Damn, It Feels Good To Be A Tar Heel!

As any former or current UNC student can tell you, this statement always rings true. But in my three years at UNC, the statement above has never been more true than it was Monday night…when we won the NCAA National Championship!

My dad said it would happen. “They’re going to go all the way this year and you’re not going to be there to see it,” he lectured as I told him of my acceptance to the Cuba Study Abroad program. Granted, many people thought it would be this year. It’s Tyler Hansborough’s last year on the team, we had the majority of players return from last year (when we played in the Final Four) and well, as a Tar Heel family we were all pretty much feeling unstoppable. On Monday morning, knowing we would play for the national title that night, I suddenly wished I was back in Chapel Hill, NC.

Still, our celebration here in Havana, Cuba was a good second (to Chapel Hill, of course). We all crammed in one of the rooms at the residence to be able to watch the game together, doing all of the cheers and shouting purposelessly just as we would have had we been there at the game.

“TAR,” one of us would cry.
“HEELS!” the other side of the room would shout.

We did some of the same cheers after the game had ended, as we all “rushed” Avenida G screaming and shouting with delight. The great American annoyance/boisterousness that stereotypes us as a nationality, but on Monday night, we were willing to fit a stereotype. We ran past the Hotel Presidente, where our program director was staying for his two-day visit, shouting up to the eighth floor where we knew he’d be. We continued on until we reached the Malecon, stopping only to catch our breath as we breathed in the ocean air. We then proceeded to dance and sing, taking pictures and essentially, savoring a precious moment in time.

UNC had won the national championship and Tar Heels all over the world were celebrating the fact that our blood runs blue. Carolina Blue.

The Day I Ran a Half-Marathon, Jumped Out of a Helicopter and Starred in a Comedy Show

I would hardly describe myself as a girl of many talents, but Friday was just quite the productive day.

This weekend, the majority of our study abroad group and a few of the girls from American University decided to go to Varadero. Alyssa and I had already been, but three of the guys that were going had arranged to go skydiving and I really couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

With my Ironman training though, it sometimes makes it difficult for me to do what everyone else does with ease, because they’re not worried about their running or swimming schedule (I’m not able to bike here). My long runs are usually on Saturday and this Saturday my run was 13 miles long. To ensure that I would have a relatively care-free weekend, I got up at 5:30 am on Friday and did my 13 miles before class. After that, the fun could begin…and it did.

There were six of us that took a maquina (one of the old 1950’s Ford cars that function, here in Havana, as a version of a cheap taxi) to Varadero and then proceeded to check in to the resort that Alyssa and I had stayed in the last time we went to Varadero. (For $35 per person, the room and all-you-can-eat breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks and drinks are provided.) After checking in, I went to look for the boys who were skydiving and at the last minute, two of the AU girls decided to jump as well.

While this blog entry may make me sound brave, I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t scared. I was terrified! I was thinking about it all day and although I’d been really excited, I hadn’t ruled out the possibility that I would back out at the last moment. But in the end, my excitement had gotten the best of me and by the time I had realized what I was actually doing, I was moments away from willingly flinging myself out of a helicopter.

Originally when reservations for skydiving were made, we were told that we were going to jump out of an old USSR war plane and land on the beach. However, I think the plane was in disrepair and due to the direction of the wind, we couldn’t land on the beach and we were told that we would be landing on the grassy area where we took off from. Just as we began to wonder where the plane was that we would now be jumping out of, a helicopter flew overhead and landed on the landing strip in front of us.

We were going to jump out of a helicopter!

As we climbed into the helicopter and we gained altitude, I realized it was too late to change my mind. First I saw the two camera people go: it looked like they literally just fell out of the helicopter. Next, Heather (one of the AU girls) dropped out and she looked absolutely horrified. Finally, it was my turn. I was literally strapped to the instructor at four different points of my suit and he turned his back to the open door of the plane. “Ready?” he asked. I was singing Tom Petty’s “Free Falling” to myself as we jumped out.

