I’ve posted a few of my photos of Cuba in my diary posts but a few people have asked where the rest are.  You can see more of them in my Flickr set along with Avril’s colour photos and black and whites.   I hope you enjoy them.

We’re leaving today… but not yet.

First there is packing and reflecting before a long goodbye.

Packing is easy.  We have much less to take home than we brought.  All the gifts and Sunday school materials and the sweets and toothbrushes have been replaced by Havana Club, cigars and Che Guevara t-shirts.

We’re joined by the moderator of the Presbyterian Reformed Church in Cuba’s youth organisation.  I’m sorry, but I can’t for the life of me remember his name!

We talked a little about their youth work activities and presented him with a celtic cross, hand-made by a member of Angela’s church in Nairn.  Our young people also collected their remaining spending money, more then 100cuc, and gifted it to be used to help in youth activities.

For the rest of the time we have a lazy morning.  Some people went outside, topping up their tan, or in my case still trying desperately to get one.  Others are inside playing cards or chatting quietly.

Lunch is a surprise, well not really… it’s rice and beans.

After lunch we are joined again by the moderator of the Synod and for the first time by the minister of Luyano Church for an evaluation.

There are few complaints but a few suggestions, mostly about planning.  The response… this is Cuba.  And they are right I suppose.

The things that frustrate about Cuba are the things that define it.

There seems never to be a plan… but that means that the people are relaxed and spontaneous.

It’s hot and humid… but that means that life is slow and never rushed.

The poverty is obvious… but that means that people concentrate on each other rather than their possessions.

The political situation is oppressive… but that makes Cuba the peculiarity that it is.

The group (left to right) Eilidh, Jen, Anaitza (our host), Matthew, Alison, Erik, the Moderator, Shona, Katie, Rob, Avril, Me and Dyana (our translator).  Angela took the photo.

Going Home

Luis and our Cuban friends took us to the airport, one final ride in the bus along the potholed roads of Havana.

Check in took ages and wasn’t helped by the only impatient person we met on our whole trip, our check in person.  And then it was time to say goodbye but I think we were glad to be heading home.  The flight was the usual East-bound transatlantic overnight flight.  The flight was full so there was no chance to spread out and get some sleep.  Just a doze after watching Angels & Demons.  Breakfast was the strangest breakfast ever… chicken, honey and mustard wrap.  Seriously Virgin, a croissant and a coffee would be a whole lot better.  Even the staff were embarrassed.

There is much about Cuba I like.  I love the architecture, the sun, the vibrant colours and the people.  But for me the highlight was something we brought with us.  The group of seven young people we had the pleasure of travelling with were warm, open, friendly and funny, a credit to their church and to their country.

There is a bit of a buzz, even a little excitement, as we gather for breakfast.  Today is our translator Dyana’s birthday.  We discovered that she’s not celebrated her birthday since she was a child.  Today she’s 43 years old.  That’s way too long between birthday parties so today is going to be Dyana’s day!

So, at breakfast we sing Happy Birthday and give Dyana gifts with a distinctly Scottish flavour including a little cuddly highland cow, called Morag.

So, how would you spend your birthday given that you are stuck with a group of Scottish people on the final full day of their trip?  That’s right.  Smoking, drinking and dancing… but with a Cuban twist.

But first, some culture.

Old Havana is a city with two faces.  We’ve seen the crumbling facade of beautiful buildings, glimpses of a past glory, but there is another side.  The public and historic buildings are stunning and lovingly maintained.

The Capitol (Capitolio) is a copy of the capitol in Washington D.C., but bigger!  There is something funny about that I think.  But it is also a little sad given the state of the relationship between these neighbours.

Next stop, cigars.

