Text: Julie Schwietert Collazo
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The Havana Film Festival of New York kicks off tonight with a cocktail reception and the screening of four short films: “G Boys” (from Puerto Rico); “The Sad Churro Family” (from Puerto Rico); “Hispaniola” (Dominican Republic); and “Crossing Numbers” (a joint production between the US and Spain).

Francisco and I will be there–and at other events held in conjunction with the festival, which runs through the 23rd of this month–but in advance of the festival’s official opening, we thought we’d share a few of our favorite films made in and about Cuba:

“Inventos: Hip Hop Cubano”: If you’re at all interested in rap or hip-hop, you’ll be interested in the still unfolding story of Cuban hip-hop told in “Inventos.” If you’re interested in traditional Cuban music, you’re equally likely to find this documentary interesting. The word “inventos” refers to the inventive approaches the musicians have to take to play and perform: from fabricating parts to fix broken sound systems to cajoling local politicians to permit the now-famous hip hop festival to go on.

“Balseros”: This documentary focuses on Cubans who left the island bound for the US on homemade rafts during the 1994 exodus. The “Balseros” exodus was the most recent mass exodus by sea from Cuba.

“Yank Tanks”: This documentary is a must-see for classic car lovers, but if you don’t consider yourself an auto aficionado (I don’t), you’ll probably enjoy “Yank Tanks,” too. Learn all the tricks Cubans use to keep 1950s era cars running, and you’ll get a peek into the daily life that requires all sorts of “inventos.”

“Cuba Mia”: Another music-related documentary, “Cuba Mia” profiles the all-female orchestra, Camerata Romeu. What I love about this documentary is the way it shows how integral music is–whatever the genre–to daily life in Cuba. As a young woman practices her violin on the balcony of her apartment building, no neighbors shout for her to stop. Instead, they come out on their own balconies or into the courtyard and listen with reverence and joy.

“A Night in Havana”: Dizzy Gillespie in Cuba”: See what happens when musicians dare to cross borders that politicians build.

“La Tropical”: Yet another music documentary (this one about the famous El Tropical night club), but also so much more, this is an astute social commentary about (among other topics) contemporary race dynamics in Cuba.

“Cuban Story”: Described by one reviewer as “One of the oddest pieces of film to come down in the pike in a while,” this documentary made by Victor Pahlen and Errol Flynn and found by Pahlen’s daughter, Kyra, after his death, is a historical treasure and, especially in the beginning, is great for some pot-shot laughs. A seemingly drunk and loopy Flynn narrates–complete with chalkboard sized map, wooden pointer, and props. What’s interesting though, is that the film was made in 1958 and 1959, right in the midst of the Revolution’s triumph, and Flynn, as he says, “went to see for myself” what was going on. [Update 08.09.09: I'd recommend this documentary, but Pahlen's daughter just e-mailed and requested that the video we originally included--available for Creative Commons use via YouTube--be removed. Not too smart on her part, but request granted.]

What are your favorite Cuban films? Share them below!

Text: Julie Schwietert Collazo
Photo: shugyou

After publishing the public shame-on-you, National Geographic article last week, I received an e-mail from Kyle Smith over at the fantastic travel films site, TripFilms. Kyle agreed that American media’s tendency to prey on fear is disgusting enough, but their relative obliviousness to the damage they cause is particularly egregious.

Kyle mentioned that TripFilms has two short videos that show off the other side of El Salvador.

As I watched these videos, I was reminded that as important as it is for countries to examine their own and one another’s social problems critically, it’s also important to acknowledge and document the details of daily life that make less compelling and sensational news bites.

I hope you’ll check out the TripFilms videos. And if you’re heading to El Salvador, take your video camera and submit your own video to TripFilms–they could use a few more El Salvador films for their library!

*To learn more about current events in El Salvador, check out my article on Matador Pulse about El Salvador’s recent presidential election.

Text: Julie Schwietert Collazo
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Back in early February, we met with Jose Rochi, El Salvador’s Minister of Tourism, and had a fascinating conversation about the ways in which portrayals of his country by the media of other countries affect tourism in a negative way.

Photo: adobemac

El Salvador, which has only had a tourism department and tourism marketing budget for the past five years, has a monumental task: to convince the world’s travelers that the country is safe enough for them to visit.

