Category: Art

Sweaty days are here again, and tough times in the new Cuba

I was cleaning up my old blog site and dusting it down and I found the last unposted blog I wrote before we were publicly attacked and hounded out of the country.  We were stressed and with the feeling that the state and the corrupt people were closing in on us.  Rafa was hardly sleeping and we did not know who to trust with our fears but as usual we were surrounded by a lot of love, just as well when we discovered what was about to happen.

so here is the last blog I didn’t publish, as by then I realised how interested everybody was in me!

 

I have no air con in my car, but at least my car is back on the road so I should be thankful for small mercies.  However most of my journeys are short so I never get to build up enough speed for effective ventilation, and I seem to arrive everywhere red faced and sweaty with my hair looking like a bad 1980s blow dry.  I have also stopped kissing people since I got quite badly splashed with sweat they other day by two overweight and over cooked diplomats, and I fear I could be giving people the same delightful treat.

We have been very busy in the last few weeks.  Our good friend Stephen against all the odds managed to direct and stage a great British play Blue/Orange by Joe Penhall, translated by a friend of ours and performed by some great Cuban actors.  We went to the opening night and I made it to another night with a different caste.  The theatre was full every night.  I felt as though Cuban actors had met with the great tradition of British theatre, all under Stephen’s directing expertise as a Meisner coach.  The money for the play was raised the old fashioned way with a lot of hard work and determination from Stephen and the caste with some help from the film school.

We organised a fundraiser auction of donated art in our house and friends generously donated through the 100 club (100 cucs each), and also got to buy some great art.  A lot of our good friends here in Cuba helped with promotion and their personal generosity was amazing.  Paulo and Nico were outside offering to park and clean cars.  They made 9 and 7 cucs each and I had to admire their resourcefulness although I am not sure how well they cleaned the cars, especially as it was raining!

The play was a headlining event in British Cultural week.  The British Council had helped a lot and brought over a couple of good films but the rest of the British week was a bit of a let down and seemed to be made up of a bunch of Cuban musicians and DJs getting dressed up in comedy Union Jack garb.  Not one British DJ or band or any music from what I could see in the programme that under duress was sent to me by email.  My requests for posters and flyers for the film school was ignored and Rafa never received an invitation to the inauguration of the film week, making the British embassy the only one that fails to invite us.  How uncool!  I live in hope that things may change next year but the British Diplomats always seem a bit out of touch and haughty in that very old fashioned way.

The film school has been going through some hard times and the last few weeks have been very tough for Rafa and the whole family.  Not much sleep and a lot of stress.  The school has lost a large portion of money that was coming from the Cuban state (long story that anybody unfamiliar with the creativity of Cuban funding would never understand) and like the whole of Cuba it has to learn to grow up, and grow up fast. Becoming more sustainable and self sufficient by looking for international money when the world is still gripped by a global crisis, is not easy and in the meantime sacrifices will have to be made.

When the axe will come down it looks as though salaries may have to be cut a long with some of the great projects the school is involved with.    Production and post production services need to be sold internationally if the Cuban state will allow it.  In the area of international workshops there are many plans to expand and grow.  The film school has always been the island on the island, and its chemistry of international and Cuban culture means that it is worth fighting to help the project to survive and keep its philosophy, and not be allowed to fall into mediocrity or be  institutionalised rather than reaching out to the tres mundos.

In the meantime the boys are nearly out of school for the summer and both did fantastically in their yearly reports and evaluations.   We may be a bit poorer but our children are at least a bit smarter! I am planning our trip to UK and France.  Now we are 5 in the family there are not too many places we can stay.  A good friend is lending us her boat in London and we will head down to Devon to stay in my mother’s new holiday pad and then to France to stay with friends in the Dordogne and take in a bit of Paris on the way back.  Looking forward to getting away with the family for the first proper holiday in a long time, we certainly need it!

1950’s wife in Havana

1950s woman

I don’t know what it is about my life right now but I feel like a 1950’s wife.  Is it Cuba or is it being the wife of the director of the film school or a bit of both?

It is true that life in Cuba in many ways has stood still since 1959.  The most obvious icon is of course, the 1950’s car.  There is something Madmen-esque about this world, even down to the Lucky Strikes, a world where men are men, like Don Draper.  Ice cream parlours, art deco hotel bars, trilby hats, cigars, sling back shoes, hourglass figures, no traffic, slow traffic………. And the music.

When my friend asked for some more modern music at a party the other day the DJ responded with the line.  In Cuba we are about memoria.  I disagree; I think Cubans should be shouting from their crumbling rooftops that CUBA IS THE FUTURE and the future’s so bright you gotta wear shades.  Otherwise Cuba will sell its soul to the capitalist devil along with Che memorabilia and black market cigars.  And Cuba I really do hope you find your modern soul and get yourselves a future, I do, I do, I do …..

Another favourite expression I heard before I arrived was that your heels get higher and your dresses tighter in Cuba.  I am not sure what that says about the island but I definitely have acquired a couple of pairs of heels since arriving to get me to the many receptions to which I am invited.  And yes I have dusted down some of my more feminine outfits, which did not see the light of day on the dusty or damp streets of backpacker, American tourist town Antigua.  More opportunities to get glamorous here definitely.

