el maestro

el maestro
"Trincheras de ideas valen más que trincheras de piedra." José Martí

Friday, February 24, 2012

United States of America: the naked truth

The origins 

Here's an instructive and valuable lesson on the real history of the United States of America, a revealing look at the essence and myth of its democracy and good will and an enlightening perspective of the so-called Manifest Destiny. It also helps to understand the rise of the United States to the super power-category it enjoys today and how it tyrannizes and bullies the world. You will appreciate these 23 minutes.


 

Del Grito de Baire al Asalto al Moncada: Una Revolución

Grito de Baire, 24 de febrero del 1895

El 24 defebrero del 1895, los patriotas independentistas cubanos reiniciaron la lucha contra la ocupación de España, que se había iniciado en La Demajagua el 10 de octubre del 1868, cuando el insigne Carlos Manuel de Céspedes les dio la libertad a sus esclavos y los conminó a unírsele en su esfuerzo por conquistar la independencia de Cuba.

José Marti

En 1895 José Martí con su espíritu organizador y visión clara del futuro de Cuba logró que un grupo de mambises se alzaran en armas en cuatro diferentes puntos del oriente de la isla. Esto ocurrió el 24 de febrero de ese año y se conoce en la historia como el Grito de Baire.


Ejército Mambí

Tres meses más tarde caía en Dos Ríos José Martí y con su muerte perdía Cuba a uno de sus más ilustres hijos. La Revolución continuó y cuando en 1898 el Ejército Mambí ya había derrotado virtualmente a los españoles, los EE.UU. intervinieron militarmente en la guerra y le escamotearon la independencia a Cuba. De este modo Cuba pasó de manos de España a las de EE.UU en un triste 20 de mayo de 1902.


Fidel Castro al triunfo de la Revolución Cubana

No sería hasta el 1º de enero del 1959 cuando el Ejército Rebelde, heredero de aquel glorioso ejército mambí derrocó la dictadura de Fulgencio Batista e instauró un gobierno revolucionario que trajo la independencia definitiva a Cuba. Este último jalón se inició con los ataques a los cuarteles Carlos M. de Céspedes y Moncada en Bayamo y Santiago de Cuba respectivamente. Estos ataques fueron llevados a cabo por el Movimiento Revolucionario “26 de Julio”, liderado por Fidel Castro y la Generación del Centenario y fue la llama que finalmente encendió la insurrección armada en el país.


Pueblo cubano

Hoy como hace 117 años, Cuba lucha por consolidar su independencia y preservar la dignidad que tanta sangre y sacrificio de su pueblo ha costado. Desde el mismo triunfo de la Revolución cubana en 1959, EE.UU. en su mandato histórico de oponerse a la libertad de la isla, continúa  dedicando todo su empeño en hacer fracasar la Revolución y darle marcha atrás a la rueda de la historia instaurando un régimen colonialista en Cuba.

Cubanos reafirman la Revolución

Para este esfuerzo Washington desvía, solo en este año, 20 millones de dólares del contribuyente estadounidense para pagar a individuos que pretenden crear una quinta columna en Cuba, y mantener financieramente todas sus actividades, dentro y fuera del país. Pero el pueblo de Cuba ha decidido no ponerse jamás de rodillas otra vez y enfrascado en una nueva reformulación de su sistema de desarrollo socialista, marcha seguro hacia el futuro, a pesar de la agresión y la contrarrevolución.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Policía española asalta brutalmente a estudiantes en Valencia

Joven estudiante herido por la policía en Valencia el 20 de febrero del 2012

España, que en el pasado ha criticado a Cuba por supuestas violaciones de derechos humanos en la isla, haciendo coro a EE.UU. y a los 'disidentes' internos cuya voluntad Washington paga muy bien, ha mostrado al mundo su verdadera cara cuando ha reprimido brutalmente a estudiantes que protestaban en Valencia ayer 20 de febrero.

Hoy el ministro del Interior español Jorge Fernández Díaz solo admitió "algunos excesos" por parte de la policía, ignorando lo que pasó en realidad, lo cual es una burla a la flagrante violación de los derechos elementales de los estudiantes valencianos que protestan los drásticos cortes ordenados por Rajoy en su intento de reducir el déficit nacional.

