Cuba

If only I had the time, talent, or inclination, I could write a million stories from my recent trip to Cuba. During quiet moments when I’m nowhere near a computer (or even a piece of paper) a brilliantly-worded account comes to me…..and then.

For now it will have to suffice to say that it was very interesting to see a place where a lack of US trade and a bold and brave attempt to redistribute wealth makes for a totally different experience. It’s probably a cliché, but the experience said just as much to me about my expectations and preconceptions in a holiday destination as it did about the reality of the place.

Cuban propaganda claims to have raised educational standards and medical services beyond all recognition. It’s pretty much impossible to judge as an outsider; though I have no reason to doubt it.

Unlike those who insist that communism has been tried and totally discredited, I’m open to the idea that it may well have improved the lot of some or all Cubans – but I’m far from certain either way.
It’s an obvious point, but we can’t know what education would have been like (especially for the rural poor) in Cuba if capitalism had been in charge instead of Castro since 1961.

Speaking openly to a Cuban bloke when I got chance revealed something interesting; politicians in Cuba keep on (grudgingly and slightly) admitting there may be a few problems but promising things will be better. Soon.

I offended the guy by suggesting things weren’t much better back here (where our politicians say much the same and are elected on 20% of the vote). He angrily reminded me that we, at least have free speech. He was right (in a way), and I was certainly wrong; but I do sometimes wonder how much good it does us, especially in a nation where scrapping in the Next sale is a preferred Boxing Day pursuit.

Tragic life stories

I know I’m getting to that stage where I’m getting a daily accusation of seeming like Victor Meldrew. If the cap fits I may as well wear it, so today’s expression of utter bewilderment at the modern world is reserved for the fact that there’s an entire section of shelving at my local WH Smith’s reserved for “Tragic Life Stories”.

Words (or at least any words I could write) cannot begin to describe how crap I think it is that tragic life stories are so popular that they require an entire shelving unit; I mean this is a section of an equivalent size to the cookery one.