Travel reflections on Cuba, 12/15-1/16
Susanne and I began our plans to go to Cuba nearly a year before the trip was scheduled. The US was beginning to open diplomatic channels with Cuba and I was eager to see this country before it gets inundated by eager investors. For the past 50+ year, all financial engagements with Cuba have been forbidden to US citizens, which made it impossible to travel there legally. Recently, Obama opened the door for travel providing it serves one of a dozen or so defined purposes related to education, journalism, research, charity, etc. But it’s a bureaucratic gray zone to demonstrate that you fit into one of these categories as, aside from an organized tour and/or conference, there is no application or certification process.
Susanne and I could find no direct, commercial flights from the US, so we decided to enter Cuba as thousands of American have done over the decades: through a “gateway country.” We chose Mexico although Canada would work as well. We were unable to negotiate an online reservation for a flight from Cancun to Havana through a Cuban airline, but Interjet, a Mexican airline took my credit card. We were both delighted and dubious, with images of being stuck in Cancun for the duration of our scheduled time for Cuba. That did not happen…
Upon recommendation by our friend Heather, who had been to Cuba a few years earlier, we decided to divide our time in Cuba in half, beginning with an organized tour through a company called Locally Sourced and, after getting the lay of the land, we’d determine the second week according to what we learned in the first week. Since Locally Sourced is based in Australia, we could pay using US credit cards. I highly recommend this tour group if you want to travel in Cuba - they were responsive to all questions before arrival, and they will help in a variety of ways - organized tours and individualized support. Additionally, our guide, Danny, was fabulous. Locally Sourced knows how to give visitors an experience that is close to the Cuban culture and people while also providing good accommodations in a country that is not at all prepared for the level of tourism that is beginning to happen.
Since there is no banking between the US and Cuba, Susanne and I needed to carry cash. We brought euros. It’s a quite challenge to be without a credit card! That little piece of plastic offers so much security! It felt nearly impossible to know how much cash we really needed. We considered taking out more money in Cancun, but eventually decided to have faith and just proceed with our original budget. (BTW, to give you a sense of how inexpensive this trip was - we were in Cuba for 16 days, the 8 day tour was $650 and I spent only $1,400 for incidentals and the following 8 days.)
The flight to Havana went as smoothly as any airline travel can go. Getting through customs was a breeze and the customs officer smiled sweetly when I requested that my passport not be stamped. She said, “I know.”
We entered into the fray of taxi drivers eager to find passengers amongst the arrivals and found young men with our names on a placard. We had arranged to be picked up upon arrival through the tour company and the thrill of being met by someone with my name on a card led me to assume he was associated with the tour. We said something about not having changed money and he seemed to think it was no problem, so we left the airport without doing so. This was not a good idea and clearly a misplaced notion of being taken care of. The taxi driver was just that - a taxi driver.
But it wasn’t a real problem. Cuban restaurants were happy to take Euros at a 1 to 1 exchange rate, which wasn’t as good as a bank would give, but not too bad. I changed money a few days later.
Susanne and I were each in a different car and soon discovered we were going to the same residence - roommates, the driver tells me. It’s raining and windy, not what I expected for arriving in Havana.
The taxi driver told me he was trained as an engineer, but there are no jobs, so he’s driving a taxi. In this country where buildings are becoming ruins and in great need of repair and reconstruction, Cuba needs their engineers! This was the first encounter with the outcome of their failed socialist experiment. Small capitalistic ventures are just beginning to be allowed above board and only those folks enterprising enough to open casa’s (their version of airbnb) or provide other services, mostly for tourists, can make a decent living. Those who work for the government, which means doctors, engineers, accountants, bank tellers, teachers and the such, earn about $20-60 a month - a pittance compared to a casa owner who, I figured out, with 2 rooms at 80% capacity can bring in $1,400 without tips. This awesome discrepancy leaves Cubans serving tourists and with no meaningful professional class of its own. But I digress from my travels so, more about this later.
Back to arriving in Havana:
Buildings along the Malecon, worn by weather and time, with an occasional refurbished building.
Our home for the night is right on the Malecon. The drive took us past a series of buildings whose facades must once have been awesomely ornate. But with the ocean just 50 meters away, and this coast hit regularly by storms and hurricanes, it’s surprising that the buildings are still here at all. It’s also surprising that they, and the seawall were built so close to the shore.
