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?