**The following post was written and brought to you by the one and only Kikita. Marta and the rest of the big, fat, Cuban family are currenty cruising to Puerto Rico**
Mami, Marta, has been collecting your Cuando Sali de Cuba stories for quite some time now getting ready for Hispanic Heritage Month. What better way to kick off the month than with a screening of the film that kicked off the Cuando Sali de Cuba story sharing?
And now, at the start of Hispanic Heritage Month, there will be a couple of special screenings of this incredible documentary in select cities.
If you're in Miami, you can go see "Voices From Mariel" next weeked, September 9, 10, & 11 at: O CINEMA 90 NW 29th Street Miami, FL 33127 (305) 571-9970 Click here for tickets and showtimes
If you're reading from New Brunswick, New Jersey there will be a screening for you, too!
On September 25th, "Voices of Mariel" will be part of the screenings offered in the New Jersey:
New Jersey Film Festival Location Voorhees Hall #105 71 Hamilton Street/College Avenue Campus Rutgers University New Brunswick, NJ (You have to be sure and arrive about 30 minutes early to get your tickets at the door, though)
All of these screenings are fantastic, but a movie isn't really a movie until it's seen in LA, right? Of course, right.
So, on September 10th at 8pm, as a part of Cuban Cultural Night at the MACHA Theatre in West Hollywood, there will be a special screening of "Voices of Mariel" complete with a Question and Answer session with some of the makers afterwards. ("The Makers" being Dr. Jose Garcia - the creator, Rob Tritton - a producer, and Steven Bauer - a totally awesome actor and if you don't know who he is I - Kikita - might be worried about how Cuban you really are!)
There are plenty of people who don't know anything about the Mariel Boatlift beyond Scarface or that one Pitbull album, those are the people you should bring with you to this event.
And, afterwards, please come up and introduce yourself to me.
Let's take a picture. And you can tell me your Cuando Sali de Cuba story, or ask for tips on how to get your Taka Taka just right. ;-)
I hope to see you all on Saturday, September 10th at 8pm! MACHA Theatre 1107 North Kings Rd West Hollywood, CA 90069 Click here for tickets
If you haven't submitted your Cuando Sali de Cuba story to Mami yet, there's still time! Go ahead and send her an email. (600-700 words with photos.)
If you can't make it to any of the screenings because they're not in your area, there's only one thing to do: find a way to have a screening in your city! Go ahead and send me, Kikita, an email and I'll make sure you get in touch with the right people.
What a great beginning to Hispanic Heritage Month, no?
*The following post was written by Kikita, la hija de Marta.*
Here in "The Bubble" (as Mami likes to call it), there is not much Cuban food to be had. That's why Mami posts recipes over on Babalú Blog. That's why we cook so much. If we want to eat out and we want to eat Cuban food, we have to take a road trip.
So, imagine my excitement when I hear that the Souplantation (which is known as Sweet Tomatoes in some states) is having a special where they will be serving Cuban Cuisine for two weeks in August!
Then I saw the menu, and I got worried. There was a whole lot of "chorizo" and nowhere did I see the word "platano."
Did I let that stop me?
Of course not!
Even though their list had me thinking that whoever planned there menu must have had Cuba confused with some other country (Spain, maybe) and that the person had never heard of the internet or how to do any kind of research (because if they had would they really have thought "Chorizo" said "Cuban Food" - nevermind that we put chorizo in boliche, that's not imporant right now), I decided I would go and give these plantation people a chance.
First up, the Havana Banana Salad.
No, the "Banana" was not platano. It was just your basic, everyday banana. And since it was a chip, it was really just acting as a tasteless crouton. Was the salad delicious? Of course. A delicious citrus blend of happiness. I daresay it tasted like summer. But it didn't taste Cuban, not even with the black beans added for effect.
Not ready to give up hope, I continued on and found this:
I'm sure there are ways to Cuban-ify potato salad, but this wasn't it. Switching out bacon for chorizo (which, again, says "Spain" before it says "Cuba", right?) and adding lime with that dash of cumin (which ARE two Cuban food staples, we just don't staple like that) only makes your potato salad taste limey. Yummy, if you're the type who likes potato salad, but not Cuban.
I held my breath as I continued on. Telling myself that there really was no way to mess up "Cuban beans and Rice." It's too traditional. It's impossible to get wrong. Impossible? Not for Souplantation!
And did they add the honey to make the beans sweet? They were the wrong color.
