CUBA LIBRE

It’s been a couple of weeks now since I’ve come back from Cuba. I regret not writing about my trip sooner. I’m afraid to say that the vivid memories of sights, smells and feelings are slowly dissipating. Looking back at my pictures now, I faintly recall the subtle rhythm of the island. I miss it. In facty, I’ve just finished opening a new CD of a live band we enjoyed listening to in Varadero. And so the nostalgia begins.

Flash back 2 weeks ago to Havana Vieja– a dog lies in the middle of the cracked cement, basking in the warm Cuban sun. There are groups of children in school uniforms bouncing balls against walls and running in back alleys with mothers calling after them. Every corner I turn, men are keeping themselves busy under the hoods of their old Buicks and Chevrolets. A line of Cubanos snakes down the street – they are queuing up for their ration of bread. Then, I peek at a funny looking cigar-smoking granny that is sitting on the stoop of her doorstep. She is watching us pass by.

Beauiful beats of the bongos, the guiro, even a cowbell empty out from cafes, restaurants people’s cars and random apartment windows. “Cha Cha Cha…1, 2," (I can hear an imaginary beat in my head.) It's F@*$% ing sweet. Gotta love that latin jazz!. It doesn’t strain your ear, nor push itself on you. Cuban music has a way of seducing you into hip swaying and gentle shoulder nudging.

All this history under my feet and the people don't hide it. I have to say they know who they are and where they come from. And they are still so gracious. Muchas Gracias CUBA!!! ...... it was a unique vacation.