Dear Havana,
It seems like a dream when we first met. Leaving the frozen midwest in Mid-March and landing in what seemed like the never ending sunshine of your island. How have you been? I’m sure so much has changed but at the heart of it, you are still the same. For 500 years you’ve seen travelers from all over the world come to your shores. And for those same 500 years you’ve put on the craziests parties, made even those with the most stiff legs dance, and have made people sing until they have no voice. You really know how to treat your visitors to an exceptional experience.
Havana, we can’t dance around everything, though. History hasn’t treated you well in these 500 years- everybody wants you, and you want nobody. You’re not looking for a committed relationship; you’re that person that can wants to be single and proud of it. You’re a strong independent autonomos Caribbean nation who doesn’t need no colonizer to tell you how to live your life. You do you. (But we all secretly know about your amigos con derechos, but that’s none of our business. 😉 ) When most breakups happen, the most one party will do is block the other person on social media and move on with life…but we yankees are a special type of crazy sometimes, and don’t handle rejection well. What do you mean you didn’t want to do what *we* wanted? Couldn’t you see just how great this relationship was working? We loved you first Cuba! We couldn’t have gotten through the prohibition days without you. You made the first move and we retaliated in extreme measures. If we couldn’t have you then nobody could have you. End of story. Bring on the embargo baby.
That was then. Havana, when we met it was 2017. There was a great change occurring – after years of not talking, things were warming up. Americans were coming back- filled with the great nostalgia of their grandparents and great grandparents recounting their nights of singing and dancing the nights away with you. Know that I understand that your history goes beyond singing, dancing, and mojitos. How can I forget the prophecy that the yoruban women gave to me? Or all the history you boast – where Africa, America, and Europe have been clashing and mixing for 500 years.
You treat your tourists so well, but I wish your citizens were treated just as well. I’m happy you put on a great show for all who come into town for a bit. But what kind of lives do your inhabitants live? While I’m impressed that your literacy rates, and your medical training. But can citizens choose what they want to read? Why is it so difficult to come across the most common of medicines? I’m concerned that your people are not eating enough; everyone seemed so skinny…please know that I say this out of love and concern, not to critique or be condescending in anyway.
You know, Havana, I don’t like when people say that you haven’t changed since the 50s. How can anyone be the same even after one year? I think what is true is that you bring all those to a city that is so different than any other. You have this innate ability to just let everyone feel present, because there are few distractions to take away the present moment. Instead of wifi, you connect one another via human interaction. Your tourists can walk the streets without fear, as the safety of your city is like none other. And maybe that’s why so many people feel as if Cuba is this time machine of sorts -it brings them back to a time where they could be more mindful- when they weren’t obligated to be somewhere physically and mentally elsewhere. In a hyper connected world, you teach us that you can slow down and enjoy life.
My dear Havana, I want only the best for you. But I do dream of one day when my government and yours can at least come to the table and break bread together. We don’t have to be friends, but we do need to be neighbors. I do not want to dismiss that I am not in favor of many aspects of your society and the lack of transparency with your government, but I recognize I am not educated thoroughly to critique them. But i digress.
In fin, Havana, me hace falta– I miss you. Each time I hear the beginning of a salsa song, I’m taken back to your shores, to walking through your streets and moments along the malecon. I’m looking forward to the next time we meet; it will be slow, with long nights and sunny days. May it be soon.
Yours truly,
Ross
