A Forbidden Land

Ninety miles. That is the distance from the South of Florida to Cuba. Shorter than the distance from Los Angeles to Palm Springs. But for more than half a century, Cuba has been strictly banned. A dangerous neighbor, with an allure that begs an interest beyond the simple idea that it is forbidden. The people, the food, the music, the booze, the cigars, the cars. A time capsule of colonial and communist rule, the small island nation begs 21st century visitors to step back in time.

My paternal grandmother remembers visiting as a child with her mother and grandmother during the height of prohibition. She remembers the boat ride there,  and the resort upon arriving covered with lights. She talks about the ladies in evening gowns with gloves, the warm tropical weather and sweet unfamiliar smells. Her story sounds like a Hollywood film and I often wonder if maybe she remembers the story as told by her family once they returned to Pennsylvania. Either way, I was left with a romantic impression of tropical grandeur.

My mother holds a different memory of Cuba. A generation after my grandmothers visit, the Caribbean nation had transitioned from the playground of East Coast elites to a real communist threat, prompting classroom "Duck and Cover" drills. By the late 1950s the San Fernando Valley was home to many aerospace engineers employed by Rocketdyne and Lockheed, and their families. Rumors about what projects friends dads were working on and what impending doom existed just south of Miami shaped her impression of Cuba from a young age.

A generation and half later, long after the threat of nuclear war or invasion has past, the regulations have been lifted and travelers to the forbidden land are beginning to trickle in. Why Cuba? Why now? Questions I have heard often lately. I answer with my own question: Do you know anyone else who has been? As a historian, foodie, and lover of people the world around, I am jumping with anticipation at this opportunity. Follow along as the Schultz's visit Cuba.