https://everythingspeakstome.com/files/original/675c243bfe471890c4fb7e94ab6d235f.png 23b71b5ee09ded76bf8bf9c121cc712c Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Miami Stories Description An account of the resource Real stories of life in Miami. Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Text Please post your written submission in this field. The images you would like to include should be posted as attachments below. The feeling of comfort and security, a place where you feel yourself emotionally and are surrounded by plenty of love. There’s this constant longing for a place that doesn’t even in exist... the impossibility of home. It’s a hot mid-summer day in Miami and we make the ultimate decision to go get something refreshing; AZUCAR. Just like any other kid, we dart towards the large freezers containing the tubs of ice cream. We eagerly inform the lady “can we get two small cones with Abuela Maria please”. My grandparents stop, look at each other, take a moment to process, and then proceed to take a second more intense look at the names of these ice cream flavors. I had seen this same exact feeling rush through them the day we docked in Cuba, just a year before. As we walked the streets of Havana there was this sense of shock and confusion. La Bodeguita del Medio still stood, where the music would vibrate their bones forcing one foot in front of the other, El Malecon where everyone including them would build the strongest friendships. All of these landmarks were once places that created this feeling of comfort, now making them more confused than ever. My grandparents had this façade of Cuba, of what it once was before the revolution, far from what it is today. They stood facing the large freezers, staring straight into the ice cream buckets that would rapidly transport them into this confusing feeling of home or lack thereof. As they sample the flavor “Willy Cherino” they instantly get a whiff of the potent cigar being smoked by the gentlemen at La Bodeguita bar. The small hint of Bourbon reminded my grandparents of the time where they had a little too much to drink, forcing them into a taxi all the way to their home where they were caught by their strict Cuban parents. The loads of sugar rolling down his tongue reminded my grandfather of the early Sunday mornings where he would visit his grandfather’s sugarcane farm and package raw sugar in large industrial bags to be sold to the locals while also managing to chug a large cup of guarapo. As he savored the sample, he slowly picked out the chunks of dark cherry reminding him of the nights where he would sit with his mom picking all of the rotten black beans from the bag they had just purchased from the store. The Azucar employee handed my grandmother a sample of the flavor “zapaticos de rosa”. The second the spoon hit her tongue it’s like she could remember choking on the pounds of baby perfume being sprayed on her before going to school in the morning. The light but satin pink of the ice cream reminded her of the ballet slippers on her feet that got her from point a to point b without stepping barefoot on the bumpy roads of the island. They both sampled the flavor “besitos” just so that they could remember the comfort that came from such a thing. The natural aroma from the vanilla reminded them of the warmth from a kiss on the cheek right before heading out of the house. The sweet hint of merengue reminded my grandma of the day her mom dropped her off for the first day of school with a big kiss on the cheek to remind her how much mami loved her. The salty but sweet flavor “Platano maduro” completely dominated their taste buds. The salty flavor of the plantain brought them back to the hard days where there was no money and plantains were the only thing to get them through to the following day, while the hint of sweetness would prompt them to the days when their grandparents would cook them a full meal after playing with the neighbors all day long. Burn. In. Hell. Fidel... The one flavor that triggered more than they could handle. As the creamy chocolate flavor washed down the million other samples, the Cuban government was brainwashing them into believing how magnificent the idea of communism was. The word “equality” was being shoved down their throat just like the chocolate beginning to run down their esophagus. Until they were struck by the intense flavor of cayenne pepper. That spark of fire burning their mouths reflected what the island really was. All of these flavors reminded them of a Cuba, a home that no longer exist. There is no such feeling of home for exiles around the world. There are just moments like this one where something as simple as ice cream can immerse you into a weird but curious experience. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource A Flavorful Type of Mindset Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Mia Rodriguez Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 10/03/2022