January 17, 2000

…a change of plans. My travel plans have evolved quite a bit. I received an e-mail attachment from my niece today that spoke to that change. It was designed with graphics of some footprints. To paraphrase what I recall:

“Some people come and go in our lives quickly. Others stay for a while and leave footprints in our hearts…”

The time with my ‘family’ in Cuba has caused me to want to slow down a little bit. It looks like I won’t be making it to Brazil as quickly as I had planned. I will be making some footprints though. If you’d like a copy of the attachment, you can Email Carla. I think she’d be happy to send it to you.

January 16, 2000

I became an official part of my adoptive Cuban family today. At least in the eyes of the Church. I am now a proud Padrino, the Godfather of my friends’ youngest daughter. It was her baptism and and the celebration of her fourth birthday. A big day for such a little girl. “Una candela”, her mother calls the brightfaced little bundle of energy.

There was an instant connection between us when we met and I was glad to oblige her parents request to be a part of their lives and the ceremony. I explained that I didn’t know when or if I’d be coming back and that was fine with them. I had lunch at their house and then we walked to the church for the ceremony. It was a group event with 15-20 others “starting their lives as christians”. The ceremony was a little drawn out for my taste, sort of how I remember the Catholic Church from my youth. But hey, I hung in there.
The real festivities began back at the house. Cake, balloons, streamers, and a pinata decorated the Old Havana apartment. Built in the 30’s or 40’s, the three story building is actually about six stories tall because the ceiling on each floor is about 18 feet tall. Tall enough that parts of the apartment had been crudely subdivided to create additional upstairs bedrooms on the same floor. Lots of energy went into cleaning and decorating, but the music made it really happen.

A borrowed Backstreet Boys tape blasting on a borrowed stereo in the courtyard of the modified two bedroom apartment that housed nine people and three little pigs. Not from a fairy tale, three little pigs in a small cement pen outside the kitchen in the courtyard. Yes, it smelled like a farmyard, but nobody seemed to notice.

I befriended a bicycle taxi driver in the early part of my stay in Havana. I was a frequent guest at his house and welcomed into his family. He became my guide, guardian, and buddy as we travelled around the Island for several days. Cuba has two separate economies happening with different currencies. The native economy with pesos (20 pesos=$1) and the tourist economy with U.S. dollars. The system evolved after the demise of the Soviet Union and the loss of Cuba’s international trading partners in Eastern Europe in the early 90’s. Cuba’s economy ground to a halt and tourism was seen as a solution. With tourism comes Capitalism, and the influence of the evil Imperialists..(I’m trying to keep this simple and tell a little story about my trip, but it’s not working.)

A little more explanation before I get back to my story. The Cuban Government tries to keep the locals separated from the tourists. Obviously that’s not possible, but they try anyway. For example, the locals are not supposed to talk to foreigners on the street, nor are they allowed to frequent the same lodging or dining establishments. This presents some problems for a Cuban and a tourist travelling together. So we had to get onboard the “Cuban Tourist Underground Railroad.”