Play on, Playa; or Solace Amongst the Propaganda

It's the final countdown. 

Except it isn't quite yet. 

Government orders? Check. 
 Pack out dates? Check. 
 Plane tickets? Plane tickets? Bueller? Anyone? 

No plane tickets yet. This is a little aggravating, since I did the paperwork in February for orders, got caught up in the government shutdown, waited patiently until May to get said orders, and I've done everything else I can possibly do. I'm just in the queue, waiting for tickets. And waiting. And tapping my foot. And trying not to freak out/scream/blow up someone's email/vent. You know, waiting. . . 

Patience, patience. . . not my finest quality. 

In the meanwhile, music has been soothing my soul. 

from Twelfth Night
Substitute "life" for "love," and you have me.

I don't have a lot of love for either of our two local AFN music stations---one plays top 40, and the other, country music. FYI: I'm allergic to 90% of country music---I grew up riding in the pickup truck, loving the dog, traveling via dirt and gravel country roads, and swimming in creeks---I don't need to relive it again in song. I prefer anything else. And it's the same with the same four or five top 40 songs played ad nauseum. I'm weary of today's music. Is this what my parents thought of music in the 70, 80s and 90s? I don't think so. 

Why? Because our music was better. Of course. 

I listen to the Cuban stations and try to practice listening in Spanish (for me, the hardest language skill) and I'm occasionally blown away by a piece of American music thrown in between "this day in history" (Communist propaganda) and more traditional Cuban music. It's the Whitney Houston and Air Supply and Michael Jackson that makes me laugh. As a result of spending long stretches of life between long travel days back to the States, an American song from the past, no matter how cheesy,  brightens my day. Nostalgia warms my curmudgeonly old heart. 

Recently our NPR in the morning was replaced by some conservative idiot who blames Obama for everything. (Would someone please tell him that Barry left office a while back?). It makes me angry. Even if it's a couple of miles from my door, over a big hill, dodging iguanas and kamikaze guinea fowl, I don't like to be mad when I'm driving. In its place I have found a station called El Taino out of Havana. Unlike the station I've listen to for 4 years that's out of Caimenera, this station has a top 10 list of songs en esapañol in heavy rotation. The propaganda is only news snippets, not folk songs with children singing about The Revolution and occasion mention of El Comandante Líder, the late Fidel Castro. I'm sure they love him there, too, but this station is about music. 

They play themed play lists. One recent day it was all about the beach and ocean.  Today's list include all things "suave" (smooth), which is more of an attitude and less of a physical description. I heard bands from Mexico, South and Central America. There are songs in English I've never heard---mostly from European bands. I love the variety of music in mostly Spanish, and my iPod's playlist has increased exponentially. 

Last week I was leaving work and  heard the unmistakable chords of the intro to "Hotel California." I don't care if you think the Eagles are cheesy, overrated, or even embarrassing---I love them because their music reminds me of my childhood, and because it's one of the most endearing and well-used nicknames (amongst many) for GTMO. "You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave"---truer words have never been spoken of life on a 45 square mile strip of land surrounded by a fence and a beach with rocks for sand. After the initial shock that I am in Hotel California and listening to Hotel California, I laughed and sang along---loudly.

I was a kid in the 70s and 80s, graduated high school 30 years ago this month, and attended the prom all four years. Purple Rain was the theme one year. A Morris Day and the Time cover band played another year. It was a great time for music for dancing, for singing, and for chillin'. After being a prom sponsor a couple of years ago, I have a newfound respect for any teacher who takes on that daunting endeavor, and I have since sworn to be a chaperone and help any future prom sponsors. This year's event was at the Bayview restaurant, which, if you can deal with the swarms of horrid, painful mosquitos, has a beautiful view of the Bay. 

I was more than happy to realize that I have, in some weird and small way, had an influence, albeit small one, on my students. We start many days with "song of the week" (SOTW) and I basically choose anything I want to hear (the Pixies, the Dead Milkmen, David Bowie, Lauryn Hill. . . the list goes on). This is the beauty of having your own classroom: you get to make the rules, and you get to choose the playlist. 

I make it work with themes, with characterization. We find literary and sound devices. Most importantly, we SING (with all apologies to anyone who has taught next door to me). The students' all time favorite SOTW is Earth, Wind, and Fire's "September." You would have to be a serious GTMO grouch to hate that song. 

