• Submitted by: manso
• Editorial Articles
• 05 / 01 / 2011

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Island nation's people, culture just as captivating 20 years later. By Miriam DeCosta-Willis.Special to The Commercial Appeal.

A dancer portrays Oshún, the Santería goddess of love, at the Callejón de Hamel, a two-block alley of Afro-Cuban art, music and dance. It's a project created by sculptor and poet Salvador González.

Photos by Linda Williams/Special to The Commercial Appeal

A dancer portrays Oshún, the Santería goddess of love, at the Callejón de Hamel, a two-block alley of Afro-Cuban art, music and dance. It's a project created by sculptor and poet Salvador González.

Only 90 miles from Miami, Cuba is relatively unknown to Americans in spite of its significant cultural contributions to this country: singers Celia Cruz and Jon Secada, the rumba and mambo, actors Desi Arnaz and Andy García, the film "Strawberries and Chocolate," musicians Arturo Sandoval and the Buena Vista Social Club, and novelist Reinaldo Arenas, whose memoir inspired the critically acclaimed film "Before Night Falls."

Cubans' near-perfect literacy rate is reflected in the people's love of books. The International Book Fair held in February attracts 168 booksellers from 27 countries.

Cubans' near-perfect literacy rate is reflected in the people's love of books. The International Book Fair held in February attracts 168 booksellers from 27 countries.

The sun sets over the Malecón -- a stone esplanade typical in Cuban cities -- in Cienfuegos, Cuba. The port city's name means 'a hundred fires' in Spanish.

Travelers including the author (third from right) pose at the entrance to the International Book Fair.

Linda Duggins/Special to The Commercial Appeal

Travelers including the author (third from right) pose at the entrance to the International Book Fair.
A colorful Coco taxi on the streets of Havana.

A colorful Coco taxi on the streets of Havana.Hundreds stream through the gates of San Carlos de la Cabaña Fortress into the Cuban International Book Fair.

Hundreds stream through the gates of San Carlos de la Cabaña Fortress into the Cuban International Book Fair.

Consequently, there is some curiosity and a little skepticism about the Caribbean country that has been restricted to travelers from the United States for more than years. "Why are you going to Cuba?" several friends asked. Why, indeed? Because I love the country, the culture, and the people, and I have had a research interest in Cuban literature for almost 40 years, but it has been 20 years since my last visit to the island.

It was, therefore, with great enthusiasm that I signed up for a trip with the Librarians Research Group to attend the 20th International Book Fair in February. The tour was arranged by Marazul, a New Jersey agency, in consultation with the Center for Cuban Studies in New York, and in cooperation with ICAP, the Cuban Institute for Friendship With the People. We were traveling under a general license for full-time professionals conducting research in their fields.

Our one-week tour included visits to the Fair, National Library, Literacy Museum, ICAP, and Casa de Las Américas; meetings with librarians and educators; tours of Havana; and excursions to Cienfuegos, Trinidad, Matanzas, and Varadero Beach, with free time to explore on our own. Fortuitously, our tour guide was a linguist and college professor associated with ICAP, who provided information on Cuban history and culture.

There were seven of us on the short flight from Miami to Havana, and our excitement was palpable as we set off on the adventure of a lifetime. A highlight of the trip was a visit to the Callejón de Hamel, a two-block alley of Afro-Cuban art, music and dance, created by sculptor and poet Salvador González. At noon, drums sounded, singers raised their voices, and rumba dancers gathered in that sacred space, where ancestral spirits dwelled.

Afterward, we took the tunnel under Havana Bay to the Book Fair. Held in the magnificent three-level San Carlos de la Cabaña Fortress, it attracted 158 booksellers from 27 countries to lectures, art exhibits, poetry readings, food tents and children's activities. Before the fair moved into the provinces, the 10-day event in Havana would attract 2.3 million people, which is not surprising because Cuba has a literacy rate of 99.8 percent, and reading is the national passion.

One evening was particularly memorable. We meandered through Old Havana, looking at the Capitolio, built like the U. S. Capitol, and trying to get tickets to Alicia Alonso's Cuban National Ballet's performance of "Giselle" at the Baroque-style García Lorca Theatre. After stopping for drinks at the Hotel Inglaterra, we wandered past the José Martí Park and down the long Prado, where couples were dancing a slow and sensuous tango on the sidewalk under silk-cotton trees.

