A group of 26 unsettlingly sunburnt adults and teenagers from Oregon wandering through a Cuban city isn’t as inconspicuous as it sounds, especially if the entire assembly is constantly squinting at the sun as if confused by its presence. This was us, the students of the Hood River Valley High School Spanish department and our teachers and parent chaperones, for nine days while we toured the city of La Habana and the beaches of Veradero in the northwest of Cuba. All of us embarrassingly wide-eyed while being introduced to the history and culture of such an unfamiliar country, we sent a message that screamed “Canadian,” but not just because of our vague confusion.

Before a few weeks ago, Canadian was just what most white, English speaking tour groups in Cuba had been. Our group from Hood River was part of the first wave of Americans officially allowed into Cuba, and we were given the opportunity to see Cuba as it has been since 1961, in the few months before American commercialism takes hold (but if anyone travels to Cuba in the next year and sees nothing but Birkenstocks, we take credit). Despite the looming shadow of future corruption, when asked our nationality by passing locals, our answer was often met by large grins, friendly shoulder-patting, frequent Obama references, and even tears. Times are changing, and the Cubans are more than ready.