Editor's note; This submit was first posted in 2015 and has been up to date for repost in January 2017.
Since this was written two years ago, many changes have occurred in Cuba and travel to Cuba. In just a few days, our group will for the first time fly on commercial airlines (American Airlines) to Havana, instead of a charter flight out of Miami.
Today, we no longer stay in the fancy hotels when we travel, but in privately owned apartments and Casas. Tourism has grown and one sees more tour busses throughout the city.
As a photographer, the opportunities still abound. As a group leader I've learned to fashion our itinerary to avoid some places altogether, and to visit others at times when tourists are not present. I've learned to have a plan, but to be flexible because one never knows when an opportunity for something special will occur. On our my last trip in November 2016, our group was able to acquire tickets to the Cuban National Ballet and we were flexible enough in our schedule to allow for this unique opportunity. You can read about that experience here.
In spite of those adjustments, each experience has been better than the ultimate. I haven't any expectancies, but I desire that this fashion keeps with trip number 7.
If you'd like to join me, our next trip is scheduled for November 2017. Learn more here.
 |
| Boy with Birds, Trinidad |
Havana wherein I'm staying, I'm up and out the door. It's 6:30 AM. Dark. Quiet. The
mild from some lamps and passing automobiles is contemplated in the street, wet from the
night time's rain. The drowsing town starts offevolved to make morning sounds, and I stroll on
with out expectation, but full of anticipation and excitement about what I understand
this morning will bring.
At this hour the handiest humans I see are a avenue sweeper whose palm-department broom
makes scratching sounds at the marble as he sweeps along the Prado, and a few
workers, silent silhouettes, walking within the twilight with deliberation towards their
day process.
My anticipation comes from understanding that in the next half hour Havana will
transform itself from a darkish, quiet, dozing large, to a mild, vibrant, gritty, lively
metropolis, wealthy with lifestyles and photographic possibility.
At the diminish is a pile of garbage, its redolence muted via the current rain. The expanse
over the town begins to show a deep blue at the skyline's area. The waking keeps:
a splash-clunk! As a automobile hits a rain-crammed pothole, footsteps on moist pavement, a horn
honks in the distance. The deep blue now shows red at the edges of the skyline.
An vintage man pushes a cart with a white canvas bag complete of bread, his hawking name,
"PAAAANNNN," piercing the morning's peace. Somewhere a rooster crows, and
crows again. A diesel engine coughs to a begin. A guy dressed simplest in his boxers,
brushes his teeth from a 2d tale balcony and spits over the rail.
More vehicles rattle via the streets, many made in Detroit, 60 years ago! Others are
rickety Russian models from the eighty's. Diesel fumes assault my nostrils. Slowly, like a
massive waking from a deep sleep, the town lumbers to its toes because the brightening sunrise
spreads over Havana.
One with the aid of one, Cuban guys, women, and kids appear in windows and doorways of
houses that open onto the sidewalk. There is no buffer for privacy. As I walk down
the road, I'm self-consciously aware that I am nearly standing in people's
houses. Briefly, I sense like an interloper.
The morning is in full motion. People step out onto the road, and now there's the
frequent "bueno' dia'" exchanged among passersby, with the dropped "s"
feature of Cuban Spanish. The sidewalks fill with street vendors, guys and
girls on their way to paintings, and students on their manner to highschool.
By now, I'm actively capturing, now and again surreptitiously, and every so often asking,
changing a bottle of skin lotion, a hair tie, or a pen in gratitude for a photo. I find
that these intimate photographs are best after I make an effort to engage my subject.
Even the only exchange will break the ice and permit us to examine a little approximately
each different. When this occurs, the photograph opportunities are actual human
interactions rather than impersonal transactions.
Children, neatly dressed within the traditional Cuban school uniform, seem on the
streets. The excessive college students in blue uniforms walk alone, in small groups of
buddies, or as boy and lady friend, they linger intimately in a doorway for a morning
kiss.
The middle school students in their gold uniforms walk animatedly, unencumbered
by way of guardians. A unexpected variety these days are as occupied with cells phones as kids
in any metropolis.
The primary students, of their burgundy uniforms, stroll quietly, hand-in-hand,
with a determine or grandparent. Too younger to be embarrassed by an grownup, those little
ones display their adoration without reservation.
The high variety of guys who visibly play an adoring, nurturing role with their
children strikes me as surprising in a rustic with a popularity for its macho
tradition. For the Cuban guy, there seems to be no shame in nurturing kids and
no stigma that it's "ladies's work" alone.
This is my preferred time to be at the streets of Havana, or Trinidad, for that count number.
Each metropolis has its specific vibration, tone, best discovered within the waking hours at
sunrise. It's in those early hours that each town famous the maximum intimate components of its
persona and culture.
The following pictures were made (many with my iPhone) even as leading a collection of
photographers from the Estados Unidos. Most were made even as roaming Havana or
Trinidad in the hours round dawn. If you're interested by experiencing the
photographic delights of Cuba, study extra about my November 2017 experience here:http://bit.Ly/2cbeOsL_RAD_Cuba_2017.
 |
| Streets of Havana |
 |
| Boy Minds the Market in Trinidad |
 |
| Butcher Sharpens His Knife |
 |
| Man within the Morning, Havana |
 |
| Door, Trinidad |
 |
| Saviors, Trinidad |
 |
| Cactus in a Lard Can |
 |
| Birds: A Family Affair |
 |
| Working Man |
No comments:
Post a Comment