Finally, we reached the Malecón, the 5-mile seawall that stretches along the Bay of Havana from the Old City past Vedado, where our hotel was located, to the edge of Miramar. It was cloudy and overcast as we walked along the deserted street. To our left were one or two small restaurants, neo-classical buildings, and pastel-colored apartment houses, their faades crumbling, their balconies strung with laundry; to our right, the waves broke furiously over the walls, leaving huge puddles in their wake. The lights flickered on in a nightclub; a pair of lovers passed, arm in arm; a boat was moored far out in the bay, and night was coming on quickly.

Exhausted, we took an elevator to La Torre Restaurant, where we ordered dinner and had a spectacular view of Havana by night. The following evening, we dined in a paladar, a home restaurant located in Miramar, a neighborhood of beautiful old colonial homes and estates. At Palio, we drank mojitos, made of rum, lime juice, sugar, and mint over ice; and ate ropa vieja (literally, "old clothes)," a traditional dish of shredded beef.

After several days in Havana, we drove through the lush countryside of sugar plantations and tobacco fields to the port city of Cienfuegos (A Hundred Fires). Like most Cuban cities, it has a boardwalk along the sea, a long promenade through the center of town, and a central park, surrounded by colonial buildings that have been converted into museums and art galleries. Cubans love the outdoors: walking, sitting in the park, chatting in sidewalk cafés, or riding in bright yellow Coco (coconut) taxis.

The next day, we headed to Trinidad, a city surrounded by sugar plantations and lying in the shadow of the Escambray Mountains. Enslaved Africans once worked the plantations, and their influence is evident in this colonial city of cobblestone streets and pale-colored houses. We discovered an altar to the Santería deity Yemayá in one house and found El Palenque de los Congos Reales (the Palisade of the Royal Congos), where we listened to the band and drank an Afro-Cuban concoction called Canchánchara, a mixture of honey, lime juice and rum.

On the way back to Havana, we stopped in Matanzas to visit Vigía Editions, where artists make handcrafted, limited-edition books that are works of art. In the capital again, we separated to pursue our own interests. Two friends and I visited the Museum of the Revolution, located, ironically, in the former Presidential Palace, and marveled at Cuba's historic struggles for independence. Then we took a ferry across the bay to see the Santería exhibit at the Regla Museum; wandered down Obispo Street to the Fine Arts Museum to view the paintings of Chinese-descended Flora Fong and Wilfredo Lam, Cuba's most famous artist; and found the apartment of poet Soleida Ríos near the Plaza de Armas.

The highlight of my trip was visiting poets and novelists whose work I had analyzed in articles and books. I spent an evening with novelist Marta Rojas, called the "Journalist of Moncada" because she covered Fidel Castro's trial after the assault on the barracks. The author of more than 20 books, she once joined me in Costa Rica for a conference on Afro-Hispanic literature. My last evening in Havana was spent with Marta; Nancy Morejón, National Poet of Cuba, who visited me in Washington; and dramatist Gerardo Fulleda León, who contributed an essay to my book on Morejón.

Literature is highly regarded by Cubans, who admire writers such as Ernest Hemingway. He spent 30 years in and out of the Island, and traces of the American novelist are everywhere -- in Havana's Floridita Bar; in Room 511 of the Ambos Mundos Hotel, where he spent nights in the 1930s; and in the fishing village of Cojimar, which inspired "The Old Man and the Sea." On an excursion to Cojimar, we saw an 18th-century Spanish fort and lunched at Hemingway's favorite restaurant, La Terraza.

The writer's one-bedroom home and 8-acre farm, Finca Vigía, 20 miles east of Havana, where he lived for 20 years and finished "For Whom the Bell Tolls," has been turned into a museum. We caught a glimpse of the novelist's life in his possessions: books, manual typewriter, hunting boots, mounted animal heads and liquor bottles; and, outside, a swimming pool, pet cemetery and fishing boat, The Pilar.

Back home now, I recall an incident that evoked the warmth and kindness of Cubans. In an art gallery in Trinidad, I met a woman who talked enthusiastically about the paintings and artists whose work she sold for little or nothing. Her spirit was contagious, as she explained, smiling, "Yes, life is difficult, but my uncle sends money back home, so now it is easier." As I was about to leave, she said, "Come back to Trinidad, mi amor. I'll still be here," and gave me a hug. And, although it's a traditional term of endearment in Spanish American countries, that "mi amor" -- my love -- will always remind me of Cuba.

Miriam DeCosta-Willis is an author and professor. She lives in East Memphis.2011 Memphis Commercial Appeal.

Source: www.commercialappeal.com/news/2011/may/01/reader-travelogue-why-cuba/