Personal Narrative: Visiting Cuba Essay

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Personal Narrative: Visiting Cuba

Getting ready for landing was a new experience this time. Although I have flown to many places on many different size planes, this landing was different. I could see the houses and buildings below. The cars and people were like ants moving around. This is actually the typical site from the window seat of any plane that is about to land. To me it was very different. We were about to touch ground in Havana, Cuba. The place where my parents were born, raised and educated. This was also the place where my parents were married and had their first child, and also, the place they had to flee from in order to continue practicing their beliefs. I was arriving to my roots. A place that my family hadn't
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It was quite funny to see and hear people talking with the same accent and slang that I was brought up with. All I could think to myself was...'my God, this is where it all comes from" My wife was also intrigued to hear the Cuban people express themselves. Once we were out on the tour bus and heading towards our hotel, it suddenly hit us... we had traveled into the past. Every vehicle, building, street and sidewalk was either exactly the way it was forty years prior or in most cases, in a forty year deteriorated state. Nonetheless, it was amazing to see cars, trucks and busses of the 50's traveling all around us. It was like being in an old movie and we were the main characters.
Once we arrived at our hotel, that image shifted slightly. Most touristic hotels are either new or refurbished to look new in order to attract tourism. The ironic... no... painful reality of all this, is that the Cuban citizens are not allowed to enter the premises of any hotel in Cuba. It doesn't even end there. They are not even allowed to enter restaurants, bars, or nightclubs, regardless of whether they have U.S. currency or not. It's just because they are Cuban. This to me was the absolute kick in the face. It's like if one night I decided to go to TGIF in Miami (which is where I was born and raised) and they stopped me at the door (no courtesy included), and tell me that I should know better than to try and go into the restaurant... that I should know that

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