So how did the prom end? With a set of songs, all from the set list of SOTW. I was ecstatic to dance with sweaty, goofy, and gahd dang lovable teenagers to "September,"  "Come on, Eileen," and watched in amazement as they sang Every. Single. Word. to Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." That night I get in my car and my newly favorite station, 105.9 "El Taino" is playing hits from the 1980s. 

From their website (sorry for the auto-generated weird translation):

(And this, kids, is why you don't use Google Translate to help you with your Spanish homework---it sounds like this, but in Spanish. In other words, a little ridiculous). 

I love to go way, way back to the days of careless dancing (and not hobbling because I wore The Most Ridiculous Pair of High Heels for the second year in a row), moving like nobody's watching (and honestly, I'm PCSing, so I really don't care what anything thinks of my moves at this juncture of my GTMO stay), and singing off-key to "Take On Me," another SOTW that is meant to be annoying in its impossible high-notes in the chorus. 

Fidel is Dead; or, History is Now

Ding, dong, the tyrannical dictator is dead.

After 4 years, 1 month, and 6 days (but who's really counting, right?), something BIG has finally happened on this island.

Friends are messaging me about being a witness to history. Fidel is dead. What's going on in Cuba?

Well folks, my guess is as good as yours. As you probably know, we live in US-Cuba, not Cuba-Cuba.

That being said, we are subjugated to endless rhetoric and propaganda every morning on Cuban radio. "This day in history" on one of the local stations is always something about either a) the Revolution, or b) the Spanish-American war. Cuba is always on the victorious side. The Heroes are brave and strong, and Cuba is morally superior to the dirty haters of liberty.

Or something like that.

In reality, Cuban radio is not going to broadcast the truth.

Please remember that the charismatic old man was also a ruthless dictator.

Please research and know the Damas en Blanco ("Ladies in White") still peacefully and silently march every Sunday for the release of their loved ones who have been imprisoned close to our little base. They are protesting the detainment of dozens of journalists and librarians who dared to think they could express freedom of speech and press. Hours before Obama visited Havana, the Cuban regime had them whisked away on house arrest so the US press would not cover their story.

Please think of the people here living in third world conditions. Since we've been here, there's been an outbreak of cholera in the area right outside the gate. There are lines for food and people still use rations cards. This is hidden from the tourists who pay lots of money to see Castro's sanitized version of Havana, but in the poorest area of Cuba (our part), it's common knowledge.

And here in GTMO, one of the most reviled places in the world for its prison (which residents here will explain---ad naseum---is not the main reason this base exists), we have international organizations which help dissidents who brave shark-infested waters, Cuban marksmen who are trained to shoot anyone they see swimming towards the base, or mine fields to seek asylum. They come because they have been persecuted for their religious or political beliefs. Many times, if your family member is imprisoned, you are persecuted, as well. It sort of reminds me of the N. Korean system of punishing future generations for the "sins" of its dissidents.

A trio of Cuban musicians,
hand carved by Cuban asylum seekers on GTMO,
and my favorite thing I've ever bought here. 

Fidel cleaned up the US Mafia that ran much of Havana and overthrew the military (and US) backed junta of Trujillo, but he replaced them with an equally violent group of rulers.  In recent years, he has morphed from a strong force to be reckoned with (who was known for hours-long speeches every year), to a rather pitiful, sickly old man whose last speeches were rather incoherent. All power was turned over to his brother, Raul, about 10 years ago. He was just the figurehead for the Revolution and a reminder of what could have been, had he chosen to use his influence to bring positive change without oppressing his people.

Don't hold your breath for normalized relations between the US and Cuba until Raul is gone. Don't think the people of Cuba are going to rise up and have a revolution now Fidel is gone---he's been "gone" for years now, and unless you are part of the military, you don't own a gun, anyway. Don't count on the gate opening and those of us in GTMO being able to flood into the nearby provinces---including Santiago, where Fidel's ashes will be scattered---any time soon.

Meanwhile, don't fall for the accolades of Fidel, who brought education and great health care to his little island paradise. He kicked out what many believed were American imperialistic leaders, and tried to bring autonomy to the country of Cuba. He did those things in an astonishingly effective and successful way.