Are Cuban men more chauvinist, more machista than your average Puerto Rican, Mexican or Venezuelan man?  I’m not sure.  For me machismo is rife all over the Latin world, you don’t need to come to Cuba particularly to sample this cultural phenomenon.

However there was a Cuban documentary on the TV the other day just titled Los Machos.  It appeared to be a celebration of all things male.  Lots of images of good looking guys hanging out in the streets chatting, back slapping, playing dominoes, talking baseball……. laughing.  Just generally making that whole thing of being a man in Cuba look pretty damn cool!  There were even some very cute images of Cuban Dads with small beautiful children staring up into their eyes with love and admiration for their father’s tender manliness!

Obviously it wasn’t a serious or realistic documentary as I didn’t see any images of fat men with their T-shirts rolled up to reveal their sweaty large bellies or angry men clouting their young children for crying for a toy, like I saw in the plastic toy shop on quinta the other day.  The shop was full and nobody said a word except me.  I was so shocked and angry I had to tell him…well done, you’re a really strong man ……. Muy muy macho, muy fuerte! As I was watching the tears of confusion and shame fall down the cheeks of his toddler son.

But, truth be told, in general, Cuban men are an attractive bunch and their charm and seduction generally a little more subtle and laid back then many other races I have come across in my years of living abroad and travelling.  But I am getting old, and now a mother of 3, so maybe I am no longer a typical target for any lustful lewdness anyway!

Although apparently according to some of the students at the film school I am La rubia con lo mejor swing ……… which is a very Cuban way of looking at things.  It is not just about what you’ve got but how you move it!  And unlike my husband I like to think that I am the one with the best swing who just happens to be blonde rather than the one with the best swing out of a small subsection of blondes.  Yes, yes I know I am clutching at straws but we all need to clutch at straws sometimes to lift the ego.

But I digress, why do I feel like a 1950’s wife and mother?  Is it an accumulation of many years of devoting myself to my husband and my children partly because I wanted to and partly because I didn’t have much choice if I wanted this family to stay together, and I did.  Most days I see the upside of the story.  I am lucky to have been able to be with them so much, I have always been provided for, I have had many wonderful experiences and adventures with my family, I have enjoyed the added bonus of a husband with an interesting job.  No boring corporate partners dinners for me, just film festivals and parties and interesting film-makers both old and new.  So I should be grateful for this life and happy to be with my children guiding them though their bi-lingual, bi-cultural upbringing.  And I am very proud of them when their bickering and whining has not ground me down.   The global mother of 3.

But on the other hand I have been feeling suffocated.  Suffocated with the never-ending domestic trials and tribulations of living in Cuba and it feels like I have fallen into the last century.  I have 8 people that come and work in my house (I know it is ridiculous, believe me!) and I still feel as though I never have time for anything, or any time to myself.  If it is not my children that want my time it is my employees who need me to solve their problems.  I have still, after nearly a year, failed to turn that dynamic around ……. I want them to resolve all my problems and leave me free for the fun stuff and the stuff that is purely mine.

Oh in the mists of time I did have a career, I was going places, I was meeting interesting psychologists and sociologists.  My ideas about the creative career were bouncing around and taking me into new greenfield areas of research.

I have been wistfully thinking about my last summer in London when the sun shone, I cycled everywhere, did want I wanted, had an intellectual life, a career, people wanted to talk to me or help me, or collaborate with me because of my ideas and my research not because I was the wife of somebody.

Anyway …….. I took photos of the most amazing sunset last night, we have lots of friends flying in for the film school graduation and parties, we will get to have a holiday soon for all the family, I live in a beautiful house on a beach and I have a husband I love and loves me and takes care of me  ……. and I have the best swing  … sometimes.

But rising slowly up from the ashes is that feminist that I had forgotten about, the one that got out there and grabbed every opportunity going for herself, grabbed the moment and her own money ……. and she will be back, and she already has lots of ideas up her sleeve, just got to go downstairs and sort out the drama of the temperamental 1950’s plumbing and the drains in the kitchen which have flooded, but I’ll be back with more gutsy feminist adventures soon ……. I promise 😉

 

The Cook, the thief, his wife and her lover …….. in Cuba.

As I was thinking about writing this post, the Peter Greenaway film title that I stole for this post title kept playing around in my head all jumbled up and back to front.  I think Peter Greenaway has visited the film school and if not he should be invited.

I have a new cook, there was a thief about, I am a wife but I don’t have a lover, although in Cuba a lot of people do …………. anyway on on ….

The boys have broken up from school and a lot of our more wealthy friends have left for the summer to their properties in Europe along with most of the diplomats and bureaucrats.  Luckily we have enough Cuban friends and enough going on that I don’t feel too lonely and abandoned.  A little bit of breathing space ……… and now with our new air con in the living room, things are looking up!!

I escaped for a few nights to a global city alone, such things have hardly been heard of in our house!  I enjoyed walking the beautiful streets without having to keep my eyes on 3 little naughty heads, lunching in cafe terraces, visiting several galleries, finishing conversations with adults, topping up my fashionista desires ……… bliss …….. but that is another story for another time.

