My first alarm pierced the calm at 6:30 and was unsuccessful at luring me
out of bed. The second one rang at 7:00, but it wasn’t until the arrival of the
scent of Cuban ham that I could pull myself out of bed. Breakfast is at 8 every
morning and normally, I readily get up looking forward to Esmeralda’s specialty
pineapple jam, but today, the weariness was heavier than normal. I planned to
wake early to enjoy a walk/run around the neighborhood because I felt guilty
about the naps I took after the scheduled activities, but after failing to wake
up, I was disappointed with myself for wasting what time we have in Cuba. The
day turned out to be quite eventful though.
We hopped on the bus to go visit an Afro-Cuban museum at 9:15. I think
there was a slight change of plans and we ended up going to a different one in
Havana Vieja, but it didn’t ruffle my feathers. After an interesting, yet
patchy tour (because it could be difficult to understand), we enjoyed a
performance of an Afro-Cuban dance for the second time; the first at el
Callejon de Hamel1 a couple of days prior. We were strongly reminded
that this was not a mere dance, but a present-day practice of the Afro-Cuban religion,
and the words of our first tour guide echoed, “Don’t try to understand, just
enjoy”. Both times, the dancers performed the dance like a recital, following
up with solicitation to buy their CDs, which seemed to diminish the integrity
of the cultural experience, but it’s also understandable since artists need to
make money in whatever way they can.
Afterwards, since we were already in Havana Vieja, we unexpectedly and
pleasantly had a free afternoon to further explore the historic center of
Havana. I walked with Orlando, our beloved Cuban translator, and he took us to
a cafe/hotel named Ambos Mundos2. This location is known to be a
hotspot of author Ernest Hemingway who spent a lot of time writing there, but
also home to the oldest elevator in Latin America. After an unexpectedly smooth
ride, we stepped out onto a veranda as the sounds of lively restaurant chatter
washed over us accompanied by the leisurely notes of an acoustic guitar. We
marveled at the city below until our thirst set in, then Orlando brought us to
a juice shack where I put my 2 cents in (literally!) for a glass of rich mamey3
juice.
Later, I was peering in between the bars of a cage where puppies were
being sold in the middle of a park. I was reflecting upon how cruel it was to have
an Arctic dog like a husky in the tropical latitudes when I heard familiar
intonations. A group of girls had approached the vendor and in between their
excited squeals, I realized that they too spoke Vietnamese. After a short yet
energetic conversation, I learned that they were first-generation
Vietnamese-Cubans like I was first-gen Vietnamese-American, and as I went on my
way, I wondered at how humans and our social interactions can be the best and
worst things on Earth.
1refer to May 15 2Both
Worlds 3A
fruit native to Cuba
A panoramic view of Havana Vieja from the rooftop restaurant of Ambos
Mundos.
An in-action shot of the Afro-Cuban dance at the museum.
A Pekingese puppy that was being sold for 35 CUC.
A chocolate-filled churro I enjoyed as we left Havana Vieja.
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