UK Archives | Serendipityormadness

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!

Hurricane Port

Quite a lot going on here in our family life, including a little attack of chicken pox and a half term holiday of 2 weeks, meaning that our latest role of full time parents has been pushed to the limit.

We are still feeling like a family that has been washed up in a port during a hurricane, and we have stayed here until we know it is safe to go out, and we know where we are going. This being easier said than done, and oddly (or not) our safe little port is my own beloved country.

When we rocked back up to the UK unexpectedly we managed to organise a temporary shelter in the storm for our children thanks to relatives, friends and the kindness of the people of Nottingham. It was not easy, but we managed to bring some normality back into our children’s lives and have even had some fun along the way. Life has been simple and totally revolved around the family and building a new future for all of us.

P1010695 — Woolaton Hall and Park. One of our favourite Nottingham places.

How are the children? I really don’t know how all this has affected them, but they have each other. Sleeping has become a huge issue and sometimes we feel as though we have 3 babies. I’m getting used to waking up with one child climbing into bed with me. These phases happen wherever you are and whatever you are doing, but they had their lives turned upside down, the contents of their home disappeared fast and they have had to live through a lot of uncertainty. Generally I am so proud of them, the way they keep slotting into one culture and language after the other. We are all together and healthy and that is the most important thing.

Rafa has been a rock as usual, but I have had my moments of emotional turmoil, mainly caused by the injustice and ingratitude of our recent experiences. My little ones had been thrown into so much uncertainty, something I would NEVER have done to them. Trying to find that way forward did not always seem easy. Once we had moved to our house and got the children into school and Saskia to nursery, we started to think about ourselves.

We had arrived in the UK on a holiday but now we had to think about what to do next. The first thing was to sort out Rafa’s papers here, we were nervous as leaving Cuba in 2 weeks meant that we had not had time to check everything out. We assumed that having put up with me for 10 years and being the father of 3 British children that this would be a relatively straight-forward process and made an appointment to visit the best immigration lawyers in town. Seventy five pounds later we fell back onto the fashionable streets of Hockley, pretty devastated at the mess we had found ourselves in due to our undignified exit from Cuba.

Although I had been psychologically healing and moving on, suddenly I was right back to square one and I could only think of 2 people from the film school, the short fat ugly one with bad teeth and her pathetic spaniel faced puppet. Very childish I know but it makes me feel better. I cannot use their names anymore as these two pathetic, dishonest and weak people disgust me so much, I have had to caricature them! In fact when I think about Cuba, despite everything, I think a lot about all the love and good people we knew, but then these caricatures pop up like some crazy spoof horror film, both unattractive and sinister. The kind of people happy to throw a family out of their home in 2 weeks. Would you respect these people?

We were realising yet another consequence of the undignified way that we were forced to leave Cuba. We did not have time to prepare Rafa’s papers to come to Europe. Europe was always part of the plan, we just thought we would make our move in a more civilised way. Anyway, we were told that cold September morning that Rafa would have to leave the UK for between 3-6 months, go back to Guatemala where they do not issue visas, fly to Panama where they do, pay hundreds and hundreds of pounds and hang around alone waiting for his papers to see if he could join his family to come and live with us in a country, where we were not even entirely sure that we wanted to stay. Our 2 years in Cuba had cost us a lot of money and it was looking as though they were going to cost us even more. We still don’t know when we will ever see our remaining possessions again and we are still living out of a few suitcases.

We had never been split up ever since I had rocked back into Rafa’s life from Buenos Aires pregnant, all those years ago. The thought of Papa not being with us for Paulo’s birthday, Christmas and Nico’s Birthday and all of us alone during a long winter was too unbearable to imagine. We wandered around the house in a daze, occasionally stopping and hugging each other and trying to work out a more palatable solution. Rafa had asked the Spaniel if we could stay 2 or 3 more months in Cuba to prepare our move with more care, we had 3 kids for God sake! He had mumbled his refusal, like he always mumbled.

Now we were thinking of wild and crazy plans just to keep the family together, imagine! I bet you can’t! And all this anguish caused by an institution that prides itself on international humanity and understanding. A tad cynical I have become.

