I know you have all been eagerly awaiting more stories of Cuba… Or maybe it’s just I’ve been eagerly wanting to share more.
Regardless, here we are on the second day of our photo shoot / discovering-Cuba trip.
Upon waking in our casa particular in Havana, I had a cafecito waiting for me from the santera house-mom. She turned out to be sweet to me, mostly because I think she was sizing me up to marry her santero-in-training son. Luckily Robert and I shared that I was married and even though it’s not legally true, in my heart I am. (Cue the awwww-ing.)
We decide that I will start the day wearing my camouflage aka military-inspired outfit (thanks to Cristina from Chill by Will.) I knew before going to Cuba that I had to wear something symbolic of the war that took place – within the country and within the families that lived there. My family was one that had an inner war because my grandfather was looked upon as a traitor for wanting to leave and his sister was a full-fledge Fidelista and sided with the government. Hence why politics and religion should never be discussed in family gatherings… unless everyone agrees.
So I walked the streets of Havana in my symbolic military outfit and purposefully wore my bad-ass knee-high boots. One, because they look so cool and are amazing boots (thanks Vicky), but more importantly because they make a statement… And the statement they make is “I am here and you will notice me… in my boots and in my camouflage!!! (I’m not missing the irony here, don’t worry.) And even though no one knew why I wore what I wore, I wanted to be able to express myself and not be condemned for it when so many in my family have no had that privilege. It was a statement for my grandfather and for his family who stayed who eventually saw the truth behind following Fidel Castro and his corrupt government so blindly. Luckily, we got to take a photograph of me in this outfit with two police officers walking by in the background. It was quite nice timing… well done Robert Sturman.
We go back to the casa particular, change clothes (it was hot), go to eat at our new hangout Torneo restaurant, and rest. I decided to call my cousin who still lives in Cuba after all these years and whom I have never met nor knew existed until about two months before I went to Cuba. He didn’t answer so I left him a voicemail message with the number of the house I was staying at. I crossed fingers he would be able to reach me so that I could reconnect with roots I didn’t know I had. I guess you’ll have to wait and see who happens next… Hehe!
