Starbucks Listened (I Hope)

I'm sitting in a Starbucks right now drinking a Tall Americano - I know, the irony of my drink choice doesn't escape me either. 

This is the very Starbucks that I criticized not long ago for its terrible WiFi and flippant response to my complaint about it. I'm writing this post on my iPad mini connected to a very fast Internet. That's right, the problem is fixed. 

I spent $6 for a coffee and breakfast sandwich, not expecting a thing more. But when I checked my iPhone while standing in line, the login screen for Starbucks WiFi appeared, and it's been nothing but love ever since. 

I don't know how this came about. Nobody contacted me. Starbucks just did the right thing and fixed the problem.  

So it's only fair that I now proclaim: The Starbucks in Coddington Mall, Santa Rosa CA, presents a clean hospitable atmosphere, serves good coffee and food, and has excellent WiFi.

You should stop by if you're ever in town. 

-Derrick  

From the Bad...

I'm not even going to look at my todo list for today. Why should I? It's nearly dinner time, and I haven't been able to yet.

This has been a remarkable day. One in which problems lined up at my doorstep ready to cross the threshold without an invitation. There were technical difficulties, such as the most important podcast of the year not being served to my subscribers. And I could not figure out why.

On the personal front, my boy was so very sick with an exam scheduled that did not allow for makeups. He didn't know what to do. Then, I had a dear friend going through a tough time with what appeared to be no light at the end of the tunnel. And there was more.

It would have been an easy day to give up on people and withdraw. "There's nothing I can do about it."  But instead, in each instance, I stepped into the breach and was honest about the situation. And each time, people responded.

My The Digital Story audience rallied around technical alternatives and keep me posted on the progress of the repair. By mid-morning, we were able the fix the problem. The teacher who had a "no makeup test" rule came up with a solution that allowed my boy to stay home and get better, without failing the class. And my friend reached down inside and found the courage to overcome the challenge.

Most people would say that I had a terrible day. Yet, much like my visit to Cuba, my belief in human character has been affirmed once again.

I'm impressed that time and time again, from what appears to be the bad,

is really an opportunity for good to emerge.

-Derrick

The Movie Deal

When I say that I got a movie deal, it's a bit different than when Brad Pitt signs on the dotted line.

His contract is worth 7 figures. Mine is four. Brad's film will be screened from coast to coast in theaters, then available online. I jump directly to the online part. And of course Brad's debut will be accompanied by launch parties and TV appearances. I'll bring a couple six packs for the production crew once we complete filming.

Even though my world is much different than Brad Pitt's, I love making movies. And I just got the green light for "Travel Photography in Cuba" with lynda.com

This is a project that I began totally on spec. My friend Neil Bauman offered me a photographer gig on a People to People tour that he was putting together. He helped defray costs, but I had to come up with airfare to Miami, my own gear, spending money on the road, and hotel rooms in Florida. I scraped the money together.

There are some things you know you should do, and this trip was one of them.

Before departing for Havana, I wrote my content director at lynda, Jim Heid, and asked him if he were interested in a travel movie set in Cuba. He wrote back the same day. We decided that I'd go shoot, then we'd iron out the details upon my return.

The shoot went better than I could have ever hoped. And when I returned to California, we crafted the storyline for presentation to the lynda brass. Just a week later, I signed the contract.

I'm lucky that I can make a living doing things that I love, such as sharing stories and adventures from an island in the Caribbean. It's a risky business. I take my best shot, and hope for the best. There are no guarantees.

I guess that's one thing that Brad and I have in common.

-Derrick

One American Flag

We were all a bit weary upon our return to Havana from Santa Clara. Our eyes were full, but our stomachs were empty. And a glass of 3-year-old rum never sounded better.

We checked in at the Melia Cohiba Hotel, and agreed to meet back here, downstairs, at 7pm for dinner. I then pulled my suitcase over to the elevators and went up to the 12th floor. When I opened the door, I was greeted to my best room yet in Cuba, much bigger than during my previous stay. I had a view of the ocean to one side and surrounding hotels on the other. It was spectacular.

Somewhat reenergized by this good fortune, I treated myself to a Cristal that was chilled in the fridge alongside two Cuban colas and 3 bottles of water. Unlike American hotels where a beer would have cost me $6 or more, I only had to pay a couple pesos. I finished the beer, changed clothes, and closed the door behind me.

A few of us got to the lobby early and were comparing notes from the day. Someone asked, "Did you see the American flag out front?" 

"What?"

"Yes, I was told that it's the first time ever here. They just put it on a pole out front."

The Melia Cohiba Hotel was built in the 1990s when the Cuban government opened its doors to specific types of foreign investment. Since it was a choice for many diplomats and other working visitors from all over the world, the hotel began a tradition of flying flags out front representing the various countries of its visitors that day.

That is, unless you were American.

"Derrick, you have to get a picture of this."

"I will. I want it in the morning light. Morning will be good for this shot."

At breakfast, I had two cups of Cuban coffee, two fried eggs on a pancake, and a banana. I then went out front and photographed the first American flag ever flown at the Melia Cohiba Hotel. I watched it flapping in the breeze for a few moments, then put away the camera and greeted my friends.

We boarded our bus for the meeting in Havana. Our driver, Pedro (whom we all had become quite fond of), pulled a small U.S. flag from his shirt pocket. It was attached to a wooden stick, looking like a table decoration from a Fourth of July picnic. I had no idea where he got it.

He attached it to the Rosary hanging from his rear view mirror. I was tickled seeing it hanging there in the front window. We then departed for downtown Havana to attend to the day's business ahead:

Fourteen North Americans, two Cubans, 

and one American flag.

-Derrick

The Plaza in Santa Clara

A few of us were feeling full after dinner. It wasn’t that we ate too much, but the fresh evening air seemed the wiser choice for dessert.

We were in Santa Clara, the heart of Cuba, about a 3-hour drive from Havana. The night air was still, especially compared to last night’s breezy walk in La Habana.

We decided that we were going to explore photography on the plaza. It was only two blocks from the hotel. Each of us had a camera of some sort, but inside we knew that we just wanted to see what people were doing.

I was surprised to see so many locals out on Tuesday night. I’m not sure why, because I don’t really know what Cubans do on Tuesdays. I’m usually at home.

They were sitting on park benches conversing with one another, gathering in the music clubs that lined the square, or kissing and holding hands like lovers who had just found one another and weren’t quite ready to part ways.

I counted at least three groups of teenagers on the plaza. They were talking and laughing as teenagers do, with their private jokes that often go undeciphered by adults. One had a guitar and played accompaniment to others singing.

The odd thing was, not one person was texting on a phone. In fact, I didn’t see any electronic devices. Their hands were used for gestures, not typing.

We talked among ourselves in the group, comparing notes to make sure that we were all seeing the same thing. And we came to a single conclusion. Something special was happening here.

We circled the square one more time, then headed back to the hotel. None of our phones were working in Santa Clara, so we were either chatting with one other, or stayed quiet with our thoughts.

I was thinking about those kids. I felt protective, as if they were my own boys. What they had there, on that comfortable night in Santa Clara, was beautiful.

And I feared that someday soon

it may be lost.

-Derrick