I returned to three happy but slightly resentful children, a husband ready to offload all his problems and trials and tribulations of being a single Dad and director of a film school ……… and yet another robbery in my house.  We let our defenses down for a moment, and of course I wasn’t here to keep my castle safe!

So there was the usual  ……why on earth did you let these people into our house?  Because I wanted to get things done well you were away. ……. conversation.

On the few occasions that I have left my husband alone since we met, he is always intent on improving the house and/or my car for me while I am away, which can often lead to conflict as I like to be heavily involved in the style of said improvements and also who they are done by.  He is then hurt, as he says he does everything to make me happy …… hmmm.

Anyway some workmen came to my house from the film school and were in my bedroom fixing the air con or pretending to fix other things and some cash walked.  Not helped by the fact that we live in a cash world in Cuba and do not have a safe.  Luckily we were approaching the end of the month and we did not have that much cash and they were decent enough to leave us some.

The film school was supposed to find us a safe but failed to do so.  I have now taken all matters into my own hands and decided that the only people who come into my house will be friends, family or people invited by me who have already had my tough character analysis test. I want to be independent from the film school in all matters of administration and maintenance of my home.  Apart from anything else they all like to have a good snoop and gossip is rife in any institution and all over the island.  ‘tonces no mas!

To this end, I now have a new housekeeper and cook who is proving to be a great investment.  Just as well as I had 9 adults and 9 children in my house over this weekend at various stages and I managed to just about feed those who were hungry.  Mercedes lives nearby, is a hardworking, organised women who is transforming my kitchen into a place of homemade cakes and shortbread cookies and cottage pie and it is only week one!

After a few weeks of struggling alone with some help from my young babysitter Claudia, I decided that I needed to get on with finding another nanny before the long summer holiday began, still slightly reluctant to use my children as guinea pigs, but it seems it is the only way.  Take them on a trial basis and see how it goes.

Still not convinced about the latest.  I am trying someone who lives very close by, 5 minutes walk away, but although she seems very sweet and a good person she also gives the impression that she has really suffered a hard life, and that life has worn down her spirit.

I want to say to her …….. hey lady lets laugh and smile and skip with the children, lets make up fun games and holiday adventures.  I am sort of hoping that we might be able to cheer her up a bit but she told me the other day somewhat despondently that Saskia has asked her why she had such a big belly!  I was at the time playing footsies with a giggling Saskia throwing her around the bed.  On the one hand I felt bad, but on the other I was marvelling at my 2 year olds communication skills and astute observational abilities.

Anyway Elena is a black lady, an afrocuban who studied Russian and spent 5 years in Kiev only to return to Cuba just as the Soviet system was getting the hell out and leaving them with the worst economic moment in post-revolution Cuban history, the infamous special period.  Suddenly nobody wanted to learn Russian or bother speaking it too much when she returned.  The Ruskies were gone and it seems that Elena has been sad ever since at her bad luck.  Although she did tell me that she loved living in the Ukraine.  Maybe she fell in love with a Ukranian who stole her heart forever.  I wanted to say to her, well your belly’s not that big and you’ve still got a great pair of legs but in these situations it is best just to keep quiet I find …………..

Anyway a few more parties to organise before the end of the film school term, the graduation party being one of them.  Juju, our beloved nanny of 7 years, who nobody has come close to replacing, is arriving from Guatemala at the end of July for a holiday and by the first week of August Rafa will be free ……… and we have to plan some Cuban adventures.

Where shall we go? Colonial Trinidad?  Maria La Gorda beach?  Cayo Coco?  Exciting, cultural Santiago, the other side of the island, is calling me, but 12 hours in a car in tropical heat with 3 kids means I fear I might have to delay that one.  But I want to dance to more Rhumba, meet a few more Cuban DJs, teach some recipes to my new cook, spend quality time with my children (woops I suppose that should have been first!), try to make my husband forget about the film school for at least a couple of weeks and entertain any pale faces Brits that make it over my Caribbean way.

 

 

Gilles Peterson, the Bienal and the art of dancing

Rafa was in Venezuela signing some important film agreement and the Bienal was in full swing.  The biggest art show in town, and its not just about art.  There are some crazy performances, lots of good music, a few parties ………. and of course plenty of art to keep everybody happy from the most commercial to the most ridiculous.

I managed to get to La Cabaña, the old fort over-looking Havana Vieja, on Sunday with the boys, where most of the art of the Bienal was being displayed in various interlinking rooms of the huge venue.  The boys were more interested in the cannons and climbing the walls of the fort but some of the more impactful visual stuff grabbed their attention.  A room of mirrors, a room of wooden boats standing on their sides of varying sizes, some amazing interactive sculptures in the courtyards and various other cositas like the painting of the crying boxer!

Unrelated to the craziness of the Bienal, I bought a photo of the Malecon from a student of ISA.  He arrived a little late round to my house where I was waiting with the photo for him to sign and me to pay.  He told me that a whole street in Havana Vieja had been closed as naked people sprayed bronze walked up and down.  He had been taking photos of the nudes and the faces of the Cuban public, who although used to seeing scantily clad people walking around town, were rather aghast at the nakedness!

