Mi vida en la Habana

My dad explains the expat morale curve thus: once you've been somewhere for about six or seven months the high of the early few weeks, when everything is new and exciting and different, has worn off; you're not quite settled enough to feel comfortable or to have a decent grasp of the language yet, but you've been out of your last posting long enough to feel detached from it; you've made friends but you don't know them so well that you can really relax; and basically everything feels a bit shit. Congratulations mi amor, you have hit the low point of the expat morale curve. And so this was my experience this week. All week long I have been listening to Israeli music and yesterday I missed Jerusalem so much I felt slightly sick. Today I cursed the frustrations of life in Havana and yearned for life somewhere easier, creating a mental cross-off-the-days calendar until I leave to go on holiday to Miami, where there will be fast internet and the a/c won't be unreasonably noisy and the same things are always in the shops and it won't take over an hour to find petrol. I spent an hour reading back-pages of book reviews on the Times website about British history, or the countryside. I even read this week's TV listings. I am, officially, home-sick - home being both England and Jerusalem.

However. One can only wallow in the trough of the expat morale curve for so long. This happened to me in Israel, when I wanted to scream at the sheer bloody-mindedness of it all, and I remembered then that one of the best ways to overcome your sorrows (such as they are) is to count your blessings. As with all lows, I trust that there will be highs again. I firmly believe this is where God wants me to be, even if finding him here is as hard as in Jerusalem but for different reasons, and if in all things he works for the good of those who love him then moving here can't have been the wrong decision. Being thankful for the good things that I do have in my life is a pretty decent cure for the blues and for that reason I submit to you, dear reader, a list of the things that I actually do really like about mi vida en la Habana.

• So many Cubans really are so warm and friendly and welcoming. A big smile goes a long way, I am learning, but even without one people want to help if you're lost/confused at the petrol station/in danger from possible thieves at the beach. An example of this friendliness is the man who looks after the cars at the agro (parqueador is his official title), who looks like Morgan Freeman. He commented one week that I'm always wearing the same earrings and the next week put a hand into his pocket and brought a new pair that he had found me. He's always concerned that I look tired, even though I keep telling him it's because it's early on a Saturday morning. He's just lovely.
• Sunshine and glorious warmth, pretty much all of the time. I've worn a jumper three times since I moved here.
• Cubans men are, on the whole, pretty non-threatening. Don't get me wrong, they wolf-whistle and go 'tstststs' at you when you walk down the street, or shout 'que linda' or 'que rico' at you, or blow kisses at you, or try to rub up pretty close when you're out dancing salsa. They do not, in any way, hide their admiration for the female of the species. But once you've let them know that you're not interested, they just shrug their shoulders and move on to whoever is next in line, rather than hassle you for hours.
• Plus this is, on the whole, a very safe place to live (beach thieves notwithstanding). The less said about the public masturbation, the better, but this is supposed to be a positive list.
• Avocados, in season, the size of rugby balls.
• The unexpected thrill of finding CHERRY TOMATOES in the agro, two weeks in a row. When you can't get things easily, you enjoy it so much more when you do get them.
• Hibiscus and bougainvillea and gladioli and jasmine and green, green, green everywhere.
• I love my apartment. It's so lovely. I have a hallway, and a big living-room, and a lovely bedroom with beautiful views to the sea, and a balcony with lovely places to sit and beautiful sunsets, and a big kitchen with tons of cupboards. There are many tiny ants in my kitchen, but as I am focussing on the positives I shall merely note that they seem to be remarkably well-organised and always have a back-up plan for finding pathways onto the counter-tops after I've sprayed Raid everywhere and it's Death Valley by the sink. 
• Also, I love the pool that is ON THE ROOF. 
• More than I love the pool on the roof, I love the beach. Because this: 
   
• I work with some truly lovely, supportive, kind, funny people who are outstanding professionals and great colleagues and are becoming even greater friends. This is fabulous. In particular, I just love the rest of what we are calling, rather progressively, the 'Learning and Development Team' (rather than Senior Management, which is all a bit prosaic). Michael, Georgie and Berrin are the business and working in this team has been challenging, exciting, entertaining, demanding and totally brilliant.
• Palm trees.
• The Malecon. It might be the most beautiful road in the whole world and I get to drive down it all the time.
• The kids at ISH are just fab. Getting to know them has been a joy. They are funny and sarcastic and perceptive and moody and challenging in their individual ways and a little obsessed with getting round the dress code and some of them are finally, finally, starting to get my sense of humour. There's nothing like having your jokes completely bomb at assembly, but at last some of them have started laughing. Well, it could be smirking - you never know with teenagers.
• Even the kids from the lower school have worked out who I am and wave when they walk past my office, or shout hi across the playground, or come to give me a hug - which I can't quite handle, I'm so used to cranky teenagers. On Thursday, four kids from Kinder (Year 1) showed up at my door with cinnamon rolls they had baked and saved for me. Too adorable. I hasten to add they were with their teacher, not just roaming the corridors.
• Other expats know how difficult it can be living here, just in terms of actually accessing things, so everyone tends to go above and beyond the call of duty in helping each other out. Exhibit a: my a/c broke and I moved into Berrin and Georgie's for THREE WEEKS. They'd known me about two minutes. Exhibit b: this week, it was announced that there would no longer be Especial petrol (i.e. the higher octane stuff) for sale, with a few exceptions. I mercifully qualify under those exceptions; alas, it's not easy trying to find some. I tried four different petrol stations this morning, to no avail. Come 5.30 p.m. and I'm round at someone's house (borrowing DVD boxsets, exhibit c?) when the call comes: Especial! At the second roundabout on Quinta! Get there now! In seconds, the word had gone round all the school expats and five people managed to get their tanks filled. Share and share alike. Above and beyond.
• Salsa. I flipping LOVE salsa. I have lessons twice a week and I LOVE it. I have now progressed to a level where I look vaguely competent; out at Club 1830 with some of the salsa teachers and I was amused to discover that some tourists were filming me on their phones. Well, it might have been because I was dancing with Julio, who is awesome, but still. Not too shabby.
• I get to do some seriously cool things. I went to a party at a house that was built for Frank Sinatra, a lovely place with a beautiful curved balcony overlooking a gorgeous garden and swimming pool, where he was supposed to serenade his guests (or something). I went to a Reunification Day party at the German embassy, in a house modelled on Tara from Gone With The Wind; I went back two months later to listen to avant-garde jazz piano in the salon. I get to listen to amazing music on a fairly regular basis. I was here to witness the country after the passing of one of the legends of the twentieth century. I went to a reception on board a Royal Auxiliary Fleet ship. My life is not what it used to be.

German Reunification Day party

I'm ON A BOAT

• Lastly (for now) it's just so beautiful here. I will write other blogs on how insanely beautiful Cuba is, with the colours and the buildings and the obligingly photogenic cars and people and beaches. The crumbling streets of Habana Vieja, the mansions in Vedado, the green green valley of Vinales, the colonial beauty of Trinidad. And I've barely explored yet. I am so blessed to live in a place that is this gorgeous.

So, I get to the end of that list and I just don't feel so blue. Every cloud has a silver lining. There are many rain-clouds and storm-clouds in the skies over Havana, so I guess that gives me plenty of silver linings.