A few nice Horse Shoe Tattoos pictures I located:

100 views of Cuba, Dec 2011 – 49
Horse Shoe Tattoos

Image by Ed Yourdon
This set consists of what I felt had been the most beneficial 100 pictures of the 3500+ pictures that I took in Cuba for the duration of a weeklong stop by in December 2011.

I took this photo at the entrance of a church that we ducked into in the course of a gentle rainstorm 1 morning…

Note: this photo was published in an undated (mid-March 2012) Nice Tattooing Supplies Photographs weblog, with the similar caption and detailed notes I had written on this Flickr web page. It was also published in a Mar 20, 2012 blog titled &quotCSULB Students, and Faculty Members Set To Take Historic Check out to Cuba.&quot And it was published in a Mar 31, 2012 blog titled &quotHervé Leger dresses for sale Lapeer Water extraction MichiganEvaporation has constantly been a situation in drying.&quot


Cuba. For today’s generation of Americans, the notion of traveling to Cuba is most likely like that of traveling to North Korea. It is off-limits, forbidden by the government — and frankly, why would everyone bother? But for a person like me, who spent his childhood in the Cold War era of the 1950s, and who went off to college just after Castro took power, and just just before the Bay of Pigs and the Cuban missile crisis, the notion of traveling to Cuba has completely different overtones.

And but Cuba is only 90 miles away from Essential West (as we were reminded so normally in the 1960s), and its climate is presumably no several than a dozen of Caribbean islands I’ve visited more than the years. Quite a few buddies have created quasi-legal trips to Cuba more than the years, flying in from Canada or Mexico, and they’ve all returned with fabulous photographs and remarkable stories of a vibrant, colorful nation. So, when the folks at the Santa Fe Photographic Workshops sent out a notice in November 2011, announcing a series of photo workshops in Havana, we could not resist the temptation to sign up.

Acquiring into Cuba turned out to be trivial: an overnight keep in Miami, a 45-minute chartered flight operated by American Airlines, and customs/immigration formalities that turned out to be cursory or non-existent. By mid-afternoon, our group was checked into the Parque Central Hotel in downtown Havana — exactly where the rooms had been spacious, the service was friendly, the food was reasonably tasty, the rum was scrumptious, and the Internet was … effectively, slow and expensive.

We had been warned that that some of our American conveniences — like credit cards — would not be out there, and we were ready for a pretty spartan week. But no matter how prepared we could have been intellectually, it takes a though to adjust to a land with no Skype, no Blackberry service, no iPhone service, no phone-based Twitter, Facebook, or Google+. I was completely happy that there were no Burger Kings, no Pizza Huts, no Wendys, no Starbuck’s, and MacDonalds. There was Coke (classic), but no Eating plan Coke (or Coke Light). There had been also no police sirens, no ambulance sirens, and no church bells. There had been no iPods, and consequently no evidence of folks plugged into their music by means of the thin white earplugs that Apple supplies with their devices. No iPads, no Kindles, no Nooks, no … properly, you get the picture. (It’s also worth noting that, with U.S. tourists now beginning to enter the country in bigger numbers, Cuba appears to be on the cusp of a &quotmodern&quot invasion if I come back right here in a couple years, I complete count on to see Kentucky Fried Chicken outlets on each and every corner.)

But there were lots of friendly people in Havana, crowding the streets, peering out of windows and doorways, laughing and shouting and waving at buddies and strangers alike. Every person was properly-dressed in clean clothing (the evidence of which could be seen in the endless lines of clothing hanging from laundry lines strung from wall to wall, everywhere) but there have been no designer jeans, no fancy footwear, no heavy jewelry, and no sign of ostentatious clothes of any sort. Like some other establishing nations, the people today had been often a small also friendly — frequently offering a taxi ride, a pedicab ride, a little exchange of the &quotofficial&quot currency (convertible pesos, or &quotcuqs&quot) for the &quotlocal&quot currency (pesos), a great meal or a terrific drink at a nearby restaurant or bar, a haircut, a manicure, or just a little … umm, well, friendship (delivers for which ran the gamut of &quotseñor&quot to &quotamigo&quot to &quotmy buddy&quot). On the street, you regularly felt you had been in the land of the hustle but if you smiled, shook your head, and politely said, &quotno,&quot consumers in general smiled and back off.

