Cuba Dos

• April 21, 2019
• 5 years

Project Overview

Our original grant proposal:

When advertising trendy vacations to Cuba, every article describes old cars, bright but crumbling buildings, blissful island vibes, and music pouring onto the Malecón. Countless media outlets, including the New York Times, describe Cuba as being “a time capsule” and “on the cusp of change.” American tourists, previously unable to visit, lament wanting to visit before the country is “ruined” by capitalism. Visitors leave Havana with a distorted view of socialist society, viewing daily hardships through rose-colored glasses. As stated in one opinion article, “For these Americans, Cuba exists solely as an idealized socialist paradise, in almost complete stasis since the Cold War, which has yet to be befouled by the corrupting influence of other Americans. For them, the island nation is the land of the noble savage on the verge of contact with the advanced but impure outside world, sure to despoil its backward, but charming, ways. These people don’t want to see the real Cuba. They want to be able to say that they were there before it got Americanized.” But what is the reality of Cuban life, and how can we, as visitors, be aware of our positionality and participate in ethical tourism?

As a student of CC’s Latin America Program in Cuba, I certainly lived a charmed life in Havana — beautiful island weather, a loving host family, laundry done for me, and meals provided or bought cheaply made life seem simple. It’s easy for me to look back fondly of my time there. I fall into the trap of what psychologists call “rosy retrospection” — because my experience as a whole in Cuba was positive, I talk of my time there more positively now than when I first left. This effect only grows with time and distance. The reality is, I confronted daily the harsh truth that my idyllic life was at the expense of constant hardship for the Cubans around me. My host mom Angelita did not serve us spaghetti until my last week because she insisted she needed to serve it with cheese; however, she had not received any cheese rations in ages and she could not purchase it because all the restaurants had been buying it up to serve to tourists. She would not go out to buy food, or “comprar comida”; she went out to look for food, or “buscar comida.” While Angelita does reasonably well financially, serving tourists, the reality is most Cubans, on average, earn $24 a month. And because the economy is so reliant on tourism, taxi drivers are earning more money than are doctors or teachers. This has created a paradox that illustrates tourism as a double-edged sword. While access to the tourist economy has greatly improved the lives of many Cubans, it has also made things, like basic food items, even more inaccessible for others.

Ironically, despite these struggles, tourists still romanticize the Cuban people and their country. There is a strong belief of “resolver” in Cuba: the sentiment that no matter how difficult life becomes, all will be resolved. Thus, hardships are framed in a deliberate way. Long lines waiting for food, internet cards, or money are “worth the wait;” having limited access to internet (which is also highly censored) allows people to be “disconnected” and focused on face-to-face interaction; as a result of the Revolution, most basic rights (such as healthcare, education, food and shelter) are free, but often extremely lacking in resources. Meanwhile, tourists don’t even realize the underlying stress Cubans endure dealing with these issues on a daily basis, instead fixating on white sand beaches and shiny vintage cars.

The romanticization of Cuban life presents a form of cultural imperialism — as Americans, it is easier to view Cuba as a sort of “Cold War museum,” rather than assessing our own role and effect on Cuba’s economy. As a psychology student who has studied the phenomenon of “rosy retrospection” and had the opportunity to spend several months in Cuba, I hope to examine myself and my own viewpoints in the context of broader experiences. I believe I can learn to engage with the tourist culture in Cuba in such a way that appropriately supports the Cuban economy while also recognizing the problematic role I play within it. Through this, I hope to answer several research questions:

• How is Cuba viewed from a global perspective? How is it idealized in a damaging way?
• How does this affect tourist experiences and local psychology?
• How does this affect return?
• Is tourism damaging or helpful?
• How is my presence problematic?
• How can I engage in a way that is self-aware?

To conduct this research, I want to interview many people, the first being tourists. I’m curious to hear their impressions of Cuba — have they been before? Why did they choose to come back? What do they think they’ll remember most from their visit? Perhaps tourists from different parts of the world will be more or less cognizant of the social issues in Cuba, or perhaps they will all point to the classic 50s cars and “son cubano” reverberating in the streets.

