Final Notes

 

In the many trips Antonio and I have taken together, we had never really gone our separate ways as much as we did on this trip. It seems to me that this was mostly a result of the hospitality of the people we met. After a couple of days there, we I seemed to have found our own circle of friends. The meals at the apartment were the occasion to check in with each other about how things were going and that day's plans. We did still share our favorite bar, so we frequently saw each other there.

 

Part of the freedom of this adventure was the overall feeling of relative safety. At no time did I feel in eminent danger, as I had several times in my trips to Mexico (and in the US). There was no need for us to seek security in each other as being foreigners. The friends we had made us feel very much at home.

 

When the time came to actually leave Cuba, as with everything else, it brought up a complex mix of emotions. We had truly come to feel comfortable there among our friends, but I, at least, felt the need to be home with my wife again. However much fun we had there, the experience had been grueling and difficult to digest. I could not reconcile the utopia I had imagined with the abject poverty I actually saw with my own eyes. I also saw much beauty.

 

During our stay, Franc and I split a box of Cohiba Robustos cigars. A box that would ordinarily cost $200 in the Cuban cigar stores, we bought for $40. In the US, each of the 25 cigars would have easily brought $20-25. By the end of the trip we each had around 9 cigars left to bring home. As nervous as I was about the US customs man taking them away, he just waved me through the gate after saying my obligatory "American citizen."

 

Before I left, William gave me a chekere (large dried gourd with a beaded net around the outside used much like a maraca) as a present. It was so big that I had to tie it to my camera bag on my trip home so that whenever I walked or even moved, it made a big sound that usually made people turn and look. All the way home, and especially from San Diego to Oakland, everyone stopped to ask me what it was. Their questions serving as gentle reminders of the place that already seemed so far away.

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