This job is made exponentially more difficult by depictions of El Salvador as a nation overrun with gang violence so pervasive it has spilled into other countries, even the United States. The Minister hardly has time to dream up and implement a glossy ad campaign when he’s busy defending the country against the charges lodged against it by foreign media.

Photo: adobemac

The challenge is not unique to El Salvador. In many nations categorized as “post-conflict,” such as Nicaragua and Colombia, an already-limited amount of resources are devoted not to building a new image of the nation from within, but rather constantly contesting images of the nation that come from the outside and exert considerable influence over travelers’ decisions. It’s a no-win situation: the country will never get ahead in self-promotion.

The problem is that these images from the outside often reflect a profound gap in understanding–both of the history and current conditions of a country–on the part of the external media. They are also images constructed by means that are never entirely clear to the viewer: how do the media gather and assess the information they acquire from their sources? How do they put statistics and dramatic stories into context?

Mr. Rochi spoke about a specific example: a National Geographic Explorer documentary narrated by Lisa Ling titled “World’s Most Dangerous Gang.” Mr. Rochi claimed the documentary had a devastating impact on the country’s tourism industry and on the projects he and his colleagues had worked so hard to establish… and he was further infuriated when he attended a trade show a month later and was approached by a National Geographic magazine executive, who offered him a “deal” on an article and ad package that would showcase the country’s charms. “Charms?” spat the enraged Mr. Rochi. It was pretty clear National Geographic had specifically overlooked any charms in the documentary, and he felt that the magazine’s shameless courting of him was merely a means of trying to exploit the country further: El Salvador will have to pay if it wants some positive coverage.

Photo: Matheus Kawasaki

I was troubled by the meeting with Mr. Rochi, because I’d spent 2008 traveling to countries where the same phenomenon was occurring, producing the same negative effects. For every article published and TV show broadcast about the Mara Salvatrucha in El Salvador or drug running and kidnapping in Colombia, there are dozens of stories untold. And for every bad story, the Minister of Tourism said, a country that has tried to take two tentative steps forward falls–and hard–ten steps back. Meanwhile, the rest of the world wonders why these countries just can’t get ahead.

I went home and watched “World’s Most Dangerous Gang” on YouTube. I wanted to judge for myself if the documentary was as bad as Mr. Rochi claimed it was:

And it was.

Among the many problems of the documentary was the tendency toward gross hyperbole, embedded in words like “virus” and “invaded,” and phrases like “[violence] sweeping across an entire continent,” threatening “middle [and presumably safe and normal?] America.” The logo of the Mara Salvatrucha gang was superimposed over a map of the world, showing just how this cancer of violence has spread– it’s coming to your neighborhood soon! And then there were the images of dead bodies in pools of blood and heavily tattooed men whose swaggering, devil-may-care body language clearly conveyed their life philosophy. The repetition of violent images was powerful, enough to make you believe, at the end of the documentary, that you’d never want to touch a toe in El Salvador.

There’s no question that the Mara Salvatrucha in El Salvador are a serious concern. But they’re not the only story. When Lisa Ling reads a narrative script (written by whom?) and National Geographic broadcasts these sensationalist shows, though, they’re committing an act of violence of their own, one that’s sophisticated and subtle, yet devastating in its own way.

Text & Photo: Julie Schwietert Collazo
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If you’re a regular visitor to Collazo Projects, you’ll know that Francisco and I lived in Mexico City for about two years between 2007 and the beginning of this year. (We’d live there still if our residency visas had been renewed).

Mexico City is definitely one of my favorite cities in the world–if not my absolute favorite (though I avoid definitive superlatives), and if you ever read David Lida’s fantastic book, First Stop in the New World: Mexico City, The Capital of the 21st Century, you’ll understand why.

I’m always happy to accept opportunities to write about Mexico’s capital. It’s an overlooked travel destination, which is a shame, both for travelers and for Mexico. My recent series of articles for TravelMuse explains why the city shouldn’t be left off your top places to visit list, and helps you plan a trip there. The guide includes five articles:

The Resurrection of Mexico City

Mexico City’s Top Cultural Attractions

Mexico City All Night Long

Where to Take a Siesta in Mexico City

Buen Provecho: Top Mexico City Dining

If the articles inspire you to visit or if you need other advice, feel free to leave a comment below!

