The Cuban Vitrina

In some Cuban homes, the nicest glasses in the house are the ones nobody is allowed to drink from.

They live in the vitrina, the glass cabinet in the living room. Alongside them: little porcelain figures, cups with matching saucers, a wedding present, perhaps a souvenir brought back by a relative.

Everything has its place. And someone in the house knows immediately if you move anything.

“Eso es de adorno.”

That’s for decoration.

“Eso es para las visitas.”

That’s for guests.

You, meanwhile, are drinking from the same ordinary glass you used yesterday. Apparently, living in the house does not qualify you for the good stuff.

The cabinet can also hold a surprising amount of family history. Something inherited, something bought years ago, something carried carefully in a suitcase. Objects that would mean very little to a stranger can matter enormously to the people who kept them.

Still, I would like to meet these mysterious guests important enough to finally use the glasses.

Some families seem to have been expecting them for thirty years.