Serendipity led me to meet a lovely Mum in a playground, who had worked as a human rights lawyer, and with a large book on European immigration law and her help and reassurances, we began to develop a plan, so we could set sail again, together, for a new life. It had to be a place we all wanted to live, and also a place where we could feel safe and NEVER suffer injustice or persecution again. A place that we could make our home ……. our own home!

Suddenly out of all the madness we had a plan again and one that was always a contender, even before all this happened. We began to feel a little bit better. Bad teeth and Spaniel would not win this one, and the scary pop ups began to go away again.

Meanwhile in our hurricane port, recovering and plotting our next move, my children have had an opportunity to be British and learn about their other half. They have been the coldest they have ever been in their lives and the whitest, but they have never complained! They have embraced the music and TV, and the fact that this is their country too, they love fish and chips and baked beans, Ambrosia custard (not the school one) and Ribena. Re-confirmed that British sweets and music are the best in the world, something announced to us by a friendly taxi driver a few years ago as he shared his toffees with us on the way to the airport.

The good people that we have met and who have helped us in these few weeks, we will never forget you. You accepted us for who we were and never judged us with our crazy stories from another world, another reality. I feel sad that I have had to break a few British people’s romantic notions of Cuba and tell them what it has become, no matter what it may well have been one day.

I have also seen my country in a different light. I admire the hardworking people and a welfare state that goes way beyond anything that existed in Cuba both in terms of healthcare and education. Although us Brits all love to complain, I value even more that ability to complain and stand up for your rights. I love and admire the amazing intellectualism and analytical thought that my country is famous for, and also the multi-culturalism, which means that even in the small city of Nottingham I have met people from all over the world, doing well and surviving on this little island. Also my children have heard me swear much less due to the fact that in my experience we are the most polite drivers in the world. After 10 years away I still cannot believe it when people politely let me pull out in front of them and everyone waves thank you for the slightest courtesy.

Every weekend my children have enjoyed amazing free activities in galleries and museums and parks. Saskia has a French class at her free nursery and my boys extra Spanish classes in their school. They have also learnt a fair bit about the Islamic and Hindu world and taken part in Eid and Diwali celebrations.

But ……….. nobody has any time anymore in England. Everybody is so busy in their little lives that spontaneity has fallen by the wayside. Or is it just living as an ex-pat all these years mean that I have learnt to embrace spontaneity and serendipity and grab every opportunity that life throws my way. I am not used to having to reserve and plan things weeks in advance.

Maybe I no longer know how to live like a Brit but I do know how to be a foreigner, and I don’t mind being the foreigner. The unbearable lightness of being? Now my family belongs to an international world that knows no borders and that is where we are going. And I want my OWN house to fill with my family, beautiful things, and friends visiting me from all over the world with stories to tell.

I cannot deny that I have learnt so much about humanity on my adventures so far. I could also say I don’t want any more adventures but I know that is not true, but I do want a bit of security and stability, at least for a while.

Going back to my roots

I was supposed to go and see a Cuban band on Saturday night, but in the end did not make it, my heart wasn’t in it. Rafa flew to New York the next day for the Icaro film festival that he founded in Guatemala many years ago, and I found myself with the children in a beautiful park in Nottingham, where by chance I got to hear a great local band reminding me of how much I love our cool urban edgy multi-cultural music. As I looked over to my 3 little ones contentedly devouring their mister Whippee icecreams, I felt strangely contented too. As I swayed to the music, Paulo gave me a nervous glance. Mummy please don’t start dancing, he said.

Just as I didn’t expect to be leaving my country pregnant 10 years ago, I didn’t expect to be arriving back here unplanned with my husband and three children a couple of months back, but here I am living in middle England …… literally!

We had planned a holiday back to the UK and France for a month but ended up with 5 huge suitcases and 2 small ones like shell-shocked refugees on our friend’s boat on the Thames in London. But just as we had left Cuba surrounded by love and support we arrived to the same in the UK! Thanks to all our wonderful family and friends who were absolutely there for us, listening to our crazy tales of another world that was beginning to sound more and more like something so weird and wrong that it was fading fast.

