Where To Begin

I have not begun to blog about my trip to Cuba because, honestly, I didn't know where to begin. I have been home one week today and feel that I must begin to say something. My trip was not really a vacation; it was not intended to be. This trip was a search for my roots, for the language of my family, for the customs I have taken on as my own. A trip to Cuba was number one on my Bucket List. It was a necessity for my life. Having heard about the beauty of Havana for all of my childhood, it was painful to see how it has deteriorated in the last fifty years. I never saw it in its splendor but heard from my many family members, how opulent a city Havana was. The beautiful buildings, many which had been family homes for the rich, were turned into tenements long, long ago. Although many of the buildings are being refurbished with the dollars from tourism, the process is slow and the salt water spray from the Malecon Promenade is taking its toll faster than the refurbishing can be done. As Shannon and I walked along the water, I could not help but notice the crumbling buildings across the street where my friend Iris had lived with her grandmother. Cuba is especially hard on the old people and it was difficult to see them struggle. Because we are fortunate to know Spanish, Shannon and I were able to talk to the people on the street and get their impressions of Cuba then and Cuba now. I will write more as I begin to sort out my feelings and impressions of the Cuban experience and the Cuban people. It will take me a while.