This holiday season , I am heading to the only Cuba I 've ever known . To Nochebuena dinner with my cousin 's roast pork , her mother-in-law 's flan , platanos maduros , yucca and a salad . Nochebuena is a Latino celebration of Christmas Eve , and it 's a big night for us . There will be quick-fire Spanish , varying degrees of English and jokes in the way I 've only ever heard my Cuban relatives parry back and forth . Many presents will be opened , and everyone will act like we all got each other the perfect gift . I 'm flying not to Havana but to Miami , where my grandparents and other relatives came years after Fidel Castro took over Cuba , when it became clear there would be no free speech for anyone but him . The stadiums were filling with `` trials '' against the enemies of the state , friends were disappearing and my mother , despite her government job , knew her unwillingness to stay quiet while people suffered would get her in trouble . So she went into exile in 1961 , and she 's never been back . Years later my grandparents followed their grown children -- my mother and uncle -- to the United States . When they applied to leave the country , Cuban government officials did an inventory of the contents of their home . Both their home and all of their things would be confiscated by the government on the day they departed . The morning she left , my abuelita was washing the dishes in their apartment before she and my grandfather left for the airport . Suddenly she stopped . `` Let Fidel do the dishes , '' she said . I have never seen that apartment . Family traditions . When we land Tuesday in Miami , my mother and uncle will meet us at the airport and rush us to Havana Harry 's or some coffee stand where I can get a real Cuban coffee -- none of this Starbucks silliness . There 's a hint of Cuba in the taste . And Cuban and U.S. flags will be everywhere . I do n't care about South Beach or Art Basel or Coconut Grove . Every bit of Cuba I get is gleaned from pictures , music , stories people tell me and these trips to see Miami family , where I get hints of my ancestry in the food and jokes and presents . I soak it up on every visit . I 've never seen the sleepy , agricultural town of Pinar del Rio where my mother was born and lived until her teenage years . I 've never seen where she went to high school after they moved to Havana or the beaches where she swam in the summertime and where one friend dangling his foot over a pier lost it to a shark . I do n't know where she had her first piano recital . When she plays my favorite Cuban music on the piano , all too rarely , for some reason the notes make me cry . Maybe it 's the hints of her life before me . The Christmas heat in Miami must be similar to what they feel in Cuba , only a short flight to the south . I will pack my summer clothes and a bathing suit for my daughter . Around midday on Christmas Eve some of us will head to El Palacio de Los Jugos for lunch and Cuban sandwiches . I will get my favorite Materva soda , too sweet for me now but still worth the memory . My cousin , whose Nochebuena pork would make Martha Stewart cry , likes to tease us to not to fill up at lunch . But we will be fine . Dinner wo n't be until much later -- our family is always late -- and we all want her cooking . Filling in the gaps . My definition of beauty is n't blond hair or blue eyes or any classic American stereotype . It 's my black-haired Cuban cousins , who look so refined and elegant . They hug me , the baby of my generation and the half-American with the brown hair , so hard . They remind me to come back . To Miami , not to Cuba . I 've only seen pictures of the tobacco trucks . My mother was taught to drive by the drivers at the tobacco trucking company where my grandfather worked , and it 's why she still drives a car like she means business . Another hint of Cuba on those long road trips . I welcome the news of thawing American relations with Cuba and easing of travel restrictions . But I am tired of the ads for religious charity trips to Cuba and all-inclusive beach resorts where tourists get pampered while my people , once removed , depend on charity for the most basic medical supplies . I am tired of the reasons for the sadness in my older relatives ' eyes . I do n't want to hear any more stereotypes about who my people are or tourists talking about going to visit Cuba `` before it changes . '' As Miriam Zoila Perez has written , I do n't want to hear about your Cuban vacation . I simply want to buy a plane ticket and go there myself . I want to go to my mother 's hometown and see where she was born without crying the entire trip . I want to put those hints together , fill in the gaps and see for the first time , where I am from .
Katia Hetter 's Katia Hetter has Cuban ancestry but has never visited Miami . She will celebrate This holiday season with her Spanish -American relatives in Cuba . Hetter : I want to visit my mother 's Cuban hometown .