P1010431 — Going through a lock on the way to Tower Bridge

Then we headed down to Devon, finding it difficult to enjoy our stay on the beautiful Jurassic coast with grandparents, as we were still being bombarded with lies and libel online from people who should have known better. But when Rafa finally got chance to write his document telling the truth, they all shut up and really should be totally ashamed of themselves. But as I have realised in the last few weeks, some people have no shame. But we splashed on the beaches, ate ice cream, cream teas and fish and chips, found fossils, visited donkey sanctuaries and really did our best to salvage some kind of holiday. The children were unsettled and anxious, and I still felt angry about how their lives had been turned upside down by a few deeply vain and selfish people. But as the days passed I stopped waking up with a knot in my stomach that had been put there by so much injustice.

P1010526 — Chocolate chip icecream on the beach

P1010529 — Saskia in a place called Beer

Next we moved on to Nottingham, my old university city and where I had spent many happy family Christmases in my aunt and uncle’s beautiful house. We decided to stay, as my wonderful aunt and kindred spirit had a little house for us to live in and we had to start looking in earnest for schools to bring some normality back to my children’s lives. We bought a car, spent a lot of time in the school admissions department of the council, met some new friends, had lots of fun and lovely dinners with my aunt as we waited for our house to be fixed up for us. The children were still anxious and naughty and would not sleep ……….. but bit by bit everything fell together. But it was weird to be the one in charge, the Brit back in her own country and language.

P1010606 — In Newstead Abbey Lord Byron's gaff

Now we are in a lovely little house, Saskia has a free nursery place at the end of the road, we are registered with a doctor round the corner, have found a dentist for the first time in 2 years and finally at the last moment the boys got a place in a school less than 10 minutes drive away. We found some old carpet tiles in a rubbish skip, Rafa cleared out the cellar, carpeted it and we have installed the boys a Lego den downstairs. Second hand Lego from Ebay helping the healing! The children are amazingly happy in their school and have friends from Afghanistan, Somalia, Jamaica and a few from England. We enrolled in a beautiful little public library 2 minutes away, so they are forgetting about all the books they left behind too! I still have the odd pang when I see something in someone’s kitchen that I used to have or the children ask me where something is and I have to say, Mummy couldn’t fit everything in the suitcases …..

At times during my ten years away I worried that my children would never know what it was like to be British, so I say thank you to serendipity for this unexpected but strangely welcome opportunity and I intend to make the most of it. Not long to go until Guy Fawkes Bonfire Night (a truly British event) and maybe my children will get to see snow this Christmas, something I’ve been promising them for many years.

P1010677 — The next to go ..... love the smart new uniforms

So now I feel like a middle England Mum, enjoying the wonders of British supermarkets, (Aldi we love you), pootling around in my little car listening to Radio 2 (how ucool is that!). Everyone has been very gentle and friendly to us in Nottingham and we have discovered the delights of the alternative cinema and the new Contemporary arts centre, bumped into Latinos in parks and Ikea, and the boys are already playing football in the street with their Indian neighbours. How long we will be here, or where we go next we do not know yet, but for the time being we are safe and happy in Nottingham. Nobody can keep the Rosal Wilkie family down for long and we are having a well-earned breather until the next adventure begins.

Just off to browse on line for my first winter coat in 10 years …….. hmmm.

Miscellaneous musings … Union Jacks, Traffic, the Havana film festival.

I know that the Union Jack has a kind of iconic fashion status like the stars and stripes of the US, and the well merchandised Cuban flag along with Che, however the recent appearance of fashion items boasting the Union Jack seems to be a craze here in Cuba. I count at least 10 or 12 a day and if I head up town I see more. When I saw a man wearing a huge Union Jack T shirt and matching espadrilles, I had to go and ask him, what is this obsession in Cuba with the British flag? He said that he just liked it … the colours and the style. His wife was laughing, saying he wants to be English but without any great conviction. I am not sure what is going on but I am sure it is not a sudden and bizarre affection for my country, maybe random knock-off Olympic and Jubilee merchandise is pouring in and the Cubans with their love for bright bold colours and labels are snapping them up. The following day I bumped into a whole family decked out in Union Jack attire, all with matching espadrilles and T-shirts, father, mother and son in pushchair. I wish I’d had my camera with me!

