The Cuba Story: May

Sunday, May 9th, 2004. 11:45pm
I'm so ready to go home. So many bad things have happened to me here� and I don't even feel like im just one of those clueless people walking around. Even people you should be able to trust will go through your bag and steal the most valuable thing as if every foreigner can just afford to replace it.

I feel like Cuba has also made me a much more confrontational person. You have to be that way in order to get by here. Last week I went to an office to get information and the receptionist literally kept cutting Adrian off (I always make him talk), telling him no one there knew the answer, etc. Too annoyed to stay by his side, I sat down in the waiting room. He finally came over to me with a defeated look on his face.
"No, I'm not going anywhere until we see someone," I said loudly.
"Nicole, I'm Cuban. . ." he said. I looked at him expectantly. "You should talk to her." This, in itself I resent. Cubans, in their own country have little influence, no one takes them seriously as people. What's with that? Foreigners have so much influence just because they want us to spend all of our money here, not because they really care. No one here cares about anything when it comes to their job. Many of them would rather not work, than work as much as they do and not even get paid enough to buy day to day things at their ridiculously disproportionate prices.

I went up to that desk like it was a battle zone. I argued loudly with that woman in my most fluent Spanish ever until the whole waiting room was staring and she finally picked up the phone to call someone, telling me to take a seat and calm down.

I sat down exhausted, embarrassed. I kept the mean expression on my face a few seconds longer, then leaned toward Adrian, hiding my face from the rest of the room and grinned mischeviously "Por lo menos, funcion�," I said. At least it worked.

Then there's the incident of not this past Thursday, but the one before that. My program had a party, they're always good. This one had 500 people. But it ended early and everyone was going to "Doce y Malecon" an intersection where there is a "beca" or dorm-like thing. Adrian went with my friend Tara and this guy Faustino. When we arrived there was a huge crowd huddled around the door, wanting to get in. Basically no one was getting in. I got mad at a guy for pushing me (I was belligerently drunk at this point, though coherent) and I hit him. He didn't push me anymore. I swear drunk people regress to childhood or something. Anyway, suddenly the crowd became like a mosh pit. Everyone was pushing back and forth until one way gave way. Trapped in the middle of it all, I fell along with five or so other people. I had no idea how to get up, but magically I was pulled to my feet again (Adrian says that was him). But that's when I got mad. I started yelling obscenities and telling people to stop stepping on me. I think it's because I was genuinely scared. This one American guy (equally, if not more drunk than I) that I don't know from a different program stepped on me, so I yelled at him and he said "You're nasty, I wouldn't touch you." That's when I got mad. He was behind me so I threw my foot, platform shoe and all backwards and up, aiming for his crotch. Then I turned around and starting hitting at his face and head. Apparently he pushed me, so then Adrian hit him. There was a fight. Poor Adrian always has to fight for me. It wasn't extensive, though I didn't see it. They started fighting and I was just like "I'm leaving," which I should have done a long time before. Apparently the crowd had separated them pretty quickly and he came out of the crowd, joining Tara, Faustino, and me. I told them what the guy had said to me, and Adrian headed back into the crowd, furious and a little affected by Cuban rum also. I followed him this time, telling him to just leave it. The people in the crowd wouldn't let him back in anyway. I'm told the police came immediately after and the party was ended. I've become "that crazy blond girl that tried to fight with some guy," recognized by many American students as well as many Cuban students. Turns out the guy was my friend Marjorie's friend, a CCS kid I think. He might be one of the ones that's from Salem, actually. One Cuban kid pointed out to Adrian "Tu le diste a un Yuma," (you hit an American person!!) That could turn into one long prison term.