The experience of arriving in a significantly foreign location always fills me with details that feel deeply important at the time, but probably don’t bear much repetition here. Suffice it to say that the taxi driver didn’t know how to find the specific apartment we were assigned to in this 6+ story building, and with no concierge or system to ring-up and announce our presence, it took us a while to find our new home. But eventually we were ushered into a railroad flat with ornately tiled floors. There are probably at least 8 rooms from front to back, all coming off the central hall. In the back, the living/dining room is darkened because the three french doors are shuttered against the driving weather.
I imagined that on a beautiful day, the doors would be open, the ocean view awesome with the sun setting to the left. Instead, it’s getting dark and the ocean is wrestling noisily with itself and the shoreline. Pretty soon Susanne and I will brave the weather and walk a couple of blocks to a restaurant, which we know about because I was lucky enough last night in Mexico to download an English-Spanish translator onto my tablet and could communicate with Rosa, the proprietress.
The sea is wild, waves huge, crashing their spray over the seawall. They closed the road along the water’s edge and the wind is howling through the loosely fitting windows which are shuttered against the storm. Rosa, keeps saying no problem. I think she means that they don’t predict a hurricane.
This evening we see a Cuban couple sitting in lawn chairs in such a position as to be repeated showered with the waves crashing over the wall. Neighbors call out and they call back, everyone is laughing.
We head out into this crazy weather of wind and rain, the streets are uneven and muddy with dirty puddles everywhere. Not yet initiated to Cuba, even going 2 blocks to a restaurant for dinner felt like an expedition into wilderness. At the restaurant there is a voluptuous mulatto woman with long, dread-locked braids piled and messily falling out of a head scarf at the table next to us. I ask her if she speaks English, "yes," and suggest she join us. She’s from Portland, OR! She’s an international correspondent with lots of travel experience to third world countries, especially Haiti. Talking with her makes us feel less lost in this dark, humid windiness. She’s ready to embark on a biking tour and had taken an old-car tour of Havana earlier in the day. It’s too bad we didn’t take a picture of Kimberly!
The next morning, we have a free day before meeting up with our tour group for dinner. Rosa is like a mother hen - as we get ready to leave she made Susanne remove her silver bling and told us to not wear our backpacks. We left according to her approval, but fairly quickly slipped back in to exchange the uncomfortable shoulder bag for the daypack.
I wasn’t feeling all that well this day, not too bad, but concerned about whether this the beginning of digestive problems. Happily it passed and this was the extent digestive problems for me during the 2+ weeks. We took off after a slow breakfast and walked into the windy, partly cloudy day along the Malecon.
One of many monuments commemorating victory and one of the many dogs who make this city their home.
Waves continued to break over the seawall. This must actually be a regular occurrence! Later we encounter a Cuban man who seems friendly and tells us the seawall had been built by the Americans in 1901. It turns out that he wants something from us - not money he says, but if we have toothpaste or toothbrushes - interesting that he wants exactly what I brought. (I had purchased a supply of toothpaste and toothbrushes from Costco, as well as batteries and flash drives to give to people we met.) There was a policeman on the counter when I returned with a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste and he clearly avoided being seeng talking with me. This was our first encounter with something we had read: Cuban authorities have done a great deal to protect tourism (and probably attempt to protect their socialistic experiment) are very watchful about keeping local people away from tourists unless it’s within sanctioned bounds of service transactions.
The day was off and on again rain. We had to stop under awnings or get a drink in a cafe as brief squalls come through. We walked along the Prado, where there were racks ready for artists to hang their paintings. But the weather was too unpredictable for the artists to leave their work up. I imagine on calm sunny days, it’s a busy, colorful place. From there we went to the square where you can take a tour in a spiffy old American car, and then on to Old Havana. The weather interfered with being able to enjoy much exploring, but we found a cafe where the music was appealing and lingered for a while.
In the late afternoon, back at the casa, we met a couple of women who are also a part of our tour group. We joined them for a drink at a nearby bar with an awning, right on the water. In Seattle this would be a prize location with the ocean-front view. But it appears that old Havana is the happening place and this area is a little out of the way.