Las imágenes son elocuentes por sí solas, pues esta sí es una violación real y abuso de fuerza por parte de los agentes del orden en España y no las patrañas fabricadas en EE.UU. para desacreditar a la Revolución Cubana usando la mentira como única arma con que pueden atacar a la isla digna.














Monday, February 20, 2012

Classical ballet dancing doesn’t get much better than the Cuban National Ballet

Viengsay Valdés 


By Kevin Griffin, Vancouver Sun February 17, 2012

Vancouverites got their first chance to see some of the best dancers in the world on stage in Don Quixote at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre Thursday. Audience members responded enthusiastically with two standing ovations during the performance — plus one at the end.

The dancers were stunning to watch. From the corps de ballet to the stars, no one looked like they were just going through the motions. They all performed like they were pushing themselves right to the edge of their abilities.

In particular, premier dancer Viengsay Valdés as Kitri combined great stage presence with outstanding skill. It’s no surprise that she’s rated the sixth best dancer in the world. In her pas de deux in the third act, she balanced en pointe on one toe while she raised the other behind her. She didn’t do that just once but five times. Lest anyone think she could only do it on one side, she did it with both the right and left legs.


Osiel Gounod


After Valdés electrified the audience with her performance, the focus shifted to her partner, Osiel Gounod as Basilio. Full of bravado and confidence, he momentarily paused and looked at the audience as if to say: “Yes, she’s good. But so am I. Watch me.”

And that’s what we did as he commanded the stage with his performance. When he jumped with outstretched legs during grand jetés, he had so much height he appeared to be momentarily defying gravity and floating. When he landed, he touched down softly, ready and able to leap again — and again and again. When Gounod danced, he wasn’t just following choreography. He became the dance.

Don Quixote, the package all this beautiful dancing came in, was a narrative ballet first performed in Moscow in 1869. Although it has been reworked several times, most recently by the ballet’s director Alicia Alonso in 1988, it retains its 19th century roots.

The story is based on an episode from the novel by Miguel de Cervantes. It centres on Kitri and Basilio, whose true love is threatened by her father Lorenzo. He believes she should marry Camacho, a wealthy nobleman. The problem is that Lorenzo is a bumbling drunkard and Camacho a pretentious buffoon. Neither represent serious threats. If Kitri is such a prize, I wondered, then why don’t Basilio and Camacho fight for her hand by challenging each other to a dance duel? It seems like an obvious dramatic confrontation but it never happens.

Don Quixote lacks a dark force threatening the romantic love of the main characters. When they finally get married in the end, it doesn’t feel as if they’ve earned their happiness together.

Part of the spectacle was hearing live music during a dance performance. It made a big difference to have the original score by Ludwig Minkus performed by the Vancouver Opera Orchestra.

Performances by the Cuban National Ballet are dedicated to the memory of David Y. H. Lui. He was a legendary Vancouver impresario and the driving force behind bringing the Cuban National Ballet to the Queen Elizabeth Theatre. Lui died suddenly last September.

kevingriffin@vancouversun.com

© Copyright (c) The Vancouver Sun




Viengsay Valdés 

Plot summary for Don Quixote

Kitri, the daughter of innkeeper Lorenzo, is love with Basilio, the poor barber. Dad says no the marriage but suggests as a potential mate Camacho, who has lots of money. When Don Quixote and Sancho Panza arrive in the square in Castile, they defend love by helping the couple escape Camacho’s soldiers. On their journey, the couple are welcomed by a band of Gypsies but are finally captured. Don Quixote is so upset, he mistakes a windmill for a giant and attacks it with his lance. At the forced marriage of Kitri and Camacho, Basilio fakes his suicide and tricks Kitri into marrying him on his deathbed. The priest okays the marriage, Camacho is sent packing and Don Quixote helps reconcile Kitri and her father. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza say goodbye and continue on their search for truth and justice.

kevingriffin@vancouversun.com

© Copyright (c) The Vancouver Sun

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Funded by U.S. Gov, Alan Gross Smuggled Pentagon/CIA-Used Phones into Cuba

Allan Gross, sentenced in Cuba for violating the island's laws 
By DESMOND BUTLER, Associated Press

Piece by piece, in backpacks and carry-on bags, American aid contractor Alan Gross made sure laptops, smartphones, hard drives and networking equipment were secreted into Cuba. The most sensitive item, according to official trip reports, was the last one: a specialized mobile phone chip that experts say is often used by the Pentagon and the CIA to make satellite signals virtually impossible to track.

