Being brave and trying something new – that was what my journey to Cuba was about. My time there had three stages: first I travelled as a tourist, then I went to a friend’s birthday party, and finally I lived with Cuban families and experienced how they deal with everyday life and the extraordinary.
1. Travelling as a tourist
At the beginning I travelled from place to place, paid high prices and learned how life in Cuba works for travellers. I met many friendly people, most of them working in tourism, and quickly learned where to exchange money into Cuban pesos rather than just CUC. I saw caves and valleys, improved my Spanish, rode in 60-year-old cars, ate a sapote for the first time and drank a real mojito.
2. A birthday party among travellers
We celebrated my friend Jay’s 35th birthday in a villa with travellers from all over the world. We had met six years earlier in Essaouira, Morocco. My task: to capture these days and all these wonderful people in pictures.
3. The real Cuba
Finally, I lived with families and experienced how people live together in everyday life:
- On long bus journeys, people fall asleep on their neighbour’s shoulder – even if they don’t know each other.
- At the bus stop or in a restaurant, people discuss openly and directly, and everyone is allowed to join in.
- When food runs short, friends and neighbours help out; whoever has too much shares.
- One family’s house had become too small. For three weeks I helped build a simple wooden house – and learned how hard it is to get materials at a reasonable price.
What I took away
The people in Cuba inspired me a lot. They own little, which makes life simple and creative: whatever is missing is made by hand – right down to their own officially licensed professions. Music and dancing in the street are a matter of course, and there is always time for friends and neighbours.
“Slow is smooth and smooth is fast.”
Hurricane Matthew and a historic day
During my trip, Hurricane Matthew hit the town of Baracoa. I visited the devastated Baracoa and saw how quickly people cleared up and rebuilt. On 25 November, the day I flew to Mexico, Fidel Castro died – I only found out the next day.