What a rush! Had I not been wearing goggles, the speed at which we were falling felt like it might have been enough to peel back my eyelids! Before we jumped out, the instructor told me to keep my eyes open the entire time so I wouldn’t miss a thing. “Right…” I thought. The only way I could see myself jumping out of the helicopter was if I didn’t have to look when I did it. But instead? I kept my eyes open the entire time.

The free fall ended when the instructor pulled the parachute open. When he did, it was as if time itself stood still. The rushing downward stopped and I looked around to take in all the sights. All around me were farm lands that, from that high up, looked perfectly manicured and green. And the ocean…wow. When we went skydiving, it was about 7 pm and the sun was just beginning to set and the rays of light danced across the ocean’s surface. The instructor even let me steer the parachute for a minute or two and as we floated back towards the ground, I can’t imagine that the smile on my face could have been any bigger.

After skydiving, we went back to the resort to have dinner and a few drinks. According to the itinerary, there was going to be a comedy show at 9:30 pm down by the pool and we all figured it would at least be a few good laughs to watch while we thought of something better to do. While we sat at the bar and waited for the show to start, the show “host” recognized Alyssa from the last time we had stayed there and pulled her towards the stage to come “help with the show.” Having had a mojito and a fabulous day prior to that, I eagerly followed her on stage. Following me was Louisa and Caitlin (from AU).

What we ended up doing hardly constitutes just “helping with the show.” For all intents and purposes, we WERE the show. The comedy show was actually a series of five competitions, with four female contestants competing. Our first competition was to pretend to be a model on a catwalk doing “sexy moves;” the second challenge was to make the male host of the show “fall in love” with us by saying sweet (generally corny/ridiculous) things to him; third, we had to act out the scene of a man waking up in the morning (scratching inappropriate places, etc.); fourth, we had to sing “Guantanamera” with our mouths full of water (similar to playing Chubby Bunny) and finally, beans were scattered on the floor of the stage which the four of us had to scramble to pick up. Whoever picked up the most beans won that competition. Alyssa ultimately won overall and all four of us were probably the resorts most popular people for the rest of the night. What a show!

After the excitement of the day before, we spent most of yesterday lying on the beach, which looked as beautiful as something you might find on a postcard.

*Last but not least, last night we watched UNC play in the Final Four – and we watched the game at the house of the head of the U.S. interest section. We had gone there to visit a few weeks ago, but because the game was only going to be on CBS and we definitely don’t receive CBS via Cuban satellite here in the Residence, we asked if they wouldn’t mind us watching the game there with them. They were kind enough not only to say yes, but to provide us with the means to stuff ourselves silly (popcorn, candy, cake, cookies, soda, etc.). Maybe they’ll invite us back over tomorrow to play for the national title?

Let The Games Begin!

Every year, la Universidad de Havana holds a series of athletic competitions in the spring, known as los Juegos del Caribe. Events range from everything as common track and field to those like karate to ping-pong. Each team is made up of students from a particular area of study/faculty and the different faculties try their best to have at least a few people compete in each event.

The biology faculty, the same faculty that has been giving us free dance lessons, was nice enough to also let us compete in the Juegos as students of their faculty. Some of us competed in the 1500-meter run, another girl from my study abroad group ran the 400-meter and two of the guys from my group competed in ping-pong. When we were asked to write down a list of athletic capabilities, I wrote that I could run and swim. As a result, I was registered to compete in a duathlon of sorts: a 400-meter run, 50-meter swim, 400-meter run.

The morning of the race, I was excited, but also a little nervous. I hadn’t run a 400-meter race since 10th grade and even then I wasn’t very good. I also looked around and saw students from other faculties that had the indisputable build of skilled swimmers. What I didn’t anticipate being the problem was understanding the rules and regulations of the race. How mistaken I was.

The race was at a beach, Bacuranao, just outside the city of Havana. It took race officials about an hour to set up, but the course wasn’t very formal and/or structured. The race began with the 400-meter run in the parking lot, then taking off your shoes and jumping in the ocean to swim to a buoy and back, and finally repeating the same run in reverse. “That’s simple enough,” I remember thinking. I had also “sized up” the other girls in my heat and after realizing that two or three of them had muscular thighs that each were about the width of both of mine put together, I figured that they would be in front of me and I could just follow them. And then the whistle blew.

