Trip of My Life - Cuba (Days 6 & 7...Goodbye)

[Editor’s Note: A good friend suggested I increase the size of the embedded photos. Enjoy!]

A big part of me is dreading the end of this amazing trip and experience seeing the closest of my family with whom I’ve been apart for decades! But all good things come to an end, as the cliche goes. It’s the day before International Workers Day in Cuba (the equivalent of the United States’ Labor Day), so we decide we want to take a tour of Santa Clara and the Ernesto “Che” Guevara plaza and memorial. Gregorio will give us the guided tour all the way there. A bit more on International Workers Day, compliments of Wikipedia.

The date was chosen by a pan-national organization of socialist and communist political parties to commemorate the Haymarket affair, which occurred in Chicago on 4 May 1886.[6] The 1904 Sixth Conference of the Second International, called on "all Social Democratic Party organisations and trade unions of all countries to demonstrate energetically on the First of May for the legal establishment of the 8-hour day, for the class demands of the proletariat, and for universal peace."

We embark on the one-hour drive to Santa Clara from Cabaiguan along El Autopista Nacional (National Highway). When I say that this “highway” couldn’t have been in a worse state of disrepair, I’m not exaggerating! Gregorio actually had to slow down to 20 or 30 miles per hour to navigate around entire unpaved sections of the highway. Due to the potholes and general mayhem all along the highway we’re ranging anywhere from 30-50 miles per hour, on average.

As soon as we arrived into the city limits of Santa Clara, the streets of an amazingly better state of maintenance and quality. It’s not surprising how the government ensures the facade of the cities or wherever tourists may reside and visit. Before heading to the Che Guevara plaza, it’s time for a nice meal and a beer. We decide to go to a famous restaurant in Santa Clara called Don Quijote. It actually has really great reviews, but a bit of a tourist trap. Nevertheless, they have beer, they have food, and they have Cuban coffee. Or in Cuba, it’s just coffee :) I feel bad going to a buffet restaurant with incredibly obvious tourists dressed like they were on the boardwalk in South Beach Miami with their pastels, brightly colored Nike or Adidas shoes, and the bling. OH THE BLING! You can see them a mile away. The “look at me, I have money and I know how to dress” crowd from Miami. They are NOT representative of the amazing Cuban immigrant community in South Florida, but that’s another post for another time.

We wrap up our lunch with some awesome flan and coffee (yes, that’s Cuban coffee…the dark tar and bitter elixir that helps me wake up every morning here).  Back into the car to search for the Che Guevara plaza. I navigate us with my offline Google map of Santa Clara (GREAT feature!) and behold, it is closed to cars because of the setup in preparation for International Workers Day celebration and march. So, we decide to hoof it to the center of the plaza as we park at the barricade outskirts. This is not without some complaining on the part of my mother who doesn’t want to walk all that way. It’s probably 1/4 mile. So she decides to stay by the car. She then insists my father stay as well, but if you knew my father, even with the limited mobility, there’s no way he’s staying behind. So my beautiful wife decides to take his arm and walk slowly with him while Gregorio is giving me the guided tour ahead of them.

Mind you, the Che Guevara Plaza isn’t just a plaza, but also contains his mausoleum that houses Che’s remains. It was actually quite a site to walk around, see how his story during the Cuban Revolution is depicted in the artwork along the mausoleum and memorial. So much history, so much idealism in the stories Gregorio told me about the different figures carved into the marble and granite of the memorial structures. The status of Che looms larger than life overlooking the plaza, carrying his rifle, observing over the horizon to his vision of freedom for Cuban from repression and dictatorship of Batista, at that time. How different things turned out.

One particular carving I took interest in was a map of the Cuba showing all the cities and towns of Fidel’s revolutionary army as they “liberated” them.

After some great narration from Gregorio on all of the pieces of the memorial, it’s time to head back to Cabaiguan. Along the way back to the car we encounter a small group of boys with their fighting cock on a leash. The boys ask me how much I paid for my tattoos (the ones on my calves). I say, “too much” as I imagine the cost of my tattoos is more than what these boys have ever seen…ever. I love traveling the world for the opportunity to observe so many perspectives of people’s lives and lifestyles. Especially when I can reset my own world view and get out of my head.

