One day I want to make it to Cuba. My mother says it will depress me. She says this not only because I’ll be looking at it from an Americanized perspective but because I’m such a human rights advocate. She says the poverty is hard to stomach. The armed military on every corner is a stark reminder of the limited power people have.
Young girls are prostituting themselves on the streets and what she finds most egregious is that the local people aren’t allowed into the hotels and tourist areas. The nicest beaches and areas are strictly for tourism. They can work there but not partake.
She chooses not to stay in those areas because her family isn’t even allowed to visit her if she stays there with her American passport and US dollars. That is her take. I’ll have to see for myself one day. But half my hereditary comes from that little island and I really want to see it one day.
My dad retired to Mexico, his Homeland and I have yet to see his new house. I’ve lived in Mexico as a child. I was sent to Mexico City twice, for 3rd/4th grade and as a teenager for a year. I also lived in Mazatlan for an entire summer. The plan was to stay but I developed severe skin allergies and had to leave. I love Mexico.
It’s such a beautiful country with such beautiful people. But this was all way before the drug cartels became a huge situation. Back then it was just your run of the mill police and government corruption. Where you could easily bribe a cop with some flash cash. I have no idea what the temperament is now. My father says some cities are fine and some are overrun with violence. It just depends. Back then you were more afraid of the police than the criminals; now I’m not so sure.
I want to go visit. I would love nothing more than to take a road trip to see him….one day I hope that happens. I also want to go see the ranch where he was born. Huge acres of property over rolling hills that no one in the family wants to take care of. Everyone has gotten to be “big city folk” now and when my aunt and uncle die it will probably be sold off and gone. I have fond memories of going as a very young child. Back then it had no running water or electricity. You milked the cows at dawn, fetched water from the fresh springs, bathed in the cold Creek and shat in the pig pen. It was a whole new world to me; beautiful and fun.
I have no idea when and if I’ll ever get to do these things. I hope so. It’s a passing thought right now. That’s all. Just a passing thought.