We call them Black Beans and White Rice for a reason. This reason must have been lost on the Sweet Tomatoes. If they were going for a Moros y Cristianos style, the were still the wrong color whether you make it with black beans or the red ones. Plus, all that lime was really pushing that "summer" taste. And if you like cold beans and rice, it was really quite delicious. An untrained palatte might even go so far as to call it "Tropical" because "Lime" really does scream "Tropical," but "Tropical" was not the scream I had bubbling up in my throat.
In a state of shock, I moved to the soups.
They're the Souplantation, right? So maybe they'll do better with that... or not.
Ay! Again with the chorizo! And sweet potatoes? Well... I guess that's the closest thing to boñato. (Technically speaking, sweet potatoes ARE in the boñato family, they just aren't the ones most commonly used in Cubano boñato dishes.) I was not fooled for one second. I was eating chili, without the cheese and with black beans and sweet potatoes thrown in to confuse me. A delicious chili, but I didn't come for a chili cook-off. I came for Cuban food.
I was grateful when I saw the sign that told me, this time, no one was trying to pretend this food was really Cuban. Just because you put the word "Cubano" in front of Focaccia, does not make your pizza Cuban.
I knew it was trying to be "just like the classic sandwich," but putting ham and more chorizo on top of a pickle pizza just makes it a pickle pizza with ham and chorizo. (Yes, I know Focaccia is not exactly pizza, but it's flat and there was cheese on it and it tasted like a pizza with ham and chorizo and pickle - a good pizza, but not even a Cuban pizza: which DOES exist, by the way.)
Once I got past my utter disappointment at not finding the promised Cuban food anywhere, I really did enjoy the taste sensations dancing on my taste buds.
All in all, the food was good, it just wasn't Cuban.
Thanks Souplantation & Sweet Tomatoes, if you ever think about adding a Cuban Cafecito to your menu, please call me, Kikita, first and let me teach you how to Taka Taka.
It's been a few years since I've been, but I'll definitely be there this year!
So... COME AND DANCE WITH ME!
(Seriously, if you're a blog reader and you decide to go to the festival and you do see me, please come up and say hello.)
P.S. Despite the fact that I am not going to Miami for Cuba Nostalgia this year which would finally give me the chance to head out to the Cuban Festival in Echo Park, that festival was canceled this year due to lack of funds and the park not being available. Which means the San Dimas Cuban Festival is the only one in the L.A. area this year ... and that is SO important right now! ;-)
At some point I'm sure Mami has mentioned that we don't have TV. If you didn't know that, well, now you know. We live in a valley, so we can't even get basic channels without basic cable. We watch movies and are big Netflix fans, but that is not important right now.
Not having cable has made watching the World Cup games quite an adventure.
I have had to go to great lengths to support my Top 3 picks (USA was in my Top 5, but not Top 3) and get my fill of soccer (aka "fútbol").
I took my laptop to a local cafe so that I could work and support Uruguay against the Netherlands.
I have exploited various friendships for their television and recording capabilities. (Thanks Atkinsons! Thanks Michelle!)
I was up and at a German pub (wearing Argentina colors) at 6am only to watch in horror as Argentina was led to a slaughter.
I changed into Spanish red and relocated to a Spanish bar to scream at the top of my lungs as Carles Puyol made World Cup history.
Of course, it is 1000 times more fun to watch a game on Univisión because when any team makes a goal there is that classic "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!" sound that only the Spanish announcers know how to make so I have tried to make it a point to see the games at places showing them in Spanish.
I am ready for Spain to win on Sunday. They HAVE to win.
Since the Germans couldn't score against them, we know that Spain must have a great defense, but here are the Top 5 Reasons why I KNOW Spain is going to win:
Reason #1:Xavi Hernandez (I like to call him Xavi Hotness)
Reason #2: Sergio Ramos (Oh, I'm
having a surge alright!)
Reason
#3: Fernando Torres (Fernando TorYES!)
Reason
#4: David Villa (According to FIFA"David Villa is currently one of the world's hottest striking
properties." See? Even FIFA understands what I am talking about!)
Reason
#5: Iker Casillas (Every great time needs a
gorgeous goalie.)
And while I've heard people complain about how obnoxious the sound of the vuvuzelas are, I can't help but love them. They look like so much fun! I haven't been able to get one of my own, so instead I got an app for that!
(The following post was written and lived by Kikita. It is dedicated to her Big, Fat Verdés Family.) **WARNING: You may need tissues.**
My grandfather, Rodolfo Verdés, died on December 11, 1999.
I never called him "Abuelo." Instead I affecionately called him "Papi" as did all of his children and grandchildren. My grandmother, Luza, never called him by his first name. He was always "Verdés" to her. He was always "Verdés" among his brothers and sisters and their children and grandchildren. It was a sign of respect. He was the ultimate father figure. He worked hard and he loved his family deeply.