And alas, the final day is here! We get up the next morning to “desayunar fuerte” (breakfast strong, literally). It’s reminiscent of “brunching hard” in Portland, so I get it :) While we’re passing time before the drive to Santa Clara Airport, we’re watching the broadcasts of the various International Workers Day marches around Cuba, the biggest one being in Havana, of course. I’ve never observed this holiday spectacle quite like this. We see the medical workers, students from various universities, hospitality workers, and several other groups marching together showing their solidarity. I took several pictures of the TV screens, in particular, a few of the new president alongside Raul Castro watching the march in Havana. The Jose Marti Plaza de la Revolucion is an impressive structure where Fidel addressed many Cubans over the years. It’s actually the 31st largest city square in the world at 72,000 square meters!

That time of the final day has come to say goodbye to my family. We laugh, we hug, we cry, we’re generally recounting some great times had over the last few days. This isn’t goodbye, it’s seeya later. Hopefully soon, but the complexity of the Cuban immigration visa grant process for my family and I prohibits coming back on a whim. It unfortunately requires about a 3 month process to obtain the visa for some of us. We’ll give it a shot next year nevertheless. In the meantime, we have Facebook, WhatsApp, and email to stay in touch. Recently the indigenous cellular operator in Cuba launched mobile internet service, so some members of my family locally may be able to afford the service. We’re a part of each other’s lives now though, so we’ll find a way.

Trip of My Life - Cuba (Day 5)

Horses, trekking on foot, and the most epic Cuban meal - ever - were the themes for this day. Did I mention that Kristina, my parents, and I have been eating 3+ meals per day of which we are NOT used to that at all! However, I observe 2 things from my family in Cuba. The food ceremonies are ways that we’re all getting closer and to know each other more. And they simply eat 3+ meals every day in spite of the scarcity of ingredients and food items. Again, the meal ceremonies are all home-cooked by amazing cooks with as much love as they can muster into the pork, the rice, beans, yucca with olive oil and garlic/onion “mojo” (pronounced mó-ho; somewhat of a marinade you drizzle generously), sliced tomato and cucumber salad with olive oil, and bread…always bread! So the day started with a breakfast of which Kristina and I were still digesting last night’s dinner so we opted out. Instead, we partook of lunch and then decided to do foot trek around Cabaiguan.

We really needed to get some sort of exercise in, even if it was just a walk around town. When we told my local family we were going on a walk, the reaction was priceless. They asked, “on foot?!”, in as emphatic of a response as they could muster. It was hilarious given that there’s no such thing as Uber and when I look at the offline Google map I had loaded on my iPhone X, the total area of the town center couldn’t have been more than 4 square kilometers. According to Wikipedia, it states Cabaiguan is roughly 230 square miles. I have no idea where they come up with that calculation other than to include the “suburbs”…I’m joking.

Nevertheless, Kristina and I embarked on our trek with the safety of my speaking the language and offline Google maps to navigate. We walked around looking for the post office because we want to mail ourselves a post card as a memento. As we discovered the post office was closed on this day. No worries, we have the memories in our heads. We’re crossing one of the streets and suddenly this guy on a motorcycle stops right in front of us looking a little sketchy. He takes off his helmet and says, “yo los conozcos a ustedes” (translation: I recognize you.). It was Gregorio’s son-in-law and has seen pictures of us from his wife and never met us. Wow, it’s a small town but it suddenly got a lot smaller. We’re conversing for a while there getting to know each other. He’s been working and hasn’t had a chance to meet up with us yet so we set a dinner date to come over to their house tomorrow. An incredibly unanticipated encounter on our “long, tiring” foot trek of central Cabaiguan about half a kilometer from Gregorio’s house. Now THIS must be what small-town living must feel like. I certainly don’t encounter that in Portland, Oregon, but it’s really apples and oranges, isn’t it?