The purpose, according to an Associated Press review of Gross' reports, was to set up uncensored satellite Internet service for Cuba's small Jewish community.
The operation was funded as democracy promotion for the U.S. Agency for International Development, established in 1961 to provide economic, development and humanitarian assistance around the world in support of U.S. foreign policy goals. Gross, however, identified himself as a member of a Jewish humanitarian group, not a representative of the U.S. government.
Cuban President Raul Castro called him a spy, and Gross was sentenced last March to 15 years in prison for seeking to "undermine the integrity and independence" of Cuba. U.S. officials say he did nothing wrong and was just carrying out the normal mission of USAID.
Gross said at his trial in Cuba that he was a "trusting fool" who was duped. But his trip reports indicate that he knew his activities were illegal in Cuba and that he worried about the danger, including possible expulsion.
One report says a community leader "made it abundantly clear that we are all 'playing with fire.'"
Another time Gross said: "This is very risky business in no uncertain terms."
And finally: "Detection of satellite signals will be catastrophic."
The case has heightened frictions in the decades-long political struggle between the United States and its communist neighbor to the south, and raises questions about how far democracy-building programs have gone — and whether cloak-and-dagger work is better left to intelligence operatives.
Gross' company, JBDC Inc., which specializes in setting up Internet access in remote locations like Iraq and Afghanistan, had been hired by Development Alternatives Inc., or DAI, of Bethesda, Maryland, which had a multimillion-dollar contract with USAID to break Cuba's information blockade by "technological outreach through phone banks, satellite Internet and cell phones."
USAID officials reviewed Gross' trip reports and received regular briefings on his progress, according to DAI spokesman Steven O'Connor. The reports were made available to the AP by a person familiar with the case who insisted on anonymity because of the documents' sensitivity.
The reports cover four visits over a five-month period in 2009. Another report, written by a representative of Gross' company, covered his fifth and final trip, the one that ended with his arrest on Dec. 3, 2009.
Together, the reports detail the lengths to which Gross went to escape Cuban authorities' detection.
To avoid airport scrutiny, Gross enlisted the help of other American Jews to bring in electronic equipment a piece at a time. He instructed his helpers to pack items, some of them banned in Cuba, in carry-on luggage, not checked bags.
He once drove seven hours after clearing security and customs rather than risk airport searches.
On his final trip, he brought in a "discreet" SIM card — or subscriber identity module card — intended to keep satellite phone transmissions from being pinpointed within 250 miles (400 kilometers), if they were detected at all.
The type of SIM card used by Gross is not available on the open market and is distributed only to governments, according to an official at a satellite telephone company familiar with the technology and a former U.S. intelligence official who has used such a chip. The officials, who spoke on condition of anonymity because of the sensitivity of the technology, said the chips are provided most frequently to the Defense Department and the CIA, but also can be obtained by the State Department, which oversees USAID.
Asked how Gross obtained the card, USAID spokesman Drew Bailey said only that the agency played no role in helping Gross acquire equipment. "We are a development agency, not an intelligence agency," he said.
Cuba's communist government considers all USAID democracy promotion activities to be illegal and a national security threat. USAID denies that any of its work is covert.
Gross' American lawyer, Peter J. Kahn, declined comment but has said in the past that Gross' actions were not aimed at subverting the Cuban government.
Cuban authorities consider Internet access to be a matter of national security and block some sites that are critical of the government, as well as pages with content that they deem as counterrevolutionary. Most Cubans have access only to a severely restricted island-wide Intranet service.
Proponents of providing Internet access say it can undermine authoritarian governments that control the flow of information to their people. Critics say the practice not only endangers contractors like Gross, but all American aid workers, even those not involved in secret activities.
"All too often, the outside perception is that these USAID people are intelligence officers," said Philip Giraldi, an ex-CIA officer. "That makes it bad for USAID, it makes it bad for the CIA and for any other intelligence agency who like to fly underneath the radar."