On his 50th birthday, he began his life all over again in the United States. I don't know all the sacrifices he made for his family, but I know they exist. I know that he went wherever there was work and sometimes that meant being away from his wife and children for long periods of time.
I also know that every one knew that he loved them. Somehow, despite his absence, there was no doubt about the love he had for his children and grandchildren.
I know he was quiet, but when he DID say something it was bound to be brilliant and, often times, hilarious. He had the BEST sense of humor.
I know his favorite color was red and that it had nothing to do with his politics. I know that he loved Cuba passionately, loved the United States for welcoming him, and he hated the (c)astro dictatorship just as passionately.
I know that there is plenty about him that I don't know and, when I get
to heaven, I intend to ask him all of it.
I know that I miss him.
And I know that he had asked my Mami to take his ashes back to the province of Pinar del Río (where he had been born) and scatter them in the Valley of Viñales. I wasn't there when he asked, so I don't know if he specified whether he wanted her to wait until Cuba was free or not or if he just wanted to be there. To be honest, I didn't know anything about Viñales. It was just a name to me. But not anymore.
I now understand the breathtaking beauty that is the Valle de Viñales and why he would want his ashes scattered there.
And I know that I'm the only person who can tell you where he is now.
When Luza, my abuela, asked me to go with her to Cuba there was no doubt in my mind or in anyone else's that Papi's ashes would go with us. Papi had given Mami instructions about what he wanted, but Mami will not be going to Cuba anytime soon and the ashes had already been waiting for ten years. I worked impossibly hard calling all over the country to make sure I could get the ashes to Cuba. It became obvious that I wasn't going to have all the paperwork I had been told I needed and so I was faced with a dilemma. After much discussion, it was decided that I would "smuggle in" only some of the ashes. That way I would be keeping the promise Mami had made to Papi, but that he could still wait for a Free Cuba for the rest.
I don't think I can explain to you what it was like to separate out some of his ashes to take with me. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation and I wanted to weep at the same time. It was an adventure, and it was a heartbreak. It shouldn't have had to be that way, but it was. I didn't want to get to the airport and have his ashes confiscated. Can you imagine? Waiting so long and coming so far and then having the ashes confiscated by the communists running the joke of an airport? What would they even do with them? Would they have made me turn around? Would they have just tossed them out? (I would not put it past them.)
I never told my grandmother how I got the ashes into Cuba. I told her to trust me and that I would get it done. I think she might have fainted if she had known I brought him in as Lancome face-powder. (I know that Papi would have gotten a kick out of it, though.)
I made sure I had the poem he requested and I had a "recent" photo of him.
My cousin, Waldo, and his girlfriend, Mille, came with me on the road trip to Pinar del Río. We wore red in honor of Papi. It was a beautiful day and it was a beautiful drive.
I was detached for most of the drive, until we were actually in Pinar del Río and I realized: "This is where Papi grew up." That was when the first wave of emotion hit. It hit me a second time when we stopped to take pictures of the Valley of Viñales. I had never seen anything like those mountains before. (In fact, they weren't really mountains, they were "mogotes" - but that is not important right now.) Seeing them I understood why Papi would want his ashes scattered there and I was again choking back tears.
Waldo is wonderful for comic relief and asked if I just wanted to toss the ashes off the ledge where we were standing so we could go home. I laughed and told him that all I needed was to get next to one of the mountains. We drove and drove and I started to get antsy, especially when the clouds were starting to threaten rain.
When Waldo headed towards this crazy mural depicting evolution, I thought he was making another joke about what we were doing.
As if to say, "Well, Verdés was a dinosaur, so why not park him there?"
That was not the case. There are many roads across the valley. There are any number of mountains and countless places to stop. We could have stopped at the third "mogote" on the left after you pass the blue shack, but how would anyone ever find it again if they wanted to? And how would we put the rest of the ashes in the same place once Cuba was free?
So . . . the Mural de la Prehistoria was the place. I climbed up onto the mountain side and pulled out the poem. I stood under the chin of the red dinosaur and silently prayed that the wind wouldn't throw the ashes in my face when I scattered them.
I read the poem. I scattered the ashes. I placed a sprig of wildflowers on the rock. I left the photo and the poem there.
And then I exhaled. It was March 3, 2010.
When we finally got back to the house, I told Luza about our day and
where we finally scattered the ashes. She gave me a hug and a quiet, "Gracias,
Amy." After 10 years, it was finally done.
It is father's day.
Papi is in the Valle de Viñales and he has a spectacular view.
