The four-hour drive from Varadero to Trinidad had us itching to arrive at our new casa and wash off the remnants of the journey. As this was my second visit to Cuba, I opted that we stay in a casa particular, which is the rental of a home or room from local families, for two reasons: to support the local community rather than inject more money into the already booming hotel industry, and for the opportunity to establish relationships that it provides. Of the several experiences I have had staying in casa particulares, I have only had one unmemorable experience in which I felt nonchalant about my host. Every other experience has been infused with love and connection that surpassed our attempts at conversation in broken Spanish on my part, and broken English in theirs. I eagerly anticipated who our host in Trinidad would be, and if I would gel with her as effortlessly as I had previous hosts. A middle-aged, blonde, tanned woman approached our taxi and proceeded to jump on the back of a motorbike in order to direct us to our casa. I found myself immediately captivated by her light, jovial demeanour that I observed in her short interaction with our taxi driver. Once at our casa, she introduced herself as Niurka and began to show us around the rustic property. I quickly noted to my sister-in-law that I loved her already; I had never met anyone more personable, animated and carefree. These sentiments rang more true with each day that passed. With the help of Google Translate and my basic understanding of Spanish, she shared details detailed about her life, her partner and children, and her beloved grandson Angelo. After insisting to accompany us on our grocery run, Niurka led us through the cobbled stoned streets and backdrops of pastel coloured homes to a range of stalls scattered around Trinidad selling local produce of papaya, pineapples and avocados. Liaising and bartering on our behalf, much to our gratitude, she kept our spirits high in the thick heat, checking on us by calling our names in a sing-songing tone that belonged exclusively to her; one we grew to find comfort in. We prepared breakfast together, bonding over our love of platano macho, teaching us how to prepare it “the Cuban way”, whilst Ozuna, a famous reggeaton artist, played from my speakers, much to her delight. When arriving in Trinidad, my family and I did not anticipate the way in which Niurka would impact and shape our trip; our affinity to one another felt visceral, and we realised that our appreciation for her effervescent, yet tender character was not unique to us alone. Walking around her quaint town, she was met with smiles and kisses in abundance as she introduced us to her friends. “Tu es famosa” (“You are famous”), we joked with her, to which she laughed and humbly denied. When the venue for the salsa lesson we arranged on our last evening was no longer available, Niurka suggested our casa’s rooftop as an alternate location. She watched us stumble attempting the intricate choreography, yet perpetually encouraged us throughout and even demonstrated it for us. That humid night was decorated with laughter, as we overlooked the Escambray Mountains and found ourselves humbled by the view of the stars. Mornings in Trinidad had become fondly ritualistic for us: our large, fern green wooden doors overlooking the street wide open, greeting acquaintances and admiring horse-drawn carriages that often passed by, with salsa music blasting from the security guard across the street’s stereo, creating the perfect atmosphere. We spent time with Niurka’s family on our last morning, and I found myself deeply grateful for our communion. The interconnectedness of humanity is not lost on me, and was exemplified by our encounter with Niurka and her family. It transcends, without invalidating, socially constructed barriers that exist. She modelled grace and generosity in a way that both inspired and reminded me that connection is what adds value to our experiences and existence. I have a newfound appreciation for Trinidad, for the memories it has birthed, and for it being home to a family that have permanently etched their place on my heart.