Next, I’d like to speak with those with a similar experience to mine: CC students from the Latin America Program, specifically Mitra Ghaffari and Lucy Marshall, who have lived for a prolonged period on the island. In what ways do they sense solidarity with Cubans, and in what ways do they feel permanently estranged? How do they reconcile the economic and social discrepancies between themselves and their Cuban friends? Does it deter them from staying, or compel them to return?

Finally, I must talk to Cubans themselves. What do they think of tourists? Is everything just one grand show, or do they genuinely like engaging with foreigners? What do they wish they could change about tourism in Cuba, and what do they appreciate? I’d like to speak with Cubans from all neighborhoods — not just Old Havana (tourist town), but also Vedado, my home neighborhood and business/family district, and Los Pocitos, a marginalized neighborhood in which the Semester in Latin America students have volunteered. In addition, Evyn Papworth, the Political Science paraprofessional, will also be in Cuba and join me for the project. She has spent significant time in Havana as an alumna of the CC Latin America Semester and as a recipient of the Davis Project for Peace Grant. Her connections within Havana will greatly help me conduct my research.

The project will be divided into four themes, one per day: Disconnectedness, Aesthetics, the “Authentic” Experience and Cultural Imperialism, and Ethical Tourism and Daily Life. Each day will encompass interviews and site visits as well as relevant readings related to the theme.

As a psychology major, this project provides me with valuable experience conducting fieldwork to better understand and apply academic theory. This project is also uniquely personal, because I have been guilty of this same romanticization. By getting a broad range of perspectives, I can better understand the ways in which my presence is problematic and how I can best engage in a respectful way that recognizes my privilege and does not patronize Cuban society. This personal growth translates to a wider international scale, and seeks to evaluate the way we as Americans interact with Cuba, and how this is indicative of our shared oppressive history. The island is not a museum, and deserves to be approached from an informed, self-aware perspective. Rosy retrospection, while beautiful and nostalgic, does not paint the full picture. By seeking to engage with Cuba through a more respectful tourism, we can begin to change our imperialist relationship.

Cuba Dos

• April 21, 2019
• 5 years

The Visit

Naturally, no matter how much careful planning one does, things may turn out far differently than expected — this is especially the case in Cuba. In the end, Evyn and I conducted our research more flexibly, perhaps not tackling one theme in full per day, but rather broaching several but less in-depth. We also essentially only interviewed Cubans, finding the conversations to be much richer and revealing than those with tourists would have been. Tourists’ problematic behavior is very easily detected through simple observation and eavesdropping. The following is not exactly a presentation of our findings, so much as a daily travel log, including the conversations we had. It’s more personal, but I hope it is eye-opening in some sense, nevertheless. Que te disfrutes.

Cuba Dos

• April 21, 2019
• 5 years

Day 2

The next morning we got an earlier start, heading to the Malecón for a morning jog. Evyn and I felt so free and happy as waves crashed over the coast, drenching us all the way to Hotel Riviera. We returned to take incredible cold showers.

Then it was off to Habana Vieja, Old Havana, tourist central. As soon as we arrived, we approached a couple taxi drivers waiting at Parque Central. These drivers camp out in the area with their particularly colorful, shiny cars, offering tourists driving tours of the city. The first man we approached quickly got distracted, trying to catch some tourists, so we ended up speaking with his friend Alejandro. Alejandro was short, maybe 5’5”, wearing jeans, a clean white button down, and a classic Cuban hat. His light blue eyes, contrasted with his tanned skin, looked at us directly and sincerely as he spoke.