But the human cost has been too great, and several other smaller (and larger) countries have done the same, without the human rights violations. President Obama said, "History will record and judge the enormous impact of this singular figure on the people and world around him." Let's hope the future will be kinder to the people of Cuba and bring about change into the 21st century that they so desperately need.

Hot Child(ren) in the City; or, Celebrations and Happiness

June has been a very happy month thus far. The most spectacular cause of celebration is Boy 1's high school graduation last Friday night. We celebrated all weekend and my parents made the long, arduous trip on island for the occasion. There are always flight delays and weather issues and the chance you won't make one of the very limited number of flights here when you visit. Thankfully, this was the first time in three trips my parents didn't have some sort of weird travel issue that seems the norm when traveling to GTMO. I am so thankful they were able to be here and we had a too-short but fun visit.

A plus: Rodney even got in on the graduation fun. How awesome is Cuba's only squirrel?

WT Sampson has a tradition of all graduates making a short speech thanking people who have helped them in their journeys to graduation. This is what happens when you have a small graduating class (14). It was a very personal celebration for each and every kid. I was proud of my guy and the other kids who made funny, thoughtful, sweet speeches. The ceremony went off without a hitch and the slide show was a tear jerker. I love seeing pictures from all stages of their lives, and this group of graduates is very special to me---I taught most of them for at least one class, and I worked closely with them to put the prom together last year. I've known many of them all four years we've lived here. They are a creative, smart, and really special group of kids to me and I am going to miss them terribly next year.

One of my favorites from the slide show---Baby G and my Paw Dudley, c. 2000. 

Now that graduation is over, we are moving on to summer plans. Today is the last day of school for kids and Friday's my last day. Many colleagues are leaving island Friday, too. We always stay a week or two to get our bearings before the culture shock that ensues when you make the trip back to the States. On top of that, we are traveling to visit friends in Germany and Macedonia and we're making last minute preparations for our July overseas.

Yesterday we were celebrating the near-end of the year and Boy 2 and I had another fantastic moment in Cuban radio----Nick Gilder's 70's hit "Hot Child in the City" was blaring during our blistering fast race (at 25 mph) down Sherman Ave and I actually drove under the speed limit (not easy for me) so we could loudly sing along.  Then traditional Cuban music came back on. GTMO is like that---you find the strangest, weirdest moments where you shake your head and think, "Did I really just hear/see that?" It is hotter than seven hells right now so "Hot Child in the City" seems like an appropriate theme song for this week in GTMO.

Here's to summer vacation and more of life's moments that make you pause and smile.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d02k10Bz6ro

Silver Linings and Happiness; or, Transfers 2016

Time heals all wounds. Or something like that.

I've been trying to find silver linings lately, and it's been hard. Really difficult. I found out that---again---there is no transfer for us out of GTMO. I'm not alone, which I guess gives me some solace. At least it's not me, right? But I never thought I'd be here 5 years, and I never planned on homesteading here, so living life in limbo is rather exhausting. Other times it's depressing.

And sometimes, it's comforting, too. The thought of leaving and going to somewhere else is a little scary, as are all big moves. At first, I didn't like that I'm getting too comfortable, because I was only planning on being here a few years. But then I did find things to love.

Some are people---many who have left, but others who are our surrogate family here. We've spent many holidays, including some we don't celebrate ourselves---Hanukkah, Orthodox Easter, Orthodox Christmas---with our GTMO friends. Every weekend it seems like it's another birthday or going away or "just because" party. Some weekends there are multiple. I am never short of people who can give me a ride when the oldest is using my car or can pick up or drop off the youngest at his activities when I'm having difficulties juggling work, life, and motherhood.

I love not spending money. I am a tightwad and love having money in my savings account. No shopping choices means you pay too much for what you can get, true, but you also do without what you really want here sometimes. That sounds negative, but it basically means you learn to only buy what you really need,  so the occasional splurge on an overpriced item you want at the NEX feels like a real treat.  I get excited over a new brand of coffee or toothpaste, a produce item we've never bought here, or my latest extravagance, Pellegrino flavored water. If you are thinking, "wow, that's sort of sad," this life obviously is not for you. The payoff is I can plan to travel in the summer with the money I've saved (and put a kid through college, too) because I am more aware of every single dollar I spend here.

So that's a silver lining---I can still find happiness with the people I've met here and with the money I've saved here. Those are the 2 best things about here, in my opinion.

