MUMBO JUMBO – February 2014

GREETINGS!

February is almost behind us, and I’m sure those of you who have battled a gruesome winter are glad to see the page turn to March. I was in Livingston, Montana, recently for a little skiing and experienced 29 below zero for the first time, so I haven’t forgotten what winter can be like. However, I can assure you it was nearly 50 degrees warmer than that when I was slipping and sliding down the sunny slopes at Bridger Bowl near Bozeman.

Between now and the end of April, when I hit the road, I will be performing at The Smokin’ Tuna Saloon in Key West, at a new time of 4:30 – 8:30 pm, with occasional trips up to Snapper’s in Key Largo. From April 25 through the end of October, I’ll be out on tour coast to coast and hope to see you closer to your home. We’ll start posting the general schedule this month, so if you have booking ideas in your area please contact Terry@scottkirby.com.

My long time friend, Gabriel Donohue, recently joined me at The Smokin’ Tuna for a week, adding brilliant guitar and keyboards, and he was joined on stage two nights by Matt Molloy of the legendary Chieftains.

Gabriel toured with this six-time Grammy winning Irish band for five years, and he and Matt have performed together all over the world. Folks lucky enough to be on hand last week won’t soon forget the musical magic these two brought to the Smokin’ Tuna stage.

Gabriel will be returning to Key West to perform at the Tuna March 24, 25, 26 and 27, so if you are going to be in town make sure you catch this brilliant musician.

CHRISTMAS IN HAVANA

I briefly mentioned my visit to Cuba in last month’s Mumbo Jumbo, and many of you have asked me about my trip and how I was able to legally travel there. It would be impossible to write of my total experience in anything less than a small book, so I thought I would give you a few highlights over the next couple of newsletters.

Like many things in Cuba, it’s somewhat confusing, but the Cuban government welcomes Americans with a simple tourist visa. It is the American government that requires you to travel on a cultural license of one kind or another, which was arranged for me by a company that organizes travel for Americans to Cuba. However, I believe under current guidelines – which encourage person to person contact between Americans and Cubans – I could likely prepare my own license to visit next time. You can investigate all this on the web, or consult one of the companies that engage in promoting travel there.

My experience in Cuba was somewhat different from other Americans, as I did not travel as part of a tour and was not accompanied by a guide. I met six friends there, three English and one Scot, so we moved around freely, just as any Canadian or European tourist would do, and I really felt no different than when traveling in any other foreign country, except that I have never felt safer anywhere abroad, or in the U.S. for that matter.

There are a number of great articles online about traveling to Cuba and a fantastic documentary I watched recently on PBS titled Cuba’s Secret Side. You should check some of these out if you are seriously interested in going.

I flew on Christmas morning from Miami directly to Havana, a mere forty-minute flight. I was told by the airline representative to be at the terminal four hours before the 9 am flight. When I arrived I understood why, as there was a gigantic line of Cubans and Cuban-Americans waiting to check in, each with several overflowing carts of bags, boxes and shrink-wrapped appliances.

I was probably the only Gringo in the terminal and a bit overwhelmed by the scene, but was immediately approached by an incredibly helpful man from the airline, who escorted me through an expedited check-in process in a matter of minutes.

A couple of hours later we boarded a shiny, white MD 80 with a bright green and yellow logo on the fuselage and made the short and uneventful flight down the Keys and across the Straits of Florida to Havana. Jose Marti Airport is fairly small and industrial looking from the outside, but the customs officers were very friendly and welcoming. After quickly passing through immigration I proceeded to the baggage check area where I was pulled aside, questioned and asked to open my bag, which contained nothing out of the ordinary except baseballs and lots of guitar strings I had brought as gifts. The agent bounced each ball on the concrete floor to confirm they were real, asked me eight or ten common questions, smiled and said, “Welcome to Cuba!” About the same process as entering Canada.

The next thirty minutes was a scene unlike any Christmas morning I’ve ever experienced, and one I won’t soon forget. As I exited the silent, concrete terminal through the heavy doors, I ran smack into hundreds of smiling and screaming Cuban faces, celebrating and greeting arriving friends and family under a sparkling blue Havana sky. It was like walking out of a black and white photograph into the cacophony and colors of a Caribbean carnival.

Somewhat bedazzled, I heard my name screamed from the rope line off to my right (not a lot of Scotts in Cuba after all) and caught a glimpse of one of my fellow travelers with a Cuban driver whom I had arranged through a mutual friend in Key West. Johnny Perez, a strapping Cuban sailor with a big Christmas smile, greeted me in English, grabbed my bag and proudly led me to his aging Russian-built Lada automobile, a squarish looking white model with all four windows rolled down. Owning a car in Cuba is a luxury. Owning one with air conditioning is a big luxury!

The old Lada slowly shook to life, as if battling a cold Moscow morning, and off we bounced in a slow moving conga line of traffic through the suburban streets towards Havana. Music and smoke from grills were pouring out of colorful, box-like concrete homes with no windows. Aging commercial buildings of all shapes and sizes in various states of disrepair dotted the roadside, and neighborhoods of smiling Cubans were milling about among horse-drawn carts, passing bicycles, old trucks full of standing passengers and yes, hundreds of American cars from the 1950s chugging by in every direction. What a memorable thirty minute ride that was, as close to time travel as I will ever get.

As we approached Havana proper, we passed by an enormous commercial port which for some reason made me think of the Cuban Missile Crisis, and within minutes we entered old Havana. Suddenly I felt as if I had been transported to an old city in Spain or Italy. One turn of the head and the most beautiful old square meticulously renovated faced you. Glance in a different direction and a crumbling ruin or Soviet style tenement came into view. As a Canadian visitor said to me under the stunning stained glass ceiling of our beautiful old hotel, “Everywhere you look in Havana is a visual feast.”

Store

Dream of Your Life

Pick up this CD and more in the Little Flock Music Store.

VIDEO

ROW ME HOME

Watch Scott's video Blow Me Down to Cayo Hueso.