He likes tourists, for the most part. Most people are very polite, but of course, like any job, some people are more “exigente” — needy. His job is a little like fishing, he says. Sometimes you catch a bunch of tourists, other times none. He takes them around the city allowing them to pick and choose what they want to see. If it’s someone who doesn’t speak English nor Spanish, he just does the best he can.
Alejandro invests lots of time and money into his car, taking one day a week to do maintenance. “What will happen when these cars stop working?” I asked. “They’ll always work!” He replied with a dark laugh. He elaborated saying that like a transplant, they’ll need to replace the engines and other features with newer models so that the cars’ hearts keep beating. But they’ll always beat.

Is Cuba changing? For him, like others we’ve spoken to, political change is separate from day-to-day change. His life in the past 5 years (when Obama warmed relations with Cuba) hasn’t changed drastically at all. And, like most Cubans, he has no intentions of moving. He’d just like to travel. Just not to the US.

We continued around the square, past Capitolio, as Evyn tried to locate an abandoned theater she and Mitra encountered last summer. After doing almost a full circle, she finally spotted it. We had been hoping to interview a man named Reinaldo who actually lives inside the place, has cared for it for years. He had said he’d be displaced once the building got renovated.

Well, it’s going to be renovated.

The entire exterior was boarded up, with shiny placards detailing the restoration project. One sentence particularly affected me, noting how like many places in Cuba, the theater “is found in a lamentable state of disrepair.”

Hot and sweaty and disappointed, we decided to get lunch at our favorite crepe place. I couldn’t help but note that eggs were available at this place in tourist land, but not in the neighborhood over. We had a lovely meal, aside from the tourists next to us unapologetically stating a bit too loudly and too slowly, “JUST. HAM. AND. CHEESE.” Without even attempting to say “jamón y queso,” clearly printed next to the English translation on the menu.

We took off toward Plaza Vieja, where there are several galleries we enjoy. The first stop was the Fototeca. The first exhibit was a miniature display of crumbling buildings, entirely made from soap. It hit close to home.

Out in the patio was an exhibition of portraits taken in Morocco, very vibrant and fun. And finally, upstairs was a picture and video display by a Spanish artist protesting the effects of rapid technological growth on the economy. A little dizzying, honestly.

For this month in Havana, there is a big arts festival called the Bienal (biennial) going on. Across the plaza was a gallery showcasing work for the event. This exhibit was fascinating. Essentially, three Colombian artists traveled all over Cuba for 15 years. At each stop, they would take a group of 3-5 Cubans of different ages, genders, and backgrounds and ask them a question: “Where do you see yourself in 10 years, and what do you have to do to get there?” Then they were provided a set of colorful blocks and would have to make a construction representing their answer, assigning each color block a value. For instance, they could choose the red blocks to represent love, the yellow, friendship. The result was many unique structures, all with meaning of their own.

All of this was explained to me by Graciela, the old woman caring for the exhibit. I initially did not quite understand what I was examining, but she clarified in detail the project. After asking her so many questions, she eventually gave us a furtive glance behind her and said, “Come with me.” She presented us with a book on the Colombian artists’ collective, saying, “This is the last copy I have. Please, take it.” We were taken aback by her generosity and tried to dissuade her, to no avail. I suppose most tourists don’t take nearly as much interest in the work.

The rest of the gallery had some interesting works, but not nearly as cool as this one. Next was walking down Mercaderes, home of the famous Museo de Chocolate and their chocolate fríos on the way to Plaza de las Armas. Once we reached Obispo, the main tourist strip, we spotted a couple of Cuban women posing with tourists for pictures. They were dressed in classic colorful rumba outfits, their dresses ruffled and donning head wraps. Evyn suggested we approach, and though I was feeling lazy, I reluctantly agreed. I’m glad I did.

We did our usual schpeal about our project, asking one of the women about her experience with tourists. She had an official badge declaring her certified by the government as a “costumbrista.” She openly admitted that the tourists have gotten worse in the last 1-2 years. She couldn’t really pinpoint it to one behavior or group, just that people were less respectful. So many people pass her and take her photo without paying her, or say they’ll pay her, and then don’t. In general, interacting with tourists is fine, pleasant, but the vibe has gotten increasingly negative.

