I ventured away from the resort one morning after breakfast and out into the tiny village.
Quiet houses lay nestled closely together along sandy streets, beneath which lay pavement that was old.
The houses were cottage-like, small and simple.
In front of them, in sandy yards, women gathered on chairs, to talk and laugh and be okay.
There was a rough sidewalk along the edge of one little street, and what I saw there really took me by surprise.
Little girls, dressed in little cotton dresses and wearing nothing on their brown feet, were playing Hopscotch. I couldn't believe it.
The board was roughly scratched out on the sidewalk with the edge of a stone. It had all the numbers in the squares, scratched there by a childish hand.
They used flat, smooth pebbles to toss onto the squares, in the game.
As I watched, they did exactly what I did, back in the village where I grew up, on the school's front sidewalk, when I played with the other girls at recess.
These girls laughed, and cheered each other the same way we had, back in the 50's.
They took shy peeks at me, and because I adore children and love their games, I asked in English if I could try.
Because they didn't understand, I gestured. That they got.
A girl handed me her game piece stone, and grinned up at me. The others gathered around giggling and whispering and making me laugh.
Across the street, a group of mothers watched, poking each other and smiling.
I tossed the stone way up the board, and saw it land right where I wanted. Then I started to hop along the board the way I remembered.
They clapped and laughed, and when I reached the end, they cheered.
I had more fun in that moment than I did during my entire stay in Cuba.
The mothers were applauding across the street, and I swear I blushed with joy.
I knew "gracias" and so I said it.
And that got more applause.
I didn't want to leave, but I'd wandered for an hour or so already, and no one knew where I was, so I said goodbye and left.
It makes me smile just to write this story, to remember those little girls and their cotton dresses and their mothers, but mostly I remember their happy spirits and the simple things they did to get them.
Quiet houses lay nestled closely together along sandy streets, beneath which lay pavement that was old.
The houses were cottage-like, small and simple.
In front of them, in sandy yards, women gathered on chairs, to talk and laugh and be okay.
There was a rough sidewalk along the edge of one little street, and what I saw there really took me by surprise.
Little girls, dressed in little cotton dresses and wearing nothing on their brown feet, were playing Hopscotch. I couldn't believe it.
The board was roughly scratched out on the sidewalk with the edge of a stone. It had all the numbers in the squares, scratched there by a childish hand.
They used flat, smooth pebbles to toss onto the squares, in the game.
As I watched, they did exactly what I did, back in the village where I grew up, on the school's front sidewalk, when I played with the other girls at recess.
These girls laughed, and cheered each other the same way we had, back in the 50's.
They took shy peeks at me, and because I adore children and love their games, I asked in English if I could try.
Because they didn't understand, I gestured. That they got.
A girl handed me her game piece stone, and grinned up at me. The others gathered around giggling and whispering and making me laugh.
Across the street, a group of mothers watched, poking each other and smiling.
I tossed the stone way up the board, and saw it land right where I wanted. Then I started to hop along the board the way I remembered.
They clapped and laughed, and when I reached the end, they cheered.
I had more fun in that moment than I did during my entire stay in Cuba.
The mothers were applauding across the street, and I swear I blushed with joy.
I knew "gracias" and so I said it.
And that got more applause.
I didn't want to leave, but I'd wandered for an hour or so already, and no one knew where I was, so I said goodbye and left.
It makes me smile just to write this story, to remember those little girls and their cotton dresses and their mothers, but mostly I remember their happy spirits and the simple things they did to get them.
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