Alyssa Coppelman (AC): How did you book the rooms you stayed in, pre-Airbnb?

Meg Griffiths (MG): I found Isabel [her first contact in Cuba] online and made plans to stay with her through an email. No money was even put down. I just arrived and asked her for recommendations for the next place I wanted to travel, and she would call and make arrangements. It was all by word of mouth once I got there. It was the perfect way to travel. I had flexibility and everyone I stayed with was amazing because they were all connected to someone else I knew through this network of really lovely casa particular owners.

And, every family is so incredibly different. Some interactions would be so intimate and familial — sharing food, sorting beans, singing karaoke in the living room, or just sitting on the porch chatting. Other families were more formal and interactions were hospitable and warm, but more businesslike. There was one family in a very touristy part of Cuba, a town called Varadero, which most Cubans will say is “not the real Cuba”, that I never even met. The house was sectioned off like a tiny motel and their employees were the only ones that I came into contact with. Consequently I didn’t like it there so much and I only stayed one night. For the most part however, my experiences were very personal.

AC: What was that first trip like? I’d love to hear what it felt like to finally arrive and spend time there after the extensive research you did.

MG: I think it was everything I expected and, at the same time, nothing I could prepare myself for. Visually, I felt that I knew these places: the crumbling neo-classical buildings; the children playing stick ball on the street; dozens of families gathered upon the Malecón (the large sea wall that curves around the edge of Havana) to watch the sunset over the Florida Straight; men playing chess; and women leaning over balconies, watching passersby down below while hanging laundry. All these visions I had seen through my extensive research of other photographers who had tread upon this ground before me.

Other things, well, lets just say it is much more about the experience of being with people — both the families I’ve met and come to love and everyone else I encountered. It’s about sharing a meal and listening to stories about the everyday, conversations about politics, and plans for the future, but also what it means to live in a close knit community. There was much talk over the years about what will happen if and when the embargo would be lifted—what that will do to the country, for better or worse.

I was talking to a man named Carlos, who has lived in other countries and visited his son in Miami, and he prefers the way of life in Cuba. When he visits the U.S., he says “people are working all the time, and if they aren’t they are always inside, glued to the television or their cell phones.” He called our houses jails and believes “we are trapped by our homes.” He lived in Switzerland for a period of time but asked his company to transfer him back to Havana because he didn’t like the culture much. He told me, “I love my country and the way people help one another. If you have a problem, I will try to help you, but if you have a problem anywhere else, it is your problem.” Many people are aware how amazing it is to live in a culture where you know your neighbors and even a stranger is a friend.

Isabel’s neighbor Elsa mentioned over dinner one night that the next 10 years were going to be very crucial for their country, and though they don’t know what is going to happen, the most important thing is that the country not lose their cultural identity once things begin to open up.