Relations in the U.S., was coming to give a speech that day about the political climate in the United States and what it would mean for relationships with Latin America and Cuba in particular. In true Cuba fashion the meeting was open to anyone who wanted to attend (in the United States Michael, Jake, and I would have needed press passes or some such nonsense).

Carmita was really excited that some of us decided to come, and as Dr. Sweig proceeded to give her speech in heavily American-accented Spanglish, I thought that nothing would make Carmita happier than if one of us asked a question during the Q&A session that was to follow. After the speech was over, five or six older Cuban men approached the microphone and asked their questions, many of which seemed to be designed to try and “trap” Dr. Sweig in some manner. (I’m not sure if this was due more to her position in such a questionably moral organization, or to the huge blow to their machismo-conditioned egos that a woman was sent as their ambassador from the United States; maybe a mix of both). Unlike Q&A sessions that I’d seen before, this one’s format was for every person to ask their questions, then have Dr. Sweig respond to them all at once… meaning I had less time than I thought I would to draft a question. After a few of the men had asked their long-winded questions preceded by paragraphs of historical context and the room sat in the momentary silence of shuffling, the moderator asked, “¿Alguién más?” and I awkwardly dashed up to the mic. In English, I thanked Dr. Sweig for coming to speak, and told her my name and what school I was from when she asked. I proceeded to ask my question in Spanish. I won’t put it all here since it was about a paragraph, but I basically asked her how she thought the removal of the embargo would influence the exchange of ideas between the two countries, rather than the exchange of goods. It’s a good thing I just went up there and did it, because had I realized beforehand that I was about to speak to, without a doubt, the most powerful person I’d ever talked to, I might have just stayed put.

Her answer to my question was nothing terribly revealing (she essentially said “yes, it will influence the exchange of ideas”), but the question of another attendee definitely opened my eyes. Though a few of the men who asked questions after me chided my question for not staying on the topic of economic development, the coordinator of the conference later asked Dr. Sweig when the lack of academic exchange would begin to subside, because, as she said “Lo sentimos. (We feel it.)” That really took me by surprise; I guess I sort of viewed myself as an unwanted intruder here, not so much as an inadequate reminder of the vibrant and healthy exchange student system that used to exist between our two countries. I agree with that woman that the free travel of academic persons should be one of the very first steps in removing the embargo; both countries have so much to learn from each other, and as long as that free exchange is stunted, all American students will “learn” about Cuba are the prejudices and distorted myths that have existed for decades.

But then after the conference the really exciting thing happened! Dr. Sweig’s research assistant on this trip, a young guy maybe 5 years older than us, came over to us and told us he’d love to grab a beer with us before they left on Saturday. We exchanged contact information, and if all goes well, hopefully we’ll get to meet with him this week. I’m really excited to talk with him about all things Cuban and American, and what the CFR thinks about it all. Strange that within a couple of months I’ve not only been able to get more involved in Cuban political happenings than I’d ever imagined, but that it’s also been easier to learn about American foreign policy straight from the horse’s mouth than it ever would be in my own country.