One of the wildest things I have ever been a part of. A major highlight of my trip to Cuba.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
the weekend that went by in a week
I went to the island. The one off the coast of BC. The big one that you can fit 3 England's into. We left on Friday and made the 6:00 ferry and sat on the windy but sunny sun deck and I took pictures of people close up but from far away. Sneaky me. We drove to Metchosin and dropped off 2 water barrels and trailer, ate and apple and drank some wine and headed in search of our hiding spot for the night. We were staying "in our vehicle". Which isn't as bad as it sounds when it's a Delica with a mattress and 4 pillows and a huge feather duvet. Just as long as you're parked on flat ground- you're good.
Up and around a snaky road called Kangaroo Road and over a bend and through a thicket we found Sooke and the Whiffin Spit. We parked where we shouldn't have and fell asleep listening to the water rush up on the rocks. When the dawn broke through the windows, we got up and walked the Whiffin Spit I once walked with my mom and grandmother. The town of Sooke isn't much, but we found a funny little place for coffee and a recommendation for breakfast- The Alternative Cafe. Very good ham & eggs, by the way. We wandered into a house masquerading as a gallery and the following exchange..
"Are you an artist?"
"Well, no, I take photographs though."
"They don't sell. Get into something else."
pause...
"Where are you staying?"
"In our vehicle." I said with a odd sense of "so there."
She recommended the drive to French Beach, gave me her card and I walked away saying thanks.. "Maybe you'll sell my photos one day." She laughed.
So we went to French Beach and if you look at the link and see the picture with the giant upturned tree.. it's still there.
We drove back to Victoria and pottered around. We were unimpressed with our lunch at Rebar, especially as we happened to come in when they were changing menus and were rather ceremoniously told of our inconvenient timing. They did have some lovely salads that supported my newly acquired wheat, dairy and sugar free diet so we stayed. The cookbook looks better though.
We talked to the locals, with a craving for beef, we got recommendations from a vegetarian for a lovely restaurant named Spinnakers that required a 20 minute walk along the water front. The food could have been better but they did use locally grown, produced and raised ingredients. It made up for the fact that they overcooked the greens and veggies that the menu said was steamed and tossed in butter. We saw the veg-head on our way back which was odd since he seemed so vague about the place. Maybe he secretly grows their herbs.
Saturday night and the hunt was one for a superior or equal hiding spot to the one we found in Sooke. We ended up on a tiny strip of land crossing a tiny bit of the outer Victoria harbour called Ocean Blvd. A beautiful view of the harbour and Fisgard Lighthouse was there like warm croissants and coffee in the morning. Except I'm still on my cleanse, so no croissants for me.
We ended up at some cafe on Cook St called Rosie's Diner. When we were greeted at the door with a sign that said "no Chinese Food today" I had grave misgivings about Rosie, but we ventured forward. In hopes of recreating the ham steak at the breakfast in Sooke, I ordered the same again. But, let this be a lesson to you- you can not recreate the same meal with a different menu. The ham steak was reconstituted ham "bologna"- fried. While Michael slathered his buttery rye toast with peanut butter, I began to feel foul and then the waitress came and took our paper off our table without warning. Cook St Rosie Diner- I won't be back.
But while sitting there I saw an add for a shoe company with a rather dapper pair of sandals that enamored me so, and our next adventure was set. Later, with sandals on my feet we ventured further into dietary restrictions..
"Can I have the burger without the bun, mayo, or cheese please?" That was somewhat painful.
"Could I have the salad bare, with no dressing, but could you bring me a small amount of oil and some lemon?" The waitress looked confused.
"Is it possible to buy 1/2 and avocado?"
"Do you have any desserts that do not have sugar, wheat or dairy?" just as a joke.
Later, before we had to go, we rewarded ourselves with a trip to Fisgard Lighthouse and came nearly face to face with a deer in exchange.
So and there it goes, our excellent adventure of dietary restrictions, finding places to peacefully pee and sleep, retail therapy, and a historical rendezvous or two..