That is the only gift I could give him.
Feliz Día de los Padres, Papi. Te extraño bastante.
The following post has been brought to you courtesy of Kikita.
Greetings from Miami!
Yesterday was Mami's 55th birthday (it's ok, she told me I could tell you) and the celebrating started early in the morning and went late into the night. (Ok, technically I think she will be stretching her birthday out through the weekend, but that's not important right now.)
This is how I found her this morning:
Sharing a cake with her blog-friend the Modern Mami.
A couple of hours later Mami was enjoying a Dulce de Leche cupcake from InStyle Cupcakes.
After a quick stop to visit Tio Abuelo Fernando (yes, the 99 year old one I went to Cuba with in March)...
Mami had lunch with her cousin Yllien at the Gables Diner (yes, I got to go too).
Next it was time for the main event.
It was time for the big, fat, Cuban birthday party.
And we made it happen!
We had such a great group of people show up! And from all over the United States!
Lea & Vidal made it from New Jersey (and yes, we're going to pretend that the only reason they were in Miami was to say hello to Mami on her birthday).
Scott and his daughter Daryn came all the way from Georgia.
My cousin, Michael, made an appearance along with his lovely wife, Kimberly.
Amanda from Brandon's Puppy brought her whole brood with her and even Abe was there with his daughter Alissa.
It was so wonderful to have such a mixed group come and share such a fabulous evening. To all of you who were there, thank you. Mami was incredibly touched and feels oh-so-loved (which was the whole point).
To those of you who couldn't make it, here's what you missed (beyond delicious Cuban food and fun-tastic conversation):
Since my Dad and the rest of my siblings could not be there with us, they sent a video. Ok, it was all my Dad's idea. He worked hard on his video slide show and couldn't wait for Mami to see it. It was really quite adorable.
When I set up her computer and started playing it, she burst into tears because the song he'd chosen was the song they had danced to at their wedding.
It was a very sweet moment and a very sweet video.
Kikita (la hija de Marta) here and I have a happy announcement:
Mami will be turning...*ahem*... 21 on Friday, May 21st, 2010.
We will be in Miami for this momentous occasion and I've decided there is only one thing we can do. We must have a Big, Fat, Cuban Birthday party and EVERYONE is invited! Where is the party, you ask? Habana Vieja Restaurant
Come and enjoy some "Tiki Tiki time" with Marta as we celebrate her coming of age. (Her actual age is "not important right now.")
Please don't feel obligated to bring gifts, the best gift is your presence. Also, I can't buy your dinner, but I'll be happy to take a picture of you with Marta, so bring your camera! (And if you don't HAVE a camera, I'll have one and can email you the picture.)
If you have any more questions about this momentous occasion, you can email me, Kikita. I'd be happy to give you my cell phone number so you can find us once you arrive. Just email me and ask. :-)
For those of you who won't be able to make it, but are hoping to catch Marta at Cuba Nostalgia, we will be at the Babablú Blog booth for most of Saturday, May 22, 2010.
There are plenty of things about my trip to Cuba that I haven't written about for various reasons. One of those reasons is that I went back to school this semester. School started exactly 4 weeks before I left for Cuba so I made sure to clear my trip with my teachers. I went back to study Spanish, so my teacher was happy to excuse my absence. I was back in class exactly 12 hours after my plane landed in LA. I was back in class, but I was lost. They were in the middle of discussing past preterites and my (recent) past was all too present in my mind to worry about their preterite past.
(Are you confused yet? Yeah, me too.)
One of the reasons I had taken the class was to learn the very thing I'd missed while I was away, but that's not important right now.
Where was I? Ah, yes. The past. Cuba. I've already talked about how excited I was to attend a meeting of Cuban Dissident Bloggers, but I left out some of the mind-numbingly boring stuff.
Kiki, "mind-numbingly boring"? In CUBA? With DISSIDENTS? Seriously?
A whole hour of learning about punctuation in Spanish. While I was thrilled to be in that room and feeling like I was a part of history, I was also feeling pretty bored and thinking, "When is this lecture ever going to end?"
I hate to admit that in such an amazing moment I was beginning to wonder if it was worth it.
BUT, ignoring my internal boredom, I paid attention and even participated a little.
Then I took pictures with some of my heroes and continued my journey. The journey that has no coincidences. The journey that helped me get caught up in class. The journey that eventually brought me to today.
I have been down with an ugly case of tonsilitis. Without going into detail, just know that I still have my tonsils and when they decide to get sick and swell, they do so with gusto and great pain. (Basically, I was in bed for 3 days sipping water, sleeping, missing school and occasionally reading.)
