
February 1-3, 2025

Remember how I broke my glasses when I fell on the Malecón?
Well, the glasses hung on until we were able to find a place where I who could get them fixed. The eyeglass repairman cut the shank and used it to build an entirely new hinge. Because of the U.S. embargo, Cubans have to make things out of whatever materials they have on hand. Below are photos of the repaired hinge and the unbroken hinge.


Judy was feeling better, so she and Ken did their own trip to the artesanias marketplace. They made some major purchases.
For dinner, five of us went to Topoly, a Cuban-Iranian fusion restaurant. I remember liking what I ordered, which was more toward the Iranian end of the spectrum, but what really impressed me was the interior decorating.
On the left there is a Gabriel Garcia Marquez quotation, “You can be just a person [word obscured], but to some people, you are the world.” To its right, Polo Montañes’ quote translates as, “I was able to go up to heaven to bring down a lot of stars.” (Probably loses something in the translation.)
In the next panel, Pablo Picasso says, ” Everyone wants to understand the painting. Why don’t we try to understand the song of birds?” José Martí weighs in with “Exaggerated (grandiose? pompous?”) friends are worse than enemies.” And Bob Marley reminds us, “Every man gotta right to decide his own destiny.”
The final panel is a verse from a poem or song:
Where are you my friend?
Exactly where are you?
Where are you without me?
Without me where are you?
Come to heal my wound…
To Fernando and Ramón/ Friends forever




That evening, Michael, Ken, Judy, and Camila attended a performance of the Hermanos Abreu, who had played earlier in the week at the Colombian Embassy. These are two young Cuban brothers, whose father is a well-known Cuban musician. Michael thinks they may have potential to become famous outside of Cuba because of their talent.
The next day, we visited the Julius and Ethel Rosenberg Memorial. Dayamí had told us at prior to Danielle’s performance on Tuesday that all Cubans learned in school about their execution after a show trial during the McCarthy era. We had not expected a Cuban in their forties to be aware of this part of U.S. history, since most people in the U.S. are not aware of it.
The writing on their memorial reads, “For peace, bread, and roses, let us face the executioner. Ethel and Julius Rosenberg/ Assassinated 19-6-1953.” We observed the Jewish custom of putting stones on the memorial.




After the Rosenberg Memorial, and a pause to admire a couple of skilled police officers directing traffic at the difficult intersection near the Memorial (during an electrical blackout), we made our way to the Plaza of the Revolution. Fidel Castro and other political figures held rallies with more than a million Cubans attending, particularly on May 1—Labor Day for everywhere else in the world besides the United States—and July 26, an anniversary of the Cuban revolution. Popes John Paul II and Francis also led huge outdoor masses there. The sculpture on the side of the Ministry of Communications is Camilo Cienfuegos, possibly the most popular figure of the Cuban revolution after Castro. The words on the sculpture translate to “You’re doing well, Fidel.”
The sculpture of Che Guevara on the Ministry of the Interior bears the quotation, “Until victory, always.”
The monument to José MartÍ was erected under the regime of the dictator Fulgencio Batista. Significantly larger in scale than the memorial to Martí in Manhattan’s Central Park, shown on the bottom right, the monument generated a number of controversies. Batista displaced people in a neighborhood bordering the plaza to build it and tore down a chapel erected by Catalonian immigrants in 1921. Seems on brand for Batista. Also, I don’t think Martí would have approved.






I think I mentioned that Cuba’s famous antique cars park at tourist destinations. We decided we would splurge and ride back to our apartment in one for Ken’s sake. Turns out every single one of them was booked by what appeared to be a German tour group. So it was a cocotaxi for us, once more.












Since cars have the same impact on me as sports do (aside from Ravi, my Toyota hybrid, who does his best to keep me safe while I’m driving), I wandered across the street. On the top left is the view from where the cars were parked. To the right of that picture, is a closeup of Cuba’s National Library and a billboard with a cut-out of Fidel Castro saying, “Faithful to your ideology, teaching, and example.” The bottom left gives a clearer view of the library’s sign: “José Marti National Library of Cuba.” While he might not have appreciated Fulgencio Batista’s monument, I think having a library named after him would have pleased Martí.
The tree with different colored flowers in three of the bottom photos intrigued me. An internet search revealed its identity as Hibiscus Elatus, or Blue Mahoe. The flowers change color as they mature, from yellow, to orange, to red, to crimson. Artisans prize the wood for cabinet making and carvings.






Later we went to the Doña Alicia Restaurant, which, while recommended in travel guides, served us piña coladas with bad milk. We also had to order using QR codes, which was annoying.
In the evening, Ken, Judy, Michael and Camila went to the Cuba Vive gala at the Karl Marx Theater which featured Cuban musicians performing the best of Cuban music. Afterwards, they went to the National Theater to attend a performance of a Buena Vista Social Club cover band.
The next day we flew home. We got up early, but the flight was late. The airline instructed the airport restaurant to serve lunch to the passengers, but instead of sandwiches or something simple, they cooked full meals, which meant half of the passengers got nothing. On the plus side, the restaurant used compostable eating utensils. The final photo shows a book rack at the Havana airport.



Reflection
As I look back at the January-February trip, I realize I had shut down emotionally for much of it. The meds I am on do a good job of stabilizing my mood, so I haven’t experienced despair or anxiety attacks for a long time. But I also realized recently that it’s been a long time since I experienced joy.
Certainly seeing Cuba deteriorate because of my country’s inhumane policies toward Cuba and its people is enough to depress anyone. I couldn’t forget the USA’s continuing slide into fascism, although part of the reason we came to Cuba included skipping all the nonsense that we knew would occur after Donald Trump’s inauguration. Forgetting my computer at the TSA checkpoint probably didn’t help.
In the coming months, as we resist the evils our government is inflicting on vulnerable people, perhaps we would do well to remember the Cubans we met who, in spite of increasing deprivation, manage to enjoy each other, remain proud of their history, and who always, always, remember to keep dancing.