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His face lit up, showing his wide smile, white teeth, and the wrinkles around his eyes. As his face relaxed, the smooth and harmonious lines of his face ran from the high forehead, to the brown-green eyes, ending by the fully rounded lips and chin. He is a mix of Spanish, West African and indigenous. So beautiful. There was an ease and familiarity between me and my host at the Casa Particulares in Habana. We sat in the front dining area that had a mahogany bar and matching chairs and tables. It reminds me of the colonial period. My room was very modern and looked a little like an Ikea-showroom. I don’t know how we got all that modern stuff and he wouldn’t tell me. I have a feeling that he, his wife and youngest daughter don’t live like that behind the long corridor that leads to the their space. We spoke about his two older daughters in Miami, his work for the government, and travelling forth and back to Spain. I didn’t quite understand why he took all the trips to Spain, but I guess it was something about getting Spanish citizenship. I asked him about socialism in Cuba, because I’m from one of the most socialistic countries in the world - I believe - and I felt the similarities on the streets of Habana. Denmark has been socialistic since the 1920s - I believe . The majority of the Danes have an equal middle-class life style without anyone been too rich or too poor. The government reshuffles all the money through extremely high income taxes. That’s probably why crime levels are low and the people have been the happiest in the world for decades - well, the Danes just lost that title to the Norwegians, but let’s pretend that didn’t happen. I see many similarities to Cuba. Here people are all equally poor, but they treat each other with respect no matter the skin colour and they seem pretty happy. They are more like the Danes than the Dominion Republic and Mexico, where massive discrepancies and crime levels rules the culture. He answered: “A doctor earns 70 dollars a month. The income can’t buy enough food for one family for the month. That’s a doctor you know. We get eggs, flower, and other basic food supplies from the government, but no one can live off the sparse amount. Our family survives, because of folks like you. That the way we are able to survive.” I suddenly felt thankful that I’m supporting them I through my stay. I stayed quiet and he had paused for a moment. “On the other hand. People like Fidel Castro live in massive mansions, fly around in helicopters and are billionaires.” I’m shocked. Probably starting a little. I guess my idealised understanding of the Cuban revolution from 60 years ago had stayed stuck in my image of the country. “That’s not socialism,” I blurt out. My host’s entire body stiffens and he checks the streets outside the open windows. He turns to me with a cold, stiff stare and says that scares me for two seconds: “Don’t ever say something like that here. People are thrown to prison for saying things like that. You never know, who is being paid to snitch you. Everyone needs more food or clothing, you know, and the government is willing to pay for unfaithful citizens.” I got the message and let it sink in. This wasn’t the type of democratic socialism I know from home. This was the West-German-type. Socialism has man faces. The totalitarian, the egalitarian, the dictatorship, the snitching, and the democratic face. So many sides in practice to an ideology that arose from the pre-stages one a single man’s idea of utopia. A place no one on this earth have been able to make a reality in spite decades of effort.