Up and around a snaky road called Kangaroo Road and over a bend and through a thicket we found Sooke and the Whiffin Spit. We parked where we shouldn't have and fell asleep listening to the water rush up on the rocks. When the dawn broke through the windows, we got up and walked the Whiffin Spit I once walked with my mom and grandmother. The town of Sooke isn't much, but we found a funny little place for coffee and a recommendation for breakfast- The Alternative Cafe. Very good ham & eggs, by the way. We wandered into a house masquerading as a gallery and the following exchange..
"Are you an artist?"
"Well, no, I take photographs though."
"They don't sell. Get into something else."
pause...
"Where are you staying?"
"In our vehicle." I said with a odd sense of "so there."
She recommended the drive to French Beach, gave me her card and I walked away saying thanks.. "Maybe you'll sell my photos one day." She laughed.
So we went to French Beach and if you look at the link and see the picture with the giant upturned tree.. it's still there.
We drove back to Victoria and pottered around. We were unimpressed with our lunch at Rebar, especially as we happened to come in when they were changing menus and were rather ceremoniously told of our inconvenient timing. They did have some lovely salads that supported my newly acquired wheat, dairy and sugar free diet so we stayed. The cookbook looks better though.
We talked to the locals, with a craving for beef, we got recommendations from a vegetarian for a lovely restaurant named Spinnakers that required a 20 minute walk along the water front. The food could have been better but they did use locally grown, produced and raised ingredients. It made up for the fact that they overcooked the greens and veggies that the menu said was steamed and tossed in butter. We saw the veg-head on our way back which was odd since he seemed so vague about the place. Maybe he secretly grows their herbs.
Saturday night and the hunt was one for a superior or equal hiding spot to the one we found in Sooke. We ended up on a tiny strip of land crossing a tiny bit of the outer Victoria harbour called Ocean Blvd. A beautiful view of the harbour and Fisgard Lighthouse was there like warm croissants and coffee in the morning. Except I'm still on my cleanse, so no croissants for me.
We ended up at some cafe on Cook St called Rosie's Diner. When we were greeted at the door with a sign that said "no Chinese Food today" I had grave misgivings about Rosie, but we ventured forward. In hopes of recreating the ham steak at the breakfast in Sooke, I ordered the same again. But, let this be a lesson to you- you can not recreate the same meal with a different menu. The ham steak was reconstituted ham "bologna"- fried. While Michael slathered his buttery rye toast with peanut butter, I began to feel foul and then the waitress came and took our paper off our table without warning. Cook St Rosie Diner- I won't be back.
But while sitting there I saw an add for a shoe company with a rather dapper pair of sandals that enamored me so, and our next adventure was set. Later, with sandals on my feet we ventured further into dietary restrictions..
"Can I have the burger without the bun, mayo, or cheese please?" That was somewhat painful.
"Could I have the salad bare, with no dressing, but could you bring me a small amount of oil and some lemon?" The waitress looked confused.
"Is it possible to buy 1/2 and avocado?"
"Do you have any desserts that do not have sugar, wheat or dairy?" just as a joke.
Later, before we had to go, we rewarded ourselves with a trip to Fisgard Lighthouse and came nearly face to face with a deer in exchange.
So and there it goes, our excellent adventure of dietary restrictions, finding places to peacefully pee and sleep, retail therapy, and a historical rendezvous or two..
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
This humanity is craving for justice. -Fidel
When I walked in the May Day Rally in Havana I walked for a while behind this man. His shirt reads "This humanity is craving for justice." This is highly ironic to me for Havana was once one of the most important Latin American cities and it's renowned Baroque, Neo- Classical, Art Nouveau and Art Deco architecture lies in near ruins.
Hemingway who spent 22 years living in Havana off and on once said "in terms of beauty, only Venice and Paris have surpassed Havana" and at one time the city had more theatres than Paris or NYC. But, it also had that American influence; the gambling and the Mafia. Of course, Fidel put a stop to all of that after the revolution and kicked everyone out taking back all private enterprise.
The communists said they would improve everything. They would fix the social services and repair the buildings and then they shacked up with the USSR and the famous US embargo tightened all the purse strings. When the fall of communist Russia happened.. well we don't even want to get into what they call the "Special Period" but death rates among the elderly went up 20% and animals at the zoo went missing.
