Our coconut savior.



We were speed walking the main road from Viñales, caught up in a conversation with a local who lives in the mountains. A local who had a lot to say, some I did not agree with, but entirely interested so we sped walked with him until the road he used to trek up to his home. He introduced us to Juan (not entirely sure that's his name, I remember it was a common name so I didn't write it down...) who took us to his house. He was in dire need of some money and we were in dire need of a beverage so he brought us a couple coconuts for a few dollars. He showed me around his house as if to prove he needed money, and also to prove he was ok. As an American, it's hard for me to grasp that this is everything he owns. Our society is so filled with the need to have more, to update, to have the latest... and here he is in this one-ish room house, and this is everything. I cannot say if he was unhappy in his lifestyle, but he was happy to have us visit. He had two dogs and a wall of photos from visitors who had returned, a local legend in the coconut business. Fifteen years ago when I visited with Ernesto Bazan, I clearly remember the wonderful coconuts that were offered to us after descending from the mountain visiting with Los Aquaticos (the water people), where our fast walking friend Ariel now lives on a zen farm in the hills. Could it possibly be the same coconut man? I'll have to dig through my contact sheets... Circles.











Here's a recent write up on Los Aquaticos if you are interested - http://www.havanatimes.org/?p=123062

Digna across the street.

Dios bendiga este hogar.



My last day in Havana I spent the day walking and wandering, saying hello to everyone, observing and photographing. It was getting late in the afternoon and the light was beautiful so I took the ferry to Casablanca where I heard the best views at sunset were. I still had time so wandered off to the right of the Hershey Train instead of walking up the hill to El Christo. I truly did feel like I was on a hunt for that one last photo while in Cuba. Up a hill, then down an alley, and back to the main road when a door opened to my right, I peered in... the house of Antonia Perez. I think I took a few more steps before I literally backed up to say hello. Seeing my camera they knew I wanted to come in and without hesitation both doors opened and I was inside talking broken Spanish with her and her friend in awe to my surroundings. Antonia paints/draws phrases all over her walls with her favorite is "Dios bendiga este hogar" "God bless this home". She is so very proud of her home and her son who lives in Tampa with his wife and son.

Mario - the first person I met on my last day in Havana.



Almost every time I exited the Casa, and didn't turn right to Neptuno, I found myself turned around within a couple blocks. The second time I passed Mario he said something to me that I think was Spanish for "you returned". He smiled, I asked for a photo, and he smiled again. Mario is 98 years old! He's in dire need of a toenail clipping but moving along pretty well otherwise. One of the things I noticed the most while in Cuba is how long folks live, I met so many over 90 and one woman was 101!

Patria o Muerte




Below is another photograph of Marta from Havana. She lives in what is basically the entryway to a building, with her daughter and granddaughter, under the words of the revolution, "Patria o Muerte, Venceremos" (Homeland or Death! We Shall Prevail!) I had returned to offer some gifts and help as she has diabetes and needed medication. When I was there before, it was late, so very dark, and I did not understand how bad she had it... her room only lit by the glow of an old TV. She was grateful for gifts and would only accept $10 for her needed medications. The last few days have been a whirlwind of thoughts and opinions, from a country of residents with no voice to the U.S.A. filled with so many...

These two... Love.

Anvi We

I had a dream last night that I looked at my calendar to see what day it was and realized my flight back to NYC wasn’t until the 25th. I looked around, I was home, which was strange, so I went back to sleep and awoke back in Haiti... if only it was that easy. There was so much more for me to see, two weeks didn’t do it justice.

Coralee.

Just when I thought I was heading out, I’m still here. Am I crazy? Maybe. I had two options today:

1. Hire a driver and head to PaP tomorrow and change my flight or hang out at a hotel until Monday. or
2. Hang with the Montreal Hospital team until Monday super early when we will make our way to Pap Airport via the Canadian Red Cross.

I’m going with #2 for multiple reasons: why hang in PaP when I can stay here and enjoy the sun for a few more days?, they are some of the nicest folks I’ve met around and I hear there is more snow heading to New York. I mean, if I have to be stuck somewhere, I think I’m in a pretty good place.

