ナショナルジオグラフィックのインスタグラム(natgeo) - 5月6日 08時02分

Photo by @dguttenfelder, words by Cynthia Gorney both aboard the first American cruise ship in four decades to sail to Cuba.

Outside a Havana office of the state-run phone company Etecsa, the cluster of people awaiting service in brutal afternoon heat looks indistinguishable from the years before D17: a lot of weary, sweating, patient civilians observing the comradely queuing protocols of Cuba. “Ultimo?” each newcomer asks loudly, looking around. Last? Who before me was last in line? D17 is what Cubans call December 17, 2014, the day President Obama announced the normalization of relations. If you were recently in Cuba before then, you pick your way around just-opened restaurants and guide-led tourist clumps until you spot the Etecsa line and think, Well, here is one institution impervious to change. Inside, though, once the uniformed guards have grudgingly nodded you in…WHAT? A huge new poster of a slim woman in yoga garments, crosslegged, recuperatively stretching her neck. It’s an advisory about managing the orthopedic perils of staring at hand-held screens. In D17’s wake, along with new surges of tourist-driven business, wifi is finally reaching working Cubans. An hour’s access to a wifi spot costs a Cuban $2, a huge bite out of low state salaries. But at night, in cities around the island, certain parks and street intersections now light up as though by trapped fireflies. Nearly every Cuban loves somebody—a spouse, a sibling, a child, a friend--who’s left “pa’ la Yuma,” as they say: for the States. Eavesdrop, in the southern city of Cienfuegos, as a 68 year-old mother on a park bench peers into a tablet while chiding the daughter she’s just awoken in a Nebraska bedroom. “Where’s my granddaughter? WHY HASN’T SHE WRITTEN?” - Cynthia Gorney

[BIHAKUEN]UVシールド(UVShield)

>> 飲む日焼け止め！「UVシールド」を購入する