Now, the country has gotten into bed with Chavez, trading doctors for oil and welcomed tourism (bringing in a reported 2 billion annually). They've fixed up the "historic" areas for the tourists.. allowed some 'brands' (Coca Cola, Nike, Nestle, Adidas and even United Colors of Benetton) and yet the Cubans who walk in the rally earn a pittance for their hard work, live in a city largely dilapidated, can not leave the island and continue to show support for the government responsible for this beautiful calamity and wear t shirts that say.. this humanity is craving justice.
I'll say.
Hemingway who spent 22 years living in Havana off and on once said "in terms of beauty, only Venice and Paris have surpassed Havana" and at one time the city had more theatres than Paris or NYC. But, it also had that American influence; the gambling and the Mafia. Of course, Fidel put a stop to all of that after the revolution and kicked everyone out taking back all private enterprise.
The communists said they would improve everything. They would fix the social services and repair the buildings and then they shacked up with the USSR and the famous US embargo tightened all the purse strings. When the fall of communist Russia happened.. well we don't even want to get into what they call the "Special Period" but death rates among the elderly went up 20% and animals at the zoo went missing.
Now, the country has gotten into bed with Chavez, trading doctors for oil and welcomed tourism (bringing in a reported 2 billion annually). They've fixed up the "historic" areas for the tourists.. allowed some 'brands' (Coca Cola, Nike, Nestle, Adidas and even United Colors of Benetton) and yet the Cubans who walk in the rally earn a pittance for their hard work, live in a city largely dilapidated, can not leave the island and continue to show support for the government responsible for this beautiful calamity and wear t shirts that say.. this humanity is craving justice.
I'll say.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The most peirced man in Cuba
I don't really know what to say about this guy except I came around a corner in Havana and there he was in all his glory. It was an outstanding display of individualism by a local- yes he was a local artist. I'm sure he gets stopped all the time by someone asking to take his photo for a peso.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
"Dear God," she prayed, "let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. Let me be gay; let me be sad. Let me be cold; let me be warm. Let me be hungry...have too much to eat. Let me be ragged or well dressed. Let me be sincere- be deceitful. Let me be truthful; let me be a liar. Let me be honorable and let me sin. Only let me be something every blessed minute. And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost."
pg 421, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Betty Smith; published 1943
pg 421, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Betty Smith; published 1943
Saturday, May 9, 2009
ready to come home
I've been in Cuba for 14 days. I am now tanned and my feet no longer hurt. I have almost gotten used to the near constant and immediate condensation upon my flesh the minute I drink water and the way sweat pools into any available crevice.
I am bringing home:
20 Cuban movie posters
439 photos
2 jars of Cuban honey
2 bottles of 3yr old Havana club
1kg Serrano brand coffee
2x 454g Cubanita brand coffee
a handful of necklaces from Manzanillo seeds and a crotcheted shawl.
I have:
Been shit faced drunk 4 times
had dinner in 2 illegal restaurants and one private home
been sunburned on a remote beach
taken 2 collectivo taxis and 4 bici- taxis and a horse drawn carriage
woke up with a cockroach in bed
taken 2 bus trips and a flight
had 0 wedding invitations
marched with 3 million Habaneros to wave to Raul
fended off many many jinteros
swam with dolphins
ripped the ass out of my jeans twice
spent an eavening in a cuban music house
and almost got a tattoo
I'm ready to come home..
I am bringing home:
20 Cuban movie posters
439 photos
2 jars of Cuban honey
2 bottles of 3yr old Havana club
1kg Serrano brand coffee
2x 454g Cubanita brand coffee
a handful of necklaces from Manzanillo seeds and a crotcheted shawl.
I have:
Been shit faced drunk 4 times
had dinner in 2 illegal restaurants and one private home
been sunburned on a remote beach
taken 2 collectivo taxis and 4 bici- taxis and a horse drawn carriage
woke up with a cockroach in bed
taken 2 bus trips and a flight
had 0 wedding invitations
marched with 3 million Habaneros to wave to Raul
fended off many many jinteros
swam with dolphins
ripped the ass out of my jeans twice
spent an eavening in a cuban music house
and almost got a tattoo
I'm ready to come home..