Even before he delivered the special SIM card, Gross noted in a trip report that use of Internet satellite phones would be "problematic if exposed." He was aware that authorities were using sophisticated detection equipment and said he saw workers for the government-owned telecommunications service provider conduct a radio frequency "sniff" the day before he was to set up a community's Wi-Fi operation.
___
U.S. diplomats say they believe Gross was arrested to pressure the Obama administration to roll back its democracy-promotion programs. The Cuban government has alleged without citing any evidence that the programs, funded under a 1996 law calling for regime change in Cuba, are run by the CIA as part of an intelligence plan to topple the government in Havana.
While the U.S. government broadly outlines the goals of its aid programs in publicly available documents, the work in Cuba could not exist without secrecy because it is illegal there. Citing security concerns, U.S. agencies have refused to provide operational details even to congressional committees overseeing the programs.
"The reason there is less disclosure on these programs in totalitarian countries is because the people are already risking their lives to exercise their fundamental rights," said Mauricio Claver-Carone, who runs the Washington-based Cuba Democracy Advocates.
USAID rejected the notion that its contractors perform covert work.
"Nothing about USAID's Cuba programs is covert or classified in any way," says Mark Lopes, a deputy assistant administrator. "We simply carry out activities in a discreet manner to ensure the greatest possible safety of all those involved."
The U.S. National Security Act defines "covert" as government activities aimed at influencing conditions abroad "where it is intended that the role of the United States Government will not be apparent or acknowledged publicly."
USAID's democracy promotion work in Cuba was spurred by a large boost in funding under the Bush administration and a new focus on providing communications technology to Cubans. U.S. funding for Cuban aid multiplied from $3.5 million in 2000 to $45 million in 2008. It's now $20 million.
Gross was paid a half-million dollars as a USAID subcontractor, according to U.S. officials familiar with the contract. They spoke only on condition of anonymity because they are not authorized to discuss the case.
USAID head Raj Shah said democracy promotion is "absolutely central" to his agency's work. The Obama administration says its Cuba programs aim to help politically repressed citizens enjoy fundamental rights by providing humanitarian support, encouraging democratic development and aiding the free flow of information.
U.S. officials say Gross' work was not subversion because he was setting up connections for Cuba's Jewish community, not for dissidents. Jewish leaders have said that they were unaware of Gross' connections to the U.S. government and that they already were provided limited Internet access. USAID has not said why it thought the community needed such sensitive technology.
Asked if such programs are meant to challenge existing leaders, Lopes said, "For USAID, our democracy programs in Cuba are not about changing a particular regime. That's for the Cuban people to decide, and we believe they should be afforded that choice."
Others disagree.
"Of course, this is covert work," said Robert Pastor, President Jimmy Carter's national security adviser for Latin America and now director of the Center for Democracy and Election Management at American University in Washington. "It's about regime change."
___
Gross, of Potomac, Maryland, was a gregarious man, about 6 feet (1.8 meters) and 250 pounds (113 kilograms). He was hard to miss. He had bought a Rosetta Stone language course to improve his rudimentary Spanish and had scant knowledge of Cuba. But he knew technology. His company specialized in installing communications gear in remote parts of the world.
Gross' first trip for DAI, which ended in early April 2009, focused on getting equipment in and setting up the first of three facilities with Wi-Fi hotspots that would give unrestricted Internet access to hundreds of Cubans, especially the island's small Jewish community of 1,500.
To get the materials in, Gross relied on American Jewish humanitarian groups doing missions on the island. He traveled with the groups, relying on individuals to help bring in the equipment, according to the trip reports.
Three people briefed on Gross' work say he told contacts in Cuba he represented a Jewish organization, not the U.S. government. USAID says it now expects people carrying out its programs to disclose their U.S. government funding to the people they are helping — if asked.
One of Gross' reports suggests he represented himself as a member of one of the groups and that he traveled with them so he could intercede with Cuban authorities if questions arose.
The helpers were supposed to pack single pieces of equipment in their carry-on luggage. That way, Gross wrote, any questions could best be handled during the X-ray process at security, rather than at a customs check. The material was delivered to Gross later at a Havana hotel, according to the trip reports.