One of the first things you notice about Cuba is the lack of traffic, but it seems that for various reasons to do with importation and good old-fashioned supply and demand, cars are now pouring into Cuba. I am not sure who is importing them and re-selling them but things are changing fast. These last few weeks I have actually been a little irritated by the traffic, which has never happened to me here. Even when people are driving as though they are the only person on the road, you always have plenty of space to get round them, as they usually are the only other car on the road. Now, they are still driving as though they are the only cars on the road, but they are NOT.

Like all transitions, I fear that there will be a rise in accidents, as people are now buying new cars, that can go faster, but they have not learnt the etiquette and safety measures of how to drive in a busier, faster world. In fact yesterday I saw 2 bad accidents on the Malecon, one of them including a bicycle. It made me reassess where I was going to go cycling on my new shiny bike bought at Marina Hemingway the other day. The lack of road markings, pot holes in the road and a general inability to drive in lots of traffic are not helping the situation. After 8 years of driving in Guatemala I am ready for anything and at least nobody is going to pull a gun on me. Or at least not yet!

What I want to know is who are all these people buying cars and where did they get their money? Cars are changing hands at inflated prices. Are they all bureaucrats cashing in on preferential deals while they still can? Are they ordinary people with money wired from Miami or Canada or wherever? I don’t know, but in the last couple of months the cars seem to have doubled on the roads and it does not appear that these cars are being driven by the most polite of Cubans. I was commenting the other day that at least Cubans have to pass their driving tests, unlike in Guatemala where corruption is the usual way to acquire your driving licence. I wouldn’t be so sure of that commented a wise Cuban friend with a knowing smile ……..

After having the UNESCO visit, hosting Cilect (meeting of international film school directors) and various Hollywood types turning up sniffing around Cuba and the film school we went straight into The Havana film festival which is now coming to an end and I shall be writing about it all soon …. as usual I never get to see any films as I have so many receptions and parties to attend with Rafa and juggling the family and all this has not been easy. The children missed a day of school, Paulo got into trouble for forgetting to do his homework, I missed a parents meeting. Never mind, only one week of school left and the Festival finishes tomorrow …..phew. And Paulo came home with a school report that rocked as did Nico a couple of weeks earlier so all is well in their little trilingual world!

Tonight I am off to meet some British directors who made a road movie in Cuba. I have not seen the film so I am hoping that they give me a copy and I can at least say I have managed to see one film!

A life less ordinary …..

I have been back just over a week from the UK and feeling as though I am just getting back into my routine, but also at the same time realising that there is no routine. That is the best thing about my life here. People are still spontaneous and open to suggestions. People are busy but not booked up! Every week is different even when you think you know what is in store …….

It was fun to spend that time with Saskia and family and friends. But as usual when I hit the shores of their motherland, Saskia caught a terrible head cold. In fact one particular night when we were staying in a very smart bedroom I was catching vomit in my hand so as not to Kalpol stain the beautiful white bedspread. The joys of motherhood!!

It was the latest time I have visited London in years, and I did hit Autumn rather that the beautiful Indian summers that I have usually the pleasure. I managed to kit us out with a few layers in second hand shops and Uniqlo …….. I filled my suitcase with childrens shoes, England football kits, atlas, various cooking items and a whole load of food and toiletries. Bisto now comes in squeezy tubes I was pleased to see! I picked up a couple of cool frocks in Spitalfields market and a pair of ankle boots to get me though. My second suitcase was way over the limit but the nice Spanish lady at Virgin took pity on me and waved it through …. yippy. Twilight checkin is the best!

In England nobody seemed to have much time, everybody rushing, lots of people. Can I still live somewhere so full of people I thought to myself ……….

I was glad to get back to sunshine and all my men and we partied late on a school night, so happy to all be back together again despite the long flight and jetlag. Next year wherever we go it will be all together! I promised the boys. I think this was the longest I had left my family and it is easier said than done!