It’s time to take a taxi to Centro Havana to have dinner with our tour group and we foolishly assume taxis will be abundant. But with the rain they are few and far between. We eventually arrive half an hour late, but this is Cuba-time and we’re not even the last to arrive. Dinner is at a European-style restaurant on the 3rd floor with little signage to indicate its presence. We go up 2 flights via a spiral staircase and find a surprisingly formal setting. This was the first place we found with linens on the tables. Everywhere else, food is given with one very small thin napkin.
Here we meet Danny and the tour group. Danny is young, 26. He listens very well and responds easily with American idioms. Our group is quite international consisting of a Finish couple, 4 single women: British, Romanian, Indian and Japanese, and an American couple from San Diego with an 18 year old daughter adopted from Romania. As it turns out, we’re a very compatible group. The tour is designed with a fair amount of discretionary time, but we repeatedly chose to stay together and do the same activities. This made things easier for Danny and it also gave us more catered transportation, as the tour bus could utilized for the group as a whole.
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| one of the nicer interiors of a casa, an apartment in Old Havana |
Our first stop is at Bay of Pigs where, in 1961, Cuban exiles from the States unsuccessfully stormed the island in an attempt to overthrow of Castro (and ended up surrendering to the Cuban militia). We watched a propaganda documentary and also came upon this billboard where Uncle Sam gets clobbered, nearby:
Messages like this were sprinkled here and there, but all the Cubans I met were excited to meet someone from the States and everyone has an uncle, brother or father who lives here. Interestingly, I never heard of an aunt, sister or mother living in the States…
Then, on to Cienfuegos, a younger town and founded by the French rather than Spanish.
Then, on to Cienfuegos, a younger town and founded by the French rather than Spanish.
The buildings along the Prado (the main boulevard of every town) are in relatively good shape.
We are the first guests of a newly opened case and meet the wife, her 14 year old daughter and next door neighbor, an experienced casa proprietress who guides her through the routines of meeting new guests. The rooms are sweeter than Havana - smaller but with soap and shampoo! Breakfast is on the rooftop patio.
The next day we see kids going to school. And, at 9am, the shop with lines out the door wasn’t a bank, it was an ice-cream parlor!
The next day we see kids going to school. And, at 9am, the shop with lines out the door wasn’t a bank, it was an ice-cream parlor!
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| This dapper sculpture is of Cienfuegas' local character, Benny Moore, a Cuban musician |
We continue south and east to Santa Clara to visit Chez’s memorial and then to Trinidad on the southern coast.
Chez Guevara was an Argentinian doctor turned Marxist revolutionary who joined Fidel in the Cuban revolution, and is one of the most significant Cuban heroes. He became involved in the government that followed, overseeing banks as well as training militia. It appears Fidel didn’t maintain colleagueship with many who fought with him, and unlike some who “disappeared,” Chez left intact to engage in revolutions in Africa and South America, where he was eventually killed.
The mausoleum contains Chez’s remains which were brought back from Bolivia along with a number of his comrades. This site is sacred and there was to be no talking in the mausoleum. The museum contains some of Chez’s personal items and many photos of Chez with his golf clubs, medical items, lying on a pillow in the mountains resting from a skirmish… Seeing these photos of friendly and intelligent looking people, I find it so hard to wrap my mind around what it takes to kill and be willing to die for a cause.
I find it poignant to be here, in a society where so many were alive during their revolution. I had attempted to read their history before the trip, but now, being here, it’s far more compelling to consider. For those interested, here’s an attempt at a brief overview of recent years:
The heyday of Cuban development was early 1900’s when both US corporations and the mafia pumped a great deal of development into the country. With the toppling of their one-crop economy during the Great Depression and a series of corrupt and authoritarian regimes, the Cubans were ready for Fidel’s revolution. His message wasn’t Marxist at the time of the revolution, but after overthrowing the government, and navigating a series of international assaults, he began to privatized all industries, effectively stealing many US corporations. At the same time he and his revolutionary buddies provided free healthcare and reached out to expand education and literacy throughout the country. This created a divide among the Cubans who lost and those who gained in this maneuver. The US instituted an embargo on all trade with Cuba which gelled solidarity amongst the working class and fervor against his authoritarian rule by those who lost their businesses. US policy was to welcome all Cubans who managed to leave their country while simultaneously attempting to starve the country by blocking all American trade. This is still in effect today, with Obama just beginning to negotiate an opening of these doors. During the 60’s, Fidel forbade exodus and created an alliance with the Soviet Union who supported this country to the tune of about $93 million a day! When the Soviet Union fell apart and the Berlin wall came down in ‘89, the Soviets abandoned Cuba and Cubans were left in dire straights. For a short time Fidel allowed people to leave which gave rise to the significant wave of refugees who came to Florida in the early 90’s. The Cuban economy has gradually evolved over the past 25 years, with small allowances of private enterprise and Fidel, now Raul, allow foreign investment of up to 49% ownership of hotels and other industries. We met many foreign tourists during our travels, including people from the Eastern block of Europe. The consensus is that Cuba is where the Eastern block was 20 years ago. Quoting an American tourist who has been living in Poland for the past 25 years - “if you pretend to pay me, I’ll pretend to work.”