Partagas are makers of fine Cuban cigars and you can’t really come to Cuba without investigating their national produce.  The shop is cool to keep the cigars fresh but the air is thick with smoke from the shopkeeper’s huge cigar.  The walls are lined with pictures of famous cigar smokers who have come here to buy supplies.  Jack Nicholson, Arnie and Churchill (the Prime Minister not the dig!) are all there.  We buy presents and souvenirs and then head off for the next stop on Dyana’s birthday tour…

Chocolate.  Lots of it.  Some of the gang took Dyana to a local chocolate maker and feasted on some HUGE chocolate cars.

While they were loading up on sugar Avril, Jen and I nipped round to the Plaza de Armas past the book sellers in the square and the Templete where Columbus is said to have landed and on to the cathedral.

My first impression was that the towers are too big for the rest of the building but I guess they would need to be to support the massive bells.

Inside the catherdal is fairly plain for a Roman Catholic cathedral.  There are the usual side chapels and shrines but they are subdued and there is little ornamentation.  The stained glass doesn’t depict religious scenes either.

We walked back through the newly renovated tourist area, met up with the group and headed back for our rice and beans.

The afternoon was Dyana’s next treat,  The Museo de Bella Artes.  Unfortunately only one floor was open, the one with modern art.  Thankfully Matthew was on hand to provide a comedy guide to the exhibits.  There were some amazing paintings, particularly the stylised image of Che and a portrait of a Rastafarian man whose name I can’t remember.

The Revolution is also celebrating a significant birthday this year.  It is 50 years old this year and interestingly, the final work we saw was a collage of the word ‘REVOLUCIO ‘, revolution with the N missing.  It represents the unending nature of revolution and we ended up having a great conversation about the political situation in Cuba and pondering whether the revolution had come full circle, back to a place where the people are once again enslaved, this time by an ideology.

Outside the gallery is a display of hardware from the revolution.  There is the Granma, a little boat Che and Fidel sailed from Mexico to Cuba in to start the revolution, a tank, an American spy plane which was shot down during the Cuban Missile Crisis and a missile which doesn’t look as though it’s having any kind of crisis.

A birthday needs a birthday drink… so Dyana’s next treat was a pina colada at the National Hotel.

Dinner was a posh affair… lobster!  With rice and beans, but it was still lobster!

In the evening we had a fiesta, obviously a Cuban party rather than a small ford car.

First up, party games.  All I can say is that Cubans play some strange party games.

Next, singing.  All week Angela has been trying to get Luis to sing.  She’s heard him before on her last trip but he’s been stalling all week.  It is finally time.  He’s waited until our last night for a very special performance.

Luis has a voice to match his personality… smooth.  A beautiful tenor.  It’s been worth waiting for.

It wouldn’t be a party without dancing.  Salsa first and Luis leads the way.  He soon has us all up dancing, or at least standing on each others feet in time to the music.  I’m not ashamed to say… I’m rubbish.

Ceilidh next.  A progressive Canadian Barn Dance and a Gay Gordons are lots of fun and not nearly as sweaty as the Orkadian Strip the Willow.

It was a fun night that ended with us sitting up stairs telling silly stories which I’m sworn not to repeat… which is a shame because some of them are brilliant.  It was great to just sit and chat and laugh and get to know the group a bit better.

And so ended our final full day.  A day of birthday fun and smoking, drinking and dancing… Cuban style… with a Scottish twist.

Monday started early, but no-one was complaining.  We’re heading out onto the open, and as it turns out very bumpy, road in Luis’ bus heading for Varadero.

As usual it’s hot but as we start to wind our way along the coast the humidity seems to lessen a little and the trip becomes much more pleasant (less sweaty!) than most of our time on the bus has been.

The countryside is beautiful, apart from the oil wells that litter the coast and the occasional factory along the way which the Health And Safety Executive here would have a field day with.  It’s not so much the sight of the oil production that invades the journey, but the noxious smell.

No road trip would be complete without a soundtrack and it’s my turn to provide a musical education for the ‘young ones’.  The Beach Boys and The Beatles sit side by side with Foo Fighters and Bob Dylan.  To be honest I’m only really entertaining Rob and Avril.  Everyone else is asleep.  That’s a shame because the landscape is stunning.  The coast disappears as we climb a little and the mountains appear off to our left.