Cuba life is just as fun and I arrived home for the annual party at the Spanish embassy where I caught up with a few people. The night after we had a dinner in the house with some friends and got dragged out to another party where Wichy de Vedado (one of the better DJs in Havana) was playing on a rooftop. Trying to have a quiet week afterwards I was invited by a photographer friend to hear a band called Deja Vu, who had been recording in a house in Jamainitas on the beach close to our house and were having a party and a little concert to wrap up. Luckily the concert was at sunset so I managed to get home by 9. I enjoyed the music and the atmosphere around the band and their families and had to stop myself jumping in the sea with the other guests fully dressed ………. could be a bit of a soggy drive home I thought.

Now bracing myself for 2 weeks holiday with the boys and Rafa away in Magarita at a film festival. What adventures can we have? This weekend we have the new head of the British Council coming over for lunch and we promised the children that we would do lots of fun things ……… the musicians of Bremen is in the theatre in Vedado, as well as a French season of children’s films.

One year in Cuba …. the best telenovela!

I missed my one year anniversary here in Cuba. It was August 14th when we arrived last year so I am summing things up a little late, partly due to not having much time to get on line; and also we were all in a temporary dip in our enthusiasm for our life here. The telenovela had become a little bit too gritty and I was too hot and bothered!

Now we are back up, and I am enjoying my Cuban life again just as I did when I first arrived. I am still not tired of meeting film makers and teachers and dancing with the students at the film school or getting dressed up and going to diplomatic parties in beautiful venues, palaces and hotels in Havana. I am still meeting interesting people from all over the world and making good friends and I still have so many things to write about and to do that I am always busy.

Rafa gave me an official role at the film school which I was already doing. I just wanted the acknowledgement and a card saying …. International Public Relations, which means I get to talk to anybody and everybody about how great the film school is. Not a difficult task. But I too have other little projects like trying to get more African students, not easy but we are making progress and collecting contacts. I also enjoy meeting and entertaining the visiting teachers who are a very important part of what makes the school unique. We have around 40 teachers who come every month from everywhere ……. Spain, UK, France, Mexico, Brazil, Argentina, US, to name a few …….. over a year that adds up!

After a year of good and bad domestic experiences, I now have my lovely Mayda running the house and the parties and the shopping and the maintenance and the children. She does it so well that there are days when I feel as though I am living in a hotel. If there is one thing I would like to do for her in the time I am here, it is to reunite her in some way with her daughter and only child who left with her husband on a boat 4 years ago. A classic Cuban story, Mayda is too young to be allowed to visit her in the States and her daughter was recently denied her entry back into Cuba to visit. Her son-in-law was given permission to come back but not her daughter and they both shed many tears of disappointment.

Mayda to me represents the good side of Cuba. She works hard, always has a smile and a kind word and is loyal, funny and noble. Some days I have to force her to sit down and eat a proper lunch as she never thinks about herself, just how she can make my family’s life better. She is the one who has consoled me when times have been tough, and my decision to promote her and recognise her work, I hope will help in some financial way, to reunite her with her daughter.

The boys are happy in school and reading and speaking French which makes me so proud. They now have Cuban accents when speaking Spanish and supported every Cuban athlete in the Olympics. In fact during the Olympics it was fun to see how they supported UK, Cuba, France, Guatemala (got their first medal!!) and of course Jamaica (on the grounds that it used to be British and was in the Caribbean and they had Bolt!).

And how do I feel about Cuba? Life is never boring and I have learnt a lot about humanity and life and love already. I know I will always defend the Cuban people for their fun and their intelligence and their ability to resolve their lives no matter what the world or the state throw at them. You have to admire their resilience. I hope that all the good things that they represent can shine through all the corruption and unfairness that can make life bitter sweet. I also hope that the Bling Blings don’t take over and turn the country back to what it was becoming in ’59 except this time with Reggaeton and Dolce and Gabana fakes. Please Cubans learn how to do business without selling your daughters and your soul and keep your own quintessential style, don’t copy from the mainland.

Now I am planning my trip back to the UK with my Saskia to see her Grandma (not Granma!) and family and godmothers and good old friends who have patiently kept in touch with me and my life over all these years. For those who don’t get the joke see link. Granma was the name of the yacht that transported Fidel and Che and the others to Cuba in 1956 and has since become the name of a province and a newspaper. The boat itself was restored and can now be seen outside the Museum of the Revolution in Havana. I find it a little ironic that such an icon of the Revolution is a misspelled American word because we spell it correctly in England with a d!

