This place continues to fascinate. Our lunch conversations are lively, as some of us are 50-somethings, some in their 60s, and others in their 20s, with totally different orientations vis-a-vis the future. Claudia and Ana, our excellent 25-year old producers have a different knowledge of history, as they were born during Cuba's "Special period," a time of deprivation catalyzed by the dissolution of the Soviet Union. They are practical and forward-thinking—and they value the revolution and its luminaries. All of our crew is willing to talk about race, and gay and trans is no big deal for them.

Before leaving for Cuba I had a good conversation with a potential funder, who told me that his trip to Cuba 5 years ago was profoundly depressing. He saw that Cubans have the joie de vivre but this was overcome by what he experienced as a desperation engendered by the lack of opportunity and dictatorship. I took a deep breath and reminded him that Cuba is an island with nuance flying everywhere. They don't vote; two brothers have held power since independence. Our version of human rights and freedom of speech, differs from theirs. Movement is limited. Many of these things bother me. Yet Cuba has a 99% literacy and high school graduation rate. There are limited opportunities for computer programmers, architects, entrepreneurs. And no gun violence. And their national newspaper is a party organ. But no cartels. It doesn't look like Mexico, Honduras, or Columbia during the 90s. And talented people still leave, via boat or a long trek through South America, worried that if the US embargo is lifted, legal immigration tomorrow will become even harder than illegal immigration today.

How to synthesize this into a tidy package? I can't, which is why I always take a deep breath when a friend tells me Cuba is a totalitarian state or a paradise. It's just.....Cuba.

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade." So said our kids' pre-school teachers, and today life gave us lemons. We had our two crack crews ready to roll when an incredible storm moved in. My entire shot list for the next two days had to be re-tooled, causing a bit of a challenge. My charge from Lincoln Center was to return to the States with footage of Havana's color- hard to do when you mainly see gray, the wing is whipping, and most people stay inside. My footage was intended to be used as a mini-scenes in between musical pieces for the broadcast of the concert of US and Cuban musicians, as part of PBS "Live at Lincoln Center." We broke up our grim crew breakfast with war stories and laughs. We decided, of course, rain being part of the landscape here, we would shoot beautiful images of rain- dripping from cars, cascading from building, interrupted by yellow umbrellas, wet streets reflecting headlights, pairs of people laughing as they unsuccessfully huddle beneath an umbrella, stepping in puddles.

Over the course of the two-day shoot we had enough breaks in the weather to film: the Malecón, Havana's dramatic sea wall, enriched by the storm; images of colorful buildings and windows to intercut with the beautiful backdrop constructed for the Lincoln Center concert in New York; Cubans, young and old, crowding around one of the island's few public wi-fi hotspots, posting to social media and calling relatives abroad; the classy old cars in the emerging new Havana; the indoor art and craft market; and the gorgeous, if inconvenient, rain. All told we got what we came for. Another eye-opening experience in Havana.

Cuba Vive

When Life Gives You Lemons