USAID has long relied on visitors willing to carry in prohibited material, such as books and shortwave radios, U.S. officials briefed on the programs say. And USAID officials have acknowledged in congressional briefings that they have used contractors to bring in software to send encrypted messages over the Internet, according to participants in the briefings.
An alarm sounded on one of Gross' trips when one of his associates tried to leave the airport terminal; the courier had placed his cargo — a device that can extend the range of a wireless network — into his checked bag.
Gross intervened, saying the device was for personal use and was not a computer hard drive or a radio.
According to the trip reports, customs officials wanted to charge a 100 percent tax on the value of the item, but Gross bargained them down and was allowed to leave with it.
"On that day, it was better to be lucky than smart," Gross wrote.
Much of the equipment Gross helped bring in is legal in Cuba, but the volume of the goods could have given Cuban authorities a good idea of what he was up to.
"Total equipment" listed on his fourth trip included 12 iPods, 11 BlackBerry Curve smartphones, three MacBooks, six 500-gigabyte external drives, three Internet satellite phones known as BGANs, three routers, three controllers, 18 wireless access points, 13 memory sticks, three phones to make calls over the Internet, and networking switches. Some pieces, such as the networking and satellite equipment, are explicitly forbidden in Cuba.
Gross wrote that he smuggled the BGANs in a backpack. He had hoped to fool authorities by taping over the identifying words on the equipment: "Hughes," the manufacturer, and "Inmarsat," the company providing the satellite Internet service.
The BGANs were crucial because they provide not only satellite telephone capacity but an Internet signal that can establish a Wi-Fi hotspot for multiple users. The appeal of using satellite Internet connections is that data goes straight up, never passing through government-controlled servers.
___
There was always the chance of being discovered.
Last year, the Senate Foreign Relations Committee asked about clandestine methods used to hide the programs and reports that some of them had been penetrated.
"Possible counterintelligence penetration is a known risk in Cuba," the State Department said in a written response to AP. "Those who carry out our assistance are aware of such risks."
Gross' first trip to Cuba ended in early April 2009 with establishment of a communications site in Havana.
He went back later that month and stayed about 10 days while a site was set up in Santiago, Cuba's second-largest city.
On his third trip, for two weeks in June 2009, Gross traveled to a city in the middle of the island identified by a U.S. official as Camaguey. He rented a car in Havana and drove seven hours rather than risk another encounter with airport authorities.
Gross wrote that BGANs should not be used outside Havana, where there were enough radio frequency devices to hide the emissions.
The report for Gross's fourth trip, which ended early that August, was marked final and summarized his successes: wireless networks established in three communities; about 325 users; "communications to and from the U.S. have improved and used on a regular basis." He again concluded the operation was "very risky business."
___
Gross would have been fine if he had stopped there.
In late November 2009, however, he went back to Cuba for a fifth time. This time he didn't return. He was arrested 11 days later.
An additional report was written afterward on the letterhead of Gross' company. It was prepared with assistance from DAI to fulfill a contract requirement for a summary of his work, and so everyone could get paid, according to officials familiar with the document.
The report said Gross had planned to improve security of the Havana site by installing an "alternative sim card" on the satellite equipment.
The card would mask the signal of the BGAN as it transmitted to a satellite, making it difficult to track where the device was located.
The document concluded that the site's security had been increased.
It is unclear how DAI confirmed Gross' work for the report on the final trip, though a document, also on Gross' company letterhead, states that a representative for Gross contacted the Jewish community in Cuba five times after his arrest.
In a statement at his trial, Gross professed his innocence and apologized.
"I have never, would never and will never purposefully or knowingly do anything personally or professionally to subvert a government," he said. "I am deeply sorry for being a trusting fool. I was duped. I was used."
In an interview with AP, his wife, Judy, blamed DAI, the company that sent him to Cuba, for misleading him on the risks. DAI spokesman O'Connor said in a statement that Gross "designed, proposed, and implemented this work" for the company.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Cuba people-to-people tours: So nice to meet you, Havana