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 25^th 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.

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 ……………

Birthdays, Americans in Havana and no knickers!

Yesterday was Rafa’s 51st Birthday. We made a cake and the boys made him a very sweet card to be kept and treasured. Saskia still doesn’t really know what is going on but she loved the singing and the animals they put on the cake. I didn’t manage to get to the chocolate shop round the corner (which has old style posh chocs in nice little boxes), due to lots of extra curricula activities and meetings at the boys school. Neither could I buy Rafa some clothes as I usually do, but we all sang Happy Birthday in 3 languages (French a little bit rusty!) and learnt a new Cuban Birthday song. Lucky my husband is not a material man.

However, the other event of the day was a little trip to the United States Interest Section in Havana to welcome the new head of mission with a cultural cocktail. I did not think that this opportunity would arise so soon and I was looking forward to putting on a nice frock and getting involved. I really promised to be on my best behaviour ……… or at least I will try not to drop any clangers about Guatanamo and how it is not cool or true to call Cubans terrorists while the US is repeatedly breaking international law and, and, and ……… hmmm

Maybe I should start with a few facts!

The United States do not have diplomatic relations with Cuba. Therefore they do not have the right to have an embassy in Cuba. What can you expect when Cubans are officially on the US list of terrorists? So they have this strange thing called the Interest Section in Havana commonly known as USINT. It acts as a de facto embassy and a place to post provocative propaganda which the Cubans have always responded to with billboards and demonstrations. They have some weird cover agreement with the Swiss, I suppose because of their neutrality.

I first visited Cuba in June 2005 when Paulo was a baby and Nico was in my tummy still undetected! We were staying with friends very close to USINT and we were aware of all the propaganda coming out of the electronic billboard and the Cubans paper billboard counter attack. We arrived in Habana to find everyone in the streets as it was the anniversary of the hijacking of a plane of athletes by CIA backed terrorists. We learnt that the mother of the friend where we were staying was not in the house, she had been invited to the reception with Fidel as her husband was the pilot who was one of the many people killed by that shocking attack, a story for another day. And, when I get near a faster internet connection I will post my photos on a separate blog.

Guantanamo Bay is not accessible by land but only into its superb natural harbour and naval base can the US enter. Matters relating to Guantanamo are dealt with by the US Embassy in Jamaica just across the sea.

And then there is that old matter of the blockade ……. This was put in place in 1962 with the intention of isolating the country and fomenting regime change. Well that didn’t work did it??? Some people call it an embargo but it is a blockade as the US penalises other countries who are willing to work with Cuba. The blockade breaks with the basic human rights of 11 million Cuban people: the right to self determination. The blockade has cost the Cubans over $100 billion over the years. Not to mention the costs to broken families and health (50% of drugs companies are owned by the US and not allowed to enter Cuba). In the UN 185 countries condemn the blockade and 2 don’t …….. the US and Israel (funny that).

So with all this buzzing in my head off I went to meet the Americans wearing my best All Saints silk dress and no knickers! In fact no underwear whatsoever. I blame Rafa, it was his suggestion. So I was feeling a little irreverant without even having to open my mouth. I suppose I could have worn a T-shirt saying stop all blockades and close Guantanamo!

The new Head of Mission (Mission Impossible) in Habana looked pale and shiny and frightened but was pleasant enough. I managed to meet the British Ambassador who looks like Helen Mirren and seems fun (a Cuban assured me that she was the favourite diplomat in town). She invited us round to her beautiful old house in Vedado which I have heard is an historical gem. I met a famous artist who wants to show his work in the film school and a the heads of Reuters and AFP who were both fun and interesting. We also met Gloria who is head of the Public Relations department at the Office of Interest and was very positive about helping us with the Film School. We spoke about all the US individuals who have visited the school over the years including Lucas, Coppola, Redford and Spielberg.

The night finished early around 9.30, we were the only ones to dance but I discovered that I can’t dance in my new super comfy Fitflops bought on Northcote road during the London riots. They stick to the floor.