I set off running and about 200 meters out, I took a look around me: there was no one there! “Awesome!” I thought to myself. I really hadn’t anticipated being in first place and while these competitions are mostly for fun, I was excited. I made it to the beach, kicked off my shoes and jumped in. As I was swimming to the buoy, I heard race officials shouting at me and Spanish and then finally realized what had happened when I swam into the girl who had been behind me. “What are you doing?!” she yelled in Spanish.

If you can get a mental image, picture this: we had to swim 25 horizontally, parallel to the beach. What I had not fully understood is that we were originally supposed to swim on the side of the buoy that was closest to land and then swim back to get our shoes on the side of the buoy that was farther from land; I had done the opposite. As a result, I came out of the water in second place. Then another problem: my shoes.

I couldn’t manage to squeeze my sand-covered feet back into my shoes and then I just decided to leave my shoes and run barefoot on the asphalt. It was only a 400-meter run anyway. So I left my shoes in their designated basket and proceeded to start running. Again, race officials shouted at me. “Grab your shoes!” they said in Spanish. “Even if you’re not wearing them, you at least have to have them in your hands!” As I turned around and went back for my shoes, another girl passed me. I was now in third place.

Funny enough, all of this is now irrelevant because I ended up getting disqualified. Because of my misunderstanding in the water, I had not “followed the rules” and thus, my race results did not count towards the total points of the biology faculty. It’s funny now, but at the time I felt pretty dumb.

Haha. As if I didn’t stand out enough as the American, I had to go and swim the wrong way.

The Cubacar Diaries

I wish our adventure to Maria La Gorda has been as noble as Che’s ride through South America. And while “noble” isn’t the word I would use to describe our road trip, it was nonetheless a road trip through Western Cuba and as such, an adventure.

We started out as a group of nine American students in two small rented cars departing from Havana two weeks ago. It was only a weekend trip, but we planned to make the most of it. Heading west, we saw lots of farmland, billboards praising the Cuban Revolution and other billboards urging the release of the Cuban Five. At one point, we even saw a military tank on the side of the road! They must have been conducting an army training exercise, but to have only seen billboards and farms for the first 30 miles and then glance to the side of the road and see a tank rolling around, its artillery aiming in different directions – truly a Cuban experience.

Then nightfall came and although we had made plans to stay at a beach villa, we were turned away and told it was full. That also happened again at the next place we tried. Before we knew it, it was half past midnight and we were parked at a gas station, ready to sleep in the cars for the night. On a whim, we decided to ask inside if anyone knew of a casa particular [*houses in Cuba where guests rent a room] nearby where we could simply sleep for the night. A woman and her daughter said that they had a friend that they would call, but it ended up that they couldn’t get in touch with her. So rather than letting us sleep in the cars in the middle of nowhere, the woman and her daughter welcomed us into their own home, no questions asked. They offered us food, let us park the cars in their yard and the next morning, went to the bakery and purchased a bread roll for each of us. They also introduced us to the litter of puppies their dog had recently had and we were awakened by the loud grunts of their two, very hungry, 800-pound pigs! While aspects of our stay were quite funny, the generosity of their family was all too kind. After breakfast we thanked them for everything and continued on our journey.

The morning drive went much better, but the dive time that we were trying to make was 11 am. We pulled into the parking lot of the scuba dive office at 10:45 am and somehow, made it on the boat clad in swim wear and scuba/snorkel gear by 11 am. Only two of us (including myself) were certified to dive and while everyone else snorkeled, we explored the ocean floor of the western-most point in Cuba.

Unfortunately, there really wasn’t that much (in terms of fish and other ocean creatures) to see, but we did see a manta ray and an eel and a few species of very colorful fish. The water, though, was crystal-clear. I think my favorite part of the dive was when our dive instructor led us through two high walls of coral that were so large, it felt as though we were swimming through an underwater cave. It was incredible.

Viñales and Other Cuban Adventures

Last Friday, a few other kids from the study abroad group and myself hopped on a bus after class and headed to one of the western-most parts of Cuba: Vinales.