Niños cubanos
By Andrea Sachs

Ludwig and I had the kind of relationship where I could ask him anything without fear of reproach. I questioned him about the rebellious rumblings of his youth, his wishes for the future and the state of his bathroom.
“Ludwig,” I shouted from the third-to-the-last row of the tour bus, “why don’t the public restrooms here have toilet seats? Do you have a toilet seat at home?”

His frank responses — it’s “cultural” to the first query, “yes” to the second — were surprising, not for the content but for the context. Ludwig Diaz Monte­negro was a Cuban guide and government employee; I was an American tourist in the communist country.

Havana

To preempt your interrogation: No, I didn’t sneak in through Canada or Cancun. Nor did I have to pose as a soprano to join a touring choral group or stock up on socks to distribute on a humanitarian mission.

All I had to do was sign up for a tour with Friendly Planet. Because regular folks — see me, over here, U.S. girl waving at you from the Malecon — can now visit Cuba, thanks to theObama administration’s decision last year to reinstate licenses allowing U.S. tour operators to lead “people-to-people” trips to the island nation we’ve boycotted for more than 50 years. Prior to this move, the U.S. government limited travel to those with family members on the island and to groups with an academic, religious, cultural or do-gooder bent.

Since April, the Treasury Department’s Office of Foreign Assets Control has issued more than 100 people-to-people licenses to organizations both specialized (Wisconsin Alumni Association, National Trust for Historic Preservation) and mainstream (Insight Cuba and Friendly Planet). The groups must submit itineraries that uphold — deep breath — “a full-time schedule of educational exchange activities that will result in meaningful interaction between the travelers and individuals in Cuba.” In other words, learn the Spanish phrase “mucho gusto.” You’ll be saying it to everyone you meet.

During my five days in Havana last month, I was pleased to meet Ludwig plus other denizens of Senor Rogers’ Neighborhood: a farmer, a cigarmaker, a waiter, a school director, an economics professor, a muralist, a con artist and many communists, active and lapsed. They were the people to my people.

Cuba is a poorly kept secret. As the largest island in the Caribbean, it sits like a fat mustache on the face of the Caribbean Sea. I’ve sailed by it many times on cruise ships, often accompanied at the rail by Cuban Americans with long, sentimental faces. The country’s hip-swinging music and lip-smacking cuisine have traversed the 90 miles to U.S. shores, defying an embargo that bans rum and cigars but can’t restrain the more abstract keepsake of culture.

Much as I tried to purge any preconceived notions, I arrived with stereotypes dancing in my head. And in many regards, they were confirmed. At the airport, classic American cars from the Eisenhower era idled curbside, awaiting passengers. En route to Havana, billboards splashed propagandist slogans, some pro-revolution and others anti-us (a.k.a. U.S.). (The half-century-old “blockade” is an incendiary topic. One sign stated that more than 70 percent of the population was born under the embargo.) Che Guevara’s face was as ubiquitous as McDonald’s golden arches are here. His mustachioed mien and disheveled locks appeared on roadside signs and posters, a reassuring fist pump of perseverance.

Within minutes of meeting Ludwig, our group started peppering the 37-year-old father of two daughters (see, no secrets) with questions. How much does a teacher earn? (About 450 pesos a month, or $17.) How many Cubans own homes? (Eighty-five percent.) Can we go to a baseball game? (Not likely; the Havana team is playing 14 hours away near Guantanamo Bay.) We were like a school bus full of second-graders whose play button was stuck on “Why?” and “How come?”

Whenever we flirted with a delicate topic, Ludwig would remain poised but preface his response with “according to the government.” For example, a dissection of the two types of currencies (the peso, or CUP, used only by Cubans; and the convertible peso, or CUC, the hard currency) ended with, “Of course, I’m explaining how things should work in theory.”

Eventually, Ludwig let Havana take over the conversation. With eyes and ears wide open, we walked through the UNESCO World Heritage site, a restoration-plan-in-progress. In the Plaza de Armas, we stood among Spanish colonial buildings with romantic arches and balconies inhabited by the phantom bodies of windblown laundry. 

Shops and restaurants occupied the lower levels, the names recognizable to any global mall shopper: Benetton and Pepe Jeans. In the center of the square, vendors sold books and souvenirs celebrating Che and the revolution. Freelance artists tailed tourists, drawing caricatures for a tip or performing the popular (and brain-burrowing) ditty “Guantanamera.” Occasionally an old woman with a craggy face and a bent back would hold out an empty palm.

