Today's Menu: Bust up Shut Roti

My new favorite thing: fresh mango. And roti. And fresh grapefruit juice. And Stag beer. Even though apparently that is the man’s beer, I like to break the confines of genderized drinking categories. I love how fresh everything is. It makes a huge difference eating fresh vegetables and fruit straight from the market for good prices and then cooking it up fresh. Today we did just that and learned how to cook proper roti up on the hill in Tunapuna with Sunity at her house. As the eggplant, chicken, and chickpeas cooked and the chutney was being mixed, we lounged on the hammock on the porch, climbed the mango trees out front and indulged in the juicy yellow flesh, and chatted about whatever came to mind. We made a feast of bust up shut roti and the other kind of roti and boiled tomatoes and chickpeas and curried chicken and potatoes and eggplant. It was delicious. I can’t even tell you. Although maybe I will learn and be able to show you sometime.
Moving slowly with our satisfied full stomachs, we embarked upon the journey home which although not far would prove to seem farther in the heat of the high afternoon. We stopped into a little book store owned by one of the scholars we will be working with, Rawle Gibbons. He apparently is an important guy around here and will be teaching us a lot about Afro-Caribbean music and the Orishas religion. As we were leaving, another man walked in who introduced himself as Desmond Waite (sp?) who is a well-known calypso composer in Trinidad.
The long morning had brought us to the market full of rich colors, smells and flavors, had led us up the hill to a welcoming home and happiness through a meal, good company, and sweet mangos, and had introduced us to new people who although new to us now could soon become our close mentors and the characters of our research.
After the long walk home, dripping with sweat and almost unable to stand, we all crashed for a full-afternoon nap after which we awoke to attend our nightly meeting. We reflected on our brief time here so far in which so much has happened already. All of us are enjoying ourselves so far and everyone seems excited about everything that we are doing and everything we have planned. We mostly have had similar reactions to what we have experienced so far. We all have to adjust to the new surroundings. It is difficult to be in a place where you stick out like a sore thumb no matter where you go or what you do. If you don’t say hi sometimes people will call you out on it, something that would never happen in Boston where people rarely even make eye contact. There is also a lot of attention and cat-calling from the men but at least for me and my experience with that in Cuba, it doesn’t really phase me much but can take getting used to. It is also really intimidating to hear from almost everyone how dangerous it is here for us. Because we are so clearly foreign and don’t know the area and don’t know the people, it is super easy to be taken advantage of or to get into trouble with the wrong people. I’m always on guard in Boston but I feel completely safe and here my sensors of what is safe and unsafe and who to trust and who not to trust are completely off because the circumstances and boundaries are totally different. But the difficulties that we have along the way will only teach us more and I’m looking forward to the challenge that I feel we are being given.

Tomorrow it’s off to the bush bright and early!

