Today I went to Habana Vieja, in the east of Havana. At the Plaza de Armas, we stopped at a very small temple that was built to symbolize the place where Havana was founded. Students get in free apparently, even us Americans, as the two guards seemed rather pleased after they heard that we all were “rompiendo el bloqueo” (breaking the blockade). They smiled and told us beinvenidos. Fewer and fewer groups of American students are allowed in now due to tightening restrictions from the Bush administration, and now students are required to stay at least 10 weeks. This change means fewer colleges can fit it into their semester schedules, and fewer students can afford to study for such a long period of time.
We went to lunch at a restaurant in the Plaza Vieja, where we took up the whole back table and all ordered hamburgers. Our tour guide told us how much he enjoyed American films and TV, and how he had seen Bowling for Columbine and thought CSI: Las Vegas was the best one. The impact is there, in one way or another, slowly permeating into Cuban life.
Cuban custom dictates that when you meet people, you kiss them on the cheek. One of our tour guide's compadres explained the meaning of their very friendly greetings: In France they give three kisses, in Spain they give two, and in Cuba they give one to start and then finish in bed.
On the way back we passed the Plaza de Banderas, with rows and rows of black flags with a white star on each. They were meant to symbolize all the injustices that the US had performed against Cuba. The Plaza was built right in front of the US Interests Section building, and it's surrounded by several anti-American billboards, comparing Bush to Hitler and Satan, and taunting Americans that the Cubans are not afraid of Yankee imperialism.
After dinner a group of us walked along the Malecon and put out feet dangling over the water. After a few minutes a huge wave hit the wall and drenched us all. The whole walkway is really slippery with wet moss. Fisherman, couples, and groups of people hanging out gather along the walls and makes hisses and catcalls at people passing by. This really is the end of the world. At night the dark sky blends in with the sea, and the wall of the Malecon looks like a sheer drop off into a black abyss. I know I’m only 90 miles away from the US, but it may as well be a million.
Later a huge group of us, or an invasion, if you will, all went out to the Malecon and someone bought cheap rum and Cuban cigars. Later some street musicians came by and played for over an hour, chatting, telling stories, drinking our rum, asking us all of our majors and forcing us to dance. How quickly we turn- suddenly we are all discussing the perks of socialism and singing of “tu querida presencia, Comandante Che Guevarra.” Only one night into the Cuba trip and I’ve already smoked cheap cigars, drank rum, and danced in the streets. Now only 70 more days to go.