Sorry, and I keep wanting to tell you more.
In Cuba we went wherever we wanted and talked to whomever we wanted. The airport transitions, both coming and going, were where it got a bit tricky. Think of it as popping through the wardrobe into Narnia and back.
We are now in limbo, somewhere between the world of Cuba and the world of home. Not knowing just when our charter flight would arrive or how long it would take us to get through homeland security, our little group had opted for an overnight in Miami. Not only did this turn out to be unnecessary, our pre-Cuba planning had not gone beyond reserving rooms at the airport Hampton Inn. So we find ourselves in that could-be-anywhere-in-the-U.S. terrain of strip malls, chain stores and eateries, parking lots, many lanes of traffic, etc. After lunch in a Cuban restaurant (across the street and acres of the first parking lot we have seen in two weeks), we are unable to coalesce on any direction (all of which would involve expensive cab rides), and and barely leave the hotel. In retrospect we could have rented a car and zipped off somewhere lovely and away, and it's all fine.
Our last afternoon in Cuba we visited Cobre, home of the Vigin de la Caridad, one of the spots pilgrims visit, make offerings, etc. She was found floating on the water in 1611 by three men in a boat (all named Juan) who brought her back to the mining town of Cobre. Because she is mulatto and because the men were of different colors, she synchronizes with Oshun, the Santeria spirit associated with fresh water. All a bit of mystery to me, and I guess that's the point. Bear in mind that Santeria and voodoo have totally different African origins, i.e. the enslaved people who brought them to Haiti and Cuba came from different tribes and different parts of the African continent.
Cobre was most interesting to me because it was in a beautiful setting and because of the history of the cimarrons (or in English maroons), the enslaved peoples who worked in horrible conditions in the copper mines and eventually freed themselves and formed their own communities in this area. In 1997 a monument to universal human liberty was erected on a hillside here. It's by Lescay Merencio, the same sculptor who created the monument we so admired in Santiago. More rain, and we return to Santiago for the final dance class. Mike and I retreat to the Casa de Traduciones, a local traditional music venue, where we find Raul and one of our drivers working on a bottle of rum. Oscar soon joins them.
I think Mary has just written up the rest of the afternoon, and it is now time to check out and move slowly on towards home.
Toni
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