Trinidad: First Impressions

I am back in the Caribbean warmth and I am already in love with this new island. The sun is hot, the people are warm, the music flows through the streets; as soon as I stepped off the plane I felt at home. The pace is welcoming and completely welcomed by me. I feel like I can slow down, not worry and just enjoy everything as it comes.
Since we arrived, I have been speechless by the beauty of the country. The city is lazy but busy, the streets lined with small shops, cafes, and homes. The narrow streets are decorated with blooming tropical flowers and mango trees and behind all of it is a backdrop of the dark green mountains. I can’t believe this is my home for the next five weeks. The whole group is pumped about the area, the people we have met so far, the music, and our projects.
The energy of the town is also really strong right now because of next week’s general elections. Next week on Monday the new prime minister will be decided so the spirits are high and the competition fierce between the political parties. We are so lucky to be here to experience it. More on this topic later because I still have much to learn about the different parties and the details about what is really going on.
So far we have met the people who will be taking care of us here in Curepe. We are staying at a place that is usually occupied by Trinity College students who have been coming here for 10 years to study abroad at the University of the West Indies (UWI). Sunity is the woman who takes care of us. Tomorrow we are going to the market with her to buy food and then back to her house to have a cooking class, Rotis: 101. We also have two chauffeurs, Ivan and Tony who drive us wherever we want to go whenever we want to get there. It is a little intimidating because we have to be super careful about safety, not walking anywhere at night, even around our neighborhood. A little different than Havana where it is safe to walk almost anywhere, day or night, even alone. It doesn’t seem too bad but I think it will take awhile for us to get used to.
Our mini-excursions to get acquainted with the area have led us to the nearby Hi-Lo supermarket, the bank, a music stand where I loaded up on local music, our first doubles experience, and our first taste of rotis. So I’m going to give you my first impression/description of these two staples, but since I know they are going to be somewhat inaccurate I might give a better description later. Doubles is a snack you can pick up at any of the little doubles stands on the side of the road. You ask for Doubles slight, medium, or pepper. We were warned that ordering a doubles pepper might land us in the nearest E.R. So I went with slight. The woman behind the counter plopped two round slices of what is kind of like the dough used for fried dough, a little thick and a little sweet but soft like naan, onto a piece of wax paper. She then spooned a chick pea mixture onto the two pieces of bread followed by a dollop of a dark substance, a dollop of a yellow mixture, a dollop of something else and then rolled it up and handed the warm roll to me. We all dug in as if it were a burrito of some sort and in the process made a mess. It wasn’t until later a new friend Gerald taught us the proper way to eat the doubles, more like you would eat Indian food with naan. The flavor was completely different than anything I had expected or have tried. It was spicy, sweet, and curry all at once. Once it hit my tongue I couldn’t get enough. So then today we decided to take a stab at roti. I had no idea what to expect from this experience so I just ordered a goat roti and a Big Red Fanta and dug in. It was amazing. The roti consisted of a Styrofoam container with a scoop of a brown sweet mixture, a scoop of mashed chickpeas, and a sweetish orange mixture of something. Then curried goat and the roti which is a large piece of a thin naan type-bread with spices in the center. You use the bread to eat the different mixtures and you end up with a delicious blend of flavors and textures. I am excited to try the different versions of these dishes and to eat them everyday.
Since I’m tired but still want to get stuff posted here’s a sum up of the other things I have liked or noticed about Trinidad: Men are persistent, people are extremely friendly, it is hot, there is nothing like fresh mango or fresh fruit juice, Carib and Stag beers are the beers to drink while in Trinidad, watch out while walking on the streets that you don’t get run over or fall into the gaping drain ditches along the side of the road, music is necessary at all times.

Just a flight away from the Caribbean heat

My bags are packed; full to the brim of tank tops, flip-flops, sunscreen, and dancing shoes. I am ready. It has only been a few months since my last international adventure and while this semester has been a blast including a 21st birthday and plenty of adventures around Boston, I am ready for something new and exciting. The bug is pulling at my backpack straps and seducing me with its thoughts of new people, warm weather, a chance to immerse myself in a new music and culture, and a new challenge to learn about myself.
For those who don't know, I am doing a Dialogue of Civilizations (a faculty-led summer semester abroad) in Trinidad. The trip is an Afro-Caribbean Music Research Project in which we will learn about ethno-musicology, Trinidadian culture, African influences on Caribbean music, and how it all comes together. The end result is a research project in which we will put together findings from our own fieldwork, interviews, and research.
As the early morning flight to Port-of-Spain creeps closer, I am thinking back to past travels, mostly on Cuba as it feels so similar to the feeling I had over a year ago when I was about to embark on that journey with a different group of people. After spending a weekend with the majority of those amazing people, I am excited to experience this group and how our dynamics will be and what our interactions will be like. I have hope that it will be great and that we all become really close. So far, I feel like everyone is really cool and that we will have a lot of fun in the next 5 weeks.
I also look back upon how much my Cuban experience changed my life in so many ways. It changed who I am, how I see myself, how I see others, and the world. I know this trip will also have an effect on me and I am curious to see how.
But since I can't see into the future I guess I will just step aboard that flight at 5:30 am Wednesday morning, step off into the 95 degree/ 95% humidity sauna, and let it all happen.

