My Big Fat Cuban Family: A Cuban-American Blog

My Big, Fat, Noisy Cuban After-Party (come on - do The Wave with us...)

Exhausted but happy. So much I want to share.
The wedding was last night and it was fabulous, but I have to have some functioning brains cells to do it justice, so I will save posting about that until I get home.

I've had some incredible experiences with my family this weekend, but seriously, the after-party at my cousin's house tops them all. 

Everyone leaves tomorrow. For California. For Texas. And even for Cuba.  We don't know when we'll all be together again, but trust me when I tell you we took full advantage of our time together.

Our sides were splitting from laughing so hard. Seriously. We're all hoarse from yelling and carrying on.

The highlight was trying to teach Tio Fernando (97) how to do The Wave.....

FERNANDO (with his hands obediently high in the air): "What's supposed to happen now?"

We all just dissolved into piles of noisy laughter.

I know. You just had to be there.

And THAT was the best part. We were ALL there. =D

(Thanks, Illy & Bob for your generous hospitality!)

My Big, fat, Cuban Family Party (together) before the Wedding

Today's the wedding day. We've been anxiously awaiting this chance to have a big, fat, Cuban family wedding in Miami. Today is that day. People, we're out of our skin excited!

To be together, to be a family, to welcome more family, to poke fun at each other, to laugh together, to dance together, to tell jokes and family stories.

To celebrate being a family and NOT have to wait until Christmas.

Needless to say, we've been soooo looking forward to this wedding (to be together).

But wait.... we all flew in from somewhere this week.... and there's no time like the present, so last night we all got together in South Beach.....

And, of course, I had my camera.....

So after the buzz of "where are you?" phone calls, we managed to meet in some posh bar....

And we got the chance to be together, to be a family, to welcome more family, to poke fun at each other, to laugh together, to dance together, to tell jokes and family stories.

We agreed that it would be fun if we all dressed up and got together to do it again the next night.
Oh wait.... that's the wedding. Then how about Saturday night? Ummm.... Family Reunion at Cousin Ileana's?

Seriously, this is going to be a LOOOONNGG (and REALLY FUN!!) weekend (together).

(good thing we're all stocked up on Red Lipstick! =D)

La Que Manda

Kikita here.  And no, I'm no longer alone.  And no, it's no longer raining.

Mami arrived late last night and she brought the sun with her.  She had the smoothest flight ever (one of the flight attendants was studying to be a chiropractor so they offered her a free neck massage!).  We woke up to sunshine - something I haven't seen since I've been here.

She gets up and says,"Where is the nearest place to get a cafecito?"
I have no idea . . . before I can sit up, she's dressed and knows where we're going.
So all I have to do is look like my beautiful self and do the driving.  The little cafe was JUST. DOWN. THE. STREET.

Sure, WAY easy to find if you're not the one driving and it's not POURING RAIN.  But who's complaining?

The lecture on how crazy I was for not having Cuban food only lasted until we sat down.  Then she commanded the waitress to bring us two cafecitos immediately.

 

I was not allowed to drink my cafe until she had taken the picture.

Then Mami told me we would be sharing a Pan con Bistec (which was delicious) and Coke. 

Now she's texting everyone we know in Miami and telling them what we will be doing for the duration of our trip.

I have to go now, Mami says I need to re-apply my Red Lipstick.

 

HALLLOOOO, Mayami!!!

Code Red

Prepare yourself South Florida.....

The last few days have been a flurry of texts and phone calls between my mom and my sisters and my cousins and my nieces and myself.
My big, fat, Cuban family is preparing to invade Miami. (Ay Dios mio!)

Michael and Kimberly are getting married on Friday. (Yay!)

And because of the nature of weddings and all the wedding business that has to happen during the reception and all that, well, there just won't be enough face-to-face time, so... we're all getting together again on Saturday. (Ay Dios mio!)

So, see, we're not just going to the wedding (which I'm sure will be just fabulous, but that's not important right now) we're TRAVELING. And as you well know, traveling involves PREPARATIONS.

And so the phone lines are burning with the questions:

"What are you wearing to the wedding?"
"Can I borrow your (fill in the blank)?"
"It's pouring rain in Miami, bring an umbrella."
"Are you having your hair done here or there?"
"What time is your pedicure?"

And so we carry on, as typical Cuban girls/sisters/cousins/nieces do.

So, world-class list maker that I am, I've got my checklist and realize that I completely forgot to get a new red lipstick! I know! Serious Makeup Emergency!!  (you can tell by all the exclamation points I'm using that this is SERIOUS!!!)

My current red is down to the embarrassing scraping-with-the-lip-brush stage and I have been meaning to get myself to Nordstrom, but that would involve actually getting dressed up just to go buy lipstick and well, darn it, it's summer! And I just haven't been feeling it and blah, blah, blah.... All that to say that I never got my new lipstick.  =(

Panicking here. Yes, I know it's my own fault for procrastinating and it's late in the game here. My flight leaves in a few hours....

