Day 8

My cousin finally came to pick me up two nights ago. I was just finishing my dinner when she arrived. Her hair was tied in a ponytail and she was wearing cargo pants. She looked cute in a tom-boyish way.

“Hurry up” - she said, as she sat at the table across from me.

“So, are you finally going to tell me where we are going?”

“I want you to meet a couple of friends, that's all.”

The sky was overcast and the night was dark as we walked out of the building and crossed the street to the boardwalk. Below, the rocks gargled as minute waves spilled through the ancient holes and crevasses of the coastline. The sea was calm, and in the darkness of the night, it seemed endless. We walked along the boardwalk in the direction of old Havana. It was close to midnight and the streets were semi-deserted save for a few tourists here and there, and a few locals.

“So, how old are you anyways?” - I asked, since I still wasn't sure of her age.

“Eighteen. And you?”

“Seventeen.”

“I am glad you came to visit.” she said, smiling.

“How come?”

“My brothers are young, so we have little in common. And you don't look like a dork. So, I am glad we can hang out.”

“Thanks.”

When we got to old Havana we crossed the street and left the boardwalk behind us. We walked fast and made confusing turns through main streets and alleyways. I remembered a few days before when I had walked through old Havana with my uncle. This wasn't the same area. I couldn't see any tourists or shops anymore.

“So, tell me. What do you do for fun over there? You got a girl?”

“Ha, yeah I am seeing a girl but it's nothing serious. And you, you have boyfriend?”

“We are here.” She said.

We had stopped in front of a building with an enormous wooden door. The street was dark and narrow, and rows of dark balconies squeezed the sky overhead. There was not a lot going on in this side of town. She reached up and touched a loose wire to a small metal box nailed to the door frame, and somewhere in the building a bell rang. The stairway was dark and negotiating the half broken steps was a feat. A bare and tired yellow lightbulb hung from the top floor. I was starting to doubt whether coming out tonight was such a good idea . Going up, I could hear music playing very faintly. When we reached the top my cousin rang another doorbell (this one did not have loose wires), and we were quickly ushered into a very strange room.

Here we were in the middle of really old Havana, in a rundown building with broken stairs, and I found myself in a clandestine (I later found out) club. At the far wall two columns of coloured lights flashed at the beat of the music. The DJ was blasting cuban rock out of two large Harman Kardon speakers mounted on the wall. The room was filled with hazy smoke and people jumping and screaming.

“It's great isn't it!” - my cousin screamed into my ear.

“Come on I want to introduce you to people”

We went around the floor, and I shook hands with a few of her friends.

“Common lets go up, it's really loud in here!”

“Up where!” - I screamed back.

I followed her and three of her friends out of the “club” into a balcony. To my horror I realized what “up” meant. An old wooden ladder connected the balcony to the roof. Thankfully the ladder held our weight, and up we went. From the roof we could see the city stretch for miles with puddles of light scattered between mostly dark areas. In front of us, and not too far to our right the bay was visible. The light house and great spanish cannons of El Morro and La Cabaña, on the opposite shore, squeezed the great sea into the narrow mouth of the bay. The long and narrow channel extended a few hundred meters before spilling into the great belly, where a few ships bobbed up and down like the heads of Jazz musicians, to the rhythm of the sea. In the darkness of the night it was easy to forget the degeneration and destruction so noticeable during day. It was easy to see the bay as it must have been two hundred years ago when the cannons protected the entrance from pirates and corsairs, or, when commerce thrived and ships loaded and offloaded on the busy ports fueling the market. Nothing screams of energy and prosperity as well as the machinery of the markets. Without the buzz and hassles of merchants during the night preparing the shops and merchandise for the next day, the nights are quiet, but so are the days.

“Hey, are you ok?” asked my cousin, waking me up from a daze.

“Yeah, I was just looking at the bay”

“Grab a seat and come sit with us.”

We sat in the roof top and talked for awhile. Her friends were mostly curious about life in the US.

“Have you been to New York?” asked Carlos, one of her friends.

“Yup.”

“How is it? I love reading about it”

“It's my favourite city.” - I said.

“Many people like it because of the high rise buildings and the expensive stores. But I like it because it's a live city. It's hard to explain. Usually those people who love the highrises hate the dirty subways and suburbs. But I think that in order to love New York City you have to love both. If everything was clean and pretty it wouldn't be real. You need a little of the dark side if you want to have culture.”

“I like that” said Miguel.

“It's like, without witches, even fairy tales are dull. I love walking on Queens at night when shop owners are organizing their merchandize in the shop basements. These are the basements that open on the sidewalk as you see on the movies. The same as it used to be 60 years ago. Some areas are dangerous and some areas are not, but it's that thrill of the night together with the glamour and buzz of the day that makes New York city the greatest city in the world.”

“I can't wait to see it.” - said Carlos

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I wish I could see it, that's all.”

“What do you think of La Havana?” I asked him

“Man, this whole thing is fucked. Look at it. It's falling apart. There is nothing to do. Everything is illegal. It's bullshit. Unless you are a tourist there is nothing here for you.”

“Why, what do you think?” - he asked me

“I think La Havana is like a raped virgin” - i said recalling what my uncle had told me. I still didn't quite get it, but I thought it sounded smart.

They all laughed and agreed although I am not sure they grasped it either.We talked and drank moonshine for a few hours until dawn began to break on the horizon. I liked my cousin's friends. They were curious people, and very relaxed. They seemed to like my company.

When I got home I saw two books on my bed: The old man and the sea and To have and have not, both by Ernest Hemingway. "Enjoy :)" read a note, on one of them.