I've pouted and cried and thrown temper tantrums about the transfer, and I am completely over it now. Seriously. It is what it is, and I do feel better for venting and screaming and letting out my anger and frustration.

My happiness has been in small things, too. Those are the small silver linings of living in such a weird place.

For instance:

Haitian radio. I love trying to understand French---the first language I fell in love with (as a small child, as my mom read me Babar stories in French and told and re-told the story about my parents' first trip to Paris and Versailles). I can sing "Sur le pont D'Avinon" with the best of them, thanks to Mom. Quite accidentally I found that most days, I can get Haitian radio within a 3-4 mile radius from home.

Gardening. This includes digging up palm trees on the side of the cliff behind my house and finding a really old Cuban bottle. It's probably from the 1930s. I also found some old bricks, and closer to the water, tons of urchin shells and a conch. I love finding weird Cuban and ocean treasures.

Cuban radio. This week's random American treat: Boston's "Don't Look Back." I was doing some serious jamming whilst driving at a breakneck 25 mph on Sherman Ave.

Home decor. Or Rodney decor. The Only Squirrel in Cuba got bunny ears for Easter. Sadly, no bonnets for squirrels here or online, so we had to improvise.

Painting. One of my favorite pictures from the Yucatan, where we spent a couple of weeks last summer, is now one of my favorite paintings. Also Boy 2 has found out that he loves painting (and he's good at it, too). We enjoy sitting side by side in silence, creating, even if it's for our eyes only.

Friends and celebrations. Birthday parties and mimosas at the Bayview for breakfast, visiting a returning friend and Jamaican food on Rasta Hill (my favorite GTMO eatery), and lots of card games with friends and neighbors.

My dinner is looking at me!!

Writing. I've been in a creative writing group for a few months now, and it's become a highlight of my week. I doubt I share anything I've written here, but I've been really happy with seeing where this crazy brain of mine takes me.

Vacation. That's my focus now---getting off this rock for a much-needed weekend break (it's been almost 9 months and TIME FOR A GETAWAY) and even better, summer vacation. I love this part about my job. It's worth 10 months of stress and worries to get 2 (unpaid) months of summer vacation. We haven't finalized plans yet, but it's going to be a-ma-zing.

Graduation.  It's June 10 and it's coming soon! Boy 2 got into George Mason, UT's CAP program, Texas State, UNT, and UT San Antonio. Yes, I am bragging (since he did the work, I just did the nagging). He still isn't 100% sure on which one he's going to pick, but he is taking a gap semester before taking the plunge.  It's going to include time overseas (in actual overseas countries, not just closed bases overseas). He's still working out those plans. I'm so excited for what his future holds---to be 17 again when the world is wide open. . .

And that's what I'm focusing on---what I can control (or try---the yard will never be completely under my control) and what makes me feel happy.

Baby Turtles and Guantanamo Phil, Oh My!, or, Hottest Spot North of Havana

After living here 3 years, 3 months, and 12 days (yes, I am counting), you would think there isn't much new to do (especially considering that this is a small, isolated base with most of it off limits).

However, I recently had one of the very best experiences of my life right here in little GTMO.

Last weekend, I spent Saturday night enjoying a bonfire with friends and colleagues at Windmill Beach. It was an overcast night, with no moon in sight. The usually brilliant display of stars was non- existent, and the only light came from a few of the pavilions on the beach.

This is also sea turtle hatching season. Female turtles come back to their birthplace every year to lay eggs at Windmill Beach, and there are usually cones set up in the most popular areas to prevent unsuspecting beachgoers from stepping on nests and damaging the hidden eggs.

Friday night was hatching night. Hundreds of tiny turtle hatched from their shells, pushed up out of the sand, and made their way to. . . the pavilion lights.

Without the moon, the baby turtles all went in the wrong direction.

Several of us took buckets and collected the tiny turtles. We set them out to sea and let nature take its course. I was amazed at how small and fragile they seemed. I'm used to the sturdy, magnificent turtles we encounter while diving or snorkeling. I have never seen a newborn turtle.

We gingerly placed them towards the tide and wished them well. Later that night when I got home, I read that only 1 in 1000 survives to adulthood. I'd like to think that one of our turtles will beat the odds. I can't even begin to tell you how exciting it was to hold a newborn turtle and set it on its voyage. I am still smiling thinking about it.