Another incident: Last Monday afternoon. On the famous P1, my favorite bus. It had been raining really hard and I was soaked, my t-shirt was completely transparent. Adrian always goes behind me to make sure I don't get any accosting hands my way, but this time I asked him to go in front of me to cover me a little. The bus started emptying out and we were moving toward the back. He was a little further back than I was, and a guy was trying to get by me. It was really unnecessary to push against me, but he had a backpack in front of him, so I figured that was the reason. Totally clueless, I turned just in time to see the guy looking at me, and Adrian going at him with his fists. I was convinced Adrian had gone completely insane, fighting with a guy for looking at me. No. Apparently the guy had put his hand beneath the backpack (to make me think it was just the backpack) repeatedly leaning into my ass with his hand and doing it one final time while making eye contact with Adrian. No wonder he fought! I grabbed the guy, someone else grabbed Adrian, I thought to separate them. Then some other guy told me to let go of the guy, so I did, thinking he would grab him for me. Nope. It turns out the guy was with two friends (all of them were huge). One was the one who told me to let go, and the other was the one who had grabbed Adrian, who by now had been thrown onto the floor. They were all trying to step on him, kick him, I didn't know what to do. When the ass-grabber went toward him looking ready to kick, I began to hit him in the head from behind. "You motherfucker, don't touch him!!!" I screamed. He turned around furious, and I almost peed my pants, counting on but doubting the fact that he wouldn't hit me. He didn't and after he realized it had been me, he turned back to what he was doing. That's the point where I don't remember anything else, except the fact that I began to stand there, crying like a four year old child. Loudly sobbing with one hand against my mouth. No one noticed, everyone was watching them. I just stood there trembling, ignored and scared. And at one point, as if suddenly everyone thought at the same time "Hey, what happened to the blonde girl?" The whole crowd turned to look at me. "Pase, pase," a few gentlemen told me as the motioned me by them. "No llores rubia," several said. I wanted to scream "don't tell me not to cry and DON'T call me rubia, my hair's not even blond!!" I got to the back of the bus and stood there crying. Apparently a policeman had stepped between them about the time I started my inane sobbing. He asked what had happened, and when Adrian told him the guy had grabbed his girlfriend's ass on the bus, the guy sent the three guys to get off the bus in the front and let us stay in the back. Looking back on the whole experience, I can't help but laugh hysterically. By the time I got off the bus I could laugh about it. Adrian wasn't hurt. They had stepped on him a couple times but he's really skinny so he had quickly moved ant they had just stepped on his t-shirt, which had several footprints. His face was a little swollen by his eye from hitting a seat when they threw him on the floor (no!! not my face!!) but besides that we were both whole. Earlier that day he had told me that Cubans will argue for an hour before one throws a punch. I teased him, "what happened to arguing first?" he's said "when it comes to rights, you don't discuss it." Ok�.

Tuesday, May 25th, 2004. 11:59pm
So the final and most horrific incident. Last Sunday night. I was in my apartment almost all day studying. I never felt comfortable so it was rare that I would be there the whole day. One girl came up to borrow my computer and we sat talking with one of my roommates. What I didn't realize was that Kia, another girl that lived in my apartment that I never got along with was there too, but in her room. She has always made my life hell, saying nasty things for no apparent reason with this attitude that I can't even explain. I always just sit there and take her shit. I get really mad inside but I never say anything. I'd rather not sink to her level. Anyway, I told the other girl something nasty Kia had said about Adrian and she said "why would she say that?" and I said "because she's a bitch!" not knowing that Kia was in her room listening. Much later that night, when I was about to fall asleep, I heard a knock on my door. It never even occurred to me that it would be Kia. We literally had not spoken a word to each other in a month. She began by saying she had heard what I said, followed by saying how immature, insignificant, etc, etc, etc. I am. Nothing new, she always says that stuff. But then she started saying stuff about Adrian and something inside me just didn't want to put up with her shit. I can't remember if I started yelling at her before or after the first time I pushed her. Yelling, screaming. Every ounce of hate (yes hate, and I don't hate people) for her that I've held in for so long I finally let out. She was just inside my doorway and I pushed her, trying to shut the door. In the same movement she flung open the door and hit me in the head. This passed one more time when she said "If you touch me one more time I'll kick your ass and you know I can." She was right. And besides, my intention had not been to fight. I grabbed a sweatshirt and my keys and left. She followed me yelling at me, and I just kept going. I got to the bottom of the stairs in time to see two girls I know and I burst into tears. I tried to explain to them what had happened but was interrupted by Kia yelling down from the balcony. I started screaming at her at the top of my lungs. "Shut the fuck up Kia!!! I hate you!!! Fuck off!!!" the whole neighborhood heard, and I'm not exaggerating. I spent the night at Adrian's and after two nights of that I went to one of the directors of my program to ask for a forbidden room change. She wasn't in charge of housing and I had to wait a week for the other director to get back from the states. I slept in the heat with the mosquitoes in Adrian's house that week. When the director got back he was horrified by the fight, the fact that I wasn't sleeping in my apartment, etc. Because there had been physical contact, however, he was able to break my contract to move me to a different apartment. I live in a room now that was storage before in an apartment with two other girls and the resident housekeeper of the first two floors. Much nicer. I get along really well with the two girls and there's not gossip or judgement here. As for the rest of the world, every one in our program and other American programs has said "So I heard you had problems in your apartment." How embarrassing. But still, I feel so comfortable here it's great. Too bad I couldn't move here earlier. I never felt comfortable in the other apartment. They all tended to act like I didn't exist�that is if they weren't gossiping/judging me or saying rude things to me.

