January 26th

We had a class this morning on some basic statistics of Cuba, such as land size, population, age groups, etc. It wasn’t terrible exciting, but I talked with the professor afterwards about possible misrepresentations in the 2002 census, as I had been under the impression before I came that some 60% or more of Cubans were either black or mulatto, but in her presentation that 60% was white. She said that she understood my confusion and that it was a matter of how the people were polled – it wasn’t necessarily how the people answered for themselves, but how the officials answered for them. Still, it was difficult for me to understand how you can mistake a white person for a black/mixed race, though I think that comes from my idea of Caucasian white versus non-whites, as opposed to the Cuban idea of Hispanic white versus African black, Cuban black, Caribbean black, Indian, and the hundreds of other shades of skin color here.

This is a good time to throw out another reflection I’ve had on globalization. Cubans are extremely proud that there is little to no racism or discrimination here. Pre-revolution Coppelias, the famous ice creamery, was only for whites; all other skin colors were forced to walk to another neighborhood to get ice cream. After the revolution, Coppelias was opened to be enjoyed by all races. The Communist party tries to abolish classes, and especially classes based on race. They’re proud of their African, Caribbean, native, and Hispanic heritage.

This brings to mind one of the constant criticisms of globalization in our day: the loss and degradation of culture. Yet Cuba is an absolute shining example of how mixing cultures and groups can create a completely different and unique culture that thrives on itself and respects itself. Yes, there’s pizza here, but it’s a Cuban version of pizza. There is black beans and rice. There is Santeria. There is son and there is salsa. There is hip-hop and there is reggateon. All of these things are mixes of old influences and new influences that convolute to create something uniquely its own.

Ok, I understand that that criticism of globalization usually refers to the homogenization of cultures when certain overbearing and powerful entities spread throughout the world and prevent a natural mixing (e.g., Coca-Cola, Wal-Mart, McDonalds). Then, it goes to show that there is undoubtedly something to be said for some control at some level of government to prevent the spread of these bad seeds of globalized culture, and to instead allow for a natural growth of a culture unperturbed.

Back to the day at hand, after the class, I came back to the casa and essentially slept from about noon to four. Whereas previously I had been feeling crabby and a little depressed, after my deep sleep I felt refreshed and ready for the day again. Ariana stopped by my room to tell me that everyone had gone to the Fundacion Ludwig to go watch an independent film festival. I walked over, and to make a long story short, the movies had already begun, I waited for them to come out to catch back up with them, I never saw them (though I did see the UNC students), so I walked back to the casa to eat dinner, where I found all of the group eating already, so I guilt tripped them about forgetting about me.

After dinner, we headed to the UNC residence to meet up with Wilmer, the vice-president of the student body, and his friends to go to a classic military ceremony of dance at one of the fortresses at the far end of Havana. We were going to take the bus, but unfortunately it didn’t come in time, so after talking to some locals at the bus stop (we told one guy wearing an old Ohio State sweater about the college, and I talked to another guy about the beach, where he told me he worked at the hotel), we started walking back to this party we had seen going on. It turned out to be a private party, but the ten or fifteen guys and two or three women were more than willing to have a group of 25 Americans, 18 of which were women, come in and dance.

I was finally taught the rudiments of salsa, and was actually commended on picking it up so quickly, though as soon as I start adding extra steps, or twirls or anything like it, I immediately lose my concentration and have to go back to the basic steps. There was a hilarious Cuban guy dressed to kill for the clubs who started a dance circle. He would go in and pop and lock, and then pull one of us or one of his friends in to dance a little bit. We each had our turn and embarrassed ourselves pretty well, but it was all in the name of fun. At one point, they offered us some of their cake (it had been a birthday party), which we were excited to try out. Expectations did not meet realizations, and everyone tossed their piece – it was like sweet bread with some way too sticky “frosting”.

We danced for an hour and a half, and some people absolutely blew me away with how well they could dance. The Cuban guys were loving it, getting to dance with a bunch of white American girls, but when a few of the students started going home and the Cubans got a little more pushy, we left as well.

While it wasn’t a hugely eventful day, the dancing was a lot of fun, as it really showed a lot of what Cuba is about. Impromptu fun, accommodating people, and a great atmosphere are the ingredients for perfection here.