Reflections in Havana

I confused the Viazul departure times of my bus to Pinar Del Río from Havana and my bus back to Havana from Pinar Del Río, so I ended up showing up to the Viazul station an hour early. Note to self: read your travel documents fully before executing any decision. I could have been sleeping or even writing this where there was wifi available. 

My last night at Enzo's was one of the most human and genuine experiences I've ever had with people my age. I can't decide what was the best part of the night was; singing the fresh prince of bel air theme song outside of the Estadio Latino America at 1am with my new friends or clucking like chickens during our internationally modified game of Kings Cup in the apartment. I'm convinced now more than ever that young people are most definitely the catalysts for change. To be able to talk with other like minded young people from all corners of the globe about the solutions to life's problems and experience new things together is a blessing and a privilege that not many get to experience. The 3 months of peanut butter jelly and cutting unnecessary expenditures were all worth it. 

The first stop of my trip is complete, and now I'm off to my casa particular in Pinar Del Río, the "tobacco Mecca of the world" to smoke some good good.

https://drive.google.com/open?id=0BywMagYa-LOmVWNCMkpBME1FRUk

Jon from Monterey

Before moving to the Bay Area, i lived in Monterey County for about 8 years, in all different corners of the area. Imagine my bewilderment when I met Jon, a bartender that works in Monterey at the military base. He was staying at the same hostel as I. We walked around Havana together yesterday, and he facilitated the best game of Kings Cup I've ever participated in. 

Jon probably saved my whole trip. I have been stressing off of money for the beginning of my stay here and was beginning to think I wouldn't have enough money for food throughout my whole stay in Cuba. After waking up from a bad-watermelon induced nap, I realized that I would have to sell my go pro to someone in Cuba to have some extra cushion cash After consulting with Enzo, he agreed to help me post the camera on a Cuban-Craigslist to see if I could get any bites. When I went downstairs to grab the go pro so Enzo could upload the picture of it to his computer, I told Jon what I was doing, and he agreed to buy my GoPro with the memory card and all the extra attachments I had for it. In one of the dopest things that anyone has ever done for me, Jon freed my brain from the money-induced anxiety attack I was having. The universe works in mysterious ways. Who would have thought that I would room with a fellow Californian from the same area as I, and that he would help me the way that he did. Talk about California Love. So happy to have met such a dope ass individual. I gave him my contact info and will be awaiting a message from him so that I can go see him when I'm back in the Monterey. 

Landing in Havana

Before I boarded the plane to Havana at Santo Domingo Airport, I had withdrawn all the cash from my checking and savings accounts at a Banco Popular ATM in the first floor of the airport, and had converted all of it into Euros to have a better exchange rate for Cuban pesos. 

I think my anxiety kicked in when I saw that I had a lot less bills in Euros than I did in Dominican Pesos. Back home, I usually never stress off of money. When I rented my room out in Marina, it was easy for me to set aside my rent and utilities and not worry about food and fun with my awesome roommate situation. I think the fact that I came to Cuba all alone really made it all the more scary for me.

With this being said, when I stepped off the plane in Cuba, I instantly began looking for anyone who looked like a broke traveler to split the cost of a taxi colectivo to Cerro in La Havana. A gentleman who gave me half of a sandwich on the plane ride told me that he couldn't split a cab because he was meeting up with people and getting picked up. Discouraged, I proceeded to customs and immigration while keeping my eye out for other lonely travelers. 

While in line, I struck up conversation with a Cuban professor named Martha, who was coming back home from a teaching conference. I told her a bit of my background and she told me a bit of hers. I must have pelted her with a billion questions, asking things about hitchhiking and low cost meals in Havana. She could tell that I was stressing, and agreed to let me rock with her back into Havana. Her two sons greeted us at the doors to the airport, and they arranged for a taxi colectivo to drop me off near Cerro, the neighborhood where my hostel was, and waited for me to convert my Euros into CUC. To my surprise, I got quite a bit more cash in the exchange than I originally thought. I paid the taxi colectivo $10 for taking me as close as they could to my hostel, and walked with my small luggage about a kilometer or so before arriving to my destination. 

I felt compelled to write about Martha, as I don't know what I would have done if we hadn't struck up conversation at the airport. She gave me contact information for herself and her ex husband and father of her children, Armeno, (who worked in an office nearby my hostel) before we parted ways and her sons told me to call them so that we could hang out. I was so grateful for this, and this gigantic act of kindness really grounded me and set me off on my journey on the right foot. 

I brought the postcards from my trip to New Zealand to leave with people throughout my stay in Cuba, and knew I had to leave one for Martha in Havana before I left.  I wrote an intimate thank you note on the back and called her ex husband, Armeno on his house number (I couldn't call Martha's cell because I was on a land line) to let him know that I wanted to give him something for her. He was more than happy to pass it along, but wasn't wasn't coming into work until Friday. He told me to go to his work and find Felix, his coworker, and give him the card so that it could reach him. Me and a fellow Californian named Jon (a dope ass individual from Monterey) rocked over there together. I found Felix, who was more than happy to pass the card along. I'm glad, because as I mentioned before, Martha helped me start this journey off on the right foot and eased my nerves. Angels definitely come in all shapes and sizes, and I hope to hang out with Martha and her kids next time I'm in Cuba when I have more time.

Flood of 1985

The deadliest landslide on record in North America happened in Ponce, Puerto Rico in '85. The landslide was triggered by a tropical wave that formed off of the west coast of Africa the month prior. The tropical wave brought copious amounts of rain to the southern part of the island and triggered a massive landslide that reportedly killed almost 200, though through conversation with my grandmother and staff from the museum, there were many more that weren't reported.

My grandmother was 29 years old at the time.

Now here's the trippy part
My cousin Maria was 5 or 6 years old and attended a head start school in the area. 3 days before the landslide, the children in her class were asked to draw pictures of whatever came to mind. The children all drew pictures that people saw as premonitions of the disaster, though at the time nobody would have known. I've attached a photo of her picture, which is currently on display at El Museo de Historia de Mameyes in Ponce. You'll notice rocks, crosses, and a house on a hill with stairs leading up to the front door in the middle of it all.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1985_Puerto_Rico_floods

El durrumbamiento mas morifero registrado en America del Norte ocurrio en Ponce, Puerto Rico en 1985. El derrumbe fue provocado por una ola tropical que se formo en la costa oeste de Africa el mes anterior. La ola tropical trajo cantidades abundantes de lluvia a la parte meridional de la isla y provoco un derrume masivo que mato casi 200, aunque a traves de conversavion con mi abuela y el personal del museo, hubo mucho mas que nose reportaron.

Mi abuela tenia 29 años.

Mi prima Maria tenia 5 o 6 anos de edad y iva a una escuela en el area. 3 dias antes del derrumbe, la maestra se pidio a los ninos de su clase que dibujaran lo que se les ocurriera. Los ninos dibujaron todos los cuadros que la gente vio como premoniciones del desastre, aunque en aquwl momento nadie lo habria sabido. He adjuntado una foto de su dibujo, que actualmente esta en exhibicion en El Museo de Historia de Mameyes en Ponce. Used notara las rocas, las cruces, y una casa en una colina con las escaleras que conducen a la puerta principal en el medio de el todo.