We pass through Matanzas, a town that sprawls across rivers and inlets of the bay.  It has a very different character to Havana.  It seems to be in a better state of repair and the buildings are less densely packed.

Eventually we arrive at Varadero.  It’s a beach town.  At least the part we see is.

The church at Varadero is the newest of all the Presbyterian churches in Cuba.  It is a beautiful triangular building with red and yellow light streaming through the stained glass into the sanctuary.

Joel, the minister we met here in Scotland last year, welcomes us and is very laid back about our time with them.  He tells us to go to the beach for a while before lunch before it gets too hot.  No-one is going to argue with that so we walk the two blocks to the perfect strip of coral sand and turquoise sea.

Just for the record, the sea is warmer than our shower at Luyano.  Much warmer.  We all lie around for a while as someone in one of the houses by the beach blasts out ‘Now That’s What I Call Music Stewart Hates Vol 1′.  We bake.  We swim.  We bake some more.  Then it’s lunch time.

We return to the church which has showers at the door and a foot-wash to get rid of the sand.  Lunch is served in the patio area next to the church under parasols and yes, you guessed it, we have rice and beans, but with battered fish and what looks like garlic banana.  It is plantain, a variety of banana, and it tastes bad!  The rest of the meal is beautiful.

After lunch Joel tells us some of the history of the church.  During a government crackdown there was only one member.  Now the church is thriving and serves the surrounding communities where there are no churches.

The church design is all very deliberate.  The triangular shape is the same as the witch-doctor’s.  Every detail was planned to remind people of their faith and their place in the world.  The church sides open up so the church literally has no walls.

We visit a small market to buy some souvenirs then Katie, Alison, Avril and I head back to the beach while Jen and Angela catch up with Marta, another of last year’s visitors to Scotland.  The rest of the gang have gone in search of liquid refreshment and some shade.

The journey back to Havana is much like the journey there.  Most people sleep.

Rob provides the music. Avril and I try to take photos of the gathering clouds.

The evening is quiet and reflective.

Apart from the occasional ‘ouch’ when another patch of sunburn is discovered.

Sunday morning was the only time that the group would separate and experience something different.  We had decided to split into three groups and worship with the three churches we have spent time with here in Havana.

Rob, Alison ad Katie would go back to Guanabacoa with Dyana.  Matthew and Shona would stay at Luyano and Avril, Jen, Eilidh, Erik and I would return to First Havana with Anaitza.

Luis took us and dropped us off before taking the others out to Guanabacoa.  We arrived to find the congregation gathering, all in yellow t-shirts.

We ended up sitting at the back on extra chairs as the church was completely full.  The children from the holiday club were all there, swelling the congregation, but we were told that the church is often full.  It was great to sit at the back… that’s where the fans were!

Worship was full of music; an amazing tenor sang the introit followed by a quartet, and octet, all 90 children and a group from the Korean Presbyterian church in Miami all sang.

The preacher was from the Korean-American group and Frank (conducting the children’s choir in the photo) came and translated the sermon for us.  There was a funny moment when he and Jen (who speaks excellent Spanish) looked at each other… then Frank said ‘No, I don’t understand him either!’.

After worship we got a yellow taxi back to Luyano to find the rest of the group talking about their morning.  Matthew had sung at Luyano, Rob, Katie and Alison had a fantastic rockin’ time at Guanabacoa and we had been treated to some brilliant music.  All in all a great morning at church.

The rest of the day was free.  It was our first real chance to sit down and just relax and I’m glad we had the space.

We decided that after dinner we would gather on our own as a group to share in some worship which I would lead.

