Talkin' About a Revolution

Rain, rain go away, come again another day. Or not, you choose, its not really up to me is it?

It’s the 23rd of January and I can’t remember what’s happened in the last 2 weeks. I’ve had a lot of lie-ins, fried eggs for breakfast, salt-filled snacks for lunch and disappointing dinners – Alice has been slacking of late. We have been speaking to Alice and Cheri about Fidel and their views of the Revolution. In short, they really hate him and what their lives have become. This weekend it was the main election and we went with Cheri to watch her vote. I don’t know what we were expecting- hundreds of impassioned people waving flags and/or denouncing the government? Instead it was just a simple room in a warehouse watched over by 3 kind-faced but heavily indoctrinated ladies. Alice ranted on for quite a while about how ridiculous the whole election is. Being a one-party state, Fidel wins anyway but ‘the people’ year after year are told that their vote counts. They haven’t seen him on TV for 2 years but if you read the local newspaper you could easily be fooled into thinking he is a sprightly older gent, going about his business as usual, strong and articulate. No one here knows and the boundaries between extreme propaganda, blind admiration, nostalgia and hushed opinions blur constantly into a dizzying array of faces and views. One thing is for sure, and that’s that most people aren’t relaxed about their present or their future. None of it is certain but because nothing has changed for 50 years the very thought of change terrifies most people, so they cling onto the victorious past, scraping the proverbial barrel for stories of heroism and patriotism, whilst churning out fear-inducing stories about the USA, and exaggerated thoughts on Latin alliances. Some of the news stories are really admirable and its certainly more refreshing and inspiring than the Daily Mail, but you have to wonder how much people really believe? For all his failings, Fidel is/was a very intelligent man. In today’s paper was printed a good article which I would like to think he wrote. This is a little snippet:

“I am not physically in the condition to speak directly to the citizens of the municipality where I was nominated for our elections next Sunday. I do what I can: I write. Writing, as many people know, is an instrument of expression that lacks speed, tone and the intonation of spoken language, and it doesn’t use gestures. Writing has the advantage that it can be done at any time, day or night, but one doesn’t know who will read it; very few can resist the temptation to improve it, to include what was not said or to cross out what was said; sometimes one has the urge to throw it all in the waste basket since you don’t have the interlocutor there in front of you.

To the youngest of our revolutionaries, in particular, I recommend them to be extremely demanding of themselves and to observe an iron-clad discipline. They should avoid being ambitious for power, presumptuous or vainglorious. Be watchful about bureaucratic methods and mechanisms and avoid succumbing to simple slogans. Recognise in bureaucratic procedures the worst obstacle. Use science and computation without falling prey to the excessively technical and unintelligible jargon of elitist specialists. Always have a thirst for knowledge, and perseverance, and both physical and mental exercise.

In the new era in which we live, capitalism is not even a useful instrument. It is like a tree with rotten roots, from whence only the worst forms of individualism, corruption and inequality sprout. Nor should we give away anything to those who could be producing and who don’t produce, or who produce very little. Reward the merits of those who work with their hands or their minds.”

From An Epiphany Gift
Fidel Castro Ruz, January 14 2008


I like what he says. He may be a dictator of sorts, and obviously has power that is not always wisely used but he’s a darn sight better than most leaders I’d say. Its just a shame that the world can’t happily accommodate such a way of thinking, or rather, America can’t stand by whilst an entire country rejects its policies and intrusions. How very dare they!

Things that could possibly be interesting but most likely aren’t and so don’t deserve the effort or the web-space:
* An amazing card-based magician.
* A pig,beached opposite, and now rotting.
* Intertwined brass bracelets causing embarrassing street situation.
* Posh hotel pool-shame.
* Hours and hours of daydreaming.
* Writing our names in wet cement.

1 month left, gotta gotta gotta cram it all in.

Question: Why do people brush their teeth before breakfast? Like the smell of egg and coffee won’t linger in your gums all day. Brush after, always after!

PHOTOS:
city centre area
One of hundreds of amazing paintings/graff's that are dotted all over Havana by a very talented artist.

Declare Independence

The last week has gone very quickly and was largely bland, days of procrastination and post Christmas blues.