Sunday, May 30, 2004. 10:30pm
Talk about a really busy last month. So much has happened and I haven't been able to write it all down. So I'll try my best.

First, and most importantly. I GOT MARRIED on Friday. Adrian and I have been in the process for the last couple months but it was on the downlow because I wasn't sure it would happen. My mom helped so much, it wouldn't have been possible without her. Neither of my parents really agrees with it, but at least they support me. After a very frustrating process, the papers arrived Thursday morning, so we went to the Ministry of Justice to make our appointment and pay for the wedding. It's so indescribable how happy we were. When we were in the bank getting cash because they wouldn't take my debit card, I started feeling really weird. I thought I was dehydrated, I kind of felt like I was going to pass out. I told Adrian we had to go buy water, and I bought a big bottle in store across the street from the Habana Libre hotel. I still just felt horrible and I thought maybe I needed food, so I sent Adrian to buy peso pizzas a couple blocks away. While he was gone I realized I needed to throw up� but where?? There's people everywhere, and I didn't want to just throw up in the gutter. There's not even bushes in Vedado. I went across the street to the Habana Libre, thinking I would use their bathroom. I threw up in the driveway, then got into the bathroom and threw up in the sink until a stall was free to finish. Luckily it was mostly water so it wasn't messy, but I was miserable and sweating to death. I went back across the street to wait for Adrian, and he came with two pizzas for me and one for himself. I told him I couldn't eat them, and he told me we should try walking back to the Ministry of Justice slowly to see if that made me feel better. We got back onto the street and he stopped to talk to someone who asked where we had gotten the pizzas. I immediately started throwing up in the gutter. I threw up three more times at least, just on the way there, which was only like three blocks. My stomach hurt so badly and by the time we got there I was pretty much dry heaving. We got into the office and I explained to the lady why we had taken so long and the first thing she said (keeping in mind we were getting married in such a hurry) was: "Are you pregnant????" I don't know why I was so embarrassed that she thought that, but I was. "No, no," I told her, "that's impossible." She sent us to the cashier to pay (who had gone to lunch or something�they don't bring in someone else, you just have to wait for them to get back), and I spent most of the time we were waiting in the bathroom right next to it throwing up painfully because there was nothing left to throw up. I was sweating terribly despite the air conditioning and I laid across the seats in the waiting room. Adrian took good care of me. I felt so terrible that when we finally left I made him catch a dollar taxi, which I NEVER take. When I got back to my apartment I not only continued throwing up but also had raging diarrhea (I know, charming details). I honestly thought I had a parasite and was prepared to go to the hospital. I went to Marjorie's apartment to get her information for being my witness and I sat there awhile feeling miserable and talking to her. I started to feel better and I decided I'd try to hold down a sprite (ok, cuba lemon lime refresco). I went downstairs to get a soda and stood talking for awhile to the housekeeper from my old apartment and some other ladies in the little store. By the time I came out, I felt cured. Adrian and I went to buy his ring (we had already bought mine) and everything was fine after that. Weird, huh? Our rings are definitely not your typical wedding rings, but I love them. They're both silver, so they weren't that expensive. Mine is a band with five small white sapphires, and his is a band with a little decorations around it. It's just so amazing to have them.

So anyway, on to the wedding. Thursday night my program had a big party, but I couldn't drink or stay out late because I wanted to be ready to go for the wedding. Friday morning my alarm just came way too early (6am). It's an alarm clock that doesn't have a snooze button, and I turned if off without thinking about that. 6:40 came around and Adrian called, asking why I hadn't called to wake him up. Imagine, not waking up for your own wedding!! I showered and woke up Brianna to do my hair and makeup. She did a great job. Adrian ironed my white dress for me, and I was ready to go. Adrian, his best friend, Reinier, Ina, and I caught a maquina to Malecon and 23. When we got to the Ministry of Justice we had 15 minutes until our 9am appointment and I was pretty much freaking out that Marjorie wouldn't come because she had been good and inebriated the night before. I actually thought that none of my friends would come because of the party. Anyway, they started showing up and soon there were at least 10 or 15 people from my program there, plus Adrian's mom and brother. I wasn't even nervous; I was just really unbelievably excited.