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
tourist vs. visitor
Tourists stay in hotels and resorts. They want everything to be the same as it is at home, including their coffee and they tend to get easily upset by the lack of services, conveniences and effort needed in travelling from their country to another.
Visitors stay in private homes, explore strange streets, meet the locals, take the local transport and take on the customs and the food of the area willingly.
I tend to be the latter. I don´t think you will ever find me on a resort with it´s all inclusiveness. I like getting the local money and bartering. I like meeting the locals and taking their pictures for a few coins. I´ll drink rum in a dark park with strange men if it means a few laughs and an adventure unknown. And I´ll gladly eat dinner in a tin shack pieced together after the devestating hurricanes and have the most delicious fresh fish I have ever had.
But, I will also take the organized tour when they spoon feed you the sights. It´s sometimes impossible to see anything otherwise you rent a car and hire a guide.
Today, I will visit El Cobre. Apparently the room of miracles contains among it´s 1000´s of offerings, a small golden guerilla fighter donated by Lina Ruz, Fidel´s mother. Hemingway´s Nobel prize for The Old Manand the Sea was there until it was stolen (and later recovered).
Tomorrow, I will go on a tour to Baconoa, which is in a natural park and down the coast. I will see more of the Sierra Mountains and the coast line. There will be a dolphin show and for extra you can swim with them. Ya, it´s cheesy.. but I have always wanted to swim with dolphins so I will.
But, despite my touristic ways.. I am a visitor to Cuba. I love the gritty pissy bits and the beautiful polished bits just the same. I´m just more likely to eat in a local dive than a shiny hotel restaurant. And I´m more likely to stumble through a conversation with hand signals and pictures than not.
Visitors stay in private homes, explore strange streets, meet the locals, take the local transport and take on the customs and the food of the area willingly.
I tend to be the latter. I don´t think you will ever find me on a resort with it´s all inclusiveness. I like getting the local money and bartering. I like meeting the locals and taking their pictures for a few coins. I´ll drink rum in a dark park with strange men if it means a few laughs and an adventure unknown. And I´ll gladly eat dinner in a tin shack pieced together after the devestating hurricanes and have the most delicious fresh fish I have ever had.
But, I will also take the organized tour when they spoon feed you the sights. It´s sometimes impossible to see anything otherwise you rent a car and hire a guide.
Today, I will visit El Cobre. Apparently the room of miracles contains among it´s 1000´s of offerings, a small golden guerilla fighter donated by Lina Ruz, Fidel´s mother. Hemingway´s Nobel prize for The Old Manand the Sea was there until it was stolen (and later recovered).
Tomorrow, I will go on a tour to Baconoa, which is in a natural park and down the coast. I will see more of the Sierra Mountains and the coast line. There will be a dolphin show and for extra you can swim with them. Ya, it´s cheesy.. but I have always wanted to swim with dolphins so I will.
But, despite my touristic ways.. I am a visitor to Cuba. I love the gritty pissy bits and the beautiful polished bits just the same. I´m just more likely to eat in a local dive than a shiny hotel restaurant. And I´m more likely to stumble through a conversation with hand signals and pictures than not.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Viazul
You suck.
You are one of 2 bus lines in Cuba. The better one, I thought.
My 1st trip, I was surprised when you turned out all the light and even the personal little ones and prevented me from reading. I was alarmed at your insistance to keep the air condistioning at full blast until you felt like you were inside a travelling refridgerator.
But seriously, when I wait at 2 am at the Holguin bus station fighting off the bici' taxi hustlers and painfully sit through the blasting of melodramatic Cuban love songs while I wait ´One hour in advance¨ and you turn up an hour late...I was not thrilled.
Yes, the ticket was only 11 dollars, but the overwhelming smell of piss that I´m pretty sure was coming from the water bottles left behind and the occasional cock roach sauntering down the window ledge made for a pretty grim trip.
I fear for you Viazul and more so for myself and the 16 hr trip back to Habana.
Please turn down bad vibe and turn up the heat and promise me it´s true that you are better than the train. God forbid, I may leave Santaigo as soon as I have arrive just because the only flight back leaves tonight.
