Cuba resembles a vibrant quilt, with patches of brilliant abstract art, soul-touching sounds of Son, Danzon and other music, vast swaths of dense forest reserves, petite organic farms, and urban streets lined with 1950s-era Buicks and Chevys. I've written numerous pieces on Cuba, including for National Geographic Traveler where I discussed bird watching. Now check out my latest video slideshow on YouTube.
I
arrived in Cuba (on a tour with International Expeditions) not to sample the coffee, some with elaborate foam
art displaying the visage of Che Guevara; watch the daily street
parade of 1950s automobiles; dance to son, danzon, rumba or other
Cuban music; or sip a mojito in a Havana bar that Hemingway
frequented. No, I came to check out the bird scene because, beyond this island nation's signature sights and activities is a verdant landscape brimming with bird species.
In the bayside town of Cienfuegos, there's plenty to get excited about, whether the waterfront promenade that's perfect for jogging or the petite sculpture garden across the street featuring contemporary, and sometimes whimsical, works in various media. A giant dragonfly fashioned out of metal wire and a crimson hued rhinoceros are just two of more than a dozen creative pieces that beckon to be inspected. (Curious that so few people visit this artistic enclave.)
But, perhaps the most enthralling thing about Cienfuegos was my visit to the Museo Historico Provincial one evening to attend the performance of Cantores de Cienfuegos, a versatile, 23-member choral group. Under the direction of Honey Moreira Abreu, who became their conductor originally as part of Cuba's required community service and loved it so much that she stayed on, the choir has an eclectic repertoire, singing everything from Renaissance to Japanese fisherman's folk music.
Listening to them even for a few moments, you can't help be impressed. But it's no wonder they can perform at this stellar level: they practice for three hours every day. In fact, singing in the choir is their job -- though some may take on a second job -- with the oldest member performing with them for 20+ years and the youngest, a mere five months.
The Korimacao Project in Playa Larga, Cuba is hardly your run-of-the-mill art school. There's no tuition. The students don't need to have any prior art background. The only requirements: they need only be young and have talent. Oh, and lest I forget: each student that lives at the school 11 months of the year is paid a wage while they are in attendance. (Many students stay on for years and year.)
Founded in 1992, the school takes its name from the indigenous word
meaning "to carry something on your back." How appropriate given that
every week the students take their art, whether painting, drawing,
dance, music or theater, into the surrounding communities where the people would never have any other opportunities to have art experiences. Every week, the students go into any of 10 different communities in the rural Zapata Swamp area, staying three to four days, putting on plays, recitals, and concerts, and producing art.
The school itself is pretty much a self-contained creative entity, with its own design, makeup, costume construction, and audio-visual departments, as well as a video editor and cameraman, and students studying ballet, acting, fine art, music and much more. With plenty of intimate collaborative efforts, Korimacao, which has an orchestra and choir, can produce movies and plays. Sure, so much of Cuba seems stuck in the 1950s, with the citizenry continuing to suffer from the continued food rationing as well as the difficulty acquiring any sort of new equipment. And yet, the youth in Cuba brim with creativity that refuses to be impeded by these and other barriers. My four-minute video here reveals the stellar talents of a group of jazz musicians studying at Korimacao.
Imagine my surprise, returning to my hotel at the end of a long day to find that the towels had all been arranged on my bed so that they resemble swans. I found that this display of housekeeping origami was more the norm than not. Now think about walking into a small bodega-type store only to find that boxes of vanilla- or chocolate-filled cookies were pretty much the only packaged goods on the shelf. Not far away stretched a canopy of foliage where I spotted the world's smallest bird, the bee hummingbird.
Another day, I walked around a village that's completely wrapped around an eco concept, where a restaurant is solar powered and the hotel was built to accommodate the resident trees. In this village, Las Terrazas, I sat at a coffee shop high above lush gardens, ordered a cappuccino and stared into the foam at the barrista's insistence: the chocolate powder was sprinkled in the form of Che Guevara. Welcome to Cuba, a land of diversity and disparities, a land with warm, welcoming and exceedingly creative people, and protected green spaces that would satisfy even the most discriminating birder or botanist. I found a family of potters, a young jazz ensemble, a choral group whose repertoire included everything from Renaissance to Japanese folk music, and a slew of contemporary painters producing some very surreal work that I would gladly own.
Because it's difficult for Americans to travel to Cuba directly, I signed up with International Expeditions so that I could see the less touristy side of this politically-charged isle.
The above slide show will give you a glimpse into Cuba's colorful treasures.
