A journal on self-expansion through travel.

Wind-blown, with faces reading "joy", we ride to hope. Fractured, green hills of the illustrious 'Valle de Viñales' keeps us company. Sky is non-scorching, bluish warm. We keep speeding on our rented scooter. Symptoms of human civilization are not found here, only the worn-out motorway with only us on it. Nature takes over the rest. We lust to explore the virgin, while by definition this is unsustainable, a pity.

Ayla holds me stronger as we accelerate. I sense something lifelike, an authentic element in her grasp. We share an emotion. This day is beyond traveling, new lands, new cultures and all alike; today is about living inside the moment, it is about what we came here for; escape.

Ayla and I ache to escape from particular patterns. The polluted air. The invisibility of stars. The pressure of success. Sour faces on the bus. The urge to consume. Hours spent in traffic. Likes on Facebook. Politicians on TV news. Working to buy. A better car. A larger home. The traditional family.

It wouldn't be surprising to learn many seek such an escape. But it is surprising to see how perfectly Cuba delivers it. Magnificent miradors or the alluring sea-life is something. But uniqueness of Cuba derives from its society. That's for sure.

Finally we reach Puerto Esperanza -"The Port of Hope"- and the ocean with it. We park our scooter, and sit on random grass, next to a random band that plays only for their own fun, which exposed us to some very qualified Jazz music. Music they played was not commodified. Anywhere else, we would only have a chance hearing it in a very expensive venue. Here we get to hear it on the street.

Than I start to understand why Cuba is unique. Cubans don't have to worry about life necessities like health, education, or housing. They also don't suffer from consumerism. What is left to them is arts, literature, music or any hobby else. This country serves as a lab for humanity, and civilization does it unintentional good through the trade embargo.

Gabriel, -one of the band- tells us a joke about how the first boat Cuba has ever built 'escaped' to USA with its captain and crew. This moment I grasped the reason why I saw more punks in streets of Havana than Berlin. They crave iPads while we want liberation from them. And here we are, advertising their own lifestyles to Cubans.

I guess we tend to associate 'hope' with the 'escape' itself, but not much with the direction of it. This is how one's Port of Hope becomes the other's Boat to Escape.