I headed out to a party of an artist friend in his beautiful house in Vedado with some friends.  We stopped off at the National Hotel to pick up a journalist on the way and had a quick drink on the garden terrace overlooking the bay before heading back into the leafy residential streets of Vedado.  When we arrived the beautiful ruined house was already full of people and the music was pretty good out in the garden.  I bumped into Havana friends and foreign journalists and people working at Havana Club rum (who seemed to be sponsoring a lot of stuff), lots of artists and random music people.

I was just thinking I should be getting home when I saw a very familiar face across the room.  I had this strong feeling that he was British and that I knew him.  A friend of a friend from London maybe?  I approached him and asked him where he was from.  England.  What are you doing here? I’m a DJ and I’m playing at the inauguration party tomorrow.  Excellent I thought, as he slipped out the door alone, no DJ gang to be seen.  That’s Gilles Peterson, said a friend.  I knew he looked familiar!

I managed to case the party and find 3 invites for the following night for myself and a couple of friends.  With Rafa out of town I set up my young babysitter and her mother in the house so I could dance all night!  And it was worth it, I needed to dance.

Gilles is a name in the UK.  He has been a bastion of late night Radio 1 for what seems like the last 15 years.  His serious of albums titled Worldwide where all about mixing world rhythms with his own take on drum and bass.

He recently visited Cuba and cut a record with some famous musicians and DJs and put his finger on the pulse of new Cuban music. I am still not in a position to say if he got his finger right on the pulse, but I like Gilles.  He does his own thing and he appreciates differences.  I kept bumping into him at the party and he was always alone.  People watching, absorbing the atmosphere.  He didn’t need to have a crowd of people around him and was happy to talk to anybody and everybody.

The venue was the Sala Rosada de La Tropical, a huge outside venue with a sweeping staircase going down to the auditorium.  It was a hot night and everyone was quite sweaty dancing.  I can’t believe I was worried about my hair before I went out because by the end of the night it was a rather attractive sweaty wet mass and for some reason people kept taking my photo.  Gilles had introduced the evening ….. Gilles Peterson presenta La Havana Cultura Band, some live music from Danay Suarez, Osdalgia, Roberto Carcasses amongst others.  Gilles himself rolled out a pretty good set and the Cuban DJs that followed also kept me dancing.  Names to look out for Wichy de Vedado and DJ Simbad.

To wrap up with a quote from Mr Peterson:

“Having spent the last three years travelling regularly to Havana I’ve understandably become more attached to this fascinating, almost otherworldly city. I’m also slowly getting to grips with the relationship music has here with the spirits and its people… the drum goes deep.”
Gilles Peterson

The Drum goes deep …………. I like that!

 

Parties, Cadillacs, potatoes, Valentines ……and blogging

Yesterday was Valentines day.  They call it the day of love here for anybody or anything.  You can even say I love my cow.  I actually prefer this to the sloppy fake romantic rubbish that has been marketed to us for years in Europe.  Everybody gave me best wishes of love all day yesterday but my wonderful husband let me stay asleep in bed, made breakfast for all the children, washed up all the dishes, pans, glasses from a hastily put together slightly drunken dinner with friends the night before …….. and then he had to go off to work whilst I stayed at home, even Saskia stayed quietly watching Nemo for another 20 minutes before she came and woke me up.  How romantic is that?

In the last 3 weeks …….. I have had 2 parties in my house, done a Cadillac tour around Havana, celebrated potatoes returning on the scene, watched a few good films, begun to reupholster my living room suite (or the diminutive 79 year old who is in my living room has begun the job), met a new fun group of Wednesday lunchers, visited an eco reserve in las Terrazas, been back to Hemingway’s house, eaten in a real vegetarian restaurant in Cuba, entertained filmmaker friends from London and grandparents from the Cotwolds, had the best steak of my life, bought an amazing photo of the Malecon by a very talented young photographer, juiced a lot of sweet delicious oranges (its the season!), met a new bubbly Thai friend who is a dress designer (my new beautiful material sent from London will soon be designed into something cool, thanks Amanda!), received lots of wonderful presents and goodies from kindles to cameras, strawberry jam to my new favourite chocolate bar from Tescos, swiss, orange and almond (any Brits rush down there now, you won’t regret it, Thanks Nico!), a whole load of great music, got very frustrated with my lack of internet, repeatedly failed to post photos on my blog, met a Cuban working in occupational psychology in the Cuban social research centre and remembered what I used to do, failed to even begin to think about the English translations of the film school website, and today I made a cottage pie to celebrate the return of the potato. But absolutely failed to write any of this down.  Some of this is to do with living life to the full rather than writing about it or living on line.  But blogging for me has been a discipline, something to make me sit down and share.

So I have made some decisions: I have to write at least something once a day even if it is off line.

Invite people to guest write on my blog!  I like this one, it makes it more fun and interesting.  Not sure if they actually will write anything for me but it might stop making me feel so overwhelmed by the amount of stuff that I should be writing.

Give up on trying to post photos on my blog and upload them to a related facebook photo page.  I actual do manage to upload pictures to facebook.

Off to swim in the crystal clear sea ……………..