I didn't even realize how nervous Adrian was until we all went into the big room where the "ceremony" was held. They sat us at this big desk in two chairs, and the lady, Lisette (who helped us with everything) sat to read us all the stuff. We signed some papers, then she read the definitions of marriage, and family, etc. I don't really remember all the stuff 'cause it was so much and all I was thinking was "ok!!! Say we're married now!!!!"

She asked if Adrian accepted me as his wife, and if I accepted him as my husband, then pronounced us married. We kissed for a long time, but it was like kissing while smiling. I can't even express how giddy, overjoyed, thrilled I was. Adrian looked back at his mom and she came to give him a hug. He held her close for a long time and I finally realized that he was crying. When he finally pulled away from her his eyes were red and full of tears. He hugged me and I asked him "Are you sure you're crying 'cause you're happy?" he said of course and I wanted to cry too, but as the tears came to my eyes I remembered the liquid eyeliner Brianna had used and I held back. Oh, I can't even express how happy I was, how happy I AM. It was seriously the best day of my life!! After the ceremony there were hundreds of rounds of pictures taken and we put the rings on eachother. The ring. I love the ring. It's like this constant little reminder of how happy I am!!!

After the wedding we took a cab to the Ministry of Exterior Relations to legalize the marriage certificate, but there were at least 100 people in line in front of us, so we decided Adrian would do all that stuff after I left and send it to me. We walked back the way we had come, and I didn't mind walking because I was so happy and happy to be with him. We were going to the internet place to email my mom, but on the way we stopped at El Rapido, a fast food place. For breakfast after our wedding we ate hot dogs and French fries with soda. It was actually really cool, we're both not too good for a good old fast food meal, and I felt like it just made our experience even more unique.

We took our honeymoon in a casa particular (a rent a room, very common accommodations in cuba) in Vedado. It was only two days, but it was awesome to be together for two days straight, without having to go home at night or to shower or anything. Just enjoy as much of each other's company as possible.

I said goodbye to him today, two hours ago. I'm on the plane right now. He came to the airport with some of the other boyfriends in a taxi and we all sat around with some rum and coke, spending up to the last moment together. Adrian's mom showed up suddenly, saying she had been on busses for three and a half hours. I was in awe. She must really like me to come so far to say goodbye. She brought me a papaya batido (smoothie) for the trip.

When Adrian and I said goodbye, I felt like I would never let go. He started crying, not a lot, but the tears were there. I felt it coming but it didn't come out until I finally went to the customs window (Cuba's the only country you have to go through customs to get out). Looking back at Adrian I just couldn't take it anymore. I sobbed a little while the guy did whatever they do with my paperwork. I stopped crying soon, though, because I had to go through the x-ray machine and all that.

And now, here I am. Wondering what I'm going to do for a year without him while all the visa paperwork goes through. I think I'll try to visit at Christmas or something. If I can get together some money that is. Oh man. Who ever thought I would go BACK to cuba??

I have to stop writing for awhile, I'm feeling a little woozy.

Tuesday, June 1st, 2004. 12:21am PST (3:21am Cuba time)
Oh wow I'm tired. I'm on my last flight, I should be in Portland within two hours from now. My flight to Toronto got in last night around 1:30, we started boarding the busses at 2:15. They decided there wasn't enough room for the last ten of us and our luggage and said they'd send another bus. They never did. After an hour of waiting in the cold night air one of us went to call the hotel shuttle (which charges five dollars each) demanding that they charge it to our study abroad program. The girl that was in charge of getting us there hopped on one of the busses that left and just left us there. We were all pretty pissed off. I got to the hotel around 4am and was in bed by 4:30, but I had to get up at 8:30 because I had promised to take Marjorie to breakfast for her birthday.

Check out time wasn't until one, so I took a nap until check out. Then I sat in the lobby for four hours until Gus (one of the kids from the program that was on my flight) and I took a cab to the airport at 5. The US customs were conveniently in the Toronto airport and I was hoping it would at least take awhile to pass the time, but no luck. We sat around for hours until we got our plane; I ate expensive airport food because I was starving. The flight was 5 hours to Las Vegas and I slept almost the entire time. The couple sitting next to me was very friendly, they had just gotten married a year ago. I told them all about my recent marriage and they were really interested in just what Cuba was like in general. Now I'm here on my flight to Portland. I feel like we'll never get there.