I had an idea late last night to photograph all of the Lotto Booths that line the roads throughout Haiti. So today I walked from Cyvadier to Jacmel, approximately 5 miles. To someone that walks a lot that didn’t seem like much, although the sun is pretty intense here. After multiple confirmations it was fine for me to do it with my camera, away I went. I met a little resistance but I pursued with a smile. I’ve found that even when folks say no photo, if I persist and show them, then they are okay and are dragging everyone into the photo. That is a project that will take some time but it was a lot of fun.

So these photos are the outtakes of today including my Haitian Muse Coralee. I met this family the first week here with my friend Santiago as we wandered searching for images before Kanaval. They were sitting in front of their home and before I knew it we were in their backyard drinking a Prestige with their mother Gueraline, who was offering me her children. Today when she told me her daughters name, my heart skipped. My mother’s name is Cora… so here is this woman who’s name is so close to mine with a daughter named like my mother… maybe I should take her home. If it was only that easy. I don’t have much to say other than I’m so happy I’m here, thankful that I’ve taken the time to understand the ins and outs and that I have this time to photograph as I please. Maybe I should thank Martelly. If he wasn’t refusing to leave office I’d be in Port au Prince wrapping up my trip. Here’s to tomorrow. Cheers! - g

I received a phone call tonight from a random number which I normally don't answer. The callers voice was shaky, I thought she was just nervous, but she said this was the first call she's been able to make without breaking down in tears. She was a dear friend of Tom Aiello's, the man in the photograph, and they needed my permission to use the image for his obituary. Sigh... of course you can use it. I remember this evening well, I was walking home from work, the slow long walk from Ogilvy on the far west side to the subway in Times Square. The street was quiet except for the notes from his flute which filled the air with music as if I was walking through his movie set. He was the soundtrack to 45th and 9th. RIP my friend. #TomAiello

Inbetween the frames...















...that make the edit are so many more images. So many wonderful people we meet along the way, moments filled with laughter, stories and so often a beer. Very seldom do you come across someone that truly doesn't want their photo taken, and if you do, usually after a few moments of conversation you are invited inside and taking photos after all. It's wonderful! So these are just a few images of the many, taken in the first two days on our wanders through Cachoeira. I miss these moments.

Maria Vieira, Igatu.













Sylvia Plachy said recently, “I tried to understand what was going on without the language.” After visiting with Maria I returned with an image I took of her in 2011... at this moment, I desired more then anything to understand more of the language.




I understood enough to know this was her son, he adored his mother, and that the images I brought to her meant more then I could have known. She loved the photo of herself, thinking she turned out pretty good, so proud! But then I handed her two more images of a neighbor (photo). I was sure he had passed away, as the last time I was in Igatu was 2011 and he was not doing well then. She stared at the images, her son enticed her to remember who it was. Memory came quickly and when I looked up again tears were running down his face, a single tear on hers. He was obviously important to them. Her son began telling me the story, I handed them tissues, and nodded like I understood. I did not. We all shared this moment together but I still had no idea.

Thankfully I was with friends that did speak Portuguese. As we passed by again I introduced them to her son and he explained that it was his uncle, his mother's brother. If I remember correctly he was the man that collected the money at the mines when the diamonds came in. That not once did he steal or cheat any of the miners. But that part is cloudy as my mind was wrapped up in the love that Maria was sharing. A hug, a smile, tears.

Not every photograph makes the final edit, but all photographs are worth keeping. Once I knew we were returning to Igatu I gathered as many pictures as I could to share with those I had photographed in 2011. These photographs bring smiles, open hearts and memories worth every tear drop and hug that there is. Miss Gabriella (photo) that I had photographed had all but grown up. Shyer then she was in 2011, thanked me and ran off to her friends. Her mother loved the photograph.

It's these moments that really stay with me. Returning and sharing with new and old friends alike.

The color purple.











Purple is the color of royalty and also the color of suffering. Guatemala is wrapped in purple. The Nazarene Flower (Petrea volubilis - queens wreath or sandpaper vine in the North), the fabrics, the dyes, the rare lavender Jade and on Sunday's during Lent processions of men in purple robes fill the streets carrying Andas, floats with large sculptures of Jesus on top. Purple will forever remind me of this week in Guatemala.

And on a design note, Radiant Orchid 18-3224 is the Pantone color of 2014. Purple it is.