 

Family life, my first Havana Birthday and the first US official visit to the Film School

We have been here just over 6 months now and my family is settling into a new rhythm. I have just celebrated my first Birthday in Cuba, and for the first time in years, I didn’t organise anything, as being in Havana for us is just like one long ridiculous party at times.  There is always so much to do and it seems we are always invited!  January was supposed to be a quiet detox month but it has just slipped by as crazy as all the others.  We headed out to Havana Vieja with friends to see the opening of an exhibition by Cuban artist Jose Emilio (JEFF), who, the day after he met me at a very fun dinner before Christmas, painted me!  (I think it was my dancing that inspired his creativity!)  We sat outside in the beautiful Plaza de Cathedral afterwards for a snack and a couple of drinks.

I am always amazed how quickly children adapt to new things, or at least mine do!  I suppose they don’t have much choice – poor little international nippers.  But they haven’t complained too much.  Not even the lack of McDonalds, multiplex cinemas with buckets of coke and popcorn, youtube on tap and bad cable TV.  Maybe it is easier to keep your children children here in Cuba.  I can remember how terrified I felt in those last few days in Guatemala, and the idea of jumping into the unknown again.  But hey, there is never much point in worrying and being in Cuba is all about not worrying.

On top of that we put them into a French school, just to spice things up for all us.  Paulo is now speaking French (with an outrageous accent) to some of his new school friends, and one of my friends reported that he heard Nico speaking French at the school gates the other day.  He denies it vehemently, but I feel quite proud anyway!  Maybe it was just his favourite comme si comme ça shrug.  He is learning to read really well in Spanish, English and French and managing his linguistic chaos with aplomb.  As I am educating them in the world of Sean Connery’s James Bond right now, I tell them if they do well in all their languages they too can be a secret agent! How does James Bond have so many nobias Mummy?  Nico asked me the other day!   And both boys are beginning to sound a little bit Cuban too!  Saskia swings her bum like a native.  Talk about adapting fast!

THe US Interest section finally got their permission to go outside the 25 mile zone so they could visit the film school.  This regulation was originally put in place by the US on the Cubans in Washington, and naturally was reciprocated in Cuba.  Anyway John Caulfield the Chief of Mission and Gloria from Public Affairs were very genial and seemed genuinely interested in the film school and we spent a pleasant afternoon with them chatting and showing them around.  John was remarking that Cuba was a wonderful place to be living with a young family and that the rest of Latin America was blighted by violence and drugs.  There was a micro second of tension in the room when we resisted commenting that maybe, just maybe that violence and drugs could have something to do with their neighbour to the north who consume most of those drugs and are no strangers to violence. Historically, the US supported the rightwing governments of Latin America and really helped teach their people how to kill and torture.    Is it just a coincidence that the most peaceful, crime free country in the Latin World is the one where they kicked the US right out ……. ? Anyway in the name of good relations, it is best just to let these things go sometimes!   😉

Through the boys school I have met a good set of friends, mothers and fathers from very diverse backgrounds and don’t feel quite so lost anymore as I sit through the parent teacher meetings in French and Spanish.  Paulo played in a rugby tournament on Saturday, yes that’s right, rugby in Cuba!  Who would have thought.  I was just a little horrified that I had to get up extra early on the day after my birthday.  I suppose that is all the fun of being a parent and all that joy and pride ……. but Saturday morning at 8.30.  I don’t have much joy!  THe Cuban children (mainly Afro Cubanos) who have just embraced this new sport whipped the pants off the French School).  Undeniably Cubans just excel at sport in general.  I could see a future team giving the All Blacks a run for their money!

I suppose the children have a routine more than I do, as in my life so far here in Cuba, every week is different, but it is always exciting or interesting or challenging.  I am learning to be more patient, learning to be more creative when it comes to food and cooking as nearly everything is seasonal, and supply and demand are not two things that always go together in this crazy world.  There are no rules.  In fact the only rule here is that there are no rules.  I think that is why the Cubans have learnt to let go.  You can’t control life here in Cuba.  It controls you.  But luckily for us, so far, life has been pretty good.

My little Saskia, true to my prediction of being a girl born to live in Cuba is completely content.  She is such a happy little girl that she infects all around her but as a friend commented the other day, she knows what she wants and she knows how to get it. I marvel at her ability to do this and I am trying to learn fast.  But apart from this superpower, she is the most cuddly kissy sweet little ball of love.

She is talking more and more and at this stage of my children’s bilingual development, I have always found their ability to acquire two languages so effortlessly, nothing short of miraculous.  How everyone around her says a word in Spanish 50 times and then along comes Mummy and says something different and she accepts it, quite happily repeating a complety different word as though humouring me.  Paulo and Nico are not helping me out as they have decided that Spanish is their language for their sister.  I keep trying to recruit their skills to my side of the linguistic table but ………   Luckily British grandparents are arriving on Sunday to remind her that it is not just her crazy mother who says the weird words!

New Latin American Cinema ……… and me.

The dust is settling on yet another Latin American Film Festival.  I am becoming a veteran of these events, which is rather strange for a person who has never made a film in her life, Latin or otherwise.  I am a self-confessed interloper in this world but I do love it! I used to escape home life of two baby boys, once a year to the Icaro Festival in Guatemala.  My first visit to Guadalajara festival a few years ago is about the nearest thing Rafa and I have had to a honeymoon!