Another first this past weekend: H and I went to Glass Beach with friends, and we watched the sun set from the beach. I've watched more gorgeous, colorful sunsets here than anywhere else in the world, but never from that location. Every beach's sunsets are just a little different than the others. It was a sight to behold.

Of course, I didn't have my camera for baby turtles or sunsets, and frankly, I'm happy to live somewhere that we don't have cell phones recording every single one of life's moments. Please use your imagination and trust me that both were amazing.

What we lack in amenities, I guess we make up for in imagination here.

Someone posted on one of our GTMO facebook pages that Guantánamo Phil, an iguana, didn't see its shadow so summer is coming. While the post and picture were really cute, I like to think that Guantánamo Phil is not an iguana but a hutia. They are a little ground-hoggish if you look carefully.

In my version, Guantánamo Phil is too busy doing things like eating fuel lines and destroying vegetation to care about seasons. This is a good thing since we don't have seasons here. The two days of 70s-80s are over, so unless Guantánamo Phil is a complete moron (or a little high from gas fumes), he knows that we only have summer here. 

One last bit of happiness here---I was driving down Sherman Avenue tonight, tuned in to my favorite Santiago de Cuba radio station, and heard these words: "Her name was Lola/She was a showgirl." Before Barry Manilow got to the part about the feathers in the hair and the dress cut way down to there, I was squealing with delight. You better believe that I got my groove on while jamming down the street. We're not in the hottest spot north of Havana, but some days I do think we are in the hottest spot east of there (did I mention that it's HOT here?). Who would have believed that one of my favorite songs as a Mississippi girl of 8 years old would be playing many years later while I'm living not quite north of Havana, but on the same rock and 600 miles east of it? 

I love the surprises I find on Cuban radio as much as I love the surprises I find on the Cuban beaches. 

And Now, More Happiness; or, Changes in Attitude, Changes in Latitude

Things that make me happy:


1. The Map of Lost Mail got yet ANOTHER pin!!

It seems like just yesterday that my mail was going to Muscat, Oman. Now we have a new location: Wiesbaden, Germany. This is the second time my mail has been to Germany in less than a month. 

The package? My husband's Christmas present. The Christmas present I ordered online in November. As I have said before, my mail is better traveled than I am. 

2. The same day we got the wayward Christmas package in the mail, I got a very special package for me (and it wasn't even my birthday). Who knew that my oldest a) reads this blog and b) has as bizarre a sense of humor as I have? I got my pillow! If you've been keeping up, you know which one. And it's even more amazing than the picture online.

3.  A couple of times in the last week I've been reminded about the blessings of living here. STILL no Diet Coke, but I did smile a couple of days ago and had 3 guys clambering to open the door for me. (Funny, since it was an automatic door). My students have been so sweet and have worked really hard since I got back to work. I stopped twice in 2 days for iguanas crossing the road. Recently, Cuban radio was playing an entire cheesy album of Air Supply (and I sang along---loudly and badly). Y'all know how it is---it's the little things that make your day that much better.

4. My youngest has said more than once this week, "Mom, you need to get surgery more often. That food was GOOD!" Should I be offended? Of course not. I totally agree. That food WAS good, and so very appreciated.

5. The best news of all for last---there is definitely a transfer round this year, and I definitely qualify. The sky's the limit (although who knows, when it comes down to it, what will be available). The kids both want to make their wish lists to make sure that we all in agreement as to locations. We don't have total control of the situation, but it's the first time in three years that we feel we have a little control over what comes next.  H made his list of stipulations on the location list. He's a real list-maker, that kid.

It doesn't say, "No unicorns." I mean, who wouldn't want to live with unicorns, right?? 

Instead, it says, "No uniforms." That leaves all locations. Why is my little guy worried about uniforms? I asked and he said, "I don't like wearing pacific clothes unless I have to." I'm not quite sure what "pacific clothes" are, or specific clothes, for that matter. But he doesn't want to wear them, and thankfully, no DoDDS schools require them. 

Also: "seasons." That narrows it down a bit. It's been fun in the land of eternal summer, but we are all a little ready for some change. "Good internet." Compared to here, that's the rest of the free world. "Toys." Again, most places have more than here. He doesn't just want toys; he wants different toys. Or more than 3-4 choices of toys. He would also like to live somewhere with real castles and "a real dungeon." 

