by Tom Morrissey '78 M.F.A.

Walking into Terminal "B" at Miami's International airport, I was immediately taken back by many long lines of travelers. The flight check-in resembled check-out counters in a department store during the biggest sale of the year. In line with the travelers are family members and carts with small appliances, articles of clothing, baseball gloves, bats and balls. But this is what to expect at the required four-hour advanced check-in for U.S. departures bound for Cuba. The wait seems endless. One-by-one, the ceremony of baggage declaration, passport stamping and visa scrutinization slowly progresses along the line of some 200 individuals. Whether departing or waving someone off, the ritualistic process slogs on for one of the few daily nonstop flights to the island nation, just 90 miles off of Florida's shores. Strict controls over what can and cannot be transported between these two neighboring countries require that this tedious process be upheld.

Most of those checking in this morning are relatives or expatriates themselves, exiles from a homeland so near, yet so far away. They are a mix of colorfully dressed, rather curious individuals wearing a potpourri of the latest in fashion. A small but growing percentage are like myself and my small group, gaining official visa status through the U.S. Treasury Department for cultural, humanitarian or educational research and exchange. All seem to have done their homework, carrying bags filled with items taken for granted in the U.S. such as Band-Aids, aspirin, deodorant sticks, even bars of soap. Rationed on the island, these commodities make for welcome offerings on the streets of Havana and throughout the countryside. It is a concept difficult to fully grasp until you experience it. The check-in line budges along.

My group and I enter into a conversation with Roberto and his family. Having left the island at age 4, Roberto recalls little of his Cuban experience and has mixed emotions about renewing acquaintances with distant cousins, aunts, uncles, nephews and nieces. His daughter, also making the trip, is now 4, the same age as when he left. She romps between he and his mother who, in her 70's, is there to wish safe passage. She no longer holds the energy or curiosity to return to her native land. We discuss the embargo, the revolution, Cuban baseball and the arts. The line inches along toward the customs agents. Our film and camera equipment are inspected separately as we say "adios" to our suitcases which disappear through the tunnels of the security system, only to resurface half a day later in Havana's Jose' Marti' Airport.

Since the Papal visit in 1998, more of an open policy has evolved between the U.S. and Cuba, making way for some tourists to venture legally into the tiny island nation. Perhaps visitors might help begin to bridge gaps carved since the revolution, which began New Year's Day 1959?

The flight is delayed as we finally make our way down the gangway. The chartered 727 begins its roll eastward on runway 9 Right. As the wheels break the surface, a round of applause fills the cabin. Miami slips into the background as ocean and clouds drift below. Only moments later, in English and Spanish, the announcement is made to prepare for landing. Another equally robust round of applause breaks out as the wheels touch down on foreign soil.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of the terminal exit at JosŽ Mart' Airport is the mass of people awaiting friends and family. Beyond this crowd, rows and rows of brightly colored American classic cars from the 1950s come into view. Fords, Chevrolets and an occasional Studebaker Hawk. The transition from the airport to the hotel is smooth and informative as our driver fills in details about the passing environment. We ride in an air-conditioned Russian-made minivan, similar to those in the States.

Old Havana is almost inexpressible. It has marvelous architecture, monuments, and broad parkways aligned with towering trees. Havana is truly beautiful, but in need of paint and repair. Fidel Castro coined a name for this time of decline - the "Special Period." It refers to the austerity since 1990, when financial backing from the former Soviet Union ended. Today the Cuban industrial complex is at a near standstill, yet a great priority is placed on tourists. The Cabaret Tropicana, National Hotel, and other traditional landmarks still radiate for those seeking a tropical vacation. They arrive in droves from around the globe - tourists with dollars - the staple currency.

We pass the Museum of the Revolution, the converted former palatial residence of the Presidents of the Republic between 1920-60, including Dictator Fulgencio Batista. It is only a block from our hotel. The Hotel Sivilla where we are staying is well cared for. It holds a 1940's-50's grandeur in the lobby, rooftop dining room and bar. Customers overlook the city in one direction and the Malec-n coastline in the other. Classic photos of Frank Sinatra and Al Capone adorn the walls. The rooms, while clean, are Spartan. Soon however, we experience a junket through Havana's humming streets with Miguel in his 1953, split window, Chevy Belaire convertible. In Cuba, "everyone is a mechanic" he tells us. We also learn that water is available on an every-other-day basis as we watch people gather around fire hydrants to fill 5-gallon containers. They hoist them by ropes to their third- and fourth-floor apartments.

Remaining on the streets well through sunset, shooting several rolls of film, the opportunity to share beers with several folks at a corner watering hole presents itself. Crystal, the popular beer brewed in Havana is a welcome, tasteful and cool treat. The fact we were Americans is met with positive feelings and remarks. Most are eager to work on their English, while willingly encouraging our blossoming skills in Spanish.

Still walking in the cool night air along the Malec-n (Havana's water front), people fish in the light of the brilliant sunset. We search for the right spot to enjoy our first night's dinner and perhaps a cigar. In a bustling open-air cafe, we share stories with the couple at the next table. The cafe, as with most haunts we visit, hosts an interesting mix of Cuban Nationals and a scattering of tourists from around the world. Through the evening it became apparent that many common denominators of life are consistent throughout the globe. We again take to the streets some time after 1 a.m.; returning to the Sevilla Hotel in the heart of Old Havana, just off of the Paso de Marti', better known as the "Prado." Street-life on the "Prado" lingers into the early hours, but we feel safe and secure.

The trip is about sharing time, learning from one another, bridging gaps and discovering those common denominators. From Miramar, Havana's most beautiful section, which rivals many areas in the U.S., to Las Terrazas (a small community a few hours drive from Havana) we encountered the same openness and excitement from everyone, regardless of age. Posters and billboards abound in support of the revolution and the return of Elian. A sculpted likeness of Che Guevara is in Revolution Square.

Many Cubans extend invitations to visit their homes. We often stop on a street to talk, to take a photo, to gain an understanding of their culture.

On the last day in Havana, one man encouraged me to climb three flights of dark stairs to his small apartment. His family proudly presented me three pigs they are raising in a small concrete crate to one day enjoy at the dinner table. It has only been recently that Cubans were allowed to engage in such entrepreneurial ventures. This encounter was an experience I will never forget.

Such openness and warmth is hard to surpass we all agree, as we continue out of town. The morning will find us back in the USA.

Tom Morrissey '78 M.F.A is a professor at the Community College of Rhode Island. He has taught at several universities including MIT. A former Partners of the Americas/Kellogg Fellow in International Community Development, he is the founder of Common Denominator and the author of Between the Lines: Photographs from the National Vietnam Veterans Memorial. He is currently working on a book and exhibit on Cuban culture.