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How not having the internet allowed me to reconnect with myself.
A rooster crowed in a nearby yard, the cool ocean breeze lightly lifted the sheets from my body. I reached for a guidebook to quietly entertain myself while my husband slept soundly next to me.
We were in Havana for one more day and I wanted to learn as much as I could about this beautiful city.
At home, I would have surely reached for my phone, my thoughts quickly changing topics. Email, Instagram, then maybe Cuba, but only briefly because another topic would have flitted through my mind. Cuban history would have been lost in browsing history.
In Havana, we were disconnected but completely connected. Connected to each other, conversations taking place without phone screens illuminating as notifications pinged. We were forced to ask real people for directions or recommendations because TripAdvisor was not available.
We met people on the street, a teacher from Nigeria, who had been in Cuba for 30 years. We discussed complicated racial disparities with a man who took us on a walking tour of El Centro. Over cups of strong espresso, we compared daily lives with our Airbnb host.
I don’t think that technology is evil. I’m typing this on a laptop right now, connected through a strong wifi signal, I’m…