Oh, to be nine again. At his age, there wasn't a possibility of life's next great adventure involving toys, castles, dungeons, and maybe a little snow. (That would be my husband's childhood in Belgium and Germany). I had a wonderful, stable, loving family and home, but he is going to have a much different childhood than I did (or even as his older brother). We are both lucky---and I don't think he has any concept yet of just how lucky he is. 

He also mentioned living in a house bigger than this one. We are crammed into a very small house (less than half the size of our last house, but with 2/3 of our furniture). We have supposedly been on a list for a while to move to a larger house, but who knows. . . it's an all-around disagreeable procedure to deal with the whole moving thing (and list thing), so I'm glad we stuck it out here. Free is free. It's nice to have a free house with free utilities, and we have great neighbors. Also, living in a small space makes you more ruthless when it comes to deciding what stays and what goes. 

Hopefully in 3 months from now, we will have a definitive answer as to where we are going (and then the real ruthless sorting and throwing out will begin). In the meanwhile---having a tentative end date helps me mentally prepare for the end of the school year. I can then look at this place with new eyes---and instead of "firsts," it will be "lasts." 

Bring back Doc Martens; or, I'm not even supposed to be here today

My favorite saying is this: Mann traoch, Gott Lauch. It's Yiddish for "Man plans, God laughs." 

It's like some higher being has had a good laugh or two at me this past week.

There was the radio (it's always the radio lately). We have an advertisement heard daily on our two Armed Forces Network radio stations that says, "Stuck on an island with nowhere to go: AFN Radio GTMO."

I chuckle. It's true, but still funny.

I swear this really happened last week---I had just heard that ad while scanning through stations, and then immediately after, on one of my favorite Cuban radio stations, The Eagles' "Hotel California" was playing.

Seriously.

Also, I took my son to see this movie during Throw Back Thursday at our outdoor cinema:

1994 was a good year. Clerks. 

I know, I know, I'm Mother of the Year for that move. I did sort of forget how, well, raunchy it is. (Just the fact that I use the word "raunchy" means I'm perhaps old and semi-senile and may excuse my lack of parenting judgement).

I still laughed, oh boy did I laugh, inappropriateness and all. Clerks is such a slice of the early 90s and reminds me of grad school (much of it spent hanging out with friends at a video store), driving around in my beloved 280z (I could write a book on how much I loved that car), living off snow-cones and Taco Bell, moving to Georgia and then Colorado in very quick succession, and often wearing my Doc Martens just like the protagonist (or anti-hero?) with my favorite movie line: "I'm not even supposed to be here today!"

And that's what I found myself saying while spending yet another weekend at school doing lesson planning. It came out of my mouth before I realized that, oh my god, I'm Dante Hicks, but without a hockey break (on the roof) or a significant other with a counting problem.  (The Doc Martens boots are still in the closet, ready for a much-overdue revival of flannel and mom jeans).  I'm spending every waking hour trying to catch up. Is it getting easier? Um, no. Am I getting used to it? Um. . . no. I am, however, headed to sleep at 9 pm because I'm going to work with my son, who gets dropped off for cross country by 6 am. It's amazing how much work you can get done when you are alone---just a pot of coffee, a stack of papers, and around 6:50, an exquisite sunrise that sort of makes it all worth it.

All (Musical) Roads Lead to Cuba; or, Tom and John and me

Today's weather at Guantámo Bay Naval Station: 89º and cloudy (with swarms of gnats). 

"You may say I'm a dreamer/but I'm not the only one." --- John Lennon

"Why, why, whyyyyyy, Delilah?"----Tom Jones

This week, there was driving around listening to Cuban radio when this came on.

It's Tom Jones, y'all, singing about Delilah.And just like that, I, too, was singing about Delilah at the top of my lungs (Why, why, whyyyyyyy, Delilah???).

I thought it was weird that Cubans love Tom Jones (then again, who doesn't love him??), but I did find online that he performed in Havana this past spring. I also found a very Spanglish/ broken English story that includes pics of Tom and the cleaning ladies at the National Ballet School----"Smiling, funny and gentle, this Knight of the Crown had his picture taken even with the cleaning ladies, and although some did not know him, they sensed that he was huge. However, very few knew of its presence in the Habanos Festival, an event that annually attracts many celebrities that come and go incognito."

Hmmm, to be one of those people who everyone can "sense is huge," even if they don't know you. Must be nice. 