So, I call my sister, Ofelia (who actually works at the Lancome counter at Nordstrom, which is why I get my makeup there in the first place, because I am being supportive, but I digress.....)

Me: "Ofie, Makeup Emergency! I need a red lipstick for the wedding!"

Ofie (in a completely calm, I-live-for-moments-like-this voice:
"Come over to my house. I think I might have one."

One hundred and fifty lipsticks later, I found seventeen reds.
(God, I love my family!)

Ay Dios Mio!  ;-)

See you in Miami!! 
(I'll be the one in the fabulous Red Lipstick. =D)

Sometimes it's hard to be me . . .

The "Kikita's Alone in Florida" saga continues . . .

After the Chinese food debacle (ok, so I should have known better, but I'd been traveling all day and I was tired), I decided my first order of business should be to venture out and find the nearest grocery store, preferably Publix.  This choice came primarily because after dinner last night all I wanted was chocolate and there was none to be had, but does it really matter why I made the choice?  No, it doesn't.

The point is, I needed mass quantities of chocolate and I needed it fast . . .
Boy, did I get more than I bargained for!

After a careful study of the maps in my room, I found the nearest grocery store WAS, in fact, PUBLIX!  HOORAY!!

I waited out the multiple downpours, then finally escaped (and by that time I was hungry again).  After a couple of wrong turns, I found Publix.  I was so delirious to have found it, I couldn't really remember why I had needed it so badly the night before.  I was kind of disoriented and not sure what to do, but not wanting to look like I didn't know what I was doing there, I grabbed a cart and started walking down the first aisle I saw . . . it happened to be the BABY aisle.  Remembering previous trips to other Publix (one located somewhere off of Flagler), I thought I might score some Royal Violetas . . . I thought wrong.  Now I was really feeling out of my element, so I just started cruising with my empty cart hoping inspiration would hit.

Well, before inspiration hit, my first dose of "chocolate" did, in the form of the guy stocking the fruit.
"Hey sweetheart, how you doing?" asked the 16yr old child in front of me.  I was SO NOT READY for this.  It takes a lot for a male to render me speechless, and this kid did.  I smiled and kept walking.  Luckily, I walked right into the bakery section.  And after a careful search I found pastelitos, and my world was on its way to being balanced again . . . UNTIL . . . I caught another mocha-choca-latte mister ogling me from behind the counter.  I dove down another aisle.  Yes!  Bottled water!  Just what I need!

Shoot!  Another stalker stocker!  Smiling at me!

(You must understand, I am all for smiling back and being polite - especially if he's cute, but nothing about the way these people were smiling at me inspired neighborly feelings)

I grabbed the water and kept walking, towards another counter with another set of chocolate eyes.  It was as if Stocker #1 had radio-ed everyone in the store to say, "Alert! Alert! Blondie with Booty! Aisle 7!"

Perhaps you think I'm kidding, but my antennas were up and I noticed the managers being extra friendly towards me and accidentally being in every other aisle I walked down.  Coincidence?  I think not!

WHERE, OH WHERE, WAS THE REAL CHOCOLATE?!?!?  (or at least a real Cuban to smile back at?)

I went up and down every aisle and was about to give in and speak to one of my many admirers when . . . there. it. was.  In the exact place where I'd started.  The chocolate I'd been looking for was in the BABY aisle and I'd missed it!

I found an IRISH bar across the street...so sad it wasn't Cuban.
I know, I'm in serious trouble.  I've been here for over 24 hours and I haven't had a Cuban ANYTHING!
Sometimes, it's hard to be me!

What do you call your Abuela?

The span in age between me and my oldest sister, Ofie, is about fifteen years. Which means she was married and had her first child, Annette, by the time I was nine. Which means that at that point in my young life, my mother, Luz, became a grandmother.

"La Abuela!" She had waited so long to finally hear those words. She could barely wait until Annette started talking!

Ah, but let me tell you about Annette - she was a precocious and clever and creative child, who, as soon as she could talk and found out that her grandmother's name was Luz Aurora started calling her Luza. And that name has stuck.

Luza. That's how she even introduces herself now. My sisters and I call her Luza. She is Luza to all the other fifteen grandchildren and the seven great-grands. Luza is what all her friends call her now.

Ironically, there is still one grandchild who calls her Abuela.
You guessed it.
Annette, her very first grandchild, the one who baptized her as Luza, is now the only one who calls her Abuela. Go figure!

I secretly suspect that because she was the first grand, and the one who gave her that special nickname, my mom loves her the most. But don't tell the rest of them... ;-)

Still clever and creative, smart and generous.
She's a wonderful daughter, granddaughter, niece, and friend.

Happy Birthday, Annette!
I love you, too. ;-)

Flip-flop. ;-)

Okay, so we're on our way to the beach on this gorgeous Sunday afternoon in So Cal.

As we're getting onto The Toll Road we spot DOZENS of police officers on motorcycles with their lights all flashing, and behind them there were about four or five patrol cars, with their lights flashing too.  In front of this dizzyingly dramatic display of lights was a Big Black Bus.