I said, “So, tourists take a picture with you and they bring it home. And that’s the representation of Cuba they have. Are you satisfied with that?” She looked at us with resignation. She simply replied that tourists will come and pay her whatever, $2, $5 (in fact, some tourists came by while we were talking and had the audacity to pay her in euros, as if she has time to wait in line to exchange them) and bring the photo home. They’ll frame it and it’ll be worth much more than what they paid. And it’s just unfair.

We had planned to tip her for simply speaking for us, so we thanked her for her time and gave her some CUCs. She then insisted we take a picture with her, which made us feel sheepish, but we did so anyway, to respect her wishes. I left with a sour taste in my mouth, wondering if tipping her a small amount or a large amount would be more patronizing, and how much a proper tip would even be to someone who spends her life taking photos with largely ignorant tourists.

The final stop of the day was at Clandestina, our favorite design shop and the only Cuban company that successfully operates in the United States, too. The cashier recognized us immediately (we really like their stuff…check them out:
https://clandestina.co/ ) and spoke to us briefly, though the store was busy. They also operate in South Carolina and everything made there is shipped and sold in the US, while the same products are made and sold solely in Cuba. The Cuban government shut down their website, but they’re still going strong, the internet sales increasing. The store ebbs and flows, but overall has enjoyed good success, with about an equal amount of tourist versus Cuban visitors. We thanked him for his time and said we’d be back.

Cuba Dos

• April 21, 2019
• 5 years

Day 3

The next morning we did another glorious Malecón run, this time running east toward Vieja. About a mile and a half out, we reached a series of incredible statues for the Bienal. It made the run feel more like a game, the statues being checkmarks. We ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the graffiti art, sweating and smiling.

The morning turned sour, unfortunately, when we went to get brunch. We walked all the way out to 6 to go to Casanoba, as mentioned. Our eyes were definitely bigger than our stomachs, as we ordered two orders of eggs that each came with three sides, an omelette, tostones, a coffee, two juices, and two fruit cocktails. The place has great food and a nice ambiance (meaning actual seating and shade). And the portions were awesome. However, when we asked for the check, the waitress flatly wrote 15 CUC (dollars). Our meal could not have cost more than 7.

Even though we had spoken courteously with her in Spanish, the waitress took us for tourists to rip off. Mitra explained to her that she works for the Cuban government and is making the same small state salary, and for her it’s very upsetting to be overcharged when she had had such a positive experience there and was planning to leave a tip anyway. The waitress tried to excuse the rip-off by saying, “Well I provided you this plastic cutlery with napkins and salt and pepper and toilettes, which costs more,” (and undoubtedly that stuff is very expensive in Cuba, but we didn’t ask for it…and didn’t know we’d be charged) and “we’re raising all the prices. Everything is more expensive — look!” On the large menu outside, a man was indeed changing the prices that second. But when we arrived, we were staring at the same menu and the waitress presented us with small ones, saying the listings matched exactly.

Mitra eventually got the waitress to redo the check after we made somewhat of a scene. She still somewhat overcharged us, but we were past it. Mitra was bummed, having struggled to find a quality cafetería near her house or work, and now uncomfortable at this one, the best she’d encountered.

It’s moments like this where you are reminded how much Cuba is a paradox. Most interactions are so great; then one instance in which a Cuban tries to “aprovechar,” or “take advantage of,” you can ruin your day. The positive interactions outweigh the negative ones, but they do happen. The hardest part is acknowledging that yes, that $15 means way more to that waitress at Casanoba than it does to us. And I would happily give her more money than what we owed — but not because I was tricked into doing so.

We tried to brush off the frustration, prepping for our afternoon in Los Pocitos, a poor neighborhood in west Havana that Mitra and Evyn have worked extensively in. First, we stopped to exchange currency at the Hotel Nacional. When you walk along the Malecón, it looks very regal, almost like a tropical version of the Grand Budapest Hotel. It sits on top of a promontory with flags and cannons. I had actually never been inside, and was quite impressed by how well-maintained and luxurious it was. You could tell, like so much of Cuba, that it had once been a glitzy resort during the 20s. As usual, I got a little disheartened thinking how expensive it must be to stay here, due to all the resources Cubans must pour into the tourists that come.