Next it is our turn to throw the party on Friday for Rafa’s Birthday and to say welcome to the new house, our house to all the friends who helped us move to Cuba. The house is now a family house with toys and books and shoes everywhere and no longer any protocol. Anyway I hope it will be the first of many parties we will have in our Havana house in front of the sea.

England ……..looking backwards

It is always tricky dipping back into England every year but this year it was particularly hard. We were homeless, in limbo and I think we all felt disconnected and confused. I always go for a month but by 3 weeks I am on my knees.

The intensity of trying to catch up with a year of family trials and tribulations can be emotionally exhausting. Dashing round and trying to spend some time with my oldest friends is great too, but usually demands a bit of drinking and bad parenting (i.e too much TV and bad food to keep them quiet while I chat, no baths or teeth cleaning and every routine goes out the window). All this usually leads to lots of bad behaviour and two cheeky boys fighting and refusing to sleep.

Last year I went without the boys and just with Saskia who was 5 months old. I only went for 2 weeks but after the first week I was missing the rest of the family so much it felt strange but was certainly an easier and more relaxing visit. I even managed a great little trip to my beloved France to visit Saskia´s godmother, which really did feel like a holiday. Great food, wine and chat and swimming in a pool surrounded by ancient oak forest.

This year for the first 3 weeks we were staying in a cottage in a beautiful Cotswold village close to my mother and sister full of smart well-preserved retired people. I had ordered a USB internet connection, which did not work and always have my mobile phone reconnected (which had no network coverage). I had happened upon a village that had communication problems that rival Cuba. I had so many things to do and so many people to call and catch up with on the phone but could not do much more than try to get through the days without one of my children spilling food on English carpets or waking up the neighbours during jetlagged nights.

We climbed up to Broadway tower with Paulo´s godmother and watched the boys chasing sheep trying to catch them and stroke them in their red El Che T-shirts.

They became experts on CBeebies, rude English words and fruit pastels, maltesers, Fruit Shoots, Hula Hoops and all the rest…….. I was so sad when they didn´t like cherries!

Before Rafa arrived ……… just trying to work out all the appliances, recycling and the TV and get them all in the hire car every day to shop at Budgens was enough. And having the elderly couple, who owned the place pop in all the time to remind me of the various recycling collections. Phew………..

By the time I managed to get them all up and fed in the morning Saskia was ready for her morning sleep and I had to put the TV on to keep the boys quiet and feed the pay phone, then it was lunch for the three of them and maybe a stagger to the park to see if I could find a corner of the playground where my phone might work whilst keeping my eye on three children ……….. not easy believe me.

I was supposed to be sorting out all the admin of my English life: banks, credit cards etc, shopping for the whole family for a year (no shopping in Cuba and 3 growing children and things as ridiculous as bath plugs and car parts, deoderants and low sugar Ketchup, tampons, toothpaste, digital radio).

We spent a wonderful half an hour in John Lewis with a fantastic Indian mama who kitted us out with footwear for the children for a few months. I dragged my non-consumerist man into New Look to get a wardrobe for Cuba in a 20 minute Sunday Summer Sale power shopping session before hitting the amazing Salisbury Cathedral. That was after a 20 minute Stonehenge stop off.

My boys had their first taste of surfing on a Devon beach and ate fish and chips and sausage rolls. We buried them in the sand of the dunes and experienced every weather in one day. Typical English seaside stuff.

When Amy Winehouse died it hit my hard. A strange thing when the death of a famous person feels close and personal. It was quite a shock and I hadn’t even been living in the UK for her rise to fame but I loved her voice, her style and her vulnerable irreverence and never read all the tabloid rubbish about her life. Maybe there is a bit of Amy in me, or maybe it was just the moment.

Then the riots ………….. a sociological disaster that will be discussed in newspaper columns for years. At this point we were all staying with a friend in London close to the action and the police sirens were going off all night. It felt quite strange to be with my Guatemalan husband in London during the worst social unrest in 26 years, But such is life ………

So my beautiful England I do love you, but I am not quite sure I understand my old world so well anymore. But thanks to all my family and friends for making this trip so wonderful despite the challenges of being on holiday in your own country, you always make me feel so welcome and loved.