So. Last weekend Adrian and I went to Las Tunas, the province where he was born and where all of his mom's family lives. I think I met every aunt, uncle and cousin he has on that side of the family. Every third person we'd see in that little town was "oh look there's another cousin of mine." I also got to meet his grandmother which was really cool.

There were carnavales that weekend, which is like the fair except in the streets and it goes all day and all night for all of the days it's there. The first night, Friday, we went out around 9:00 and Adrian wanted to stay out until dawn. Unfortunately that didn't work out because around 1:30 I really had to go to the bathroom so I had him take me back to the house. I felt really bad about waking up his aunt to let us in, so I volunteered to stay and sleep right then (I really wanted to anyway) and let him go back to town. He finally agreed to it and left, and as I laid in bed I suddenly started feeling really sick from the rum I had drank and ran outside to throw up. About a half hour after he had left, Adrian came back saying that he felt bad for having left me and that it hadn't been fun without me. Early in the morning I woke up a few more times to throw up, and almost the entire day I felt pretty nasty. Needless to say I refrained from drinking that night.
The train we were to take on Sunday night was to leave around 8:00pm, but it was apparently quite delayed and every time we went back to the train station they told us a later time until finally it was 6am the next day. Sunday during the day Adrian had to leave me with his cousins while he went into the capital of the province to pick up his and his mom's ID which he had left on the bus that we took for 9 hours to get there. This was only a problem for me because his cousins were all in one of the main music areas dancing to music that I can't dance to. In carnavales they have beer for the amount that fits in a can for 1.5 or 1.6 Cuban pesos which is about 5 or 6 cents of a dollar. The most horrible beer ever (and I hate beer) that tastes kind of like pizza or bread or something. The whole weekend I had enthusiastically declined the millions of offers as people held out the cups, but Sunday I thought, what the hell. It wasn't until I went back to the house for dinner with Adrian's cousin Omar, that I realized I was definitely a little tipsy. Omar was more than a little tipsy and we had a very lively walk home. I felt like I was too loud and hyper when we came into the house for dinner and I thought in my head as I ate "I would like to no estar borracha ahora." Spanglish is the worst outcome from this trip I think.

Anyway, Adrian eventually came home and we stayed out all night until against my will we caught the train at 6:00 the next morning. I just had a bad feeling about the train, and I was right. I knew that we would be able to make decent time taking trucks and hitchhiking, and I felt like the train would break down or something. Oh no, it didn't break down, but since it was so behind, we had to stop every short distance to let other trains pass, which made us even more behind. A 11 hour train ride took us almost 15 hours and we didn't get home to Miramar until after 10:00pm

One of the things I saw during the trip really disturbed me. Along the railroads near towns there are those little shanty towns made out of cardboard boxes and scrap metal and whatever else that I thought existed in every Latin American country EXCEPT cuba. I told Adrian that I had thought that those don't exist and Cuba and he said "oh yeah they do, especially in the east. They're just pretty well hidden." I feel like I went to Cuba with such a wrong idea of what Cuba is. That doesn't mean anyone else's idea of what Cuba is was right, but I guess I'm just like everyone else in the fact that I totally misunderstood Cuba. I think you can only understand Cuba if your Cuban, and even then it might be difficult.

Immediately after we got home I had to go to the doctor about an infected blister I acquired from a sunburn on my lip. I was tired and didn't want the hassle, but the blister was causing me a lot of pain. For some reason the doctor diagnosed me with gingivitis, just because I had mentioned that my mouth was starting to hurt inside from the infection. At that clinic, as soon as you finish your consulatation with the doctor and get your medicine, they CALL the insurance company to see if they will cover it. I've never had a problem there befofe, so I wasn't worried, but then the lady told me that the insurance wouldn't cover my medicine. I was furious so she handed me the phone and I talked to the guy, in English, very sternly.

He told me "Because of the conditions of you policy, I can't cover your medication."
"What are you talking about?? Aren't the conditions of my policy that I come to the doctor and you pay the visit and the medicine???"
"Well we don't cover that diagnosis. . . "
"What's the diagnosis???"
"Gingivitis."
"WHAT?? I don't have gingivitis, I have an infected lip and I need that medicine."
"Well then BUY IT."

