In his BlogCuba entry, my good friend and damn fine blogger Jim from Smoke on the Water makes note of an almost unnoticed group that travel freely to the island despite the embargo. He also takes them to task quite eloquently. Gracias Jim. When the day comes, I'll be waiting at the dock for the sloop New Dawn.
En Cuba No Hay San Elmo
For the past forty years, the Island of Cuba has lain as a forbidden land, just over the horizon.
Tantalizingly close to sailors hailing from American ports, yet agonizingly out of reach. Embargos, fines and even possibly Castro's confinement or the confiscation of one's yacht awaited those foolish or unfortunate enough to land in his ports.
And although punishments were harsh, to the daring the allure of Cuba has always outweighed the risks. Those, who see themselves as the daring and the bold often ventured the trip, threading the eye of the southward needle between United States vigilance and Castro's paranoia.
But with the demise of the Soviet Union, also came the collapse of the thin, brittle veneer, which was the Cuban economy. And soon, the captains and crews who were once accused as spies and infiltrators were now welcomed as honored guests. And indeed, they and their fists full of dollars were honored, welcomed and eagerly encouraged to return, again and again.
For the cruising sailor, perhaps a large part of the allure of distant ports is to find lands and peoples unspoiled by the perceived blight of American trademarks, marketing and pop culture.
Which is the allure of Cuba, and it's curse.
No matter where one sails in the Caribbean, regardless of making landfall on Trinidad y Tobago, entering port in Antigua, dropping anchor in St. Marteens or rolling at anchor in Kingsport, the American impact is writ large. From brand named goods to franchised fast food to music, movies and dress. All woven into the fabric of the culture of those lands, yielding something uniquely Caribbean, but to the purists, tainted, and not far enough removed from the effects of the commercial giant far to the North.
Many sailors traverse entire oceans, crossing endless horizons to the far South Pacific or the Gold Coast of Africa. Driven by boundless curiosity, wanderlust and a sheer lust for life, these intrepid souls bring back with them the stories of their travels.
And these stories ignite similar lusts in the hearts of sailors in local ports, marinas and yacht club bars from Maine to San Diego and every inland lake and river.
But where is the holiday sailor to go? When it can take years and several failed attempts to cross the Pacific, and when a Trans-Atlantic voyage remains still, the bragging right of the scant few who exceed by orders of magnitude, the feats of their coast-hugging peers?
Ah, yes. That lovely, virginal and pristine paradise just a long couple days sail South, across the Straits of Florida and into the great unknown which is the island of Cuba.
Only to find themselves restricted to the areas authorized to them as Touristas, but that so skillfully done so that most of them never realize that the cage is real. They mistake its bars for the gilded glitter of the casinos, discos and brothels.
Granted, a few bolder navigators can successfully chart a different course, steering free of the confines of the traps laid before them and their dollars. They are but the exceptions to the larger rule.
But for the bulk of the fleet, the sheer rush of dropping a line onto an exotic, forbidden Cuban dock-cleat is the goal. And receiving that coveted Cuban entry stamp placed, not onto a page in their passport, but rather onto a separate slip to be discarded, or better, hidden to be brought back as a great prize to show off at home.
Such boldness, such bravery!
Such utter, ridiculous selfishness.
Too many of my fellow sailors are most apolitical, even leftish in their hedonism and pursuit of what's fun for them right now. More important for them to sail the forbidden seas, taste the forbidden fruit and to sail home with that sly grin, the glint in the eye, which says, "I got away with it!”
Leaving behind hundreds, even thousands of their precious dollars. The bulk of which never find their way into any form of circulation of benefit to the average Cuban. No, these dollars, once they've been stripped of the cost of doing business, end up lining the coffers of the bastard’s faithful.
And they're metered out only in a measure sufficient to rent the acquiescence of the larger population. Yet, and as proven by the thousands who flee the island on their boats, rafts and prayers, that population loathes their chains, knowing them for what they are. They're not only powerless to break them, they're penniless to break them, too.
My fellow sailors, while to be commended for their seamanship and brave spirit, ought be ashamed at what they leave behind. They should be even more ashamed that they're unaware of what they leave behind.
Perhaps if on their return voyages, they’d rescue a few rafters who are desperately fleeing the bastard’s oppression, I’d not view them in so harsh a light?
I too, want to sail to Cuba. I want to sink my bare feet into her warm, sandy beaches. I want to smoke Habana's finest cigars. I want a drink a real Cuba Libre, made and celebrated right where it belongs.
And one day I shall, but only in a Free Cuba.
I'll find that Cuba one day. The bastard can't live forever, and I doubt his successors will succeed long after his passing.
When I sail to Cuba, I will do so with a stout heart and a clean conscience.
I will step onto Cuban soil, knowing that I've not dishonored her people by my vanity, arrogance or selfishness in the days before her freedom.
Freedom is coming to that fair island, and it is coming soon.
And with that freedom, may the sloop New Dawn find fair tides and favorable winds.
Not only to Sail Cuba, but to sail a FREE CUBA.
Bet I'll only have to ask once for Val to make the passage with me?
Posted by Val Prieto at August 12, 2004 07:50 AM |
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» Blog Cuba II from Smoke on the Water
Defiant in the face of the oncoming storms, one hardy soul remains steadfast to an ideal, a committment and a true work of love. Last December, Blog Cuba I hit the blogworld with hurricane force. I suppose that it's only [Read More]
Tracked on August 12, 2004 10:55 AM