As Kristina and I are venturing around the town center and generally looking like tourists, we see a common sighting - horse-drawn carriages. We decide (more conspiring) that we need to get on a horse-drawn carriage today with my whole family on it, especially my mother. So the mission objective is set. We meander slowly back towards Gregorio’s house and who do we coincidentally run into but Gregorio himself. Now Kristina look at him with a little sideways glance and ask him, “are you here to check on us because my mom and Yamila asked you to?” He says no because he’s bringing his car for a servicing, which I do know he said he needed. We take it at face value and continue on our slow return to the house, by way of one of the “particulares” near his house with a little cafeteria in front to see what they had for bars of guava jelly.

Now the mental image of something called guava jelly doesn’t really describe it. It’s more a cellophane wrapped bar of basically sugarized guava pulp that is dark red and gelatinous though not runny, It’s hard to describe, but unforgettable once you’ve tried it. We see that they various sizes so I decide to get the largest size that was just shy of a two by four at the Home Depot lumber section. Next came an interesting experience. They had a little sign next to the guava bars with the number 20 next to it. Recall in an earlier post from this trip that Cuba has two currencies - the CUC and the CUP. The CUC is what the tourists use and exchange for their dollars or euros. The CUP is the Cuban peso that the local’s use and is a MUCH lesser expensive exchange rate. Without delving into the math (math is hard) I had the lady at the counter a 20 CUC’s worth. She immediately warned me stated that it’s 20 CUP and ended up making change handing me most of what I gave her in the first place, albeit mistakenly. When I did the math at that time, it was something along the lines of $1.50 that I paid for this huge bar of guava that I’ve never seen in the states, including Miami. And if you did would probably cost upwards of $10-15 given its size. Honesty and integrity in practice there, my friends. We were very encouraged although when we got back to Gregorio’s house, he told us that possibly not every shop would be as honest and pocket the money without us being the wiser. I’ll hold on to my romantic perspective of human’s generally being good and honest people.

We get back to house (note that from afar we can see a couple of heads peaking out the front door looking out for us…yes, they were my mother and Yamila…oh, those Hispanic habits die hard!) and rally everyone to get on a horse-drawn carriage ride. We have lots of takers except my mother who is afraid of a butterfly. Nevertheless I am a person who doesn’t take no for an answer, so we embark on our “hard on the backs” jaunt from one house to another where we’re planning on taking a drive to Guayos for dinner at one of the “case particulares” which Albert, Gregorio’s son, knows the owners. Before that came the highlight of the horse-drawn carriage ride - watching my mother disembark the carriage. Getting on what humorous enough, but we didn’t know the extent of the hilarity at the end of the ride. I’m just going to post this picture showing my dad trying to help my mother down from the carriage. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words! The look on her face, the pretend whining, and my dad’s reaction were absolutely priceless. It was a MasterCard commercial in the making. Just to punctuate the experience, I had to take a selfie while both my dad AND I were helping my mother traverse the little steps (they were a bit small) from the carriage down to the ground. I’m hoping that my facial expression tells it all. I tried :)

Once we’ve all disembarked the horse carriage, tipped the driver, pet the horse, get into the house to do a little stretching from the suspension-less carriage ride through the “paved” streets of Cabaiguan, we’re no commenting on the hunger starting to set it. Dinner time? Heck yeah! So pouring into the cars we go to drive the 10-12 kilometers to Guayos and what I’m anticipating to be quite the personalized and memorable dinner experience with my entire family. I mean, we got EVERYONE to attend and I wanted this to be the gastronomic and intimate highlight with this group of people with whom we only recently started creating memories about them. This group of people from the decades past that remember me, but I had no memory of them. See how the meal-time seems to be this opportunity to break bread, tell stories, learn about each other, laugh in the moment, cry for people who we wish could be there with us (my maternal grandmother passed away 4 months prior to this trip), and most effectively create some of the most hard-wired memories we’ll now have without the need for selfies or missing the moments behind the screen of a smartphone and its camera. But of course, I had to memorialize the occasion and did manage to capture everyone. for the most part, in the group photo you see here. A few things happened here.