And quite frankly these days I don’t even get to watch many films during festivals or otherwise.  Although I am introducing my boys to some classic James Bond to give them a little bit of British culture along with the Beatles and the Stones! I am well up on the latest Narnia, Harry Potter or other such delights of children’s cinema.  Yesterday I had a discussion with Paulo and Nico on the reasons why Kung Fu Panda 2 was actually better than the first one!  So you see the depths of film criticism that I am plundering.

So I have never made a film, but I do have 3 beautiful British Guatemalan Co-Productions to my name Paulo, Nico and Saskia.

This was my first Havana Film Festival, and I know it won’t be the last.  The festival takes place in The National Hotel and several cinemas and locations around Havana.  This year it also coincided with the 25th anniversary of the Film school (EICTV).  And as usual, the annual meeting of the Fundacion del Nuevo Cine Latin Americano, of which Rafa is a long standing committee member.  And of course there was the most beautiful full moon too.

So very busy we were.  The films I wanted to see but did not get to see include: all the Cuban films, all the films made by friends, all the Guatemalan films I haven’t seen and a few Brazilian and Norwegian ones too!

At least now I know I have access to the film school film library and can console myself with the fact that over the next few years I can work my way through some of the marvels of Latin Cinema at my own, mother of 3, pace.  I am just so glad I got to see a lot of films and read a lot of novels in my not always misspent, and quite extended youth.

With 3 children, it is the usual juggling act of childcare whilst I escape to the many receptions and parties to which I am always invited, to see the huge gang of film makers that make up this wonderful community that revolves around the energy of EICTV and the Fundacion.

But what is New Latin American Cine exactly?  I am told that the term grew out of the dark days when most of Latin America was under right wing dictatorships. When writers, artists and filmmakers trod a delicate line with the authorities.  Also the filmmakers wanted to break away from the avalanche of Hollywood cinema hitting the region and defend the right to express themselves through their own images and stories during a time of great artistic repression.  And from what I can see the movement has not stopped growing since those days.

When I met my husband (whilst interviewing filmmakers in Guatemala) and we began our family (the two events pretty much coincided) I did not realise that I too was entering into another family.  A family of amazingly talented and passionate, independent filmmakers, good friends, warm and wonderful people, who never once made me feel like the interloper I so obviously am.  Who knows maybe one day I will make a film ……… all about them!

The Party at the Film School was almost rained off, not something that happens too much in Cuba.  The Van Vans, could not play and Rafa could hardly wrap up the ceremony as the heavens opened, but it did not stop most of us having a crazy night of dancing, reminiscing and drinking.  Workers and their families mixed with diplomats, students and former students, musicians, film stars, directors, film festival Jury and of course little old me.  Also a handful of my favourite Guatemalans to help me feel at home in my new life!

I had bought a new red dress for the event so I was rather too easily identifiable and I managed to stay up until 5am.  I have to admit that it has taken me a few days to recover.  I managed to keep going for the party in our house in Havana, which took place the following night but just could not make it to the closing party of the festival.  Sorry to those friends I did not get to say goodbye to, but it was a school night!!  I would like to take you up on your invitations some day to visit Brazil, Berlin, Costa Rica ………etc, etc.  But I’ll see you all in Guadalajara in a couple of months, I hope.  Guest Country Reino Unido ………. Oh yes that is my little country!  I have not forgotten you.

 

Converted to la Rumba in just one night!

As I have had a good friend in town I have had lots of excuses to be a tourist and party a little bit more than usual!  Also the reason for my absence from the blogosphere.

Last Friday we had been tipped off by our musician friend Tony that there would be a good night down at the Palacio de la Rumba, and he wasn’t wrong.  After the usual fraught bedtime theatre of 3 children under 7, we managed to escape down the Malecon and after asking a couple of people we found the Palacio nestled in a small square in Central Havana.  We all paid 10 cucs entry, which although I am sure the locals weren’t paying, I really didn’t care and in my mind it was worth every centavo!

The venue was a little like an old style music hall with a stage, a dance floor and chairs and tables down the middle and some on raised platforms.  There was a bar running down one wall at the back of the room and a dickie bow tied waiter hovering.  Needless to say there weren’t many white faces in there but this didn’t seem to matter to anybody least of all us.  I did feel a little honoured to be there.  It was African Cuban music about as authentic as you could hope to find it, and although there were people dancing when we arrived there was a serious air of contemplation and appreciation.  The stage was full, around 12 people were playing, drumming and singing in a well practised, effortless way.

We got a bottle of rum and found ourselves a table.  The haunting soulful singing and distinctive rhythms soon got us in the mood, in fact all 3 of us were grinning like loons who had just stumbled upon a great party.  At one stage early on a Babalu (or Babulau) appeared behind us with his shell necklace and long beard he looked the epitome of Santeria wisdom.  A lot of the men were strikingly dressed in white with white flat caps setting off their dark complexions.

