There is hardly a breeze and the midday sun is hitting hard on the cobblestoned road. The sky is light blue. The longer I spend in my country of birth the more the sun is showing off its strength, a little at a time. As if it were trying to impress me. A few tourist-looking tourists watch a line of schoolchildren crossing. A few tourist-looking locals watch the tourists watching the children, ready for their next predatory move. The pavement under the children’s feet suddenly looks more solid, as in future-solid. On noticing this, my cynicism wanes a bit. But just a bit.
Winter never came to Havana this year, they keep telling me and when it did, it came too late and therefore crashed with a beautiful, albeit short spring which quickly turned into early summer. The schoolchildren fan themselves in the midst of the midday sun.
The line is not a straight one. Small groups of children shuffle about and talk to each other restlessly. Where are they headed? I wonder. They carry big rucksacks. Some of the boys have traded their white shirt for a T-shirt, whilst keeping their beet-red short trousers.
Now they file past the entrance of what used to be the Ministry of Education, a hideous construction that breaks up the architectural harmony in old Havana. The building still sits on Obispo Boulevard, Bishop’s Boulevard, mitreless and pointless.
I catch snippets of the children’s conversation as I press the shutter of my camera. What’s your favourite bird? What does your father/mother do? Why aren’t you friends with X anymore?
I carry on walking with my family in tow. On the corner of Aguiar and Obispo I run into a figure whose face looks familiar. He vanishes in the crowd. I turn and turn trying to spot him again. Where have I seen him before? Out of the corner of my left eye I detect a sharp and quick movement. For a split second our eyes meet. He disappears, making no sound but leaving the mark of a childhood memory lived thirty-odd years ago. I am suddenly brought back to life by the voices of the schoolchildren. Up above, in the light blue sky, the midday sun continues to show off its strength, a little at a time.
©2013
Photo taken by the blog author
Next Post: “Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music”, to be published on Sunday 5th May at 10am (GMT)
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ReplyDeleteSounds like quite the walk as all is taken in and around through a gawk. haha
ReplyDeleteI felt like I was right there with you.. seeing the children and recognizing that face.
ReplyDeleteHavana is one of my dream travels, I'd love to visit from a local perspective and your story is giving me that. Gracias.
ReplyDeleteAh, is this an annual trip of sorts for you?
ReplyDeleteWhen I first returned to Italy after ten years I still felt connected in so many ways, trying hard to not appear too American.
After thirty years, I felt strangely alien, and resentful in ways I couldn't understand at that time.
Only after I began to write about the experience I understood.
Going back is complicated.
I was chatting to a friend the other day, who was recently touring Cuba. It sounds like a lot had changed even since we were there in 2007, I can't imagine what it's like to watch your childhood home transform now you no longer live there.
ReplyDeleteThis is a lovely post of La Havana a place I always dream to know!!
ReplyDeleteMany thanks for your kind comments. I try to go back at least once every two years but it'd been more than four years since I'd last visited.
ReplyDeleteGreetings from London.
ah very atmospheric piece...enjoyed the walk with you man...the thoughts/memories that ran through your head as we went along...it is good to return to those once familiar places...some change so much we just get a hint of what it was...
ReplyDeleteBut just a bit~ netted me a smile. I am sure there are many thoughts that assailed you persistently that are not included here. I think we'd all love to read more about your time there.
ReplyDeleteA childhood friend left the country(with nothing in tow)with her family when she was very tiny. She has never been back, but she is always what her husband calls "threatening" to return.~Mary
Que buenos recuerdo me traen tu foto.
ReplyDeleteMe gusta como relatas tus recuerdos.
un saludo
fus
love the story of your roots and the fascinating city.
ReplyDeleteHola Cuban, tomorrow is election day in KL.
A lovely description! And was that an old schoolfriend you saw?
ReplyDeleteHavana, a place I´ve never been. You manage to give me a warm feeling about it. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks for this, the style and the voice come over so naturally it reads like a letter to someone close. Gives the impression that a curtain has been pulled aside to admit us.
ReplyDeleteWhat vivid descriptions..I would have loved to have been there!!
ReplyDeleteI'd really love to visit Havana someday.
ReplyDeleteYou have really brought it to life for me here. It is as if I have been on a guided tour.
I want to visit even more now!
great writing I felt like i was there with you
ReplyDeleteMany thanks for your comments. That familiar face was my younger self hidden in the crowd. Watching those primary school students brough back memories of what I used to do and where I used to go when I was their age.
ReplyDeleteGreetings from London.
So interesting. Thanks much for your vivid and absorbing picture. k.
ReplyDelete