I write this at the luxurious hour of 9 am (Havana-time) It's 6 am in Portland and I've been up since 4, having gone to bed around 7 pm. I spent the day yesterday soaking at the Kennedy pool in NE Portland and was alone there with my daughter for nearly half an hour when I heard a tap on the windows above me and looked up to see none other than my co-chaperone, Molly Grove who had similar ideas about visiting the Kenndey School for some post-trip R&R.
We packed a lot into our final day and a half in Cuba, visiting three schools, driving 60 km to Pinar del Rio, touring national monuments, a tobacco farm and taking a boat ride through some underground caves. Into this, students fit in visits to Palladeros (authentic, home-based Cuban restaurants,) the Mercadio de Artesanias (Havana's equivalent of the Saturday Market,) and several braved the heat and crowds to attend a massive outdoor concert.
We departed for the airport at 2 pm and gazed out our bus windows as Ludwig waxed poetic saying he hoped our memories of Cuba would not be "lost as tears are to rain." Although that sentiment earned a few eye-rolls, others' faces were trained on the rapidly disappearing landscape - absorbing what may be many of our final glimpses of laundry lines, Yank Tanks, revolutionary billboard slogans, las Damas de Blanco, coco taxis, crumbling neoclassical and art nouveau building façades, and, of course, Che...
We hope you will join us at our assembly on Thursday, April 15 at 10:40 to hear more about our adventures.
Thanks for reading,