That was it, he had pissed me off. I told him we would talk again shortly and I went off to find the doctor. After just a little arguing he decided to change the diagnosis for me. I find it really amusing that never in my life would I have SOUGHT OUT the doctor to CHANGE my diagnosis. The most important thing I learned in cuba, I think is standing up for myself. I have this tendency to not want to cause problems and therefore either not say anything or just go along with things. In Cuba I think people don't respect you if you don't cause a scene.

Wednesday, June 02, 2004. 11:38am
Well I'm home now and I feel like it's time to reflect on Cuba in general. We all know I pretty much hate Cuba, but it's not due to reasons everyone told me I would hate it.
First, I am completely and utterly disenchanted with the notion of government. Watching the goings on of our country's very own government through the pirated cable channels hotels in Cuba receive, including CNN, was bad enough. As I began to compare the two governments, I ultimately decided that they are basically the same, with the only difference being their economic strategies. The Cuban government is excellent at hiding the bad things not only from their own people, but from the rest of the world. Would I have ever seen the shacks made out of cardboard and scrap metal along the railroad tracks if I hadn't used my student status to get onto a Cubans-only train? Why doesn't Adrian know that the Cuban government DOES occasionally kill dissidents?? The Cuban government is more blatant about their manipulation of the press, whereas in the U.S. it's a more subtle process. The main news channels sing of our heroes in Iraq and the "good deed" the U.S. is doing by being there. But really, no one KNOWS what's going on, how Iraqis feel about occupation, etc. The thing that most annoys me is the fact that we've decided to impose a western-style democratic government on them. We must look at cultural traditions in forming a government, we must take into account cultural differences. Anyway, the good thing about the U.S. is that although the press is very much manipulated, people who write small independent newspapers and such are allowed to exist, and aren't sentenced to prison for what they write.
Basically, both governments are scummy, and although I very much disapprove of the Cuban government, I dislike even more the politics of the U.S. government. This is where I bring up Bush's new propositions to limit the money going into Cuba as well as family's rights to visit their family. This proposition is obviously and blatantly a political move to get votes from the extremely conservative Miami Cuban exile community, who are very influential in the elections. How can these people be so heartless, to think that if they make the Cuban people suffer that Fidel will step down. Why would he step down if he didn't in the early '90s after the fall of the Soviet Union when there was nothing in cuba, NOTHING. Food was very, very scarce, gasoline even scarcer, and people were literally starving. Now that Cuba has support from many countries around the world and an amazing tourism industry, Fidel's not going anywhere, but thanks to Bush's new propositions, all the dollar stores in Cuba were closed a few weeks ago for about a week while all the prices were raised 30%. The Cuban people will suffer, and have to look even harder and more creatively for extra money, just because Bush wants the Miami Cubans to help him get reelected. The selfishness and cruelty of this makes me so angry that I have become completely disillusioned with the U.S. government and I want nothing to do with it.
Now for other things wrong with Cuba. People barely make any money so there is just this constant chaos of people scrambling for alternative ways to make money. This includes stealing from other people, from their jobs, from the state, etc. I find this a very big problem, and I feel that Cuba is not actually socialist because almost all of the Cuban people have to act in a markedly capitalist manner in order to survive. Another reason that Cuba isn't truly socialist today is the definite inequality and social stratification that has been created by the legalization of the dollar and the increase in the tourism industry. Their social divisions, however, are very different from ours. People who are in the tourism industry or government positions are the best off. Also, however, the people with relatives on the exterior (a majority of those who have family that left at the beginning of the revolution are white), often have much more money that those without that luck. This creates a HUGE inequality. Almost everyone has some way of getting at least a little extra money, even if it isn't so legal. They have to get it somewhere, because they don't get it from their jobs. It honestly felt like chaos to me. I don't think the system in Cuba works (obviously) and it seems so beyond repair that to me it's hopeless. I can't imagine what it would be like to be Cuban, to know that the way your country is being run isn't sustainable.
Anyway, as scarring as my Cuba experience was, I guess we all know it changed my life in more ways than one. I learned what it's like to live in a country that the U.S. people know almost nothing about, and I also fell in love and got married. Now that I am married to Adrian, I will always be connected not only to Cuba but to the Cuban people. As much as I don't like Cuba, I will be going back there to visit his family for the rest of my life, and I can't say I really mind.

Life In Cuba:
May 2004

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