I’ve been thinking a lot about ‘revolution’ recently and this seemed the perfect topic for Cuba.  We began with ‘The Call To Prayer’, the Muslim-style call from Karl Jenkin’s The Armed Man (A Mass for Peace), a strange way to start a Christian worship.  We talked about Mark’s revolutionary Gospel and how it presents a different way, a revolution of peace and love and justice and grace.  We shared a communion of coke and pringles, a strange way to celebrate a sacrifice.  And we listened to revolutionary songs.  Martyn Joseph’s ‘Strange Way’ and Tracy Chapman’s ‘Talkin’ About A Revolution’.

I think tonight was probably my favourite moment.  It seemed real and right and good in all its strangeness.  A group of people sharing God and finding him in  the ordinary and the strange.

Saturday morning brought a bilingual Bible study, but not until we played a circle game that had something to do with ducks, quacking and ending up sitting on each other’s knees in a circle.  A great ice-breaker but perhaps not with sweaty people first thing in the morning!

Our passage for study was Luke 2:41-52, the only story in all of the Gospels of Jesus as a child.  If I’m honest I wasn’t expecting much from this morning.  I think that this passage is overused with young people, so much so that it’s become a bit of a cliche.

It’s good to be wrong.

Izett, a young Cuban minister, led us through an exploration of the passage from Jesus’ point of view, asking ‘Why was he there?  What did he see?  Who would he meet?’ before delving into the possibilities of the passage for young people and for the church.

Is this a passage that says take young people seriously?  That’s a hard generalisation.  After all, Jesus was no ‘average’ young person.  But there are things in there that we need to hear about the place of young people, about learning for our elders and making time for each other.

The language barrier proved challenging in this conversation too, but then perhaps that adds to the understanding of the communication problems young people face as they talk a different language from adults.

Callejon de Hammel

After lunch we ventured out on what was easily the hottest day so far.  Our magical mystery tour landed in Callejon de Hammel, a bright spot in the crumbling sprawl of Old Habana.

The street in a poor and dangerous was taken over by a former French-German arms dealer turned good guy and turned into an art project.

Cuba has a very strong African influence on its culture, music and religion.  Callejon de Hammel celebrates this Afro-Cuban fusion through street art.  The walls of this little street are covered with murals depicting Afro-Cuban religions.  It is a riot of colour and shape with sculpture, strange shrines and objects.  It’s beautiful.  And strange.  And vibrant.  And alive.

For the next few hours we had some time to wander Havana.  Luis dropped us near the shops and a market.  The group separated and disappeared to hunt for souvenirs or somewhere with air conditioning.

Avril and I spent the afternoon with Jen, chatting, wandering along the seafront and puting the world to right.

We found the bus and joined Luis and ‘Sandro who were engaged in a deep conversation about life I think.  I have no idea what they were talking about but it looked important.  It was interesting to watch these two very different men engage with each other; old and young, black and white, from different times and places, but full of respect and love for one another.

The rest of the gang piled on the bus and a spontaneous outbreak of Scottishness occurred.  The mp3 player gave us some sing along songs and we were soon belting out 500 Miles by the Proclaimers and The Fratellis’ Chelsea Dagger as we drove through the streets of Havana.

Cultural Exchange

The evening was one of the key points of our visit.  It was a time when we would hear and see something of Cuba and we would tell our hosts about Scotland.  The evening was a fairly random occasion, but filled with laughter and fun.

Both presentations featured dancing with our hosts showing us some co-ordinated salsa moves before we introduced them to ceilidh dancing.

Did you ever wonder why different cultures have different kinds of dancing?

I never really gave it much thought.  Until now.  There is something sensible about a gentle dance that involves small steps and not that much bouncing around when it’s 35C in the shade.  There is nothing sensible about bounding and spinning at 100 MPH through a 5 minute Strip the Willow when it’s that hot!  I thought I might actually collapse!  I had to go upstairs and wring out my t-shirt!

The Cubans loved the ceilidh dancing but it was just too hot to do much more.  we promised them we’d teach them some more sedate dances on the last night at our party.

