Speaking of photos, my camera is down for the count (rain!), and its possible there will be none after yesterday afternoon.  Yesterday we drove to Palma, a vilage 45 minutes from Santiago.  Shared the highway with horses, ox carts, bicycles, and eventually arrived at a small house where we sat for a while as the saint spoke with Ariana.  Yes, this was the home of a voodoo priest and the rest of the morning was spent in and out of the temple (a very small windowless shed) in the backyard (think barnyard) of the home.  The ceremony had something to do with healing and involved anointing with some aromatic oil, candles, ashes, much ritual and ceremonial drinking of rum mixed with herbs, from bottles that had been buried in the ground.  An old priest with the feel of the Dalai Lama and a younger priest who seemed to be possessed by the saints.  Or maybe it was something else entirely.    As we take our leave of the saint, at one point the older priest is smoking a pipe with the bowl in his mouth and the younger is pouring rum in his ears. Hot and overwhelming, yet also benign and tranquil.  Not at all scary or creepy.

At one point most of us sat in the barnyard and learned a bit about what this group was doing.  It involves turning 45 hectares of land into an agricultural center in harmony with the teachings of voodoo. It is at the confluence of two rivers. There is a beautiful design that will theoretically be visible from the air sometime in the future.  After lunch we hiked to the land to plant avocado seedlings.  The land at present is a mile from any road, and you need to cross one of the rivers before climbing up on the mesa.  So far it has been cleared and a rough lean-to erected.  Much time is spent using a measuring tape to decide where our seedlings will go.  as this is happening it begins to rain, first a drizzle, then a major downpour with thunder and lightning, all of which is crashing and flashing very close.    General joy among the Cubans, as this is the first rain in a long time, the earth is very dry, and until now, any water has been hauled up by hand. Plus it is an indication that the ceremony has gone well.  A blessing.  Mixed reactions from our group.

Inches of rain continue to fall (hence the now useless camera) and we eventually make our way off the hill, slipping and sliding down the now extremely muddy trail.  At some point, several young boys greet us with great excitement.  I hear ariba and am sure a flash flood is coming, as it surely would in Arizona.  Once they slow down I realize they are saying they have helped the man with the beard and glasses across the river and up.  They help us as well, and we are eventually back across the now waist deep river and making a dripping parade through town.  Definitely a source of entertainment for the locals.  Back at the house we drip on the porch until one of the guys returns with a selection of dry clothes.  Amazing generosity.  We return to the hotel looking like campesinos, and are warmly greeted by the hotel staff. 

Actually we return minus Ariana and Debbie, who have stayed for a last-minute offering of fire eating and breaking of glass on tongues that Ariana promises will be truly amazing, largely thanks to the obvious success of the day’s ceremony.  They guys have come “down from the mountains” to perform for us.  Tempting and it has already been a very full day, and showers and dinner call.  Photographer Debbie will have photos.

Today will be more pedestrian. Artists studios at 10 a.m.

Toni

After checking into our Soviet-era hotel, we went to El Morro a huge 1630 fort on a hill overlooking the ocean and the bay. First lunch on a terrace overlooking the ocean, then (for those of us still standing- remember we left the hotel at 4:30 a.m.), a tour of the fort.   At the end of the war of independence (1898), the American fleet picked off the Spanish fleet one by one as they came out of the Santiago harbor.  This and the history of piracy are explained in the museum within the walls of the fort.  Back to the hotel for a quick shower, then we walk to Casa de Caribe for a special performance (just for us) of Orfeum, a truly spectacular choir.  As we walked in, they were lined up singing on both sides of the entrance hall.  A total surprise, and so beautiful Mary and I were both in tears.  Even as I write, it happens again.
After the concert we learn about Casa de Caribe.  Raul is an anthropologist and does his work here.  It’s a center for the study of the Caribbean, with a particular focus on African culture and history.  Then we walk on to San Juan Hill.   On the way, I used my not so good Spanish to tell Raul about Buckey O’Neil and the Prescott connection to San Juan Hill.  Raul announces that Antonia is moved to be at San Juan Hill, where the Mayor of her City gave his life for the cause of Cuban independence from Spain, and as it turns out, I am.  We find Buckey’s name on the plaques listing the fallen, and wonder if this might be the first visit from Prescott in over 50 years.

Dinner in a rooftop palador, a long walk through the street festival that is part of Cuba Disco, then we fall into bed, ready I hope for today.  First a dance lesson (yikes!), later music and more music.

I love it here.

Toni

Havana

More Havana (Tropicana and rumba!) and a bit of Santiago de Cuba

Santiago de Cuba (includes San Juan Hill) and Palma Soriano

more Santiago de Cuba and El Cobre (the cell phone shots)

I know a lot of the photos are blurred.  Cuba moved too fast for my camera.  At places like the Tropicana, the blur of color feels just right.

Toni put the email group together so you’ll recieve this from her. Ayer (Wed
5/18) es todo de mucisc, all about music. We followed up on Tues afternoon’s
concert of Septet Habenero at THE recording studio in Cuba with a visit to a
music school. Toni’s email will have the details. For me the lesson about
“clave” was eye-opening. Clave is not just the instrument (2 hardwood sticks)
but more about the internal rhythm of most Cuban music until the 1980’s (jazz is
the exception). Pereuchin, a pianist and comtemporary composer and educator, has
devised a method for teaching clave, and believe me learning clave is not easy,
even for young Cuban musicians. His demonstration was followed by a performance
of one of the school’s “musica popular” ensembles. Boy could those kids play! It
was a joy to watch! More in Toni’s email, I’m sure. After lunch, we went to a
rehearsal of an up-and-coming pianist/composer–Jorege Luis Pacheco. He, like
many young Cuban musicians is from a musical family. He has a trio with a
bassist and drummer, both of whom were extraordinary. The bass guy, David, spoke
wonderful English and in addition to translating for Pacheco and our Cuban
guide, Sonya, also engaged us in thoughtful discussions about the music.
Specifically, one of our group, a pianist from New Orelean (Tom) asked about
“timba” the genre that follows, chronologically, Cuban son (what we all think of
when we think Cuban). Again, I think Toni will cover this but my two cents:
Cubans have evolved without the influence of the outside world, but they are
hungary for those new sounds. Pacheco & David and Anyel (drummer) talked about
soaking up whatever they could from any source–trascribing the music from CDs,
paying high cover charges to see foreign musicians, etc. They had an opportunity
to rehearse with Wynton Marsalis when he was here in Cuba (last year?) and you
could tell it was a big deal. It made me realize, not for the first time, that I
am an amateur in every sense of the word, and still have lots to learn. However,
one way that I could totally identify was ensemble music as communication and
group building. Pacheco and trio were clearly friends and could intuit what one
another was going to do, to signal each other what to do. I’ve had some
experience with that, and know it’s wonderful. It was marvelous to witness the
joy these young jazz musicians were experiencing as they “rehearsed.” More some
other time. Breakfast calls! Love, MT