• Once the wine (a LOT of wine) kicked in, the conversation was very fluid, very open, very memorable and lovely. Not that we needed the wine, but it helps.
• I learned so many more details of the short time I was here before immigrating to the US from the point of view of my uncle, Cuso, my mother, older cousin, Yamila, and Gregorio. These people basically became my time capsule of which all I needed to do was to open it up and out sprouts answers to so many of my questions of my birthplace.
• We ordered WAY too much food! Again, the quantity of food is proportional with the love and intimacy of these people.
• The quality of the food is incredible, from the tuna ceviche (more on that later) to the tostones and the paella.

When the bill came, I took one look at it and almost fell back. Let’s do the math again (I know, we all hate this part). Twelve people, about 4 bottles of wine, appetizers (multiple), huge paella with leftovers, dessert (the flan was EPIC), and dessert wine…approximately US$120!! I can’t downplay the quality of the food and service. If they were on Yelp (they’re not), I’d give them 6 stars and a raving review commentary!

Lo the end of the dinner was here, a short walk around the center plaza in Guayos with all the stray dogs, try to get the digestion to kick into high gear before we stuff ourselves into the cars to return to Cabaiguan and Gregorio’s house for some after-dinner rum and porch conversation before calling this 5th day in Cuba a yet-again successful and positive set of events in our journey of life.

Trip of My Life - Cuba (Day 4)

By now we’ve everything we can see in my modest little birth town of Cabaiguan in central-most Cuba. In the province of Villa Clara, formerly known as Las Villas. I don’t recall when they changed the name but is the combination of Las Villas + Santa Clara, where the province adopted part of its largest city, Santa Clara. More on Santa Clara in
another post for another beautiful day in Cuba.

The adjacent province known as Sancti Spiritus has a town called Trinidad. We’re told this town has been practically preserved from its original Spanish colonial styling and architecture. According to Wikipedia, “Together with the nearby Valle de los Ingenios, it has been a UNESCO World Heritage site since 1988.” We’re really looking forward to taking the whole family out and being tourists for the day. You know how the only times we get to see the touristy sites in the cities or towns we live in are when we’re showing friends or family around? This is that day for my family in Cuba. They’ve been to Trinidad before although we always see the sites differently through the eyes of the people we’re taking for their first time.

My cousins Yamila and Yalina arrange for a hired car to take us to Trinidad, but we’ll also be making a stop on the way in a nature sightseeing area called Valle de los Ingenios, or Valley of the Sugar Mills. Apparently they have ziplining there which we’re pretty excited about. Kristina and I have done ziplining in Costa Rica, Nicaragua, and Hawaii, and absolutely love the thrill!

The car arrives to take most of us - the rest are riding in Gregorio’s car - to Trinidad. Yet another 50s era beauty of a machine and this car is in absolutely amazing condition! It’s practically the Uber of Cuba, without the ease of the smartphone application and with 60-70 year old cars. But I will say that the suspensions of these cars combined with the variably OK to terrible condition of the roads. It’s only a 1-hour ride :)

We get to the Valle de los Ingenios site where there is an amazing viewpoint from the restaurant-cafeteria there of the Escambray Mountains! Gorgeous views, mojitos, beer, and empanadas made for an incredible experience. But wait, there’s one more thing - ziplining. My cousin Yamila’s son, Jose Javier (he goes by JJ), is super excited about ziplining for the first time. He AND I are like kids in candy stores, it’s such a fun time!! After some serious yelling across 4 different lines and a few great pictures with the scenery, we’re back in the cars for the final few minutest to enter Trinidad.

We spent a bit of time getting approval to drive into the historic area of Trinidad that apparently has limitations on cars and other motorized vehicles, but eventually we get the gate guard to let us through. The cobblestone streets, old colonial architecture and decor transport us back to the 1500s when Spain colonized Cuba…maybe the bit more modern than what was available back then. So many beautiful buildings, patio cafes, restaurants, shops, plazas, and picturesque streets. I highly encourage anyone who comes to Cuba to visit Trinidad and the beaches nearby.