Jill
You are one of 2 bus lines in Cuba. The better one, I thought.
My 1st trip, I was surprised when you turned out all the light and even the personal little ones and prevented me from reading. I was alarmed at your insistance to keep the air condistioning at full blast until you felt like you were inside a travelling refridgerator.
But seriously, when I wait at 2 am at the Holguin bus station fighting off the bici' taxi hustlers and painfully sit through the blasting of melodramatic Cuban love songs while I wait ´One hour in advance¨ and you turn up an hour late...I was not thrilled.
Yes, the ticket was only 11 dollars, but the overwhelming smell of piss that I´m pretty sure was coming from the water bottles left behind and the occasional cock roach sauntering down the window ledge made for a pretty grim trip.
I fear for you Viazul and more so for myself and the 16 hr trip back to Habana.
Please turn down bad vibe and turn up the heat and promise me it´s true that you are better than the train. God forbid, I may leave Santaigo as soon as I have arrive just because the only flight back leaves tonight.
Jill
Holguin to Santiago de Cuba
I got off the bus in Holguin thinking maybe I would wait a minute or 2 before I took a taxi to my prearranged Casa. I walked by someone who said something to me in spanish. I politely explained I did not understand and he pulled out a paper with my name in huge letters. I started to laugh. My casa had changed plans and I had been redirected to a new casa.
The neighbours in Holguin spoke very well and they took me to a remote beach on the northern coast. I rented a car and they drove. They arranged a lunch with a local friend. The area had been devestated by the hurricanes and people were living in literally' tin shacks pieced together by bits of wood and scraps. They made rice and beans, plantains and fresh fried white fish. It was unbelieveable. Just outside the ¨window- the rest of the family was cleaning the daily catch.
Unfortunately, I have been sunburned. The water was torquoise, the sand silky soft and the beach as remote as you could get.
I walked up the hill in Holguin to make my pilgramage and the start of the Romerios de Mayo. 459 steep steps. I saw a man doing it with a bottle of rum on his head. Somewhere along the way, I hurt my foot.
Last night I decided to ditch on my 2 previous paid for nights in Holguin and get the bus to Santiago. Now, I am sore from the burn and sore from the foot. I am trying to get a flight back to Havana, but it may not be possible. I may have to get the bus-see another entry.
Santiago is in the Sierra Mountains and where the revolution started. It´s busy and lots of motorbikes swarm the narrow streets. It reminds me of Morocco and Barcelona rolled into one. Lots and lots of jinteros, or hustlers. I have been harassed for something nearly a dozen time in the 3 hrs I have been here.
The weather is perfect and I´m loving my time despite the hurts..
xoJill
The neighbours in Holguin spoke very well and they took me to a remote beach on the northern coast. I rented a car and they drove. They arranged a lunch with a local friend. The area had been devestated by the hurricanes and people were living in literally' tin shacks pieced together by bits of wood and scraps. They made rice and beans, plantains and fresh fried white fish. It was unbelieveable. Just outside the ¨window- the rest of the family was cleaning the daily catch.
Unfortunately, I have been sunburned. The water was torquoise, the sand silky soft and the beach as remote as you could get.
I walked up the hill in Holguin to make my pilgramage and the start of the Romerios de Mayo. 459 steep steps. I saw a man doing it with a bottle of rum on his head. Somewhere along the way, I hurt my foot.
Last night I decided to ditch on my 2 previous paid for nights in Holguin and get the bus to Santiago. Now, I am sore from the burn and sore from the foot. I am trying to get a flight back to Havana, but it may not be possible. I may have to get the bus-see another entry.
Santiago is in the Sierra Mountains and where the revolution started. It´s busy and lots of motorbikes swarm the narrow streets. It reminds me of Morocco and Barcelona rolled into one. Lots and lots of jinteros, or hustlers. I have been harassed for something nearly a dozen time in the 3 hrs I have been here.
The weather is perfect and I´m loving my time despite the hurts..
xoJill
Saturday, May 2, 2009
I was there!!
http://www.cubanews.ain.cu/2009/0501desfile1mayo.htm
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/gallery/2009/may/01/cuba-may-day-celebration-photos
I wish I could upload my photos or find better pictures. But yesterday was really something to be at that rally.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/gallery/2009/may/01/cuba-may-day-celebration-photos
I wish I could upload my photos or find better pictures. But yesterday was really something to be at that rally.