Community

It’s strange sometimes how community forms.  I think today I noticed that.  A group of young people who didn’t know each other at all are now friends, some for life.  There are lots of reasons for that.  At first it was possibly necessity.  They were put together and have to live together but it’s more than that now.  They aren’t a group now.  In just a few short days they have become a community.  What’s more encouraging is that they are an open and welcoming community.  And I’m proud of them.

7.00am Cold shower.

7.04am In need of another shower.

It’s very hot today, and humid.

Breakfast is the same as the previous two days; crepes, honey and fruit.  I tried guava and mango this morning.  It tuns out I like mango and don’t like guava.  I’ve thought for years I didn’t like mango because I didn’t like things with mango in them, like Um Bongo.  Well, Um Bongo and other ‘tropical flavoured’ stuff also have guava in them!  Who knew?!?!

We opened our dorm window for the first time this morning.  I know that sounds a bit silly after being here for a few days but the window has shutters on it and frosted glass so it didn’t occur to us that there would be anything out there.  There was.  The street was out there.  Busy with people coming and going and some salsa music blaring from a radio in one of the brightly painted houses.  I liked life from our window.  It was open a lot from then on.

Our day today is filled with visits to two local churches.

1st Havana Reformed Presbyterian Church was our first stop.

We were met by Hector, the minister, who showed us into the sanctuary and explained that they believed that the church had been built to a Scottish design by the missionaries who had come fro Europe.  It’s easy to see why they believe that.  The building is very similar to post-Reformation churches at home.  The design is simple with no iconography.

We were told that we wouldn’t be able to spend much time here because they were in the middle of a week-long holiday club with 86 children.   That seemed to be a shame because we were ushered through the kids sessions and I’d have loved to spend some time finding our about their activities and how they organised their outreach to children.  But they are busy and I know that if I was them I wouldn’t have time to show me around either.  (that probably makes more sense in my head than in a sentence!)

Lunch was….. rice and beans and avocado and other stuff.

Guanabacoa

In the afternoon we headed of to the suburb of Guanabacoa to visit a little church there with a difference.  Well with a few differences actually.

The first difference was the welcome.  We were greeted at the door by a line of people who seemed genuinely delighted to meet us.

The second difference was the church.  It was small and sparse… but it had a band PA set up.

In the land of salsa who knew that in this quiet little suburb hid a rockin rev who loves all things heavy rock.

After the gig we had a chance to talk to the people about their amazing HIV/aids project which has had to overcome both the barriers of the state and the cultural barriers against two of their biggest HIV positive groups, homosexual men and drug users.  Their work is inspiring and made me reflect on how little our local congregations do to meet the needs of their communities.

As we drove home a massive thunderstorm rolled in and just as we arrived back at Luyano the heavens opened.  It poured for a couple of hours with the most awesome thunder and lightening crashing around us.

Statues in the Dark and Hanging Out By the Sea

There is a thing called ‘reading by the sea’ which has something to do with university going back and happens by the shore.  Obviously books and talks don’t mix well with thunderstorms so ‘reading by the sea’ was cancelled.

Instead we visited the ‘illuminated’ statue of Jesus which towers over Havana… but the lights were off.  We did have a great view of Havana at night…

The disappointment of the dark statue was followed quickly by a minor altercation with the police for missing a sign… a sign any of us are yet to see!

We ended up at the Malecon, the sea front in Havana where hundreds of young people were gathered, just hanging out with their friends and dancing to the band playing along the shore somewhere.

It was kind of cool just to sit on the wall and watch the Cuban world go by and great to see that so many young people could gather with very little trouble or sense of threat.  There was even a hotdog vendor!

The best thing about tonight was the tempreture.  The storm had taken some of the heat away and one of our group was even overheard saying she was cold!

It was soon time to hop on to our retro bus and head home for another night of noisy, uncomfortable sleep… but I’m starting to get kind of used to this place.