I wasn't feeling 100%, but I knew that I'd be taking my Spanish final early since I would be in Miami(!) the day of the test so I dragged myself to class to learn one last thing before I take my final next week. The first thing we did in class was have a test. GREAT. And my teacher, who knew I had been sick, handed it to me anyway. DOUBLE GREAT. Now I had to take a test on a bunch of stuff I'd never learned and my grade would suffer and . . . wait.
NO. WAY.
I thought I was hallucinating when I looked at the title of the test:
"Signos de Puntuación"
Needless to say, I aced the test and am not too worried about my final. ;-)
**Note: I am well aware of the fact that we abuse punctuation in this blog. That there are times when we use unnecessary commas, parenthesis, etc. We do it on purpose. We do it to sound more conversational and make the reading easier on your eyes. =D
In case you didn't know (because you've been so busy getting ready for "Kikko de Mayo") Mother's day is THIS SUNDAY.
I know what you're thinking: "¡Ay Kikita! I'm not ready! I don't know what to get her!"
Never fear! Kikita is here!
(Ok, I really can't take the credit for this because it was Mami's idea, but that's not important right now.)
What should you get YOUR Mami for Mother's Day you ask yourself? What about some face time on your favorite blog? Send us a few lines about how cool your Mami is and attach a picture of you together and we'll post them over the weekend. (Yes, you will definitely still need to send her flowers, but what a fun gesture to be on a blog that you love!)
Here's an example for your reading pleasure:
I have the coolest Mami in the whole world. She is my favorite traveling buddy. She taught me how to be smart and funny and the most beautiful Cubana ever! She is a magnificent cook and I am lucky that she lets me hijack on her blog sometimes. My Mami is so cool. She wrote the book on coolness. I only hope that I am half as cool as she is. Happy Mother's Day, Mami!
Got that?
So, grab your favorite picture of you and your Mami and then email it (and the couple of lines) HERE.
Kikita wrote this post about her recent trip to Cuba; depending on the kind of person you are you may or may not need tissues.
Have you ever had one of those moments where you thought, "Dang it! I should have taken more pictures!"?
I am having one of those moments.
At the time, I was worried about running out of battery power or something. At the time, tears were streaming down my face.
At the time, I didn't know how to capture the intensity of the where I was and what I was feeling.
It happened the way all great moments do, suddenly and without warning. It was not exactly part of the plan.
The Plan was to have a quick lunch at my cousin's house, stay only as long as was necessary to be polite, and then drive to Matanzas while it was still light out.
The Plan was proceeding perfectly. The lunch of chicken, veggies, black beans, white rice, and yuca was delicious.
Time was flying by between all the stories, laughter, and sheer joy of just being together.
That's when I asked if they knew where "Casa de la Loma" was. It was the last house my familiy lived in before they left. It was the house Mami always talked about. It was the house I'd tried to picture a thousand times in my head. It was the house whose address I knew by heart.
Still smiling and laughing, we all piled into the little rental car and traveled the few blocks over to Avenida de la Loma and stopped in front of #33.
I was rather dumb-struck and so I just took a picture of the outside number and stared wide-eyed.
My cousin (well, MAMI's cousin), Regina, rang the doorbell and asked the people living there (a French diplomat and his wife) if we could go inside. They were very sweet and showed us THE. WHOLE. HOUSE. Since Mami's cousins Lupe & Regina were with me, they told me whose room belonged to whom. I could barely speak. I couldn't stop my eyes from leaking. I kept forgetting to take pictures. I suddenly understood how "the house in the back" worked.
One of the most striking and intense things for me was being there with the primas who kept saying:
"I remember this courtyard being a lot bigger."
"I remember playing in this room with your Mom."
"I remember this hallway being a lot longer."
As we walked through the house, I pictured my mother as a five-year-old running down the long hallway. Or looking down from the top of the stairs. I kept trying to imagine what it would have looked like through her eyes.
As the tears of all that my family lost flowed down my face, there were new things that I began to wonder. I knew my mom's story, but she is the youngest of 6. There are 5 other stories I didn't know. 5 other stories. 5 siblings who lived in that house. 5 other points of view. (And that doesn't include my grandparents, I was just thinking about the kids and how they must have seen things differently because of their ages.)
I think that my impromptu visit to Casa de la Loma in the Nuevo Vedado, near the cemetary of Colón, looking over the river Almandares was one of the biggest moments that effected me on this trip. It changed my perspective of my family's story. It brought home to me just how tragic it all is. It has inspired me to seek out everyone else's story. And as I hear their stories, I don't have to imagine what the house looked like. I can see it. I was there.
