Aside from spending time with Jorge, I also met another Cuban through one of my friends during their late night escapades - which I was always absent for because I was with Jorge having night swims in the pool or simply just retiring to the room early to converse - among other things ;)
So his name is Leonis, and he is definitely a very rare Cuban. At first glance, he had on the same small smile employees of the resort had pasted onto their faces. But upon truly getting to know him, I realized not only was his English impeccable (he knew of words I've only heard in passing and had no accent when he spoke) but he was also capable of dishing out the most sarcastic and mean jokes that rival mine. In short, I have met my Cuban match. There was no shortness of laughter when I was hanging out with him with my friends. There were many moments in which I forgot I was in a different country because he was just like another guy I would meet back in Canada. Slowly we learned more and more about him, like how he was previously employed as a lawyer but found that working at the hotel paid more monthly due to the tips he'd receive. Stories like that just stick with me, how strange that a profession such as a lawyer get's paid less than that of someone sitting at a customer service desk at the resort? As an outsider, it is easy to judge other countries but I assume there are perks to how their society runs - although in no means will I ever be able to adjust to living there.
There are many moments where I catch his gaze upon me, and the feelings I get in return are strangely stronger than those I get when I am around Jorge. Sometimes I slip up and let out more information about how the Cubans work then I should - several times he has asked "just how entangled are you in the Cuban network" and I find myself lying in order to protect my dignity. He seems to see right through the ploys his people plays against tourists and I oddly don't want to disappoint him and have him realize I am just another potential gringo. In the middle of a conversation about my current relationship status, he writes into a novel titled Secret's and slides it over to me. The note was short but conveyed a deep kind of meaning - it made my heart flutter that someone would use an old fashioned way of communication to flirt. Why am I such a sappy romantic whenever I am in Cuba? I will never understand. None the less, when I wasn't with Jorge or my friends - I found myself frequenting his desk just to chat. Maybe I am just another girl seeking a thrill outside the mundane confines of the developed world but what I found in Leonis is something I rarely find in men - a dark sense of humour that gets mine, intellect beyond my own and the ability to communicate thoughts clearly. He was also working on his own ways to get out of the country through his skills as an interpreter. He knew five languages and was in the process of collecting the necessary papers to apply. He also scorned at the others who married to get their green cards, a price most Cuban would pay to escape their current state of affair. It was nice to know he was capable and willing to get out on his own terms. It makes him the most real and genuine.
Jorge does notice I've been spending time with Leonis...but in his words he wants to give me "freedom" and it is "nice I am talking to people" followed by "but if I see you with another boy in that way - then it's done I don't like that yeah?" Jorge has a funny way of making me feel like a child he is lecturing at sometimes or always wants to make sure I am following his will or train of thought. That's one thing I don't appreciate, being treated like an invalid because I don't speak Spanish or that I can't seem to decipher his broken English at times.
I definitely left Cuba more confused than when I got there - but that is a post for another day when I have the energy to continue revisiting the events of the week that has just passed.
Thursday, May 7, 2015
Spanish nights
I have just returned from my fourth trip to Cuba and this trip has definitely been incredibly different from the last three.
Let's start from the beginning, prior to returning to the hotel I had to warn Jorge not to act like he knew me because I was going with a group of friends that knew nothing about myself keeping in touch with Jorge. I have to hand it to him, he handled it like a pro and even shook all our hands as if he vaguely remembered our faces but didn't quite know us. It was amazing being back in paradise with the same group of people I had first fallen in love with Cuba. The night air smelled intoxicating and the familiar sights of the hotel and staff within it was comforting - a home coming.
