It's November; or, Chan Chan (Changes)

Today's high in Guantánamo Bay Naval Station: 85º F

Tonight: 75º F ("feels like 77")

Ah, nothing like autumn. In the States, changes are everywhere. Crisp, cool air. Leaves to rake. In Colorado, if we were lucky we'd have a thin powdering of snow by now. In Washington, the days would begin that change to becoming, in my opinion, unbearably short. In Texas, the shutters were opened, the cicadas would quiet down, the chiminea was set ablaze, and the quilts came out at night. 

At least that's how I used to do it. Not so much in the land of eternal summer. 

Every time I get in the car I take the opportunity to listen to one of the local Cuban stations. I really try catch everything said on call-in shows, sports shows (baseball, of course), and my favorite, the morning propaganda shows. I'm going to be dropping all final consonants and all my Ss if I'm in another Spanish speaking country again---Cuban Spanish has infiltrated my brain. After listening every morning, I'm getting better at listening in Cuban (even if I'm not doing much speaking in Cuban).  

But what I really love is the music. Some times you get Latin pop or rap, but I'm talking Cuban music---mambo and salsa and rumba. I'd recognize Celia Cruz's voice anywhere, but there are many, many others I don't know. I just enjoy my drives across base as I'm imagining that I'm going through the historical streets of Havana (instead of Cuban Mayberry).

Occasionally there are surprises. A few weeks ago, REM's "Losing My Religion" came on in the middle of an otherwise authentically Cuban set. 

Huh? Was it Communist propaganda against organized religion? Did someone hit a wrong button? Or are there REM fans scattered across that land right over the fence?

Also heard this week: "Y ahorrrra, Guns y Roses con 'November Rain." 

So in the land of eternal summer, how do you know November has arrived? 

When both the Cuban DJ and Axl Rose tell you, that's when. 

(Even if there is very little actual rain involved).

"Chan Chan" from the movie The Buena Vista Social Club. 

Little did I know when I saw this documentary with my friend in Washington,  

I'd be living in Cuba one day (and she'd be living in Germany). 

The four towns mentioned in this song---

Alto Cerdo, Marcané, Cueto, and Mayarí--are in the province right above our own