Early on there seemed to be some tacit rules about who was up on the dance floor and what was going on and I was happy just to sit there and lap it all up.  Couples would get up and dance as though they were conversing.  Both men and women had some kind of scarf which they would use to exaggerate their movements.  After a while the crowd that had collected on the right hand side would move across and all start dancing.  At one stage there was even a conga that filed all the way through the club, a million times cooler than one of those awful things done at drunken office parties and weddings.

The club was no smoking and people were not drinking excessively it was all about the music and the dancing.   At one stage a huge birthday cake appeared to celebrate the anniversary of one of the groups and I vaguely remember allowing myself to be lifted up onto the stage to join the celebrations.  I felt a bit like a gatecrasher but by the end of the night we were up there with the best of them shaking our booty to the rumba until closing time.  We bumped into some Belgian friends who had been in Havana to organise a dance event with the local people and through them I got the phone number of a dance teacher who came with strong recommendations.  She is a rather scary-looking Amazonian woman, helped by the 3 inch platforms she was wearing.  I am sure she will whip me into rumba shape in no time!

Suddenly at 1.30 we found ourselves in the square outside the club realising that it was all over and we had certainly stayed the course.  In fact I was rather glad that it finished, as otherwise I am not sure when we would have got home!  Our car was parked right outside, as is the luxury of no car Cuba, and we were contentedly whisked home through the empty streets down to suburban Flores and a last drink in front of the sea to discuss the fun we had had on our first official night out dancing!!!  Viva la rumba!

Next stop quiet and sleepy Cienfuegos, the cleanest town in Cuba!

 

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Life is surreal ……. but I like it

I sat in the auditorium of the Museo de Belles Artes last night listening to some great British actors delivering a beautiful collection of Pinter’s plays and poems finishing with his incredibly powerful acceptance speech for the Nobel Peace Prize for literature.  The theatre was packed and the audience completely absorbed despite the ridiculously excessive aircon.  I sat next to an employee of the museum who had her translated copy of Pinter to hand.  It cost me 10 Cuban pesos (30p) for the entry and was all part of an international theatre festival taking place in Habana this week.  I had driven there alone and parked right outside the theatre.   After the performance I drove one of the actors, Roger (reluctantly famous as Trigger in Only Fools and Horses amongst his many other achievements) back to the National Hotel where we met the other actors and headed out for dinner.

I can drive right into the City centre at 7pm and not get stuck in traffic, park right outside whatever theatre, museum or restaurant that I happen to be going to.  I don’t have to worry about traffic wardens, cameras, violent attacks or aggressive people.  I can stop and chat to anybody and they don’t mind, in fact they always have time to chat.  If I get lost everybody wants to help me find where I am going.  Everybody has time ……..

As I was driving home I marvelled at how surreal and fascinating my life is here in Havana.   I was exhausted and the salt water from the Malecon had sprayed my windscreen and I could hardly see where I was going so was crawling along like a campesino in the countryside as I tried to clean the screen.  Here, in one of the most famous cities in the world, they are not big on street lights even in the centre.  When I drove out to Hemingway’s beautiful house (a museum) the other day with some friends from Guatemala, I read a billboard (not many in these parts!) that reminded me that the first world uses three quarters of the world’s energy.  That’s not fair is it!!?

The boys had half term this week and a good friend came from Guatemala with two sons so we were doing a few touristy things and keeping the children busy.  5 children in the house was quite a handful but we had 2 Cuban nannies recruited to help us keep our sanity!  After they left I packed the boys off to school on Monday only to discover that the half term holiday lasted 1 week and 2 days.  (Lost touch with reality and school holiday dates!)  2 more days to kill and I was rather tired of dragging out the Lego and jigsaw puzzles in the house as the stormy October weather kept us out of the sea.  I decided to take them for some adventures in Havana and we ambled around chatting to lots of people and discovering strange modern Chinese video installations in one gallery and wonderful prints and etchings in another workshop where Paulo chose his Birthday picture of the Orisha spirit of fire.  We stopped to buy lunch on the street and the boys splashed in the puddles in their welly boots in the little alleyways of Havana Vieja while I endeavoured to teach Nico the names of all the months in French by making up a little song.

Last week I had attended the UN day celebrations in an old palacio in Habana Vieja where I met people from the EU, the UN and the Nigerian Ambassador, who full of African charm promised to bring me one of those wonderful dresses from Nigeria when she goes at Christmas.  Come round and visit me she boomed and I will take your measurements.  I’ll take you up on that offer I thought to myself.

Anyway all these fun and surreal discoveries means that I am too tired and too stimulated to feel as though I am being a good mother or a good blogger for that matter.  Too many things to do and not enough hours in the day to do them all, and sleep, and get woken up by Saskia at 5.30.  Saskia has recently learnt the word apple just in time for apples to mysteriously completely disappear from Cuba and now every time she approaches the fruitbowl she jibbers on about apples and alas there are only bananas and pineapples.  Thankfully the boys are now back at school and we have a bit of resting time before our next visitor arrives from England on Saturday.  My dear friend and Paulo’s Godmother is trafficking Birthday Lego, Marmite, toothpaste, shampoo etc etc.  and maybe, just maybe I will get that night out dancing ……………

 

 

Our house, the party and the French lover who fled the country

Our first party in our wonderful house all went very well.  Everyone from the film school helped me to make it a success.  Maeda arrived with flowers to fill the house from San Antonio and then a team of caterers from the school arrived not long after with food for 70 people and a chirpy barman who set up the bar.  Havana friends all made it along and mixed really well so that I felt as though I wasn’t just the wife of the director and this was my house too!

