Hola Familia y Amigos!
Now that the U.S. relationship with Cuba has taken another direction, we felt it was the right time to share our November 2013 adventure in Cuba with you. It was quite the struggle to find resources to help us lay out the journey especially when we weren’t sure about going it alone or if we would best be served hiring a guide to navigate the northern part of the island, understand all the nuances and answer our questions on history and culture. We had been conspiring with friends P&M (to protect the innocent) over coffee dates for a period of months, being met with brick walls that seemed insurmountable, which had us almost abandoning our ‘under-the-radar’ trip. Web sites were blocked, phone calls to travel agents not returned, etc. Maggie eventually googled ‘Cuba guides’ and, breakthrough! We connected with Jorge, based in Cuba, with a Gmail account, which seemed to allude peering eyes. He presented us with a proposal, which was to meet with quite a number of changes, eventually resulting in a plan we could all agree on. Since we could not use credit cards while in Cuba, or go to an ATM for cash withdrawal, and U.S. currency does not get a good exchange rate in Cuba, P and I visited a Seattle money exchange venue to convert USD into a combination of EUROS and Canadian currency. I pushed my envelope of USD to the agent, under her teller’s bulletproof window, forgetting that I was going to remove the money first (as I had labeled it ‘CUBA’). Interestingly enough, she asked if we were going to Cuba (if we were, she would have to report it) to which I replied ‘no’, that we are going to Barbados and other Caribbean islands, for a SCUBA and snorkeling adventure and while she wasn’t looking, I quickly added the letter ’S’ on the envelope, in front of ‘CUBA’. I am sure she was not amused, while P was mortified, but the transaction was completed with no further complications.
Moving along into the actual Cuban experience, this 1st dispatch and the next will focus on our six nights in Habana, four on the front end and two on the back end. After flying first to Mexico City, where we stayed a few nights at Maggie’s and my favorite B&B, The Red Tree House, and then flew on to Habana for our 10 day stay.
Our landing on Cuban soil was exhilarating, the culmination of months of planning, with attendant adjustments and final agreements. We proceeded through customs only to be turned away to first purchase mandatory medical insurance which was the equivalency of $55 USD for the two of us. Going back to the original line, P was questioned extensively (he was seemingly perceived as the most suspicious looking of the four of us). After getting through the line, we were pulled aside and grilled for 20 minutes on the total amount of cash we were carrying with us and our working statuses, to which we replied ‘retired’, which led to questions on our former professions. FINALLY, we were let go and happy to see a sign with the letters MOFFETT, held by our pre-arranged driver, who had been patiently awaiting our egress, now able to whisk us away to the Hotel Sevilla, which had housed a gambling casino back in Habana’s heyday. On the ride from the airport, we were regaled with a plethora of 50’s American cars, some rusted with murky smoke pouring from the single exhaust pipe, others in mint condition, with myriad colors of greens, blues, yellows, reds, in great contrast to the mundane-colored vehicles we see today. We did notice that pedestrians do not have the right-of-way (and often seem like targets), so we stored that bit of knowledge, knowing that we would be walking the streets of Habana quite a lot and breathing in this long-awaited cultural phenomenon.
Our large, high-ceilinged rooms were on the 8th floor of this venerable hotel, with commanding views of La Habana Vieja, the Gulf of Mexico, the long, tree-lined and divided promenade (Prado) called Paseo de Marti’ (named after one of Cuba’s national heroes, Jose Marti’, who lived in the late 1800’s), buildings and apartments showing the ravages of time and disrepair, yet with great character and a palette of colors, “life pictures” in the guise of laundry strung out to dry in the sea breezes, many low rise apartment buildings with rooftops sporting water cisterns. On the 9th floor of our hotel, we could view the infamous Castillo del Morro, to the northwest, at the opening of the channel to the city’s harbor. Being hot and humid at 5 p.m., we ventured to the pool to cool off, where we were met with the towel dispenser’s “Do you like my country?” Most of the people we had met and were to meet demonstrated great pride in their country, have an affection for Americans as people, not so much for the politics (can’t say what one would find today, given the new U.S. policy along with the over-the-top presidential circus). Maggie and I headed out an hour later to walk the Prado down to the Malecon, the boulevard that follows the shoreline along the Gulf of Mexico and is a major hangout for the locals, kids fishing off the seawall near Morro Castle, traffic speeding by, making it a challenge to negotiate a crossing (reminded us of Ho Chi Minh City and Hanoi, only with American cars versus small motor bikes). While we meandered the Malecon at sunset, we were approached constantly by taxis in the form of beat-up American cars, bikes with two seaters attached, little ‘cocoon’ vehicles and horse-drawn carriages. We managed to find a place to exchange some of our Canadian and EURO currencies for the local fare, the CUC (Convertible Cuban Currency, one CUC=$1 USD) while walking back to our hotel along the 20 foot wide median of the Prado where a myriad of activities were going on: skate boarding, roller blading, lovers strolling, a couple of young girls practicing their dance steps. The four of us topped (literally and figuratively) off our day on the hotel’s 9th floor restaurant, eating a forgettable meal, while enjoying the open window’s allowance of the sea breezes, a view of the Capitole building and the ornateness and magnificence of the massive space occupied by this restaurant, accentuated by the Cuban pianist’s melodies filling the empty space.