Text: Julie Schwietert Collazo
Photos: Brayan Collazo
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Yesterday, I wrote an article about the introduction of the Freedom to Travel to Cuba Act, which, if passed, will allow ALL Americans to travel to Cuba for the first time in decades.

You can be sure the tourism industry is firming up all the logistics (which they’ve been working on secretly for years) that will make it possible for Americans to line up for flights as soon as the law goes into effect. An expat acquaintance of mine who lives in Havana has been consulting on such topics for years, so it won’t take long at all before you’ll be able to flash your blue passport with the eagle on it at any major US airport and hear “Next stop: Jose Marti International Airport, Havana, Cuba.”

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The Freedom to Travel Act isn’t the first bill of its type to be introduced in Congress; almost every year in recent memory a bill proposing this particular piece of US foreign policy be abolished has been put before US lawmakers for their consideration.

The difference this time is this bill might just pass.

There’s a critical mass of senators and representatives backing the bill and a diverse cluster of lobbies and special interest groups have come out publicly in support of the Act.

It’s entirely possible that by this time next year, everyone I know who’s nurtured a desire to go to Cuba will have already been.
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There are lots of questions about the implications of the bill, particularly for Cubans. The blogosphere is electric with people who have been to Cuba, wondering aloud if a sudden influx of Americans will somehow corrupt Cuba.

Will McDonalds and Starbucks pop up on every corner of Havana?

Will the island suddenly start selling cheesy t-shirts with palm trees imprinted on them?

Will our tourist experience somehow become less authentic?

Will those Americans who didn’t visit pre-freedom to travel be considered less adventuresome tourists than those of us who did go pre-FTCA?

Will it even be cool to bring back Cohibas and bottles of Havana Club now that everyone can do it?

And, as an afterthought, how will “exposure to capitalism” affect Cubans?

I get these questions, and I even think they’re well-intentioned, but I also think they’re misinformed and evidence some logical flaws.

First, Cuba has had a thriving tourism industry for the past 40 years without Americans. Why do we somehow think that because we’re not allowed to visit that Cuba has been isolated from the rest of the world?

Cuba’s Office of National Statistics reported that the island had almost 3 million visitors in 2008. Canadians, Italians, British, Australians, and people from all over Latin America keep the tourism industry of Cuba thriving. Many travelers who step foot in Cuba are repeat visitors. In fact, Italians, Chinese, and a number of other European governments and private interests have invested significant sums in improving and expanding the tourism and hospitality infrastructure in Cuba. While the Cuban government has made a number of concessions in order to attract these investments, you haven’t noticed illy cafes spurting up on Havana’s streets like grass between sidewalk cracks.

Cuba has remained Cuban–a quality that is all but indefinable and which has nothing to do with cafes or fast food restaurants– and believe me, no one can take that away from the Cubans I know.

Second, the notion that Cubans somehow can’t handle a sudden influx of American tourists is, I think, both presumptuous and–dare I say it?–neocolonialist. Underneath this argument is the implication that there’s a certain sort of romance to poverty as long as we aren’t living in it ourselves.

We want Cuba to stay as it is right now–charmingly colonial, not modern; crumbling around the edges; its people impressing us with their ingenuity, their generosity and their joy in the face of what we view as constant hardship; with old cars that barely run; without access or exposure to the “conveniences” of modern life to which we ourselves are addicted but which we love escaping when we’re there.

Keeping electronics or brand name clothes of capitalism out of Cuba doesn’t mean that Cubans don’t know about them, or that they don’t already have them. Family members in the US, in Brazil, in Mexico, or in Europe send home iPods, cell phones, DVD players and even flat screen TVs. My stepson can name more brands of clothes than I’ve ever owned, much less heard of, and our 15 year old niece knows when we’ve sent her clothes from K-Mart instead of something from Juicy (which is all the time). There’s already competition among family members and neighbors over these objects even without the formal exposure to capitalism. There’s already the influence of American pop music and Puerto Rican reggaeton in the popular music that fills the air in Centro Habana– you just don’t want to see it or hear it because it doesn’t square with your version of what you want Cuba to be.

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Don’t worry about how Cuba will handle the American bumrush. It will be just fine.

Think, instead, about how you’re going to handle it.