2/22/16

Lunes 2/22/16

We have yet to be here for a week, but I feel like I’ve been living here forever. In no way does it feel like time is dragging—not at all! It just feels like we have done so much and lived so much in such a short period of time. Today was our first day of classes, lectured by Gilberto and translated by Alejandro. Gilberto enunciates his Spanish very clearly compared to regular Cuban conversation, so I am learning a lot of language from this class format. After class we relaxed on the roof of la casa de Charleston—tanning on the roof of a building that sits less than 20 feet away from the waves breaking along the seawall. We are getting to know Carlos, the owner of the house where the 9 Charleston students are staying and we are constantly frequenting. Carlos is 31 years old with a gorgeous, kind wife names Alejandra and cute little two-year-old names Lucas. He is living the sort of life people would die trying to achieve—the owner of this beautiful, ocean-side house/apartment building/art studio, where next door he is renovating another building from the 1950’s, turning it into a Hemmingway themed restaurant. On most days you can see him on the seawall, drink in his hand, dancing to Reggaeton or Firework by Katy Perry, chatting it up with his countless friends who always stop by.

After our post-class sunbathing on the roof session, we headed down to watch a game of soccer down at the rec complex. Nautica, a gated and exclusive community before the revolution, is now, and since 1959, open to the public; there isn’t a day you will go by the fields without seeing a game of futbol or beisbol being played out there. While I watched my Cuban friends and Yuma classmates play soccer (a skill I have never possessed in my life), a pick-up baseball game was going on in the adjacent field. Baseball is Cuba’s sport, and it has been intricately woven with the country’s politics even before Cuba liberated itself from Spanish rule (1898), and even more so after the Cuban Revolution of 1959. All games here are free to attend, and players make the same as they would the professional job they hold in the off season. So, the games are free and all talent rests on skill, practice, and love for the game. No fancy clinics, no paying for exhibition games to show your kids off to college scouts, and no steroid controversies. Take Alejandro’s mom Maritza for example; after we greeted her at the front door of her house, she went on hollering over the guy at the fruit stand across the house about the game being shown on the TV in her dining room. Did I know what she was saying? Not a clue—conversational Spanish here is quick and blended. I can’t decipher a single word—yet! But what I do know is that everyone watches baseball, and nearly everyone seems to live baseball.