Our first full day in Habana commenced with meeting Jorge, our Cuban contact (he actually existed, versus a joke amongst us that Jorge was a gnome who really lived near us under the Ballard Bridge, working virtually). He introduced us to Alejandro (Alex), our guide around town for a half day, reappearing after day four when we would be driving to the towns of Cienfuegos, Trinidad and Santa Clara and back to Habana for our last two days in Cuba. We all immediately took to Alex, his humor and his employment history as an electrical engineer for 15 years, having studied in the Ukraine for five years, conversant in Russian and English, now earning much more in the travel industry.
Our four hour walk (which eventually became five) about Habana Vieja began on the Prado, with Alex relating the history of Cuba, with the “occupation” by the English, Spanish and the U.S. This led to talking about the multi-ethnicity of Cuba from all these other cultures. Through his sharing, Alex would point out things like the different materials making up the tiles, their origins (some from Cuba) and the sculptured lions along the Prado made from melting down military cannons after their use was over. We learned of poorly planned efforts to fortify and protect the main center via Morro Castle and a tunnel under the channel for automotive transportation. Both resulted in unintended consequences. The first required a second fortification structure at a more suitable locale, the latter a new port to the northeast of Habana to accommodate cargo ships’ draft levels. We asked questions about religion, capitalism, property ownership and the like. The many buildings looking run down, war zone-like in appearance have squatters living there, with no incentive for improvement since at any time, they could be removed unceremoniously. He pointed out that the 50’s and 60’s American cars are extremely valuable as they have four wheels and increase in value like real estate. Mechanics are highly valued in keeping them running for use as taxis or just cruising around with friends. Most are not stock, with parts, transmissions, and engines from other vehicles, and referred to as Frankenstein cars. Another sought after skill is being able to manufacture replacement parts! Later, outside Habana, we would see horses pulling carts and carriages as the predominant means of getting around.
We learned about the ‘white’, ‘black’ and ‘grey’ markets, the latter being the largest. Catholicism was discussed as was the Afro-Cuban religion of Santeria, which came with the slave trade. As our walk took us away from the waterfront and into the heart of Old Havana), we would come across nearly impassable streets, being dug up to replace water lines which had been in place for 100 years . Cathedrals, spired buildings, beggars, Mojito bars, street performers (one with a sun-glasses wearing, sweater-wearing Dachshund who would snarl and bare its teeth when he heard the word ‘American’). One of the more humorous moments came when we were interrupted by a 60 year old guy sporting a cop’s uniform, erect in posture, packing what appeared to be a gun, denouncing the English language he was hearing. Alex whisked us away, letting us know this guy was a local ‘wannabe’ on a power trip and the gun was not real. Alex parted company with us at Plaza Vieja (ironically named since it was Habana’s newest plaza). We strolled to a tree-covered area where an older couple, Duo de Reyes, were creating music during our good and cheap (3 CUC’s per plate) meal. As we were leaving, an old shrunken impish woman was trying to get money out of us and, after ignoring her, she stuck out her tongue, appearing like someone with stroke symptoms, followed by punching me! These kinds of experiences are the reason we travel the way we do. They are priceless (and we get to share them with you if we survive them!).
Later, at sunset, P and I walked down the Prado to the Malecon, buying some bottled water, then encountering a couple of young teenage girls who began rubbing up against us, wanting us to buy them cigarettes and candy, one showing me a picture of “her baby”. Sad to say at the least. That was the first approach of the night. The next ones were much older, sidling up in a suggestive fashion, one walking directly into P, face-to-face, which totally bewildered P. Not sure how flattering this all was, but it was unique. We finished off our first full day in Habana at the Café Taberna, where the Buena Vista Social Club was showcased (3 remaining members at that time). It was everything we had hoped…18 members with brass horns, drums, other percussions, guitar and a professional dance duo, the female member drawing folks out from the audience (including our own M). At the end, the rest of us were pulled into the fray in a conga line.
The next dispatch will continue our time in Habana,
Hasta Luego, Stan & Maggie