I also heard this today on Cuban radio.

which I haven't heard in years and did make me smile, as it always does. And although it's definitely not the Communist Manifesto, you have to admit that the lyrics are, well, sort of in line with some of the Communist thought process. 

I remember seeing a report on tv a while back about the John Lennon Park in Havana, and you can find several stories and pictures of it on the internet. 

When the park was dedicated in 2000, Castro, who had previously banned Beatles' music in Cuba, said, ""What makes him great in my eyes is his thinking, his ideas," he said. "I share his dreams completely. I too am a dreamer who has seen his dreams turn into reality."

The best part of the story is not that Castro decided to have a park dedicated to Lennon once he realized that Lennon, the one-time war protester, was actually a rebel against the US Government, much like himself. The best part is about Lennon's glasses. 

(AP Photo/Ramon Espinosa)

Today, John Lennon's signature round glasses have been stolen from his face so many times, a 95 y/o man volunteers to keep watch over both the statue and the replica glasses. "He poses for pictures with fans from all over the world. When tourists come by to take pictures, Gonzalez places the glasses on John Lennon. And when the snapshots are done, he puts the glasses back in his pocket next to his cigars and sits back down" (PRI) Sr. Gonzalez had never heard of the Beatles before he moved to Havana to live with his daughter, but he decided that there was a need, and he stepped up for over 13 years now to make sure Lennon and his glasses are together again. 

Photos: Carlos Montoya and Gerry Zambonini

It's the strange and magical surprises about Cuban radio---and Cuban life---that make me smile. Even though I live so close to the fence, yet so, so far from Cuba, I love feeling connected to this place through the radio.

More here at these sites (where I got all the above info): 

From PRI: You can take your picture with John Lennon in Havana, but don't mess with his glasses (story + podcast)

From Slate: The Story of the John Lennon Statue in Havana, Cuba

From Atlas Obscura: Havana, Cuba/John Lennon Statue

From AP: IN HAVANA, 95-YEAR-OLD MINDS LENNON STATUE'S SPECS

All apologies to my friends with iPads---for some reason, when I write blog posts on my MacBook, embedded videos won't show on iPads (thus the weird spaces on your screen). I could probably fix it if I had patience to deal with the World's Slowest Internet, but that's not going to happen. Sorry. 

Yankee War Candles and Cuban television; or, From South Korea to GTMO

I've done a great job of only buying what we need at the NEX in preparation for summer vacation next week.

But how can you resist a cute 8 y/o boy who tells you that your GTMO special, well, stinks, and you need a Yankee Candle car air freshener for it?

A friend in Germany has observed that those Yankee car air fresheners seem to be EVERYWHERE on overseas American bases and used by a large number of Americans. It's true---you can't avoid them---there is always an end cap of them on display. Son 2 picked up the following air freshener and said, "Look mom, it's a Yankee War Candle! It smells like war!! Let's get the War Candle!"

Nothing says "Patriotic!" like a candle air freshener
that smells like "Midsummer's Night." 

So that's how I ended up with a really smelly War Candle hanging from the mirror of Pearl.

Even though I'm not in Pearl but a few miles a day (it's a very, very small base), I do manage to listen to Cuban radio every chance I get. Sometimes they surprise me with American music, like Whitney Houston ("I will always lub you"). About a week ago, I took Son 2 to Glass Beach and on the 15 minute stretch from the house, we listened to part of an album by Coldplay.

I'm sort of "eh" about Coldplay, but I did like that the Cuban station was playing an album in its entirety. If you are old enough to remember 1970s radio, you remember when stations would play side one of a record album, pause to turn the record over---the DJ perhaps saying a few words during the break---then continue with the entire second half. It's how I first heard Led Zeppelin as a kid (thank you ZZQ in Jackson, Mississippi).

A few days later, my Cuban station was playing Bon Jovi's "Slippery When Wet." It was a nice slice from high school so I took the long way home (still only 15 minutes or so), and sang "Living on a Prayer" at the top of my lungs, much to the annoyance of my 8 year old in the back seat.

A few days later, I tuned in to my now-favorite Cuban station, and what album are they playing?

Something by Michael Bolton.

Michael freakin' Bolton.

Ugh. So much for Cuban radio.