This is a resource-rich country, but not having been allowed to creatively engage with development for several generations, people have little incentive to do so, other than on a very small scale. As our guide said, if the doors to foreign investment were swung open, this country would be bought in 2 minutes. It’s being bought slowly anyway. A Cuban American owns the fabulous restaurant we went to in Trinidad, an Italian married a Cuban woman and she now owns and runs the casa in Havana… the list goes on.
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| Passports are documented with every casa. |
Speaking of Trinidad, we arrive in this small colonial town in the late afternoon. Our hosts are a family, and the adult son picked us up from the tour bus using his electric motorcycle as a rolling cart carry our bags.
He was careful to show us how to get back to the corner where we were to meet our group, but in all of 3 blocks, we managed to get lost anyway. We ran into Lakshmi and Teruko who were lost as well…
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| The electric motorcycle gets charged each night in the living room |
Eventually, we found our way to the group and Danny showed us the town square, which is also the internet hotspot. Nearby a bank, money exchange, school, town hall, etc.
But the real square for this special town is Mayoral Square where a wide stone staircase leads up to a stage for bands and a stone dance floor. We watched the most amazing salsa dancing. In addition to traditional partner dancing, they also played out choreographed groups of couples, like a square dance, but doing salsa. I left around 10:30 and those who stayed another 2 hours saw even more of the choreographed activity.
Trinidad is on the southern coast and boasts of mountains for hiking (hills, really), beaches as well as city life. The weather became more tropical and we took our first real beach excursion here. The water was too stirred up for snorkeling, but it was sweet and refreshing. Several of us went sailing on a catamaran with Ovi - who looked like a Cuban California surfer. Joanna (28, from Romania), Emma (18 adopted from Romania), her father and me. I overheard Joanna telling Emma that she’s dating a 50 year old man. Emma, quick on the uptake said, “he must be young at heart.” Emma is the golden child of our group, beloved and admired by her parents, and as far as I could see, it’s well deserved. She’s more fluent in Spanish than any of the rest of us and became translator with Hector, our bus driver, when Danny wasn’t around. Hector looks like Harry Belafonte and moves with the same grace.
After 2 nights in Trinidad, we drove the entire next day to Vinales, on the western end of the island. I hardly notice that it’s Christmas eve because the Cubans don’t give much attention to this holiday. New Year’s is when they celebrate. Our casa mom said “feliz navidad” this morning, but haven’t seen more reminders than that.
Danny told us that most Cubans would have dinner with one’s family on Christmas eve and since we are family for a week, we’ll all have dinner at a casa. The choices were: grilled fish, shrimp, lobster, turtle, pork and lamb. All options were to be prepared at one person’s home!
Danny told us that most Cubans would have dinner with one’s family on Christmas eve and since we are family for a week, we’ll all have dinner at a casa. The choices were: grilled fish, shrimp, lobster, turtle, pork and lamb. All options were to be prepared at one person’s home!
Dinner was on the patio of a casa with a swimming pool. The mojitos and pina coladas began to circulate. We even have wine tonight. Wine is an interesting issue - the Cubans don’t make their own wine and imports are particularly expensive making wine one of the most expensive drinks one can have. Rum on the other hand is cheap and abundant in all shades of caramel.
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| home water filtration system using local rock |
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| Yukka roots taste fabulous, better than potato! |
And I've barely mentioned the old American cars yet! They are everywhere, in all levels of repair and disrepair. Many are treated with tender loving care and washed daily.
