In Cuba, Everyone Dances
The Cuban missle crisis happened when I was ten years old. A friend and I had finished an after-school art class, and her mother picked us up. The mom was obviously upset; as a kid I understood the tone more than the context. It was a scary introduction to a country and lack of access since then made it all the more mysterious. Cubans may not have a lot of possessions, but they are not cut off from the world. We tend to forget that tourists from other nations can go there freely. In fact, my pen pal in the former East Germany paid a visit.
Highlights:
Years ago, I saw this dance company from Havana perform in Minneapolis. The more time we spent with them, the more they became individuals, instead of forms moving in unison on stage. Top-notch dance clothes and familiar brands said this company had traveled abroad.
A guidebook described a group of men who regularly gather in Parque Central and talk baseball. An understatement. I went back multiple times and 30-40 guys were always standing in a tight-knit group chattering about baseball. The lively interchange was an alternative to blogging, TV commentators and every other form of electronic communication.
Born long after the revolution, these teens looked decidedly more interested in friends, food, clothes and the opposite sex than politics. At a Havana neighborhood festival, tweens danced like fully fledged teens. Girls had clearly discussed the attire for the day. School girls wore uniforms with the shortest possible khaki skirts. Guys were shy about approaching an exotic American but not when they banded together as a threesome. And giggling is a universal language.
In Cuba, everyone dances, including older ladies who forgot to check worries about wrinkles, pastel colors and ideal body shapes at the door. Need a flower to match your red tights? A poinsettia in March is fine. A few extra pounds? Honey, these are curves. No partner? No worries. Everyone is moving.