On Boxing day as Larissa’s family were leaving they saw Bjork checking in/out of their hotel. She was wearing rainbow stockings (from the collection designed by her pal especially for her mammoth 18 month tour) and a long t-shirt. She was with her husband and child and apparently looked beautiful and happy. Jude Law was also on Larissa’s sister plane. Havana is clearly the place to be at Christmas time. I felt a pretty strong pang of jealousy at missing Bjork, and have no shame in admitting I did stroll by 9 days later in the vain hope she might still be there – suffering from a severe bout of paralysis I assume.

Back in November of last year, 6 weeks ago we handed in our passports and went through a ridiculous process of administration and forms so we could obtain a temporary Cuban ID. This is necessary to extend our Visas and prevent us from living here illegally. All very well and good. Yesterday we went to uni to collect our cards, complete with photograph and fingerprint. They took 6 weeks to be made and we then found out that we have to return them 1 month before we leave so immigration can put a departure stamp in our passports. And so after all this travel and panic and expense, we will have our ID cards for only 10 days, the irony being that we could have gotten 3 month tourist visas for a fraction of the price – the only things we have been discounted on anyway is ballet and cinema.

During our last Spanish lesson the topic of anatomy came up and what started as an education tour of body parts – cabeza, brazo, barriga, estomicho, gradually turned into a sexual educational lesson. Some very disturbing drawings appeared on the board – one of the lady area with a myriad of names ranging from polite to vulgar. At first this was quite funny but after 15 minutes I appeared to be the only one sitting uncomfortably. Pedro crudely drew a penis and vagina, facing one another, complete with a double headed arrow to indicate movement. This was just to illustrate the word “singa”. You can guess. I suppose it was funny but then it got unnecessarily detailed, and I don’t trust a single man living alone with 2 white cats that have the squits.

From our casa the sea front curves gracefully around to the lighthouse atop its rocky outcrop. During last weeks storms the waves were crashing around its base, bursting up at least 15 m into the sky in a roaring white froth. The same happens sporadically along the length of the Malecon and if you are unlucky, or stupid enough, a wave will hurdle the concrete wall entirely and land on your head. This is a very atmospheric sight, and I would love to see the sea in hurricane season – moving like boiling water, the horizon an ever-changing mass of dark blue rises and falls.

2 nights ago we were roused from our evening work by explosions, and rushing out onto the balcony we were greeted with the best fireworks display I’ve ever seen. Over the lighthouse and fort, 2 to 3 miles away a plethora of fireworks burst in the sky for over 20 minutes. Some of which I had never seen – like giant orange dandelion flowers (the ones you blow into the wind). Another set of fireworks exploded and their lights remained for some time, shimmering like a cloud in the sky. If you looked at it sideways, like you would at a kissing couple, then it appeared as a hovering mass of glow worms, or like the wave of starlings over West Pier, all with a tiny light bulb attached. It was so stunning. Hundreds of people had rushed out of the streets and lined the Malecon for the event. The final explosion was a huge, white cloud of ice and snow lingering for a few seconds before fizzling out. And the occasion? – the anniversary of the day when Fidel Castro arrived in Havana and overthrew the Batiste government. I think. If he is dead that was one huge waste of gunpowder and ego!

At some point last week we went to another open-air dance/concert opposite the American embassy. These are pretty huge events, largely populated by pimps and ho’s but as long as you keep your wits about you, smile and dance its all rainbows and joy. The dance culture here is nice and free and it’s not uncommon to just grab a woman’s hand and show her your moves even if she is taken – her hubby will of course by watching with clenched fists. Observing, you realise that the man has to take complete control, appearing nonchalant whilst the woman seemingly does all the work. I thought that my 1 hour lesson of salsa from Vinales made me a pro so I grabbed two rotund twins and danced them silly for a few minutes. They clearly loved it despite my fumbling feet.

We also had a poker night and I won and it was great!


PHOTOS:
Poker Face
Pedro's Trinkets

Feliz Anos Neuve

For New Years Eve dinner we had really good roast pork, Xmas pudding and flan for desert. We walked into Old Havana and sat in a bar on the harbour wall for midnight celebrations. On the opposite side of the harbour canons were fired a random number of times – 18 or something, setting off all the car alarms nearby. We met up with Larissa’s entourage and had lots of Mojhitos and spoke about eyebrows and facial hair until it was very late/early. Then we walked back in the early hours of 2008 along the Malecon – a stretch of land that in 5 years time may be completely different to how it is now. So I quietly registered this fact and collapsed on my bed, which I had missed. Muchas.