Vinales is a small town in Western Cuba, also home to a UNESCO World Heritage site. The town is nestled within the Valle de Vinales, made up of mountains, tobacco plantations and some of the most natural beauty to be seen in Cuba. To say the least, we had a great time.

Upon arriving, we all split up in pairs to spend two nights in casas particulares (homes where rooms are rented on a nightly basis). I think the best part of that experience was the food: WOW! Not to say that the food at the Residence is lacking, because it’s not, but the food at these casas particulares was so flavorful, you might just start salivating before you even lay eyes on what’s about to be served. Moros, chicken, pork, platanos, tomatoes, juice, you name it. It’s all there and enough to feed a small army!

But despite my love for food, the food wasn’t even the beginning of our experience. That Friday night, Allison (one of the other girls from the group) and I found a man to take us on a hike through the valley the next day and it was quite a hike! We started at 9am and got back to town around 5pm. But the hike itself was breathtaking. Just being in the valley and looking up to see the surrounding mountain range is something incredible. But throughout the valley were animals, farms and various tobacco plantations. We even stopped at one and were given freshly-squeezed sugar cane juice to drink.

However, the best part of our hike, without question, was when our guide and one of the campesinos (term used for a farmer/peasant) took us to a cave on one of the mountain faces. Haha, I think it would be honest to say that we were all a little nervous about climbing inside. We had to use a rope to climb down into the cave and once to the bottom, with a few steps further in, it was pitch black. We wouldn’t have made it more than a few steps without a flashlight, which luckily, we had.

By miracle of the flashlight, some cautious steps and an adventurous spirit, we made it to the very bottom where we found pools of some of the clearest water I’ve ever seen. It was though, without a flashlight, completely dark. Nonetheless, Allison and I jumped in and swam around. Swimming in a pool at the bottom of a deep, dark cave in Cuba is easily one of the coolest things I have ever done.

The next day, with tired legs, Alec, Allison, Drew and I rented a few bikes and went riding through the valley before catching the bus home to Havana. It was the perfect ending to a fantastic weekend.

As for the past few weeks, I’ve been keeping pretty busy with classes and training. Our classes have been requiring more and more reading as of late and while the readings are interesting, it’s sometimes hard to keep up with it all and still find time to explore the country. Still, I’m managing just fine.

My training, all things considered, is actually going pretty well. I get up early every morning to run along the Malecon and about now, I’m averaging 30 miles per week. Tuesdays and Thursdays I swim at the only pool in the city, la Ciudad Deportiva. Coincidentally, it’s also the same place where the Cuban national swim teams practice as well! Overall though, I’m just glad to be able to swim. I made friends with one of the swim coaches there and she lets me come in to train whenever she is there, which is generally late in the afternoon. She also had a few extra athletic shirts with the Cuban flag printed on and sold one to me. At the time I bought it, I didn’t know it was anything terribly special, but when I wore it later that evening, some of our friends from the university kept asking me where I got it. Apparently, only official Cuban athletes have these shirts. How cool is that?

This weekend plans sound like we´re going a little further west on the island (I think it´s the western’most point) to have a beach weekend and get some scuba diving-snorkeling in. It´s supposed to be some of the best diving on the island...I can´t wait!

There's more than one kind of "papaya"

If you’re Cuban, you might already understand the significance of this phrase. I figured that after not writing for quite some time, I would need a fairly interesting blog entry title. I learned that the other day that, in Cuba, there are two different kinds of papaya:

On the days that we only have one class, some of the other girls in the group (Alyssa, Louisa and Alison) and I take the bus to the beach. The ride is about an hour as we ride along the entire route and when we went last week, I brought a bag of dried fruit with me. In the bag was pineapple, mango and papaya and I offered some, in Spanish, to the three other girls. I looked at Alyssa and asked, “Quieres pina, mango o papaya?” She looked at me frankly and said, “You know you just offered me a bag of vagina, right?”

Apparently I hadn’t been present on the day that everyone BUT me learned that in Cuba, the word “papaya” meant “vagina.” The word for the fruit, papaya, is “fruta bomba.”