Friday, May 1, 2009
the revolution
Today I got up at 5:30 am and snuck quietly out of my Casa and up the street to the Capitolio and marked with the workers of Cuba to the Plaza de Revolution. Along the way were speakers and people rousing the crowds into song and chants of Viva Fidel! Viva la Revolution! Viva Raul!!
We marched along the streets and the streams of red and flags and people carrying pictures of Che Guevara and Jose Marti was intoxicating. The crowds truned the road to the long procession to the plaza. I was in the thick of it and wondering how I would get out. I walked when I could and got ahead of the crowds when I was able. We passed the Plaza monuments and everyone waved to Raul and the flags blazed.
The heat was unbearable but it was an incredible experience to be a part of 1 million Habaneros marching on behalf of the Cuban worker. The 50th anniversary of the creation of the labour union.
Tomorrow, I will take an overnight bus trip to Holguin and get out of this little city, it's familiar paths and faces. On a side note.. I have found a tattoo artist and spent a long time discussing possibilities. I may come home with a wee bit of ink.....do you think I'm crazy???
xoxoJill
Thursday, April 30, 2009
portal to another world
I found these doors yesterday. I was walking and I wondered if I would see them again. My heart jumped to see them. I feel as though I love these doors. I met the family behind the closed one. I told them of how I took the photo before and blew it up. I told them of how it hangs framed in my life and I look at it often and how I love the door and the mysteriousness of the darkness beyond the one. (Ok. Well maybe I didn't say all of that, but I'm sure my eyes did.) I took their photo sitting on the stoop. They gave me the address and I promised to send them the photo.
Havana is peacful and chaotic. Sleepy and full of spice. My Casa is beautiful and they feed me the same thing every morning. 1/2 banana, pineapple, ornage, papaya, passionfruit, coffee, juice, and an omlette with cheese.
Tonight I will go to the home of a friend I have made in an old Collectivo taxi and see how the real Cuban lives. Tomorrow we will meet with some more people and we'll walk to the Plaza de Revolution for the big rally. It is the 50th anniversary of the Cuban worker. (I think).
xoJill
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
you can smell it in the air
and it's not the exhaust of the collectivo taxi's...Socialism is in the air.
The Cuban flag's are flying everywhere. I woke up the other morning to fins the street of my Casa had the curbes white washed and something announcing 01 May was written across the road.
Today, I went to the bust station to buy my ticket to Holguin and went past the Plaza de Revolution and they were testing the speakers and sound system and benches were set up. Rumor is you must leave very early to go to the Rally as all of Havana will be there. It is required of the 'workers'. No one will tell me if Fidel will be there. I make the joke that he is dead, and I am told to shhh. Raul will be there and I will be there with the rest of Havana. I am excited.
I met some photographers by coming across their studio. We spent the evening sitting on the Malecon drinking rum from the bottle and getting very drunk. Yesterday the 3 of us went for a walk with our cameras looking like the unofficial paparazzi. They said they will take me to the rally. The do documentaries in their other time to make money.
I have bought many Cuban movie posters, but have not found the place where th3ey do the silkscreening. I give up trying to get that project.
Havana's poem for me is slowly being written. But my time on the crappy crapastic internet is comeing to an end and it will take nearly 10 minutes to publish this...
So, one last thing, if you are reading... my feet hurt so much that I have learned to ignore it.
Love, Jill
The Cuban flag's are flying everywhere. I woke up the other morning to fins the street of my Casa had the curbes white washed and something announcing 01 May was written across the road.
Today, I went to the bust station to buy my ticket to Holguin and went past the Plaza de Revolution and they were testing the speakers and sound system and benches were set up. Rumor is you must leave very early to go to the Rally as all of Havana will be there. It is required of the 'workers'. No one will tell me if Fidel will be there. I make the joke that he is dead, and I am told to shhh. Raul will be there and I will be there with the rest of Havana. I am excited.
