“Tengo hambre; quiero jama.” (I am hungry and want food. Cu*ban slang ) With all these fancy eating places in architecturally exquisite buildings we found the best food, street pizza, across from the City Mercado (people’s market) in Cienfuegos.

There we met Roberto, Ramon and Nereida and were invited back to their home. It was quite unbelievable to see the surroundings in which these poor souls lived. A tiny 10 x 16 ft room in a crumbling building was called home; since the parents in their 80’s had moved from the country into town to be closer to doctors. They had to climb a ladder up to a platform where 4-6 adults slept nightly. Never once did they complain, but instead joked and twinkled from within. Invited in for coffee we just couldn’t refuse the only thing they had to offer. As they tried to heat it up ‘Poof’ the only single burner they had blew out. They looked devastated as they realized they now couldn’t afford anything to cook food on. Enjoying the tiny cold coffees, looking at photos, singing with the guitar with no strings (as they couldn’t afford them) we passed the afternoon in party mode in the tiny crumbling ‘apartment’. The next day we surprised them with a new burner (costing a year’s wages for a pensioner) and a pizza, because never once did they ask for money or anything. They were thrilled. We just enjoyed our time together, later sending them photos to add to their prize picture album and surprising the 80 year old Dad with strings for his guitar. New friends in new places.

Retracing steps 5 years later to the old people’s market on the edge of town I decided to wander past the small abode of old friends Ramon and Nereida. Salt of the earth. The large old hotel next to them had caved in during the past 5 years and their tiny little hole in the wall room next to it seemed doomed. Hesitantly I walked on, wondering if I should simply remember this dear old couple as we left them 5 years earlier. Peeking out of the tiny mouse hole door was Nereida, now 80! Hola! Recuerdame? Remember me? She yelled, “Nancy!” I was stunned. We hugged and jumped and kissed. She dragged me inside and showed me the little electric burner that we had given them 5 years earlier. It still works! We caught up and planned to get together that night. I ran up to the market and bought 3 kilos of rice, some beans, and two bags full of vegetables. On the way back to our casa I stopped and bought a set of glasses, more groceries, flowers and a new blouse for Mama; possibly one of her first new blouses ever.

I cooked a big pot of curry and away we went back to the tiny room overflowing with love. We kissed and hugged once again, this time with Ramon now 84, and son Roberto. We shared a hearty meal of beans, potatoes, yucca, salad, pumpkin, rice, curry and home made pastries.

Of course after dinner they hauled out the guitar, with strings this time! A plastic tub of rice became a drum and Mama kept tempo with a pair of spoons. I tell you this rivaled the finest performance of music anywhere, even Carnegie Hall! When we were tired and hoarse from rounds of ‘La Bamba’ and ‘Veinte Anos’ we settled into catching up on the past 5 years. An earthquake had shaken and crumbled their little room but once propped up it was livable again. Mama had broken her leg and had to sleep down on the little single bed that occupied their small living area. Roberto continues to sell little ‘doodads’ on the streets and ekes a living for him and his parents. During the ‘Revolucion’ Papa had helped with the cause. Roberto had gotten hold of a small transistor radio and would listen to a radio station from Miami. He fell in love with the English language. Self taught he started practicing and learning it. Quite fluent when Castro took over, Roberto was blacklisted by the party because he spoke Imperialist English! He has lived in this shadow to this day. The family lived on a tiny self sufficient farm but at times life became so hard that they lived on sugar water, from the cane in the field. Food is scarce now but nothing like during the Revolucion. Now they are in town near doctors and after the poor quiet country life they are quite enjoying the social aspects and the excitement of the city! We hugged and sadly said ‘Adios’ and joked, “Hasta Luego, In another 5 years?!”

Thinking that it would be good to go to C*uba before all the Americans come streaming in, we joined the ranks of Europeans beating the rush. Great minds think alike unfortunately. As it turns out the visas have been stopped again and Cub*a is safe from development for the time being. Modernization has not reared it’s ugly head in this little corner of the world. Yes, young people want to live like other young people they see in the movies. But do they realize what they are wishing for. Convenience, technology yes but cell phones alone are sucking the very soul out of our society. Everyone walks around addicted to that strange little device or cell phone glued to their hand. It totally controls most peoples every spare minute as they scroll and scroll – eerily engrossed in their virtual reality. Missing life in the Now around them. Parents ignore their kids. Kids ignore their peers. Couples at dinner hardly talk. Walking into a typical cafe nowadays one sees people glued to their phones, with very few doing important business but rather surfing and paying homage to their latest addiction. Gone is the mindful attention to the people around them. Gone is the mindful interaction to the people they love. The very soul is being drained from our modern society.

A recent scientific study states that smart phones affect the brains of children just like Cocaine! And so the young C*ubanos long for modernization. Everyone has a cheap cell phone but with wifi and calling so terribly expensive, the time purchased on sim cards for talking and data is used up like steam into the air. And so voila – people still sit in cafes and parks talking! Little children play in parks at night and walk home in the dark without worrying about crime. The ‘good old days’ still exist in C*uba.