The city stayed mute on the subject of homelessness, so Isabel Leon Candelario, of the Historian’s Office of the City of Havana, answered for it. “Mainly, they don’t want to work,” she said. “There is plenty of work to be done, construction and agriculture. It is hard to find homeless. Maybe one or two people in the evenings, a drunk person.”

The government — socialist in its politics, communist in its ideals — guarantees housing and jobs, plus provides free health care and education. Despite ration cards, the Cubans’ biggest expenditure is food. Yet according to Ludwig’s footnote on the topic, most people can’t support themselves on federal wages and must work a second job to acquire hard currency. He, for example, receives extra funds through gratuities. Other secondary sources include tutoring, translating or performing in the streets with a pair of costumed dachshunds. Whatever it takes.

Old Havana was thick with Europeans and Americans. Tourists streamed in and out of stores selling kitschy souvenirs (Che, the Face of Cuba) and drinking establishments touting their Hemingway connection. (The tippling author apparently drank as much in Cuba as George Washington slept in the mid-Atlantic.) Thankfully, we fell into the welcoming custody of locals.

At an elementary school on a chewed-up street with flaking facades and chipped doorways — the “before” to the restoration project’s “after” — the director, a young woman with a glowing moon face, invited us inside. She ushered us toward the back of the courtyard, past a bust of national hero Jose Marti. A girl band of second-graders, dressed in maroon jumpers, sang verses written by the father of the Cuban revolution. The lead singer performed little dance moves in her pink sneakers. A trio of fifth-graders followed with a poem by Marti. They recited the written word by heart and from the heart.

After the show, the director escorted us into a classroom of first-graders. The children sat politely at their desks, as if they’d been glued to their seats. No wiggling or giggling or note-passing. Only one student shattered the picture of perfection, falling asleep on his outstretched arm.

“Do you have any questions about the United States?” Ludwig translated for us.

A boy near the back raised his hand and shouted, “Is your country dangerous?” Another youngster threw out, “How did you come by plane?” (We think that one was either lost in translation or a trick question.) When we asked what the children wanted to be when they grew up, they responded with such kid-certified occupations as teacher, engineer, nurse, police officer, firefighter and soldier.

Before departing, we tossed out one final query: “What do you like most about your country?” The answers were revealing in their omissions. We heard “everything,” “traveling,” “transportation,” “school” and “the whole island.” The Castro brothers, Fidel and Raul, did not make the list.

Cubans young, old and in between are open to talking about whatever is on their minds, whether it’s Spider-Man or the current regime. Our first afternoon, we stopped by Callejon de Hamel, a vibrant Havana community steeped in Afro-Cuban traditions.

“There are four religions with African roots,” said Elias, our local guide. “We use them as a weapon against our shortages.”

The practitioners employ art and dance to shoo away the bad spirits and attract the positive forces. Electrifying murals by local artist Salvador Gonzalez Escalona cover the concrete walls, a blinding storm of colors and images that at the very least discourage aesthetic monotony. Every Sunday, dancers perform rumba here in a “Fame”-style block party. We were an early-bird audience, but they agreed to hold a preview for us.

The plein-air show featured an emotional release of drums, percussion and singing. The music seemed to foil a sinister character with a pirate bandanna who slithered around like a snake. During the event, young men hawked their CDs, standing thisclose as they waved their wares in my face.

To escape the hard sell, I wandered over to the entryway of El Barracon restaurant, where a lone waiter smoked a cigarette in the twilight. In perfect English, he told me that the eatery had opened four days earlier, benefiting from a revised law that encourages private enterprise. He said that he’d quit his job at a government-owned dining spot, where he’d worked the graveyard shift from 8 p.m. to 6:30 a.m.

“I made 12,000 pesos a month” — about $500, he said. “I was rich, but I was tired.”

He stamped out the glowing stub and resumed work mode, inviting me in for a meal of lobster, rice, vegetables and a mojito. At $20, a bargain for an American tourist.

Usually by the end of the first day of an organized tour, I start to paw at the windows like a puppy trapped in a vehicle. Scratch, scratch — let me out. Despite the fun times on the bus, this was no different.