I met some photographers by coming across their studio. We spent the evening sitting on the Malecon drinking rum from the bottle and getting very drunk. Yesterday the 3 of us went for a walk with our cameras looking like the unofficial paparazzi. They said they will take me to the rally. The do documentaries in their other time to make money.
I have bought many Cuban movie posters, but have not found the place where th3ey do the silkscreening. I give up trying to get that project.
Havana's poem for me is slowly being written. But my time on the crappy crapastic internet is comeing to an end and it will take nearly 10 minutes to publish this...
So, one last thing, if you are reading... my feet hurt so much that I have learned to ignore it.
Love, Jill
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Today I bought 3 stems of gladiolas.
Last night I arrived in Havana and breathed in agian the hot sticky air marinated in 50 years of carburator exhaust.
This morning after a welcome breakfast of fruit (banana, pineapple, papya, orange, watermelon) bread & butter, scrambled eggs with cheese and coffee with cuban honey- I strolled down the familair streets and bought 3 rosey gladiolas from a flower cart for my new Casa and remembered this photo.
I paid for my beautiful Art Nouveau Casa until May 2. I will take an overnight bus to Holguin and can explore some of the southern cities and the beach from there.
On May 1, there is the big labour day rally at the Plaza de la Revolucion and Raul Castro will make a grand speech to the people. I would be crazy to miss it. There are signs and flags up in the streeets to promote it.
Havana is a poem unwritten. Melodies belch from the old Chevy and Buicks. Children yell songs in the streets and nearby the horses hooves tap out a sombre beat. The men whistle and hiss to the tune while the Hemingway lookalike's sitting at the sleepy bars, keep time jostling their pocket coins to the fans beating the air. All of it under the dark pages of the night, barely recognizable if not for a few flickering lights.
xoJill
Saturday, April 18, 2009
one of the beautiful things
About Cuba is that they have a rich history of poster arts. The Instituto Cubano del Arte e Industria Cinematográficos (ICAIC) creates posters in a standard size to fit the movie marquees, all hand screen printed one color at a time. The colors are added in thick coats, usually taking a day to dry each layer and each one is hand done.
They are amazing and I was lucky enough to stumble upon them when I went to Cuba last year.
I have found them again, with a little research on line. So I'll share the one's I have.
This one hangs in my bedroom. I adore it for it's art nouveau style and cream and red coloring. It's sits nicely against this Mucha .
and here are the other one's I have brought back. They are brilliant, with a kind of Monty Python type quality to them. I absolutely adore them. They were $10 each, if you can believe it. I am taking a large art tube to Cuba with me. Can you guess why??
They are amazing and I was lucky enough to stumble upon them when I went to Cuba last year.
I have found them again, with a little research on line. So I'll share the one's I have.
This one hangs in my bedroom. I adore it for it's art nouveau style and cream and red coloring. It's sits nicely against this Mucha .
and here are the other one's I have brought back. They are brilliant, with a kind of Monty Python type quality to them. I absolutely adore them. They were $10 each, if you can believe it. I am taking a large art tube to Cuba with me. Can you guess why??
023, originally uploaded by jill y.
205, originally uploaded by jill y.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Holland is only a few hours away
Catherine and I went to the Skagit County Tulip Festival to find that no tulips were in bloom. The "Daffs" were out in full force though. Fields and fields and fields. I'd love to go back next weekend and see if the tulips come out to play. There was only a sparse sprinkling of pink in a few fields and the weather was hesitant. I was lucky to get this shot with a blue sky.
La Conner was a yawn. It's way too polished and slick. The wannabe artists and their mass produced sculptures had moved in. The "antique" shops carried a lot of reproduced items masquerading as the real thing and it was all sort of "high end" . I was like being on Edmonton's Whyte Ave for the day. Charming little town though, with it's heritage buildings.
What was really really something was the wee little hamlet towns nearby- with the artisan bakeries and curios shops with sculptures made of tiny bones, vintage mannequins, hand made lavender and spruce soaps and beautiful old turn of the century buildings turned into sparse art galleries catering to edgier and less commercial art.
Another trip is definitely needed..but I'll avoid La Conner and stick to the less traveled back roads.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
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