H has an ancient television set in his bedroom that my husband picked up in South Korea when he was stationed there way back in 1995. It works great and is small enough to fit on a dresser, so he watches movies on it. Unlike our new television sets, his also has an antennae, so it picks up Cuban television. He comes home every day excited about what's on "my Cuban t.v.," as he calls it. Most days after school it's Garfield (en español, !Claro que sí!), but oftentimes it's the news or beísbol, the Cuban national sport.  The husband has taken it to work so he can watch the World Cup on it since they don't have cable t.v. there.

Yanks (Americans, not the Candles) watching a Cuban television station broadcast of Argentina and Switzerland playing fútbol on a South Korean produced television. . . sometimes you just have to love how things work out in this crazy world.

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

I Will Always Lub You; or, Crack is Whack

Things that make me happy.

1) Express shipment came today. Amongst the goods was a gigantic container of . . .

Legos that span two generations. Thinking about my husband as a little boy in Belgium and Germany, playing with some of these exact same pieces, makes me happy. They've lived in four countries now.

2) I love Communist Propaganda. You read that right. Every morning, one of the Cuban stations plays a very dramatic story about This Day in Cuban history. A lady reads the first part of the story, then sad music plays (violins! wailing violins!), followed by a squeaky-voiced child who reads the rest, and completed by a chorus of children re-telling the whole ordeal in musical form.  My Spanish isn't perfect, but I get the general idea. My favorite was the day they told the story of the "criminales" in Cuba. The criminals were the Spanish, of course, and the lady, the child, and the song told about how the Cubans got their independence from the horrible, no-good, filthy Spanish. (At least I think that's what they were saying. It IS propaganda, after all).

No mention of those other criminales, the ones of who took control of Guantanamo Bay a few years later and made it the oldest overseas US Navy Base. Hmmm.

The same station, a couple of weeks ago, was playing various Latin artists from all over the Spanish speaking world, and then, the announcer said this:
"Y ahora, Meeeese Whitney Houston, con 'I Will Always Lub You."
It's the first and only time I've heard American music on the Cuban radio station.

I lub it.

3) Speaking of Whitney "Crack is Whack!" Houston, she would approve of yet another thing I LOVE about Gitmo. When entering the NEX, you are greeted by this sign:

I really wish that once it got warm (over 60 degrees) in Texas, there was a way to enforce this rule there. Yes, for the entire state. It's so nice to be behind someone with a big behind, bending over to get (or, in the case of our Commissary, snatch) that last container of sour cream, that last stick of butter, or that last pack of bacon, and not have your eyes assaulted by Too Much Crack. We've all been there. Do you look away? Do you throw up a little in your mouth? Or are you so used to it, you don't notice anymore? So the moratorium on Too Much Crack is nice at Gitmo. It still doesn't mean that people don't cram themselves into too-tight yoga pants to do errands. You can't force people to have taste (or common sense). But at least it's a start. 

And before you think, "no freedom of expression!" on Gitmo, you should check out the high school kids with their crazy dyed hair, tattoos, and piercings. It's much less oppressive than most Texas schools. And amazingly, they do better on their standardized tests. Guess it's not too distracting after all. 

Go figure. 

4) Trying to live this motto . .

isn't always easy, but I'm trying. Especially after getting the first 750 lbs of household goods today ("Express Shipment," I'm thinking that's supposed to be an ironic title since it's taken almost 2 months to get here on the barge, instead of the 30 days via air as my orders state). In addition to our old stuff, got some new stuff today in the mail, including a case of Method Cucumber Cleaner today. Yep, a case of eight, that's EIGHT, beautiful bottles of household cleaner. It's been a long six-week wait from purchase to delivery, but I like what I like, and maybe Communist propaganda on the radio has infiltrated my brain, because I love cleaning my new house---but only with very specific cleaning products (most of which we don't have here). So I have a case of Method cleaner, a large bottle of Mrs. Myers Lavender Laundry Detergent (thanks to Amazon), and if Santa would send me a case of those eraser sponges, I'd be a happy cleaner.

And Tyler Durden isn't real, anywho, so who cares what he thinks.

5). G got his acoustic bass guitar early for Christmas. He's loving it. And I'm loving that I walked by his room today, and he was playing . . .

part of the soundtrack of my college years. And then I realized that he is only 3 1/2 years away from college and although that's a lifetime for a teenager, it's just a blink and a nod for me.