CUBA
a place I've only dreamed of visiting.
02/16/22 17:44 “Oh my God. I’m in fucking Cuba. This is UNREAL.”
It feels like a century ago that I was landing in Havana, my brain not being able to fully comprehend that a place I had only dreamed of visiting was where I was actually going. As the wheels hit the tarmac, the plane exploded into applause. The only other place I’ve experienced this type of arrival is upon landing in Israel. Because of this, Cuba immediately felt oddly familiar and homey—a place that clearly has a deep sense of meaning for many.
Landing in Cuba felt like being on a different planet, or in a story book. A place that was a fantasy, yet for the first time, I could tangibly step into its pages. The first few minutes in a new country are so sacred. Like seeing the world as a newborn for the first time, the moments are all together fantastical and fleeting. I try so hard to burn these moments into my mind’s eye. The Cuban version of this was riding to what would be my home for the next four days, a casa particular. The windows of my taxi cab were rolled down, and warm air mixed with a healthy dose of diesel fuel that burned my nostril hairs in the most pleasantly thrilling way. Old cars rattled beside us at red lights, and a woman wearing a pink tank top and low rise jeans on the back of a motorcycle straddled her man, gripping onto his waist as we accelerated forward into the neighborhoods of Havana.
We passed the Malecón, a long sea wall where the kids come to eat ice cream and horny teenagers bring their dates to make out. Sea spray careened off the stones and onto the sidewalk, occasionally showering all below in salty ocean blessings.
I am in in love with the spontaneity of Havana. The ease and casualness in which the the days passed seemed to encourage beautiful music and dancing everywhere I turned.
Our tour guide was a Santera, and I couldn’t ask enough questions. I pulled her aside one of the days of my trip and asked, “Yanais, how do I learn more about the rituals and prayerful dances of Yoruba culture?” She asked these women from our salsa class to share with us an offering dance.
One of the most incredible things about Havana was the way the city lights up from within the depths of its buildings. The true beauty hides behind layers of stone and hanging laundry, and if you don’t know where to go, you might miss it. From the outside, the city feels antiquated, simple, with historic weight and faded colors. But peek into a shadowed alley, and be delighted by a glimmer of yellow mango skins lined up on a cart, and coffee shops nestled behind big wooden doors. And sometimes, behind the façades lay mysterious courtyards filled with tropical flora and wonderful places to sit. One of the doors on our trip led us to a rooftop bar filled with some of the sharpest dressed people I’d seen in a long while, smoking cigars and sipping on cocktails. These musicians popped out of the crowd and began playing during the DJ set. It was mesmerizing and infectious.
Havana has an intricate and beautiful soul. One that I could barely scratch the surface of in the four days I visited for. The energy of the Cubans I met made me feel full of life and joyful, because they exuded this simple joyfulness. They were grateful for life itself, and I will always carry a little bit of this with me.