The Realities of Cubaland Hit Home

as if to prove that there are still those who can see beyond their own worlds, a passage from this essay:

However, my family has a bit of wanderlust, and five days in we decided to take a taxi [from the author's all-inclusive resort] to the nearby town of Moron. Our taxi driver -- educated to be a lawyer, but making more on his current career path -- was an excellent guide. We first stopped at a family farm, where the family raised a pen of piglets, guinea pigs, rabbits and a few chickens. We then visited a crocodile conservatory, where we held baby crocs and fed the 16-footers. Next, we went into Moron.

Here, the reality of Cuba hit home. Waiters and bartenders at the resort told us Moron was a "nice tourist town." Not quite. The homes were decrepit and crumbling -- there is no motivation to repair them, as none of the residents actually own the homes. The supermarkets were almost devoid of goods or customers, with deodorant costing eight convertible pesos (60% of the typical monthly income.)

The oppressive heat seemed to reach into every nook, even making the shade unbearable. We were glad to return to the resort after only 45 minutes. But we were also painfully aware that the Cuban residents were not returning to any such refuge.

welcome to King Fidel's paradise.


moron, cuba: the ruins of a revolution