One of the highlights after dinner (which was amazing) was a cafetaria-bar as everyone is looking for some Cuban coffee to get rid of the massive drowsiness from the meal. We walked inside and saw a really cool motif of so many currency bills from around the world tacked up on the ceiling of the bar. One of the more unusual features inside the bar was a bathtub. What do we do with that? Take pictures sitting inside it of course. Fun times!

The close of the day before driving back was a little dip in the Caribbean at the nearby beach. I can practically make the rest of my vacation on this beach having fruity drinks with little umbrellas (I didn’t actually see that) brought every hour on the hour. Nothing like a tropical paradise to firmly put one into a dreamy state of relaxation.

Trip of My Life - Cuba (Day 3)

As we have been settling in eating three times a day, imbibing the most amazing Cuban rum, and overall just getting to know my family after so many years and actually not having any preconceived notions of what it would be like, we decided to gather up the family to take a tour of the town I was born in. My mother’s cousin, Gregorio, offered to tour us around town in his car where we all poured ourselves into the small confines of his Honda (I think it was a Honda). It has air conditioning which is all that matters when it gets baking hot and humid. We weren’t at the height of summer, but it was still pretty different than what we’re used to Portland, Oregon.

However, before we get to far down the tour around town, let’s go take a stop at a one of the local watering holes and have some beer and wine. Albert, Gregorio’s son, pretty much knows everyone we run into around either Cabaiguan and the neighboring town of Guayos. Guayos actually was much more “happening” than Cabaiguan. There are more shops, more restaurants (or particulares that are basically eateries inside or attached to someone’s home), more cafeterias, more tavernas, and generally more people out and about taking advantage of those venues. It’s concerning for Gregorio and my family because it means that if economic development doesn’t ramp up in Cabaiguan, then the town will die a slow death only compounded by lack of investment by the central government.

I have to say unequivocally that everyone in my family dropped whatever they were doing or planning on doing to spend time with us, no matter the time of day or night. While it may sound intuitive to many, I have seen many instances in other situations where this kind of selflessness, attention, or loving focus did not occur between family members. You can argue that if you let a few decades go by then anyone can suffer from separation and time apart. It simply felt different.

Let’s take a little break before the tour around town. Have some Cristal beer…it’s pretty tasty! A lager I think, but definitely not PBR :) Maybe it’s the uncomplicated life. Maybe it’s their simpler life. Maybe it’s a combination of things but we simply enjoyed the downtime, enjoyed each other, talking about anything and everything. Conversations about Gregorio’s mom, who live downstairs from him in the two-story home which originally was a one-story home. He spent upwards of 20 years…yes, that’s not a typo. About 20 years to scrounge the materials for improving the original one-story, then construct the second story on top of the roof slab. Relative to many homes in Cabaiguan, the two stories are very modernized with hot water, air conditioning in two bedrooms, propane plumbed in to facilitate cooking in the kitchen, and even WiFi and Internet access, though this is limited to 30 minutes per month of connectivity time.

We finally get in the car to ride around town as Gregorio gives us the narrated tour. “On our left is the hospital you were born in.” He’s referring to me. “Coming up we’ll be slowly going down this dilapidated street to see the original house you and your parents lived in before you left Cuba for the US.” We actually get out and go over to the building where my parents house was when I was born. The house which can be compared to a multi level townhouse was actually been divided down the middle to form two different smaller homes. We walk up to one of the sides where a family is sitting on the front patio enjoying some breeze and avoiding the heat inside the house, and introduce ourselves. They are actually very welcoming and enjoying meeting us! So much time has passed that my parents and local family members don’t know any of the folks living there, but the local residents were as friendly and amicable with us as if they’d known us for decades. Again, it may be that small town hospitality and familiarity of the Latino people, but it is vastly different than what I’m used to in pretty much any part of the US.

