mah-keenah

capitol of the island that shall remain nameless
sunday is a swell day to walk around the city. seems like everyone is enjoying a mellow day.

kids are playing baseball.

grandmas are gossiping together in the park. knives are being sharpened on a bicycle.

dogs are lolling.

teen girls are showing off their silly bandz.

 

there are mini carnivals, complete with carnies and rides that look like death traps.

to ride the "mortifica" or not?

yes, it's a swell day to be out and about.

c decided we would take a machina (pronounced mah-keenah), one of the vintage cars used as local public transportation, to vedado, a neighborhood inhabited by spanish colonial mansions that have been converted into a sort of tenement housing.
i took a gazillion photos, but the sun was so bright, most ended up being a bit blown out, i am sad to say. i wished i had used my filters - rookie mistake!

the machina are beautiful. the cars are mostly beat up and being held together with rubber bands, spit and pride, but they are still gorgeous - maybe even more than the mint condition ones you see in car shows because they are still being used every day, all day long. mostly they run on specific routes, kind of like buses. you stick out your hand, they pull over, you say where you are going and usually you hop in. they are not meant for tourists. you pay with the cuban money meant only for cubans. i don’t know if it is legal to ride in them. i don’t know if it is legal to have the pesos nationales. but when i am with c, i live on the edge.
we flagged down a real cherry - it was red with just a touch of sparkle and appeared to be in perfect condition. the young man behind the wheel looked like he ought to be going to a hot rod convention. c and i climbed in the back and e got in front. we drove about two blocks when the driver decided to negotiate for cucs instead of pesos nationales. the ride should cost around 40 cents each. he wanted $3 each. c said no, he kicked us to the curb. undaunted, c flagged down another. this car was blue and had been repainted numerous times with paint that has no business being anywhere near metal. it looked beaten down by the life it had led. i was thrilled.
noisy, rumbly, spacious, old. i love vintage. i love the machina!

baseball

capitol of the island that shall remain nameless
america's favorite pastime is shared by the islanders. on saturday and sunday, everywhere you go, there are kids playing the best game ever.

abandoned buildings make great diamonds

machete or baseball bat

balls are prohibitively expensive, as one might expect, so the players make do with whatever they can scrape together. i saw a lot of old balls barely stitched together, tennis balls, a few handballs and several spheres of tape, who knows what was inside. i also saw broomsticks, random bits of wood and broken bats being used. these kids will be great ball players one day!

giants fan?

as a huge fan of the game, seriously, a sunny day at pacbell park (or whatever they are calling it these days) watching my Giants play is simply the best, i thought about loading up a spare suitcase with baseballs to bring and hand out. the problem was i didn't know for certain whether or not i was going to get to the island, and in the end i gave up the idea. fortunately i had mentioned it to c, and she had brought a few. the smiles we got in return for a bit of leather and cotton were wonderful.

new ball, new team captain!

the big leagues

i did manage to go to one professional game, though the two teams were so ill matched, it felt a bit more like a minor league team vs goliath, and in the end, with the score 11-1, Industriales smashing La Isla, the losers didn't even get their last at bat. i felt cheated, but everyone else seemed happy.

my new friend Richard

i got lucky, too, because i sat next to a young fella who had the patience of Job and an interest in conversation with the gringa. he helped me figure out who i was watching and gave me the skinny on the retired superstars who were wandering the stands getting mobbed with autograph requests.
lastly, no matter how old you are or where you are from, if you are a fan, when you catch a game ball, there is nothing more thrilling!

foul ball