This house is designed for parties, being right in front of the sea and having a bar in the garden.  Up until now the bar has been used to house the paddling pool and various toys and inflatables but that night a barman was whipping up cocktails served in Coco shells (Coco Locos!) a few mojitos and whisky, beer and wine, as well serving me up something cold and bubbly brought by my Habana girlfriends.

I have begun to realise that our house, which has been the Protocol house in Havana for the film school for 25 years, is quite a little gem.  It stands alone between a beach club used by the Cuban military and a huge ruin which most recently used to be the Institute of Oceanology (is that a word??).  Apparently there are not many houses so slap bang on the sea in Havana.  Many people don’t even know there is a house here even though they have lived in the area for years.  It is very close to the leafy suburban streets and diplomat houses of Flores and Cubanacan but seems to be from another world.  However, other people seem to know all about it and give me a knowing secretive look.

We are right at the end of Primer Avenida, el final, and as you drive the last block which looks forgotten and run down, it really does seem as though you have come to a dead end until you notice our unassuming house right in the corner.  I love opening the front door to people as they are immediately transfixed by the Caribbean sea sparkling behind me and Cubans being Cubans, they almost knock me out of the way to have a closer look.

I began to wonder in the first few weeks ……. who built this house?  Who did it used to belong to before the revolution or before the Film school?  As Cubans love to talk and tell a good story it didn’t take me long to find out that this house does have a history …….

I intend to find out more but this is the story so far.

For those of you who don’t know who Batista is ……. here is a little description from a JFK speech on the run up to his election in 1960 whilst criticising Eisenhower´s government.

Fulgencio Batista murdered 20,000 Cubans in seven years … and he turned Democratic Cuba into a complete police state – destroying every individual liberty. Yet our aid to his regime, and the ineptness of our policies, enabled Batista to invoke the name of the United States in support of his reign of terror. Administration spokesmen publicly praised Batista – hailed him as a staunch ally and a good friend – at a time when Batista was murdering thousands, destroying the last vestiges of freedom, and stealing hundreds of millions of dollars from the Cuban people, and we failed to press for free elections.

The house which has no number, is said to have been built in the early 50s for the French lover of someone pretty high up in Batistas pre-revolution government.  Whoever she was she must have been a real character as the beach next door to our little one (now the military club) was known as the Francesita (the little French one).  Bloody big house for one French flousy lady, but I thank her for my large walk in closet.  Evidently she fled before the revolution as she was part of a more corrupt and dangerous time in Cuban history depending upon which side your bread was buttered.  In the words of Arthur M Schlesinger when asked by the US government to analyse Batista’s Cuba.

The corruption of the Government, the brutality of the police, the regime’s indifference to the needs of the people for education, medical care, housing, for social justice and economic justice … is an open invitation to revolution.

But the architectural evidence of La Habana harks back to another time when dirty money was everywhere.  The beautiful ruin next door was also owned by one of Batista’s honchos who was enjoying regular meetings with Al Capone in his amazing palace with its huge private beach to discuss the blossoming future of the Mafia and more Casinos to be put into Club Habana, the beach club 5 minutes away which is where, somewhat ironically my children now have all their extra curricula activities!

I enjoy hearing about these pre-revolutionary days with the security of history and intend to find out more but I am glad that Fidel got rid of them all as after 8 years in Guatemala I know there is nothing remotely glamorous about gangsters or their girlfriends.  And my family now lives in a paradise of tranquility despite the undeniable economic problems.  I am not sure that even the Cubans realise what they have.

It could make a good film script though …….. somewhere down the line.  And gives me something else to think about as I sit in front of the sea looking at the beautiful trees which line the beach next door as the sun goes down.  Every night and most days people jump over the tumbling wall of this old mansion and get to the edge of the sea next door to us to fish and chat and watch the sea or whatever else they get up to.  (Rafa was rather horrified how many condoms got washed up on the beach the other day when the currents were not in our favour).

I wonder what parties have taken place in this house?  I need to investigate more ……….. just not sure how to yet.  I will leave you with the words of JFK, an American icon (Oct. 1963).

I believe that there is no country in the world including any and all the countries under colonial domination, where economic colonization, humiliation and exploitation were worse than in Cuba, in part owing to my country’s policies during the Batista regime. I approved the proclamation which Fidel Castro made in the Sierra Maestra, when he justifiably called for justice and especially yearned to rid Cuba of corruption. I will even go further: to some extent it is as though Batista was the incarnation of a number of sins on the part of the United States. Now we shall have to pay for those sins. In the matter of the Batista regime, I am in agreement with the first Cuban revolutionaries. That is perfectly clear.

Unfortunately, I think Guatemala is still paying for those sins.

 

 

My friend Tony says I can come round and use his zippy satelite internet connection whenever I want ……… so I may be able to post some photos soon!