Blue Havana

Nostalgia had hit me on my 60th post.

As I listen to the haunting beats of a traditional Cuban son at home, a sentimental yearning descended upon me. I sink back to the sound of guitars, congas, timbales, guiros, claves, and maracas -- sounds I had heard while travelling through Havana. How I wish I was sitting on an airplane seat instead, on my way somewhere...anywhere!

Thoughts of Havana permeate as the the music played on. One by one and beat by beat, I sway with the rhythm. Each note evoke an image of Havana -- a city imbued with colonial houses in a motley of colours; an old town tinged with a coat of faded blush.

But perhaps, the most striking shade of all, is the colour blue. Havana's blues have a tint of the Caribbean Sea in its brilliance against the island sky. No other colour could have animated the windows and doors of the city so brilliantly.

These blues unexpectedly brought a bittersweet longing that intoxicates my body to step back (and front and side) into the dance of life. To rumba, mambo, and salsa through life is not at all a bad proposition. Where else can you find this Afro-Latin flavour so intertwined with the politics of living?