Cuba

Old pictures of my great aunts cohorting in Havana, Cuba were mesmerizing to my five year old self. Maybe it was the one of Aunt Marie (who some say was a bit on the wild side)… laying on her side, blonde hair pulled back, smiling as the sun beat down on her. A big sombrero strategically positioned in front leaving everything to one’s imagination as to whether there was nothing behind. Stories of day trips… Going to the casinos… the beaches. I knew, if given the chance, someday I would find my way there. And so I did in May.

Met by our amazing guide Fernando at the airport, he began educating us about our new home for the next five days. First off — exchanging money — there is a ten percent markup for American dollars. This is something we knew before leaving the US — so I brought pounds — 3% fee instead of 13%. Next up, understanding that Cuba recognizes two sets of currencies; the CUC (convertible peso) and the CUP (national currency). Fernando explained it was better to exchange our money for the CUC but to make sure and pay the CUC price instead of the CUP price in stores as both prices are listed for customers.

Cuban money in hand, time to venture out from the airport, which was like stepping onto a never ending 1950s Hollywood movie set. We knew there were classic cars in Cuba — but this — this was a Motor City girl’s dream on steroids. Seventy to eighty percent of the cars were vintage. Vintage cars passing us left and right. I smiled and realized I couldn’t not smile — somehow here they all were. Waiting here in Cuba. Maybe they weren’t waiting just for me, but I felt they were. They made it. They survived. Ghosts from the past. Still somehow here. Against all odds. So many of them.

For people who believe a car is only a means of transportation, just skip this paragraph. These cars are truly works of art. The colors — purple rain, crimson cherry red, hot pink, neon blue, beach ball yellow, Camelot gold… The chrome. The detail. The headlights. The tail lights. The grill. The engine. The elongated lines. The rear-view mirror. The leather seats with evenly spaced deep stitches throughout. The funky radios. The hood ornaments ready to leap onto the next car. And… they were all over… Fernando said I was not easily satisfied because I kept taking pictures of as many cars as I could, even when we were moving (I wanted to bring as many home as I could)… But the day we cruised Havana in our very own classic convertible… yes, that day, true contentment.

Worries about how Cubans would react to Americans proved to be unfounded. They were welcoming. Friendly. Warm. And one word that definitely comes to mind when I think back on my time is their resourcefulness. Turning pedaled bikes into motorized vehicles using plastic water bottles; creating make shift auto parts to keep their classic cars running; finding ways for better lives (checking heritage through ancestry.com to determine Spanish connections, immigrating to Spain and then from Spain to the United States).

In my travels, we danced the salsa at a rooftop studio, visited a farm in Vinales enjoying a picnic of taro chips, black beans and rice, the sweetest yellow potatoes I have ever eaten, mangos, pineapples (fish and beef for the meat eaters), and learned about Santeria (a religion that 70-80 percent of Cubans practice) which culminated in me having a consultation with one of their ordained priests. Stay tuned for another blog entry on that experience.

Havana, Cuba. A tip of the hat to my great aunts and their sense of adventure — which in turn led to mine.

Patricia Nemeth received her Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of Michigan (Ann Arbor). She earned her Juris Doctorate and Masters of Labor Law degree from Wayne State University School of Law. She is the founding partner of Nemeth Law, P.C. which is celebrating its 25th Anniversary in 2017. Patricia decided to start a personal blog because she wanted to write about topics other than the law.