Musica! Music curses through the veins of every C*ubano! Walking down the back streets of Santiago de Cu*ba; sultry music, hot rhythm and singing was oozing from every window, doorway and pore of this living, breathing city. I had thought how nice it would be to experience this music first hand, far from the maddening crowd. I walked by obvious music schools, cafes and bars, a percussion congo rumba practice, when I heard a traditional band practicing in the Cultural Center. A large impressive colonial building, the acoustics warmly accepted and returned the rich sounds. I motioned towards them, asking if I could observe. They warmly invited me to sit down, smiles radiating from each of the 6 faces. If you have ever experienced first hand the rhythm of Cu*ban music, you know that it is impossible not to get up and dance. Just when I was about to ‘bust a move’ a young black woman gyrated across the room in beat to the music. I jumped up and we danced, smiling and laughing. She complimented my moves and said, “Te gustas bailar!” (You like dancing!) The band loved that we were having such a good time with their music. We danced every other dance and soon another young woman, walked in the door, filling a short black spandex dress to the eruption point. She greeted everyone and started blaring music, with a voice like Whitney Houston. She was the lead singer. Her version of, “Besa me, Mucha” brought tears to my eyes. Between dances I sat grinning ear to ear and observing these vibrant C*banos, their instruments living extensions of their bodies. Almost every one of them was missing a tooth, several had hand done tattoos of guitars on their arms, clothes were ragged around the edges (having just erupted a tear in my shirt and my Buddha bag I fit right in). A bit bedraggled, with instruments many decades old, patched and wired together this “band of merries” belted out tunes to rival any DVD sold. I closed my eyes and thought I was sitting in the Buena Vista Social Club, without the polish. Although these artists were poor in reality, they were rich in simple things. In fact I have never been in the company of such royalty in my life. Simple, loving life, living big, and immersed in the spell of their contagious music they were kings and queens of the moment! Amazed that 1.5 hours had flown by, I got up and blew them a kiss. Gracious for letting me experience this C*ubano momento with you!

On our way out of Havana I noticed a small flyer advertising the reopening of the infamous “Buena Vista Cultural Club” complete with three original members of the band – now in their 80’s. There is a great documentary about a musician going to Cu*ba 30 years ago and finding the members of a band that played at the famous club Before the Revolucion, B.R. (like B.C.). Knowing they would still be playing musica he slowly hunted down each member and got them back together. After rehearsing he realized that they hadn’t lost their magic touch and before they knew it he had them on a world tour. They even played at Carnegie Hall in 1998. And there we were, in Old Havana, in the Buena Vista Social Club, listening to these original Octarians sing and play their hearts out 60 years later. Does it get any better?

“Ese hombre es tremendo mangon!” (“That guy is so hot – Cu*ban slang!) The Casa de la Trova. Santiago’s shrine to the power of traditional Cu*bano music is still going strong five decades later, continuing to attract big names such as Buena Vista Social Club singer Eliades Ochoa and a roster of superior talent just wanting to play within these hallowed walls. A tiny hole in the wall, with photos of past performers lining the walls, one could easily walk right by, but when the music is playing passersbys are drawn in like bees to honey. A trova (as in “troubadour”) is a form of ballad. At the Santiago Casa, a cadre of musicians and ballad singers perform nearly every afternoon and evening. It’s considered an honor to play at Santiago’s Casa de la Trova, and the quality of the musicianship is high. The audience is a mixture of local people and tourists. The atmosphere is informal. It’s not uncommon for people to get up and dance. Totally engulfed in the moment and the exquisite musica I was surprised when the lead singer of the band grabbed my arm and we danced a song. I did pretty well for never having a dance lesson. Breathless I sat down to enjoy my ‘limonada frappecina’ when a guy, with a cowboy hat cocked on his head, walked towards me and put out his hand. Off we went to the small dance floor as the 4 person band jammed behind us. He put his cowboy hat on my head and we danced up a storm. At one point when a woman was taking a video he busted a couple of break dance moves. What a classic Cu*bano character! We high fived, laughed and my smile was from ear to ear! Viva la Salsa!

When the crowds got to us we took the long bus ride to the south of the island, past the weird military zone of Guantanamo, to Baracoa. Crossing the lush mountain range we were pleasantly surprised to see that nothing had changed here in 5 years. Still a quiet backwater, we found the rest and experience of the ‘real Cu*ba’. We walked and walked to the very edge of town and found a small 2 room Casa Particular right on the ocean. The second story place and our terrace looked out over the white sand beach and we were lulled to sleep every night by the lapping surf. We met Damaris and Idania at the local little corner pizza stall. We were invited to their homes out in the jungle and had an enjoyable visit one afternoon. We shared a meal and then a coconut at the friends home further along the river. Both dental technicians, they get minimal wages, but needs are met and life is simple. Health and dental care is good and free. Education ok. Food is not plentiful but gone are the mountains of junk food, the processed packaged crap food and all the chemicals and additives in food like their neighbor to the north. Missing is 60% obesity and deteriorating health at an ever increasing younger age. Gone are all the mountains of imported stuff that fills the shopping carts of America. Gone is the social breakdown of families. Gone is the high crime rate and violence that plagues many countries of the world. Gone is the high rate of depression and anxiety that has up to 50% of Americans taking prescription medications. Gone are nuclear power plants leaking radiation on surrounding neighborhoods. Modernization and development comes at a price. Oye! C*uba may have lost the battle but in the end they have won the war!

Baracoa is the birthplace of La Salsa. Nightly there is music at the little local cafes. On weekends they have town dances and drop in music at the community center. At 4 pm every day, the tavern next to the Cathedral in the central Plaza, would drag tables and chairs outside, blocking the street and turning it into an instant Fiesta! An improv band shows up and soon everyone is dancing, singing and doing what they do best in Cu*ba, enjoying life. Remember what that’s like?

And so it goes…………………………………..Next a long awaited visit with family and friends in Hawaii, and the surprise that awaited us. Until then let’s remember to replace ‘stinking thinking’ with Gratitude. Just simply repeat “Thank you. Thank you”. Take care and Keep in Touch!