Cuba

As I continued to explore Havana, I was enamored by Cuba’s "contrasts and contradictions," as one of my new friends so eloquently put it. I went on to see hardships and disparities blended with hope and generosity. I can imagine times past when things were less difficult and filled mostly with generosity and well-being, as described by many I've met during my stay. I hope that somehow they find a path back to that, rather than continuing in the downward direction it seems to be heading.

The generosity I've encountered has resonated with me in a way I haven't felt since early childhood. One moment that really stood out happened while I was walking in Vedado during strong winds from Hurricane Helene. I saw an older woman with a crutch in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. Without thinking, I went to help her. As I approached, without hesitation and before I said anything, she motioned to hand me the bag and took my hand. There was a clear feeling of gratitude, but it blended with a complete lack of hesitation or fear about being helped. It was a sensation I instantly recognized and, in many ways, have sought since I was a boy in Brazil.

However, my time here also reminded me of how difficult things have become. Finding anything can quickly turn into an ordeal. One morning at the hostel, while helping with breakfast, I learned that the water pump, which pushes water to the large tanks, had unexpectedly stopped working. The owner spent the entire day and part of the next trying to jerry-rig parts and use pure ingenuity to get it working again. I helped a little, but it was nothing compared to the time and energy he put in. In the end, it was at best a temporary fix until it inevitably fails again. If I had been anywhere else I’ve lived, I would have just gone to the store and bought a new part, or even a new pump. But here, even if the funds are available, things simply aren’t. Another, more mundane example was when his wife mentioned she'd been searching for toothpaste for a day without any luck. The next day, while in another part of the city, I thought to ask one of the shops—and, by chance, they had some.

I returned to Old Havana many times. Walking through its winding streets was like stepping into a dystopian future of crumbling buildings and piles of garbage in some areas due to insufficient infrastructure. But in contrast to that were surreal landscapes and the island's incredible beauty. One of the most breathtaking sights I've ever seen happened at sunset after the hurricane's rains and winds had passed. I left for dinner and caught a glimpse of the sunset behind a building. I decided to head to the Malecón to get an unobstructed view. When I arrived, I was met with a stunning scene: the sea was rough, sending wave after wave crashing against the walls, with massive plumes of water shooting up two or three times my height.

Although it wasn’t part of my original plan, after several suggestions, I decided to visit Viñales, a small rural town known for its outdoor activities and agrotourism. Many homes are set up as casas particulares, all clearly marked and very well-organized. There are numerous trails, caves, tours, and rock climbing options. I stayed at a home recommended by the hostel owners in Havana. It was an amazing hostel run by a mother and daughter. Once again, I was welcomed like family. After settling in, she brought me fresh juice and showed me a map of the area, explaining all the things I could do. She then asked which activities I was interested in and gave me more details on how to go about them. We visited a tobacco farm, where I smoked a hand-rolled cigar, and another farm where I bought Guayabita del Pinar, a delicious local liquor. The next day, I rented a bike from a Couchsurfer who had sent me great tips about Cuba and Viñales. I rode through the unique landscape filled with mogotes, visited a well-known cave, and made my way to Lago del Tibo.

In addition to these experiences, I also had a few conversations that shaped new thoughts and ideas for me. One of these came from a discussion with an amazing woman, Musa Alves, who shares a similar questioning, revolutionary mindset. As we compared Cuba to other places we’ve been, we realized one key difference: the absence of relentless advertising, which is designed to make us want and buy more. Not just physical ads like billboards but also digital ones, like the SMS messages I receive from phone companies the moment I arrive in Brazil. We called it the "consumerism whisper"—it’s like someone constantly whispering in your ear to buy something. As we talked more, it became clearer how the absence of it could positively affect a society. Firstly, it reduces the temptation to constantly want more and bigger things, which ultimately reduces waste and resource usage. Secondly, even if you don’t succumb to the ads, their constant presence overstimulates the mind. After a few days here, I felt my mind settle into a more restful state, no longer fighting off that constant stream of noise. Of course, these ads exist to drive profit, fueled by greed. But we wondered—if there were a sharp reduction in advertising and people bought only what they needed when they needed it, would we live in a less stressed, less polluted, and less destroyed world?