Huh?

My first thought was that there was some kind of Seriously-Deranged-Prisoner that was being moved. You know what I'm talking about. It happens all the time in those movies where the Really-Bad-and-Criminally-Insane-Psychotic-Mastermind is getting transported from one Maximum-Security-Facility to another More-Remote-UBER-Maximum-but-More-Remote-Security-Facility, but you know he's already made contact with his Felony-Stupid-yet-Devoted-Henchmen, who will, at any minute, stop the motorcade with some Crazy-Scary-Illegal-Weapons that they've procured from a Jihadist-Terrorist-Organization, and I'm seriously freaking myself out, but I'm already cruising onto the on-ramp and now there are cars behind me...

So, I start kind of slowing down as my adrenaline gets pumping and my imagination has already told my brain that I need to find a place to turn around because you know, any minute now the henchmen will appear on this usually deserted stretch of road.... when suddenly, my terrifying revelry is interrupted by my husband.....

Eric: "That's right! Barak Obama is speaking in Newport Beach tonight!"

WHAT??

I flip-flopped (=D)  from terror to irritation....

Because now this Silly Kaleidoscopic Motorcade was seriously impeding our progress in getting to the beach.

Can you say... Overly Ripe Imagination?  ;-)

Crescent Bay, Laguna Beach.
Where we arrived much later than we intended, and I blame him, but that's not important right now. =D

Guess who's in Miami!?!

Hello my party people!  Kikita here.

And when I say "here" I mean in MIAMI!!

Luckily I made it just in time for thunderstorms . . . (which makes landing REALLY fun) :-)

This is what my first night consisted of:

Yes, I committed the major faux-paux and ate Chinese Take-Out, don't tell Mami!

Email me, call me, let's get together, I'm here! :-)

"Felicidades, Abuela!" (state your name)

I've written before about how my family spent summers in Varadero Beach in pre-castro Cuba.
My grandmother's birthday was in late June so we would be out of Havana and not with her to celebrate.

So we would call....

It seems like such a simple thing, making a phone call from Varadero to Havana, but it was quite an elaborate operation because the beach house didn't have a phone, so the parental units had to herd us kids to a nearby public phone. There were usually anywhere between 12 and 20 of us varying in ages from toddlers to teenagers.

Here we are at the beach house, Villa Obdulia, all dressed up in some get-ups that our mothers thought were adorable. What a fashion statement! Mini-striped & pleated skirts, colorful sleeveless tops, matching flip-flops and RIDICULOUS Peter Pan hats. If anyone is still thinking that yesterday's Toga thing is weird, as you can see, I come by it honestly. =D   (I'm in the 1st row, 2nd from left)

Back to my story and the phone call to Abuela on her birthday.....

We lined up and marched over to the phone booth and got our instructions:
There were so many of us that we were only allowed to say, "Felicidades, Abuela!" followed by our name.

It was all going beautifully...

"Felicidades, Abuela! Betty."
"Felicidades, Abuela! Miriam."
"Felicidades, Abuela! Lupe."

Perfect choreography. One kid in. One kid out. Next.

"Felicidades, Abuela! Yoly."
"Felicidades, Abuela! Alina."

Eventually, after all the big kids had said their felicidades, it was time for us four year olds...

"Felicidades, Abuela! Regina."
"Felicidades, Abuela! Marta."

At this point, my cousin, Fernando, who was right behind me, was so hyped up, nervous and worried about blowing his line that he breathlessly grabbed the phone and practically shouted:

"Felicidades, Abuela! MARTA!"

This is one of those family anecdotes that lives on and on. We all LOVE this story.
And of course, the line: "Felicidades, Abuela! MARTA!" has now become the stuff of familial legend.

Imagine my surprise and delight when I get an early morning text telling me that my cousin, Maria's daughter, Suzy, just gave birth to a beautiful 8 1/2 lb. baby boy. Suzy is a mother! Maria is a grandmother!! Doubly wonderful!  I called my cousin immediately, and (Yay!) I got to legitimately deliver The Line:

"Felicidades, Abuela! MARTA!"  =D 

I swear. I am so easily entertained.

Welcome Erick Daniel to our big, fat, Cuban family!

When in Rome...

It was a TOGA party we had last night for Adam's birthday.
(And yes, we did a sing along -  to Disney's Hercules)
I dressed in a toga.
I cooked dinner in my toga.
I became quite attached to my toga.
They're very comfortable and I think I look spectacular in RED.
Heck, this might turn out to be our Christmas card picture this year.... (that wouldn't surprise me).

Meanwhile the neighbors are thinking.... "Are the Darbys wearing TOGAS tonight???"
I swear. I'm serious about the Christmas card thing...

I took a moment from the frivolity to go post a recipe at Babalú for Pastel de Pollo.
But I quickly came back here. I wouldn't want to miss the fun!
TOGA!  TOGA!  TOGA!  =D