After reminiscing about the tour around Cabaiguan we decide to drive back to Guayos (it’s only a few kilometers) to check out that town. Like I stated before, there was a noticeably different vibe and energy in Guayos. Rather than sitting in the car and missing interacting with the locals, I suggest we park and take a walk around the town center. Kristina and I reflected on how it felt like the town centers of a few Vietnamese towns we enjoyed a year ago. The small-town feel and atmosphere definitely is common across even vastly different cultures like Vietnam and Cuba. Uncanny! We also noticed yet another thing in common with the small towns in Vietnam and Cambodia…dogs! A ton of dogs all over the place! Yet I took particular notice that even though there were so many stray and feral dogs, none of them were in particularly bad looking shape or seeming physical health. I do remember from Costa Rica that the locals took very good care of all the stray dogs with leaving food and water all around town in front of homes, shops, and restaurants. Interesting day 3, for sure. I wonder what day 4 will have in store.

Trip of My Life - Cuba (Day 2)

My cousin, Yalina, was gracious enough to let Kristina and I sleep in her room - the only air conditioned one in her 5th floor apartment. It was actually a really well laid out apartment where only medical personnel lived in the entire building and its other 3 buildings in the complex. As the story goes, the building complex was donated by Hugo Chavez, the late president of Venezuela, as a thank you to her many colleagues who conducted medical missions in Venezuela. Interesting story!

Our first morning in my birth town of Cabaiguan, Cuba, was met with amazing Cuban coffee (strong as the tar on the roof of commercial buildings), warm bread, and any number of other food items the family was more than willing to cook for us. As in many other cultures around the world, feeding family members is the way into their hearts. We would need the caffeine and the energy for that day as we were all planning on trekking around the town to explore, get some items from the bodega my cousin, Yamila, works in, and stock up on Cristal beer.

I didn’t know what to expect. I guess I had notions of Cabaiguan from movies depicting Caribbean or South American villages and towns. Not necessarily with animals such as cows or sheep roaming the streets, but rustic for sure and a certain sense of old world appeal and none of the modern structures like cellphone towers, glass-lined buildings, or bustling streets like Madison Ave during high shopping season. I was pleasantly surprised as to the jovial nature of the everyone we saw, stopped to speak with, or just observed from afar. One thing that is deathly apparent to me is that even without the modern luxuries of shiny, new cars, fancy clothing stores, Wal-Mart, or Starbucks, the Cuban people seem truly happy. Always engaged in lively conversations, smiling, laughing, joking with each other, yelling hello across the street to a
familiar face, or just casually hanging out in a storefront or a corner, watching life go by with a simple curiosity.

We exchanged some US dollars for CUC, one of the two major currencies in Cuba. The CUC is what tourists exchange their own domestic currency whether it be US dollars or Euro. Then there is the CUP which is the currency the local Cuban people use on a daily basis. There is a dramatic difference in the exchange rates between CUC and CUP. It’s a bit hard to understand and I’m sure there is a logical reason as to why this is the case, but best not to question it.

We returned to Yalina’s apartment and shortly after a torrent of rain starting gushing from the sky. It was reminiscent of those rain showers I remember from Miami or other parts of the southeast US. It rains in epic proportions for about 15 to 30 minutes, stops, sun comes out and bakes away the water to only leave behind the most visceral humidity one can ever imagine. We didn’t experience many bugs but, man, were there a lot of geckos (aka, little lizards) that manage to get themselves all over the apartments and houses because every window and sometimes doors are left open during the day.

The highlight of this day was shortly after we met my mother’s cousin, Gregorio, for the first time. Gregorio is one of the most happy-go-lucky people I’ve ever met. He loves his family, is always laughing and smiling, rides his 250cc motorcycle like Evel Knievel, and absolutely loves his rum! I have to say that he has endeared a place in my heart forever! Gregorio has a small car that he takes immaculate care of as well as making upgrades to with items like a radio that plays MP3s or MPEG movies. We all cram into the car to take a ride around town where he shows us the hospital I was born in and various other nostalgic landmarks of value to my family. We’re driving through “downtown” Cabaiguan when my mother points out the restaurant that my father asked to court her (that’s older generation code for “going out”). It’s called El Gallito or the little rooster. Me and my hidden Quentin Terentino had the bright idea of asking them both to reenact the scene where my father was asking my mother out for the first time, but with a little dramatic flair. I asked my father to get down on one knee to “beg” my mother for a date. I’ll let the picture speak for the remainder of the narrative. It was priceless! How could we ever top our experiences of day 2 in Cuba?

