Showing posts with label Cuba. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cuba. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

THE CUBAN DIARY… WHERE THE REVOLUCIÓN STARTED!



at fidels''''
The Foreign Correspondent and her Mother
WHERE THE REVOLUCIÓN STARTED!
The Comandancia in the Sierra Maestra, near Bayamo
 I hike on the orange path, climbing over large rocks embedded in the dirt. I am almost wading through the slick mud. The weather is cool, refreshing to hike in. The view from the edge of the path is breathtaking, I could spend the whole hike just looking over the side into the valley below.
jungle
After about an hour of walking we reach a flat space that the guide says is a place for the helicopters to land. We walk past the helipad and get to a small wooden building, our guide opens the doors and we walk inside. It is dark inside, until our guide flings open the windows and grey light begins to fill the small room. As my eyes adjust to the dim light, I see that it is some sort of museum. There are old typewriters and a sewing machine. In the middle of the floor is a 3-D map of the Sierra Maestra. On the map there is a miniature flag, not the  Cuban flag, but the flag of the revolution, red and black, with 26 de Julio (26 of July) on it, marking the spot where the Comandancia is. 
cross
By the wall, is the memorial plaque for a soldier who died before the revolution ended. The memorial is a simple cross made of what looks like driftwood, with his name and the date he died engraved in Spanish on a tin plate that was probably his.  
fidels house
When we leave the museum our guide closes the windows and doors enveloping the room in darkness again. We continue on, and soon the guide stops and points to a place where there is no grass and there are rose bushes and says that it’s the grave of the man whose memorial we saw in the museum. We move on and come to the house of the secretary, it’s empty except for some shelves built-in to the walls. After this we reach steps made of the trunks of small trees stripped of their bark. We traverse these steps carefully as they are wet and slippery. After about ten minutes we reach another building, this one the guide also had to open, inside there is a kitchen and a bedroom, our guide explains that this was Fidel’s house.  We all got our picture taken with it, but we couldn’t go inside. We leave the house and pass a small building which the guide identifies as Fidel’s outhouse, so of course my papa has to get his picture taken with it.
outhouse
We move on and reach a building with the letters ACTL above the door, they stand for Administracion Central de la Tierra Libre (Central Administration of the Free Land), the former headquarters of the Revolution is now an old structure on the verge of collapse, it seemed amazing it had stood this long. After this we leave the Comandancia. It’s another long hike back to the car that brought us to the trail head, interrupted only by a short coffee break on the way down.
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Our Foreign Correspondent, Ula Grace, reports on her visit to Cuba with her parents Krista and Steve.
To see other stories… THE CUBAN DIARY
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For my friends on the Moonshine Grid

THE CUBAN DIARY… LEAVING CUBA



Ua with Che
NOTEBOOK ~ LEAVING CUBA
As I leave Cuba, I think about these past few weeks and how amazing they have been. I think about all the dives we went on, the two wreck dives and seeing the ships loom out of the darkness perched on their underwater precipice. Horseback riding through fields of tobacco, trotting on the red muddy cart track, surrounded by cliffs of a reddish hue. Lounging in the sun on the white beaches of Varadero by the sparkling turquoise water. Walking through the sweltering streets of Havana, marveling at the crumbling façade on colonial buildings. The plane wheels are spinning faster and faster as we speed down the runway, the nose of the plane tips up and I sit with my body pressed against the seat, the seatbelt tight in my lap. We’re in the air flying at incredible speed, to me this is as normal as walking, I was flying soon after I could walk and then I learned to swim. I look down on the ocean and see the green spit of land that is Cuba recede from view and blue gradually became the only color in sight.
photo (2)
Ula Grace
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TedBook’s Foreign Correspondent, is on her way home, her mind filled with stories to tell.  She sends this dispatch as her plane takes off heading north.  More to come…
Ula’s earlier stories are here…

THE CUBAN DIARY… AUTHOR PHOTO


photo (2)
Foreign Correspondent Ula Grace
Finally news from Cuba!  TedBook’s Foreign Correspondent and Travel Editor, following in the footsteps of another author that spent time in Cuba and liked cats, here Ula is trying out Cuba’s most famous export.  We anxiously await her next post.
Guest Photographer… Krista Strutz
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Ula’s earlier stories are here…

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

THE CUBAN DIARY… THE DANCE

ula on ferry after myanmar










THE DANCE
There’s salsa music playing while I sit on the cobblestone steps watching people dance. If I stare straight ahead I can see over the red-tiled rooftops of Trinidad. I see the ocean, a great expanse of blue condensed into a thin line on the horizon. One of the dancers is a little girl, she’s wearing a bright pink shirt. She’s accompanied by her aunt or older sister. She looks to be about nine years old and already a great dancer. Her dark hair is pulled back into a neat bun and adorned with fake flowers. At the end of the song, they leave the dance floor. I see the cobblestone stairs beginning to fill with people. It’s fun to watch the band play because they all dance to the music with the rest of the dancers. The music they are playing is traditional that has been turned into rock. I convince my mom to dance with me, but neither of us can lead so we dance by ourselves, until a man in a red sweatshirt starts to dance with me. He’s a good dancer and conscious of the fact that I’m not the best. As we dance to the salsa, out of the corner of my eye I see someone join my mother. They are dancing faster than we are. When the song ends, I go back to my chair only to be asked again by a gentleman about 70 years old. We dance by the table my parents are sitting at. He also dances slowly, but as the song goes on we dance faster. When the song ends, he kisses me on the cheek and then we leave.
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Another dispatch from our Foreign Correspondent, Ula Grace, traveling in Cuba with her parents Krista and Steve. A few days prior I had received an email from Krista, here is an excerpt…
And now we are in Santiago. Last night, with the help of a new local friend, we snuck Ula into a fabulous and seedy house of music, and danced! (the locals said I dance like a Puerto Rican – whatever that means!) Fantastic! Heading off on another memorable overnight bus to Trinidad tomorrow, and hopefully a little beach time. We really like Cuba in general; the people are very nice and helpful, the streets are incredibly clean even within all the colonial decay. And people are very surprised and pleased when we tell them where we are from! 
I am curious to know what ‘dancing like a Puerto Rican‘ means to a Cuban… it can’t be good. Anxiously awaiting Ula’s next post… and Krista’s… I’ll keep you posted.

THE CUBAN DIARY… The Canvas


ula on ferry after myanmar
THE CANVAS by Ula Grace
As I look down from above, I see a vast canvas waiting to be inscribed upon with memories and experiences. I see a scene of everlasting beauty, created out of the continuing story of the amazing people who make up the Cuba we know today. I see a masterpiece created by waves of blue that fade into the green that is Cuba. I see where the unblemished blue dissolves into the clear aquamarine that accompanies the shallow water near the shoreline. Where the navy seeps into the translucent blue of the shoals, I see a spray of deep azure that at first glance mars the surface of that perfect transition. As I continue to gaze, I see deeper, I see how the azure completes that chapter in the story of life…
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This is the first dispatch from our Foreign Corespondent, Ula Grace, as she explores Cuba with her parents. A world… seen through the eyes of an almost 13 year old student at Spring Street International School in Friday Harbor… that most will never visit. To see the start of this journey, click here… ULA GRACE… Foreign Corespondent … and stay tuned for her next post.
Ula is a world traveler, visiting many countries since a babe in arms. To help establish her credentials, here is their Christmas card from last year…
Ula's Christmas Card... Burma