Well, I suppose just as quickly as I learned this, I soon forgot it. After a few wonderful hours at the beach, we climbed back on the bus to head home. A few rows in front of us was a cute Cuban boy sitting on the floor. In Spanish, I asked him how old he was. He shyly told me that he was 10 years old. Wanting to continue the conversation, I searched in my bag for something I might be able to share. There was the bag of dried fruit, but all that was left was papaya. Before even thinking, I looked at the 10-year-old boy and asked, “Te gusta papaya…”

It had just barely made it out of my mouth when I realized what I had just asked this young boy. He looked confused and all of the teenage boys around him began to laugh. Alyssa, Louisa and Alison could barely contain themselves before beginning to laugh so hard that they started to cry. It takes a lot to embarrass me, and I can honestly say that I was mortified.

Hours later I realized how funny it actually was.

Still, I can confidently say that my Cuban adventures have involved less verbal errors. Last weekend, Alyssa and I tried to take the Hershey train (a famous American-made train brought to Cuba in 1913) to Matanzas, a city about an hour-and-a-half drive east of Havana. However, after seeing some of the guys in our group depart the train looking as though they had returned from hell (and that the line to Matanzas was broken), Alyssa and I opted to take the bus. Originally we were heading to Matanzas, but everyone else on the bus seemed to be heading to Varadero, a beautiful beach town, and so we changed our minds and went with them.

Upon arriving in Varadero, we needed to find a place to stay. After much walking and searching for over two hours, we ended up deciding upon a hotel instead of a casa particular (renting a room in someone’s house). Actually, what we thought was a hotel turned out to be a resort and I’m not sure which of you reading this have seen the movie “Cocoon,” but that’s exactly what I thought of as we began to walk around the report. Everyone was at least 30 years older than us and Canadian, gathered around the pool soaking in the last bits of sun. It was funny, but a great time overall and once having arrived in Varadero, it proved to be a very relaxing weekend at some of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen.

This past weekend was really fun as well. One of my best friends from high school, Greg, used his dual-citizenship (he was born in Poland) to come visit me in Havana. What a weekend, trying to show him even just Havana in a mere two days! We walked along the Malecon, through Centro Havana and through Havana Vieja, the historic district of the city. Yesterday we went to the Plaza de la Revolucion and saw the famous picture of Che Guevara as well as the Jose Marti Memorial. I also took Greg to take some pictures on the front steps of la Universidad de la Habana and introduced him to all of the people in my study abroad group here. I told him that if he brought a bag of candy with him that they would love him. He really didn’t believe me until he got here and had instant friends.

Showing Greg around this past weekend made me realize how familiar I’ve become with Havana and also, how much of Cuba I still want to see. Luckily, I have over two months left for some great adventures.

Hace Frio en la Habana!

While the weather here is in no way comparable to what's going on in the U.S., Havana is experiencing what Cubans refer to as "los dias mas frio del ano" (the coldest days of the year). And make no mistake: to American kids who brought primarily shorts and tank-tops, it is a bit chilly.

But aside from the weather, I think this week has been the best yet. Last week was primarily settling in, which really kept us on our toes and left us somewhat confused as to what was actually going on in our study abroad program. We still managed to have fun though. We've all been out for drinks (and while I've gone, I've still yet to taste Cuban rum!), we've chatted to locals at every opportunity and we even went to a rave just off campus a few nights ago. Talk about an eye-opening experience!

Our time in Cuba has also left a lot of time for self-reflection as well, and I often find myself sitting on the Malecon, jotting down at least one of innumerable thoughts. Good thoughts, but thoughts that leave me wondering where each subsequent adventure will lead me and what my actual plans are for post-graduation. Luckily I still have another year and a half, but strangely I think being in Cuba might help to answer some questions, even if the answers have nothing to do with Cuba itself.

And on an exciting note, I finally met with the CNN Havana Bureau producer the other day. At this point, after sending emails since October and not receiving much response, I assumed that she was just going to have coffee with me to humor me. But instead, she actually explained that she and Morgan Neil (Havana's Bureau Chief) had been looking into the possibilites for taking on an intern. While I feel like my chances are slim, she promised that it wouldn't be too much trouble to take a look into OFAC regulations and see what might be done. She asked if I knew how to edit using Final Cut Pro and if I was interested in learning about producing. I could barely contain my excitement.