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CUBA
Our soon to be bicycle taxi driver jumps up and down across the street, whistling,
yelling and waving endlessly for the chance to pedal us through town and earn
a precious CUC (the equivalent of a little over one American dollar). We smile at
each other, and through broken English and Spanish, negotiate a rate and clarify
our destination. He puts his hands on the bike and runs along side us to give us a
jumpstart over the wet cobblestone streets. Our little taxi is nothing more than a
bicycle with a makeshift carriage attached by welding this part to that. But I’ve
deemed it the best mode of transportation for me and my little camcorder thanks
to the open air accessibility.
I’ve come to Havana for the same thing many photographers and filmmakers come
here for; a chance to see a place caught mid pendulum swing. A special place where
politics has stopped technological time, and where consumerism hasn’t taken over
the streets with neon lights and billboards telling you what you need. Cuba is a place
of duct tapping and jimmy rigging. Where old tractor engines make their way into
even older Chevrolets, and CD-ROMs from the eighties are lovingly inserted into car
dashboards as a testament to the owner’s technological savviness. Bottle caps
double as softballs as sticks serve as bats, and it’s always easy to spot more than
a dozen little barefoot boys chasing around a flattened rubber ball.
I look at the little LCD screen on my camcorder and I hold my breath while I take
everything in. There it is, the heavy air, the music, the dirt on the streets. It’s a new
perspective; something that any of us in the creative field long for.
- posted 7.11.07 by Rona Padua, SF Ninja |
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