Getting to Los Pocitos was a bit of a mess, which tripled my respect for Mitra and Evyn going there every day for a month, in the scorching summer, no less. We brought bags loaded with art supplies for the children to do workshops. Taking two buses absolutely jammed with people, we eventually arrived about an hour later than expected.

Mitra and Evyn casually led me to Deborah and Michael’s (pronounced Mee-shell) house. The couple runs Proyecto Akokán, the community programming in Los Pocitos. I had met Michael with Evyn two years ago while studying in Cuba, and he’s quite an intelligent, passionate, and chatty guy.

Deborah and Michael were ecstatic to see us, immediately taking us into their lovely home and preparing us a cafecito. We showed them the supplies we had brought and discussed the workshop we’d do with the kids, how our families were, what we’d been up to. Evyn and I also sat down with Michael to give him a 10 minute interview — which turned into over 20, as expected.

Michael doesn’t think there’s a specific code of ethics that tourists need to follow; like anywhere, the culture you are visiting deserves respect. Many tourists view Cuba as an exotic, unknown place on the margins of the world. Information about it is manipulated; Cuba has a history of being a Latin American Las Vegas, featuring beaches and tobacco and sex. In fact, Cuba has been hyper-sexualized through history.

Tourism is a way, in Michael’s opinion, to combat this warped perspective and show respect, because tourism allows people to bring help to communities such as Los Pocitos that lack resources. Students, in particular, are great tourists because their education helps them see the experience more broadly. The difficulty is that when it comes to tourism, money is power. Paying someone for anything means you expect something in return, but in Los Pocitos, there is nothing material to give — just a visit. There is always an element of inequality when it comes to tourists visiting Cuba.

In relation to Proyecto Akokán, Michael has struggled to access publicity for the work being done. Publicity for Cuba in general has struggled. Until the Special Period, Cuba lived in basically isolation, and then people discovered that it was suffering.

Tourism has the power to increase publicity, as it is a kind of interchange of ideas. It seems, however, that tourists are bringing their culture to Cuba and not learning of Cuba’s culture. For example, Cubans have started cooking foods they never ate to satisfy tourists, such as hummus. The environment has suffered due to investment in tourist accommodations and entertainment. Tourism is supposed to develop a community, believes Michael, but often, Cubans are changing how they conduct their daily lives to put on a show for tourists.

That said, Michael wishes more tourists would come to Los Pocitos. They would bring lots of resources to the community and would actually experience a more authentic version of Havana. However, the issue is finding a practical way to take them through the space. For instance, tourists could come see the classroom, but then they might interrupt the students’ concentration, which is no good for anyone. It needs some work.

Michael spoke a good deal more than this, but that’s the gist. After finally putting a bow on it, we walked down to the soccer fields, where there is stadium seating. Under the seating are several rooms, including the Akokán classroom that Mitra and Evyn established. In no time, kids flooded in, and we ended up having 26 kids, from age 3 to roughly 12. It was chaos. Mitra did a great job explaining the collage workshop, carefully giving each child a photograph that they had taken in a previous workshop, and encouraging them to add drawings, glitter, paper, and newspaper to create a scene. Some of the pictures turned out spectacularly. I was of little help; about 5 kids at any time would yell “Profe, profe!” Asking for this pair of scissors or that color marker. It did not help that I know very few art supply words in Spanish. However, I survived, más o menos, and the kids had an excellent time.

We bid farewell to Michael and Deborah, taking time to visit some other friends of Evyn and Mitra’s. Many people live along a river in houses with little infrastructure, subjecting them to damage in bad weather. As the houses have been improved bit by bit, people have painted beautiful murals on their walls, adding some vitality to the community. It’s still hard seeing the conditions that many live in, but they’re all such positive people beside the fact, generous and warm.