I came upon this one early one morning in Vinales.
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| This is a typical public bus. |
Homes (casas) where tourists can rent rooms in Vinales:
Our sweet tour group gathers for Christmas dinner at another casa, the home of a doctor and his extended family. We hear that lodging is becoming scarce as we move into the New Year’s holidays so Susanne and I arrange to return to this home after a beach respite for our final 4 days in Cuba.
The next day we return to Havana where a tour of the city in an old American car is a part of the package. The cars are all convertible, with fancy 4 tone horns which can be played like a child’s piano and spew smoke like there’s no tomorrow. But it was a good opportunity to get an overview of Havana, which even has a Chinatown, though we moved too quickly for me to get many photographs. We drove through wealthier areas, homes that were stolen taken by the Fidel and given to his generals and ambassador row.
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| National Theater in Havana |
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| Music in the Square |
At this point in the tour I’m ready to settle down for a few days with no agenda. Susanne and I make plans to leave the next day for a beach respite in Varadero, Cuba’s finest beach resort area. We have a final dinner with our tour group at a private table in the courtyard of Art Pub in Havana. It’s been a lovely week with this group, and now, I’m ready for less structured time.
The second week:
We arranged transportation to Varadero at the Hotel Inglaterra. We almost booked a hotel because of rumors that the casa’s were booked, but thought we’d take the risk and see what we could find in person. Arriving in Varadero the next day, every casa was indeed full. A fellow with a horse and cart agreed to take us from door to door where we were turned down at least 15 times. I scanned the guide book and found a near-by inexpensive and more importantly, not all-inclusive hotel and asked him to take us there. Unbelievably, they had a room for us!
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After 4 days we head back to Vinales for the final 4 days of our time in Cuba. A man called out as we headed out of the hotel, “are you going to Havana?” “No, Vinales.” He points to a bus in front of the hotel and tells us. “this bus is going to Vinales, please, get on.” We do and get driven the 5 blocks to the bus station where he asks us to not pay the ticket agent for our ticket and inst ead, pay him. It feels a little precarious because we know the bus will be completely booked, but we agree and join the underground economy which I’m sure helped him buy beer for the upcoming New Year’s celebration. I don’t know who got bumped because we had “unbooked” seats, but from what I gleaned, getting bumped is one of those things that happens.
We arrive in the mid-afternoon. Boris and Yuya were thrilled to see us because they were holding our rooms on faith that we’d show up. We enjoy a meal prepared by Yuya’s mother and go to bed early. The next morning is New Year’s eve. Roosters have begun their calling around 4. I get up around 6:30. The air is calm and cool and the sky is beginning to lighten. The horizon is trimmed with the darkness of clouds, and in the paleness overhead, a gibbous moon and venus are vivid.
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| 3 generations of the casa family |
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| Father, a dentist of some renown, and daughter |
Our final 4 days include a day trip to a nearby beach with 3 women from New Zealand, a visit to the local botanical garden and sightseeing in the Vinales valley. We considered joining the townsfolk at a large cave 9 kilometers out of town where they party ‘til 5:30am. But electricity had cut out that evening and there was uncertainty about whether the cave would be lit. I may have felt more adventurous if I were fluent in Spanish, but we had dinner at a nearby recommended restaurant and called it a night.
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| a near-by all-inclusive hotel |
Our return to Seattle was via Cancun where we stayed in a hotel that far outclassed any accommodations we had in Cuba. We spent the following morning wandering through Market 28, the largest market in Cancun, and were overwhelmed by the amount of inventory stacked everywhere. This was a stark contrast to the spare approach to living I had become accustomed to in Cuba. Then, returning to Seattle was surprisingly uneventful. The customs process for re-entering the States was quite streamlined. It seemed pretty clear they had already processed the whole planeload before we landed as there was no questioning upon re-entry, and customs personnel in uniform simply repeated, “welcome home” to each person passing through.
I could tinker for a long time with this writing, but instead I’ll sign off and send it to anyone interested in reading about What I did over the Christmas Break. I hope to return to Cuba again, to see how they navigate their precarious transition. There is so much potential here, but also great danger of commercialism. I hope they find a way to rebuild in a manner that respects their culture and brings out the inherent beauty of this diverse island.
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