As for the photography: well, I was in 1 of three numerous workshop groups, every single of which had roughly a dozen participants. The 3 dozen person photographers had been properly equipped with all of the newest Nikon and Canon gear, and they often focused on a handful of subjects: buildings and architecture, ballet practice sessions, cockfights, boxing matches, rodeos, fishing villages, old automobiles, interiors of people’s residences, street scenes, and persons. Lots of many people. As in every other part of the planet I’ve visited, the people today were the most exciting. We saw young and old, men and females, boisterous children, grizzled elders, police officers, bus drivers, and persons of almost each and every conceivable race.

The streets have been clean, though not spotless and the streets have been jammed, with bicycles and motorbikes and pedi-cabs, taxis, buses, horse-and-carriages, pedestrians, dogs (LOTS of dogs, a large number of sleeping peacefully in the middle of a sidewalk), and even a couple of many people on roller skates. And, as anybody who has seen pictures of Havana knows, there have been lots and lots and LOTS of old cars. Plymouths, Pontiacs, Dodges, Buicks, and Chevys, along with the occasional Cadillac. A handful of have been old and rusted, but most had been renovated, repaired, and repainted — often in garishly vibrant colors from each and every spectrum of the rainbow. Cherry pink, fire-engine red, Sunkist orange, lime green, turquoise and each shade of blue, orange, brown, and a lot a great deal more that I’ve quite possibly forgotten. All of us in the photo workshop succumbed to the temptation to photograph the automobiles when we initially arrived … but they have been everywhere, each day, wherever we went, and sooner or later we all suffered from sensory overload. (For what it’s worth, 1 of our workshop colleagues had visited Cuba eight years ago, and told us that at the time, there had been only old cars in sight now roughly half of the automobiles are alot more-or-less modern day Kia’s Audis, Russian Ladas, and other &quotgeneric&quot compact automobiles.)

The one particular factor I wasn’t prepared for in Havana was the sense of decay: pretty much no contemporary buildings, no skyscrapers, and tremendously small proof of renovation. There had been many monstrous, ugly, vintage-1950s buildings that oozed &quotRussia&quot from every single pore. But the rest of the buildings date back to the 40s, the 30s, the 20s, or even the turn of the last century. Some had been crumbling, some have been just facades some showed proof of the type of salt-water erosion that 1 sees close to the ocean. But countless just looked old and decrepit, with peeling paint and broken stones, like the run-down buildings in what ever slum you happen to be familiar with in North America. A single has a rather sturdy sense of a city that was vibrant and spectacular all for the duration of the last half of the 19th century, and the very first half of the 20th century — and then time stopped dead in its tracks.

Why that happened, and what’s being accomplished about it, is one thing I did not have a opportunity to explore there was a common reluctance to discuss politics in tremendous detail. Some of Havana looks like the less-prosperous regions of other Caribbean towns and some of it is presumably the direct and/or indirect outcome of a half-century of U.S. embargo. But some of it seems to be the result of the collapse of the Soviet Union in the early 1990s, and the subsequent collapse of foreign help that Cuba depended upon.

As for my personal pictures: I did not attend the ballet practice sessions, nor did I see the rodeo. I did see some fascinating graffiti on a couple of walls, which I photographed but for some explanation, I missed nearly all of the a number of political billboards and stylized paintings of Che Guevera on buildings and walls. What I focused on alternatively was the &quotstreet scenes&quot of men and women and buildings, which will hopefully give you a sense of what the spot is like.

Get pleasure from!

Horse Shoe Tattoos

Image by Lucienne °e il suo diario°

pura poesia..un cavallo bianco che corre alla ricerca di quel principe che possa andar a recuperare quella fanciulla dalla pelle candida, come la neve in pieno inverno..
un sorriso quando l’ho tenuta tra le mani..era un sogno realizzato..e nemmeno sapevo che stava accadendo
quindi grazie!

(sergio per te a breve ce ne sarà un’altra)