Okay, on to the next thing on my mind: Nationalism v. Internationalism. I began to think of myself as an internationalist a few years ago when I realized I could happily relocate outside of the country I was born in. My definition of an internationalist is someone who appreciates and embraces equally multiple cultures and countries outside their own. I really think this is the frame of mind humanity must have to work through its conflicts. Why? Well, many populations are already a mixture of different cultures, and they are that much richer for it. Nothing wrong with a pride in your heritage, but not limiting that pride to your roots alone is self-broadening, enlightening...

So how did this come up? With the greatest international contest of all, the World Cup, of course! Being a Barcelona football fan, I was excited to see members of my team return to their home countries. With each match, I looked at which team had the Barca players and rooted for them. Lionel Messi is my favorite, so Argentina is a front runner for me. What surprised me was the chiding I got for not posting cheers for team USA. I kind of likened it to being a Kobe Bryant fan living in Boston and not posting "go Celtics!" But then I have to ask what is nationalism? Is it being thankful that I was born in this country as opposed to any other in the world? Is it recognising the American Dream--hard work + opportunity = change? Is it posting "go USA"? If it's the first two, don' worry, I'm good. If it is just the last, then I am a terrible patriot and will go back to my post as an internationalist...Ciao...

It has been over a month since Cuba, but I really want to add a few more details. Didn't get done sooner--blame my schedule, my computer crashing (an Apple, really?), or the fact that it is summer and the last thing I really want to do is sit inside in front of a computer. Anyway, I am on call and waiting for a delivery so I thought this was a good time to add a post. I will try to add pictures later...

So where did I leave off? Oh, yeah, Havana is a dirty city...

I didn't spend all of my time in Havana, of course. On my third day there I caught a cab to Cojimar, a small fishing village that Hemmingway used to love, and his inspiration for "Old Man and the Sea". My driver was Jorge, from Omaha, Nebraska. Poor guy had a chance to go to the US and he ended up in Omaha. No offense, Nebraskans... So this little town was like a ghost town, desolate except when bus loads of tourists would show up. They would be shown the little light house and the water, then taken to La Tereza, a restaurant Hemmingway used to frequent. When tourists arrived, a 3 man band would immediately strike up "Hotel California", and everyone was handed a daquiri. Sitting at the bar reading and talking to the bartender, I must have seen this played out at least 2-3 times. Such a set up...Walking around the town, a man approached me a tried to strike up a conversation: "what time do you have?", "oh, you're American?", "do you want to buy a t-shirt from my sister?" When you politely decline, the request is "a dollar for my baby?" The next day I took a trip to Finca de Vigas with Terry to see Hemmingway's Cuban home. Outside of Havana the buildings seem cleaner, and Casa de Hemmingway is beautiful--no doors, open floor plan, a tower with an amazing view and his type writer facing the portal. From there it was on to Playa del Este and a great afternoon at the beach. The beach was packed--couples, families having picnics, all Cuban. The water was amazing, 4 shades of blue, the perfect temperature. I would love to go back...

Cuba..

My intention for this blog was to use it as a means of keeping in touch while traveling/working. I also hope to use it for discussion of thoughts and ideas about life in general (truth vs. illusion, hopes and dreams, the path one is on, etc). Unfortunately, I didn't have it up and running for my trip to Cuba, but I at least wanted one entry about that experience. I want to share all of the details, but I will try to keep it brief.

Havana May '10!

Arrived late in the night due to a missed flight in Cancun, tired, sweaty, really didn't care anymore what happened from that point on! I had worried for weeks about what it would be like to enter Cuba, an American woman, alone, but everyone I spoke with reassured me I would be ok. Just the same, Marlin and John were two Americans I met on the plane, coming in sans visa like me, so I joined them for the cab ride into town both for company and numbers. The two were making an unofficial documentary on religion in Cuba--their previous experience included documentaries in South America and the Congo. John seemed very nice and sincere, while Marlin was the ultimate grandstander, a showman in every respect. Hard to keep from laughing as he told immigrations that he was a geography teacher and that all of his equipment was to take pictures for class. That almost got us detained, and I started to regret hitching on to these guys, but ultimately we went through without problems. As for the cab ride, it was smooth, and I'm glad I had company because I later heard stories about people being robbed and left stranded going from the airport into town.

The casa particularis I stayed at (translate bed and breakfast), was located in Habana Centro, mostly neighborhoods, not touristy. Antero and Gisela Pouza were my gracious hosts, and they did nothing but make me feel like family. Honestly, I think my being part Persian helped--Antero, having worked with Castro as a civil engineer after the revolution, felt a sense of solidarity with other countries under embargos (can we think of one?). Despite being seventy-five, he was also still a ladies man, and that didn't hurt either. I think he thought I was better looking than the British gentleman Terry who was also renting a room. Gisela spoke some English, as did her niece, and I did my best to practice Spanish. Interesting to discuss Cuban and Iranian history in Spanglish...;)

My first day in Havana was beautiful. Yover, a young man introduced to me by a contact in the states, was so kind as to show me around and help my find a bank to exchange currency. We had a beer at the famous Hotel National, saw Havana's Chinatown, and I had the opportunity to meet his family. His mother, girlfriend, sister, two niece's, and nephew, all lived in what looked like a two room apartment (I didn't get the full tour). It did not look like they had much in the way of means, but they were friendly, smiling... I asked Yover what the people thought of their current situation, and he commented on the change in the economy after the fall of the Soviet Union. I asked how people liked Castro, either one, and he said they love him, that most Cubans were "Fidelistas". I didn't find one Cuban who would say anything negative...I doubt you would find a family in the U.S. that lived in apparent poverty that wouldn't complain about the government. In Cuba, as you can imagine, the unemployment rate is high, and wages are low, but education, child care, health care are free. Some basic needs are met. Still, Havana is one of the dirtiest cities I've been to. It almost seems that since the 1960's, no care has been taken to maintain the city, at least some of the parts I visited. Likely a reflection of the country's economic status, and perhaps due to the revolution's pro farmer/countryside theme. Havana and the lures of the big city reflected the ideals the revolution was trying to squelch. All kinds of political and philosophical debate possibilities, here, but the long and short of it is that there seems to be a lot of poverty, and not a lot of opportunity for people to climb out of it.

Okay, I said only one post on Cuba, I lied. Too much to share. More later!

Getting started...

So, I have been thinking about writing for a long time now, starting a blog as a means of expression and communication, a way to keep in touch with my friends and myself. A public diary full of all of the pretense and arrogance that goes with such things. I hope it will be more interstesing than this, but I figure if I don't write something, ANYTHING, I will never actually get started. There, I've started. We'll see what else manifests...