This time around, I felt a genuine connection between myself and Jorge (not in a oh-my-god I'm in love sort of way) But more like, we acknowledge that we can talk with each other in more ways than just through attraction. The kind where you can talk for hours about things and laugh, the real kind of belly laugh you have when you're amongst friends. It was nice to lay some things on the table, such as admitting to one another that there are other "boyfriend and girlfriend" around when we aren't spending the week together. It's dawned on me that this is probably the most truth I've gotten out of him since I've met him. We talked about his past girlfriends and his Cuban ex girlfriend, and he'd stare off into space as he tried to find the words to convey things that were on his mind. That's when I know he's telling the truth, when he gets that look of deep concentration and he shrugs up his suave confident exterior to expose the man he really is. We spent almost every night together talking late into the night despite him having to wake up early for work the next day (Unfortunately he was caught by security a few times leaving my building - but because he is close to upper management he was able to get away with a lot more compared to other staff)
I was also able to leave the resort for the first time despite all the warnings to not do so. One moment I was playing cards with my friends, the next in a spur of the moment decision I was whisked away into a car full of Cuban staff - one of which was the GM of the entire hotel. Sitting in that dark car with Spanish music blasting as they all laughed and spoke Spanish was terrifying. The roads had no light and many pot holes, we turned after turn and sped down the road and I had no idea where we were going. Finally we pulled into another hotel where we got out the car, I tentatively followed the group of howling Cubans with Jorge and entered another disco. It was dark and had a few tourists but mostly it was Cubans who were dancing, drinking and smoking. I watched in awe as Jorge and his coworkers broke out into choreographed dance - hips swaying fluidly...rapid turns occurring in quick succession...I was in a different world and realized just how far apart I really was from Jorge when it came to culture.
Is this really how they live their lives? Series of lovers, dancing and drinking? I question whether I'd ever be comfortable in such an environment and it's a hollow feeling, seeing Jorge there within reach but a lifetime of different memories and experiences between us. The Spanish music continues to beat and soon he becomes just a whirl wind of motions that I could not keep up with.
Let's start from the beginning, prior to returning to the hotel I had to warn Jorge not to act like he knew me because I was going with a group of friends that knew nothing about myself keeping in touch with Jorge. I have to hand it to him, he handled it like a pro and even shook all our hands as if he vaguely remembered our faces but didn't quite know us. It was amazing being back in paradise with the same group of people I had first fallen in love with Cuba. The night air smelled intoxicating and the familiar sights of the hotel and staff within it was comforting - a home coming.
This time around, I felt a genuine connection between myself and Jorge (not in a oh-my-god I'm in love sort of way) But more like, we acknowledge that we can talk with each other in more ways than just through attraction. The kind where you can talk for hours about things and laugh, the real kind of belly laugh you have when you're amongst friends. It was nice to lay some things on the table, such as admitting to one another that there are other "boyfriend and girlfriend" around when we aren't spending the week together. It's dawned on me that this is probably the most truth I've gotten out of him since I've met him. We talked about his past girlfriends and his Cuban ex girlfriend, and he'd stare off into space as he tried to find the words to convey things that were on his mind. That's when I know he's telling the truth, when he gets that look of deep concentration and he shrugs up his suave confident exterior to expose the man he really is. We spent almost every night together talking late into the night despite him having to wake up early for work the next day (Unfortunately he was caught by security a few times leaving my building - but because he is close to upper management he was able to get away with a lot more compared to other staff)
I was also able to leave the resort for the first time despite all the warnings to not do so. One moment I was playing cards with my friends, the next in a spur of the moment decision I was whisked away into a car full of Cuban staff - one of which was the GM of the entire hotel. Sitting in that dark car with Spanish music blasting as they all laughed and spoke Spanish was terrifying. The roads had no light and many pot holes, we turned after turn and sped down the road and I had no idea where we were going. Finally we pulled into another hotel where we got out the car, I tentatively followed the group of howling Cubans with Jorge and entered another disco. It was dark and had a few tourists but mostly it was Cubans who were dancing, drinking and smoking. I watched in awe as Jorge and his coworkers broke out into choreographed dance - hips swaying fluidly...rapid turns occurring in quick succession...I was in a different world and realized just how far apart I really was from Jorge when it came to culture.
Is this really how they live their lives? Series of lovers, dancing and drinking? I question whether I'd ever be comfortable in such an environment and it's a hollow feeling, seeing Jorge there within reach but a lifetime of different memories and experiences between us. The Spanish music continues to beat and soon he becomes just a whirl wind of motions that I could not keep up with.
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