Calle 13

The days leading up the Calle 13 concert were an absolute roller coaster of emotions for everybody. Monday we learned that the trip we had all been looking forward to was canceled because of earthquakes in Santiago, which we couldn’t seem to fathom being anybody but the director of our program’s fault. After a series of back and forth fighting phone calls with Frank, our 65 year old ailing director, it was established that we officially would not be reimbursed for our plane tickets, ever get to Baracoa, nor would we have much say in the new, downgraded Spring break trip. Although the day was lightened up quite a bit by news of Emily winning her Fulbright, there was still plenty of reason to let loose and celebrate.

The day started around 3pm, with a typically Cuban experience of Emily, Anna, Hannah and Ben’s Cuban Pensamiento class being canceled due to the concert. This meant the rum and cola started pouring pretty early in the day. We arrived at the Malecon at around 4:30, half an hour before the show started, and were immediately immersed into a mob of nearly half a million fans. For Emily, the sea of people stretched for tens of blocks- but of course not being able to see over the people next to me, I might as well have been in an overly packed elevator. The next couple hours passed mostly without incident, except for fighting with Cubans to keep from being trampled, passing around drinks and trying to find a way to keep dry from all the sweat. By the time Calle 13 came on, the day took a drastic turn.

The rest of the concert was definitely a different experience for everyone, the two major variables being height and amount of drinks consumed. The buddy system previously established went right out the window when the sweat and heat became too much for Kait to handle. Being the only link between me and the rest of the group, I was left lost in a sea of hundreds of thousands of screaming, sweaty, drunken Cubans. After circling around what felt like peoples feet for almost an hour trying to make my way back to the group, losing my flip flops and almost bursting from having to pee, I eventually started heading for home. On my way I somehow managed to hook up with a young, nice looking Cuban girl and ended up making it all the way back to the hostel with her. I invited her up for water and a CUC, and promptly left her to sit alone in Emily’s and my room while I peed and washed my face. This is the scariest moment of my Cuban life, but thank god all the money and laptops were still there the next morning. I guess the CUC sufficed. I can’t say exactly what the rest of the group was doing during this time, but I later found out that Kait had made it back safely, showered and went to bed. Emily, Anna, Ben and Prisca enjoyed the end of the set and Hannah and Hannah C went to a nice dinner, avoiding the mess altogether. Our full hotel reunion at around 9 was more than welcome, and we all enjoyed a few beers, laughs and illegally cooked food by the lady next door. Because the Puerto Rican’s are from the same country as Calle 13, they were invited to an after party where they met him and the rest of his posse. I was disappointed to hear that he was so rude, arrogant and intolerable after spending an hour the night before watching a documentary about how he was such a man of the people. I don’t know why we expect anything to make sense anymore, especially after the week that led up to the concert. Overall the night was a roaring success, hiccups and all, and it gives us just another reason to thank god for the location of our hostel. If we lived more than 3 blocks from the Malecon, half of us would surely be dead.

Guest Author: Gloria Hatcher