Por fin: Memories of my December trip to CUBA

So as many of you know, I returned to Cuba a third time this past December for winter break. I had the full intention of blogging about it and kept a journal, but I found that when I came back, my experience had honestly been more emotional and personal then interesting blogging material. It was an amazing trip but it was mostly hanging out and enjoying the time with everyone and trying to figure out my life. The long days consisted of different eating establishments and my best memories of the trip revolve around our meals and where we ate and the events that surrounded the meal such as the time that I split my finger open when I attempted to pull in a chair that was not actually nailed together at 7Mares our fave seafood restaurant. Or when we went to El Caramelo and the fried chicken that looked heavenly on the outside was raw on the inside and we both basically crawled home to bed with horrible stomachaches. Or when we walked 20 minutes in cold rain past the John Lennon statue to Jose’s favorite street pizza joint which needless to say was not really worth the cold walk but I loved every bite of that pizza. Or when we cooked whatever we could find and afford in the kitchen at Jose’s house, using a rock to mince the marinade and tenderize the beef, a piece of tin to grate the weird-tasting cheese, and rusty scissors to open a bottle of Soroa  to accompany the meal.
When we weren’t eating or planning where to eat, we danced, went on random photo adventures to different parts of the city, sat on the Malecon and talked or daydreamed, talked to random people on the street, or chilled at a friends house enjoying the company, good music, and some drinks. Every day crawled by lazily and even though the temperatures were at record lows, I feel those days now with warmth. My connections grew stronger, I fell more in love, I learned about people, I learned about myself. It was a brave trip I think and I didn’t really realize that when I booked it. It was daring of me to go back, to see Jose again despite everything that had gone on throughout the year and all the things I didn’t know. I maybe was crazy to go by myself and spend all that money just to be with Jose and try to make things work. But I did it. And I don’t regret anything. Although I took those trips back to Cuba so soon because I had Jose as an excuse, I was there for myself. Even with the confusion that Cuba relentlessly provides, the occasional heartbreak, the cold bucket showers, and missing toilet seats, I have never been as happy as I feel when I am there. And I can’t explain it. Even if you gave me hours and days to explain. I couldn’t. Because I don’t even understand.

Adventures with a Cuban boy: Ya se acabo

The "Adventures with a Cuban boy" string of posts have come to an end since Jose and I decided to end things, but I have a feeling that the actual adventures will never be completely over and even if they are, they will always stay with me because of the things that I learned from him and because of him. While on the subject of Cuban men, I want to address the issue of dating them. I have been optimistic about Cuban men despite all the warnings that people drilled into me, all the stories I heard, and I want to stay that way but stereotypes exist for a reason. Cubans are known for being manipulatively charming, attractive, and mostly chilling with a gringa for money or a ticket out. Although of course not all Cuban men are like that but think about it... If you already knew everyone in your neighborhood and most of the city, were in a dead end job that didn’t pay enough to buy food, and had no chance of leaving the place where you have always lived and never really changed, wouldn’t you want to spend time with the tourists or students who visit? They are usually willing to take you out so they can have a good time with the locals, bringing you to places you can't afford to go by yourself, and they have stories about the outside world that aren’t being fed to you by socialized media. I mean, I would. I'm not trying to justify using people but I also don’t blame them and I don’t judge them. But it gets complicated when a relationship actually begins. I have been judged and gotten weird looks for admitting that I was with a Cuban for so long, "Don't you know he just wants a ticket out?", "Be careful", etc...But I knew the situation I was getting into and I let myself, partly for the naive thought that he was different. And maybe he is. Either way, I feel like it is best to not trust them, even if they may actually be genuine. Then at least you are covering your ass for better or worse. I don't however think that Cuban men should be avoided or scrutinized. After all, relationships are never easy and bad things happen in relationships no matter where the people are from. Just be aware and understanding instead of critical because if you find someone you love, it's worth it to know them and at least try, no matter the circumstances. I knew all of that before I got involved and I knew it during and I know it now. I knew what was coming, I knew what was going on, I knew what would happen. But at the same time I didn’t know and I still don’t and probably never will. Does that make sense? Probably not but there ya go. Asi es la vida…and I wouldn’t take any of it back.

Love of Food=Love of Cooking?