The Friendly Planet itinerary, packed with homegrown and institutionalized goodies, kept us busy from breakfast till dinner. The company never issued a statement requiring our participation, yet I sensed a tacit obligation to board the bus every day.

To clear up any ambiguities, I asked Ruby Goldman, the American representative of Friendly Planet, whether I could duck out to the beach. I had a plan in mind, involving a $3 public bus ride that left from Parque Centrale. I just awaited permission.

“You can do anything you want,” she said inside the Havana Club’s rum museum, “as long as you do the people-to-people. I’m not the police.”

Despite her consent, I felt like a truant for skipping out on the planned activities. Guilt squelched my independent streak. Resolved to behave, I pulled out the day’s events and started underlining.

What was on the list? A cigarmaker who rolled stogies (when not smoking his four a day) in a closet-size space heavy with smoke, and an organic farm outside Havana. Among bright green fields of mint, avocado and cabbage, I took away lessons on cooperative farming, plus a giant radish for an afternoon snack. Also: the Museum of the Revolution, whose collection of decrepit newspaper clippings, bullet-pocked tanks and display of the Granma, the fishing boat Fidel Castro sailed from Mexico to Cuba in 1956, converged in the former palace of fallen dictator Fulgencio Batista. And finally, for a sharp pinch of reality, a house call to an apartment complex (what HUD would call a project) on the outskirts of town (what we’d label the suburbs).

A family let us roam around the ground-level unit they’d recently moved into. The government had relocated them to the two-bedroom after their colonial domicile in Havana collapsed like a dollhouse made of dry crackers. The daughter’s boyfriend admitted that it was hard to live outside the city. The commute to the hospital where he worked was a drag, he said from his perch on the couch, but at least they didn’t have to pay rent.

Despite my fascination with the country, my enthusiasm did wane at times. And according to my diagnosis, it wasn’t a post-mojito sugar crash.

At the Museum of the City, which followed visits to Revolution Square, the Museum of the Revolution and the Christopher Columbus Cemetery, I swept glazed eyes over the Spanish armaments and the porcelain figurines of pudgy cupids and their victims. Beneath a portrait of Spain’s Queen Isabella, I was in a half-conscious state when a security guard approached me with a handful of U.S. currency. I shook my head, telling her that no, thank you, I didn’t need any cash. Then comprehension dawned. I was her black market.

The government exacts a 10 percent tax on currency exchanges from U.S. dollars to CUC, which Cubans need to purchase supplemental sundries at supermarkets and other stores that trade in the hard currency. By comparison, my unpublished rate was one-to-one, no commission. I emptied out the Cuban portion of my wallet and replenished the U.S. side.

“You can’t get more people-to-people than this,” Ludwig said to me outside the supermarket.

He was referring to the skinny man with a bruise-colored front tooth who had handed me a silver coin. He called it a “souvenir.” Suspicious of a gift of money, I returned the token. The stranger gave it back to me; I returned it to him; back to me; then I gave it to a woman with a baby who didn’t want it either. The man told me that he had a child who needed leche. I told him to take the coin and buy her milk. We were playing a game of hot potato with no clear goal in mind.

I was being scammed in a scheme that was so convoluted and misguided, I wondered whether I was being punked — if American reality TV programmers were allowed here. The idea was that the man would give me a coin and I would feel so touched by his generosity that I would repay him with high-value gratitude. Instead, I lost patience and flipped the evidence to the biggest guy on our trip, a kindly refrigerator from Charlotte named Dan. He made the coin, and the con man, disappear.

I added the hustler to the expanding party of people I’d met in Cuba. My list of characters had grown from a few individuals to a substantial group and now a sizable crowd. On my final night in Havana, I finally heard from the community.

In my hotel room at the Nacional, I flung open the windows that faced the Malecon, the broad esplanade that runs for more than four miles through Havana. It was Saturday night and packs of friends and sweethearts congregated on the seawall. They played guitar, swilled rum and kissed under the star-speckled sky.
I turned off the lights so that I could see the moon and listen without distraction to the voices of Cuba that drifted through the curtains and lulled me to sleep.


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Pueblo cubano