Now that I am home, I miss Cuba. I miss everything about it. I miss my classmates, my professors, and the friends that I made in Matanzas. I miss the walking, the sweat, and the sore legs. Fresh mango juice every morning. Conversation in place of social media. I miss the complete immersion that I felt walking the streets and sitting in the parks. Human interaction and community. I miss seeing history and culture everywhere I looked, instead of advertisements.
Roughly 7 minutes from the bed and breakfast in which I stayed there is a pharmaceutical museum that was built in 1882 over a period of ten months. It has been completely preserved in its original state. A little further, maybe 10 minutes from the museum, is a publishing house that was one of the first buildings in the city. The entire city of Matanzas is soaked in history. You can feel it down any street you walk. The first afternoon we were there, my roommate and I received a history lesson from a stranger in el Parque de la Libertad. He was a history teacher at a local school. There was not one building that he pointed out that did not offer some sort of historical information about the city.
In Havana, there is a place called Factoria de Arte, which is a mix of art gallery and dance club. This was our first art experience in Cuba, and it was amazing. Each and every piece was a mix of disturbing and thought provoking. A few days later, when we arrived in Matanzas, we were taken through an artist’s workshop. Again, I was in awe of what I was seeing. Though I am no art historian or artist myself, I frequent the MFAH and Menil Collection in Houston. I am no stranger to art galleries or artist workshops. The pieces I saw in Cuba were some of the most raw and moving pieces of art I have ever seen. Torment and pain mixed with hope and love imbued every work. Even the street art was soulful and moving. Messages filled with hope and encouragement to keep moving forward in the face of adversity. To continue on despite being told and shown to stop.
Translating poetry I had never read before was by far the best experience of the trip. My partner and I ended up with a poet, Maylan Alvarez, who writes the exact type of poetry I enjoy the most. Real, vulgar poetry and common human experiences. Before going on this trip, I had been thinking about working toward being a literary translator. After going on this trip, I realize it is exactly what I want to do. The last day of class, we had the privilege of reading our translations with the authors in front of everyone at the publishing house and a few others. It was much more moving than I expected, and we were treated to multiple performances by a brass quartet. It was both sad and satisfying to watch the class come to an end.
What I miss most about Cuba is everything that is different from my home. The things I wish I could have brought with me are not things I can carry. They are the history, the culture, the people, and the sunsets. They are the bartenders that were sad to see us go and the bread makers that greeted us everyday on the way to breakfast. The dinner conversation about the state of the world and not being in a rush for anything.
What I miss most about Cuba is Cuba. Cuba gave me a new lens through which to look at life. Life at large and life in my little on bedroom apartment. Cuba gave me peace in the midst of personal and worldly turbulence. Matanzas gave me a new heart and a new home, to both of which I hope to return one day.
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