Havana, Cuba

2,567 miles from San Francisco

Cuba.

A land acknowledged for being locked in time but, beyond that oft-repeated characteristic, it is one in which we discovered many contradictions. A people and culture whose vivaciousness quite literally bleeds onto the streets –where parties, baseball or soccer games and cookouts regularly seem to take place – governed by a sociopolitical system that seeks to establish unity through homogeneity of thought and action, with a government observer placed on each block to keep tabs on the goings-on.

It was in the midst of this oddly palpable contradiction and after one of us was felled by food poisoning with the other’s felling yet to come, that a conversation began with a friendly member of the wait staff at the nearby breakfast place that we visited every morning in Havana. I initially asked her what interesting places were within walking distance, and soon our chat evolved into what would be a multi-morning conversation about her life, and life in Cuba in general.

Her name is Amanda, and she works hard. She has two jobs, and often works both in the same day. One as the waitress where we met her, and the other as a cocktail server in a night club. She works 10 hours per day, 7 days per week and gets a day off once every 15 days, quizás. 70 hour weeks without end is hard enough, but she works at a morning place and a late night place. Most weeks, therefore, look like this:

Monday, 6am-11am: Work at breakfast buffet

Monday, 9pm-3am: Work at nightclub

Tuesday, 6am-11am: Work at breakfast buffet

Tuesday, 9pm-3am: Work at nightclub

And so on.

This is for a rate that can be as high as 50CUC per day (~$50), which is an exorbitantly large income in Havana and, particularly, Cuba – where half the population lives on a household income of $300-400 annually.

When I balked at the intensity of her schedule and explained that in the US we only have to work 5 days a week (and still often complain), she simply laughed. Her schedule means she saves money and doesn’t have time to spend it, a perfect combination in her eyes. Remarkably responsible words from a 20-year-old.

When I asked her what she’s saving for and what her dreams are the contradictions of Cuba emerged once again. Amanda was pursuing a degree at the local University studying Medicine, but had to drop out to support her mother who doesn’t work. Her father has been out of the picture since she was young, but her stepfather also contributes a little. Given her exposure to tourists through her work, she has dreams of traveling outside of the country – Norway, in particular, tops her list of dream destinations. A Norwegian student studying in Havana was a brief romance of hers and the land of tall blonde people, far from Havana’s harsh humidity, has been set in her mind ever since.

She is, however, a realist. Despite Cuba’s abolition of the previously required exit visa, travel costs remain unattainable for the majority of Cubans— even those like Amanda with a relatively higher income. Beyond that, the freedom to travel anywhere without government intervention seems too good to be true. Many Cubans we asked about it still felt as though they couldn’t leave if they wanted to.

Therein lies what stuck with us most. A culture so intensely positive, so pulsing and rich with motion nonpareil, but, a reality of truly limited socioeconomic mobility. A truth of being encapsulated in time, much like the city of Havana itself.

We were struck by Cuba’s beauty and that of its people to no end. The stories of relentless positivity, regardless of the situation at hand, made us appreciate even more how fortunate we are to be able to move through the world the way that we do.