Trip of My Life - Cuba (Day 1)

I was born in Cuba many, many years ago. How many? Too many. And that’s how long it’s felt not having seen my family there, in fact, noteven having any memories of them apart from pictures. Most recently, thanx to technology, I’ve been able to speak with them over WhatsApp and, at times, video calls. This “trip of a lifetime” occurred on my birthday this year when my mother, father, my beautiful wife, and I departed Fort Lauderdale for Santa Clara, Villa Clara, Cuba. Our final destination would be Cabaiguan, the town I was born,
population of about 16,000 people today.

It was exciting to see the land I was born as we approach Santa Clara airport. The butterflies were starting to accumulate in my stomach. What would I say to them? How would I act around them? I figured it would come to me and just to be myself. I wanted them to like me as I’m always conscious about first impressions. We finally landed in Santa Clara airport when the plane was promptly surrounded by airport and immigration officials. It was a bit unnerving, especially as we disembarked the aircraft onto the tarmac. We asked one of the airport official lady’s for a wheelchair for my dad. It was then that I observed the very helpful and friendly nature of both the airport and immigrations uniformed folks. The lady who obtained the wheelchair for my dad stayed with us all through the customs check-in, baggage claim and to the airport exit doors. My mother started to give her a $2 tip, but she refused. My mother being who she is as a person that doesn’t take “no” for an answer insisted she take the tip.

We looked around and immediately saw my two cousins (Yamila and Yalina, my older and younger cousins, respectively) and my uncle Cuso (my mother’s brother) whose name is actually Heriberto but somehow he acquired the nickname of Cuso from friends and family. I had this sudden wash of emotion seeing my family for the first time with my own eyes and not on WhatsApp. As is the custom with Latinos, we hugged, kissed, and cried :) I immediately started taking pictures with my iPhone to capture these once-in-a-lifetime moments, but I also wanted to experience it and not be stuck behind a screen. However, one of the moments I captured made me cry a little - the moment of my mother seeing her brother for the first time in over 18 years! They have always been very close and this was amazing to experience for Kristina and I.

Cuso surprisingly reached out to shake my hand, but I had none of that. I gave him a big, strong hug! He promptly asked me if I wanted a beer - there happened to be a bar across the street from the small Santa Clara airport exit. There’s no question that we need to toast and celebrate this momentous occasion. We ordered several Presidente beers because they were out of what I came to absolutely love later - Cuba’s local beer, Cristal!

We all hung out, catching up as if we’d had dinner the night before. It’s amazing how the family bonds just manifest among people who’ve longed to see each other for so long. I left Cuba when I was 2 years old and no memory of these people. Yet it felt so familiar and loving. Now, Cuba is well known around the world for all of its 50s era cars. This isn’t necessarily by design, but by necessity. You can’t simply head over to a Toyota dealership and pick up a new late model Camry, so the Cuban people must be resourceful. Many of these cars are in amazing shape because of the rebuilding routine and care given by their owners. If they need a new alternator, I’ve heard they must machine new parts, wind the coils and effectively rebuild or create their own replacements parts. The Manny, Mo, and Jack auto parts center is generally non-existent, especially in the non-tourist centers like Havana or Varadero Beach. We got into our hired car (an amazing looking vehicle) that sat all 7 of us.

The driving experience was unique, to say the least. You must understand that the prevailing wisdom of Cuban economics is such that there is a scarcity of infrastructure renewal or investment, especially insofar as state-owned and tourism areas, which receive the lion’s share. So to state that our lumbar regions were particularly strained with the combination of not-terribly-efficient suspension of our 50s era car AND the condition of the road is an understatement. We arrived mostly in one piece, then the real fun began! My family had whipped up a homemade birthday cake and gifted me a bottle of THE most amazing rum on the planet, Ritual by Havana Club. Needless to say, this first day back in the land of my birth was both an emotional and gastronomic feast of epic proportions! Just wait til day 2...