September 17, 2003
Habana, Cuba
Cafe Restaurante El Louvre

A lot of first impressions of Habana. One of the strongest is that I feel intimidated … a feeling I haven’t had traveling for a long long while. Probably not since Bangkok in 1999. Jesus, more than four years ago. Sometimes it shocks me that I’m 23 years old – the same age as Mari who has 5 year old Fernanda and 4 year old Paola.

Sitting in the Mexico City airport, listening to my iPod, reading Foreign Affairs and the Economist, I couldn’t help but feel like a prime specimen of 20-something America branching out across the world. Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, I don’t know. I especially have reservations about capitalism and neoliberalism today here in Cuba. This city is completely run down, trashed, without any of the convienances of modernism. I just got done reading an article about Castro’s latest clamp down on dissidence and free speech. Yet, even with all of those tremendous faults, I can’t help but be in awe of what the revolution has seemingly accomplished. (remember, first hours’ impressions) There is equality, the people are healthy, happy, beautiful. They have rich culture. There is little or no racism. What may be missing in paper wealth is more than made up for with cultural wealth.

Yet I have also never seen so many people standing around doing absolutely nothing. I guess my question is, do productivity and equality necessarily have to be enemies? Sweden and Holland seem to have it pretty well figured out. And Denmark too – I’d like to visit Copenhagen. I’m curious to how those countries achieved such a strong liberal political culture while keeping strong economies. I have much to learn and never enough time.

I’m probably going to sleep well tonight. It’s been a difficult journey getting here. It started at 1:00 a.m. when Elena and Angel dropped me off at the Acambaro bus station. Then at 6 a.m. I arrived at Mexico City North and took a taxi to the airport, getting there at 7. From 7 – 10 I was at the airport, slept a bit on the plane, but had the friendly Norwegian kid sitting next to me wake me up for lunch. He’s coming to Habana University to study philosophy and ethics for 3 months.

I tried to find the cheapest way from the airport to the city center. After everyone in the airport with their Cuban accents told me a bus didn’t exist, I finally found the bus driver. $16 for a taxi; $10 for a bus if I waited an hour. So I sat down, but then this girl – who looked like she was about to go to a rave in LA with her lip ring, rainbow belt, and pastel colored jewelry – walked by. She walked by again and then went towards the taxis. Just a year ago I probably wouldn’t have done anything, but confidence comes with age I’ve learned, and I chased after her:

"Disculpe, te vas a Habana?"
"Si," she said with a look of invitation.
As I said, "quieres compartirlo?" she said "quieres …" and then "… si."

Her name’s Priscilla, she’s a Chilanga, and she’s studying ballet at the University of Habana.

I have her phone number and she said I should come out with her this weekend and meet her friends. Well, I’m off to Habana Vieja.