I love food. I mean, who doesn't? I miss living at home because there is nothing like walking into the house and having the delicious scents of home-cooking fill your nostrils. I appreciate fine dining as well of course, but as those experiences are few and far between, I long instead for the homemade victories of my mom and family members that make you feel like you just as well could be sitting at a dark wood table surrounded by candlelight and waiters in white.
Ever since I started college my daily dining experience has significantly diminuished in enjoyment. It started with night after night of cafeteria dining which, admittedly, was much better than expected, but since it is incredibly overpriced, I am now left to my own devices. I used to love cooking. I even prepared, rather successfully, the whole Christmas dinner in my junior year of high school. When I had more time and a full fridge and pantry of ingredients, I was much more likely to get creative in the kitchen, or to get in the kitchen at all. A full schedule, limited equipment, and having to buy my own groceries, has made me less inspired. I instead turn to quick easy food which results in me eating a lot of eggs, canned soup, or fast food. The problem with this is I get bored, eat unhealthily, or spend way more than necessary.
Trips home or to the cousins' fill me up with delicious food and a little bit of inspiration. The love of cooking that my mom and family possess is contagious. I see them getting excited about recipes, trying new things, and loving the appreciation of the guests' full stomachs. After my weekend home for Thanksgiving that included treasures such as a banana pumpkin tart, orange sweet potato pie, and a bake-off with caramel for its star ingredient, I felt it was about time I get my groove on in the kitchen. I headed back to my humble dorm kitchen with a couple more ideas and recipe books.
Last night I was ready to get back into the spirit of cooking and stopped at the grocery store on my way home to stock up on some staple items as well as the ingredients for my recipe for stove-top chili. I get home only to realize I have no pot large enough to cook my proposed concoction. After a friend came to the rescue with a hefty pot, I was ready to go. I prepared all the ingredients and started browning the beef. It smelled delicious. After chopping all the onions and garlic, I added them to the pot. Tears streaming down my face from the sizzling onion juices, I started opening cans of beans and tomatoes. Mid-crank of the last can my three dollar can-opener decided it had had enough. Being resourceful and needing those diced tomatoes, I attempted to open the can using the pointy end intended for chicken stock and juice cans. Bad idea. As I was prying at the now-jagged edges of the can to make a hole big enough to squeeze out the juicy tomatoes, I made a jab a little too strong and sliced my finger wide open. Swear words streaming at the same rate of the blood, I held my hand under cold water, still attempting to get the tomatoes from the can without burning my chili that was bubbling on the stove. One hand under the faucet, the other shaking the can relentlessly and hopelessly over the pot, I somehow managed to get the tomatoes into the pot with limited bloodshed.
Not a grand return to the culinary world.
Three hours later, I had one amazing chili stewing in the pot. I dont know if it was karma or the blood and tears that went into it, but I have never tasted anything so satisfying. I guess cooking is always an adventure. You never know what is going to happen. It could come out delicious or tasteless, burnt or cooked to perfection, success or royal fail. It follows suit to the randomness of dining experiences. But as in my sometimes hostile love towards yummy food, I have a certain love/hate relationship with cooking. Although my finger was almost severed and it was a lot more effort than expected, the end result was so worth it. I guess if you love food enough and are willing to take risks and put in the effort, cooking can be just as fun as eating the results.

Latin Passion: Where it all started...

I'm not sure how apparent this is in my blog, but if you know me, you know that I love Latin culture. Everything about it, the people, the music, the food, the values, the art, the dance. Many people probably think I am crazy or weird maybe because I love it so much and it is not my own. I myself often wonder where this passion came from. I have no Latin blood, no close family that I know of that has been to Latin America for more than a short trip, no connections really whatsoever. But somewhere along my life experiences, I had a feeling that I would like to go to Latin America. When I started Spanish classes in junior high, I loved it. I went to Spain to get closer to the language, but I didn't feel it, there was no connection. I still looked towards the south and searched for a way to buy a ticket to that unknown place that I felt would suit me.
Then I decided to go to Ecuador on a brief piece of advice from a friend. I had never thought of it before but what the hell? It ended up to be a three-week long life-changing experience that confirmed my belief that Latin America was in my heart and when I left, part of my heart stayed there.
Another trip, this time to Cuba for three months, and I knew that I would never be able to get it out of my system. I have never felt so happy or alive in a place. Everyday was exciting, everyday I was happy to wake up, no matter how tired I was. Every person I met treated me like a friend, and friends were like family. The music has so much feeling, the dance is lively, and the air hums with passion, love, struggle, and memories.
No matter where I am, my mind and heart are in Latin America. I try to immerse myself in it no matter where I am. I listen to the music, cook the food, dance the dance, and try to feel the warmth and liveliness wherever I go.