Cuba Blog
girlfriends, Parque Centrale
Day 1 First Four Hours
We arrived in Havana at midnight from Costa Rica and prepared ourselves for the surreal imagery of gun toting soldiers in army fatigues scowling at the new horde of turistas as we made our way gingerly off the airbridge for our our first peek behind what used to be the iron curtain.
As we exited the plane the first overwhelming sensation was of smoke. Cigar smoke. Such a cliché – but there it was – and the further we made our way to immigration the stronger it became. However the other cliché of an armed presence was invisible if non existent as far as we were concerned. More about that later.
We entered the hall painted in glorious institutional green but not before passing through a glass corridor which allowed a glimpse into the departure lounge decorated in flags of the nations including a rather conspicuous one from the USA which came as something of a surprise.
As the corridor opened out into the processing room Donna and I filled out our immigration forms and stood in line with a degree of anticipation as we saw people being gestured toward a small window and then passing through a door into – well who knows where.
Donna watched as I disappeared. Later, she said she immediately started going through a scenario in which I was detained, deported or had just disappeared off the face of the planet. Fortunately before she had the whole synopsis going and was dialling an agent in LA pitching the sale of the movie rights, she was ushered through and within a minute or two we were reunited and began our hunt for our luggage. With the level of cigar smoke ramped up another notch we located our bags and walked out into the terminal. All in all the immigration and customs took around 15 minutes and here we were trying to exchange Canadian cash for Cuban Pesos or CUC’s with a non english speaking but very patient Cubano clerk. Fortunately a very helpful American jumped in and sorted it out for us so we then went about negotiating the 30 minute ride into Havana.
old car, Havana
tense cab ride-sans upholstery, Vinales
It was not long before we were passing cattle trucks packed with people and all manner of pre 1950 American classics and questionable Soviet era vehicles belching varying degrees of black smoke – many with their bonnets up and drivers attending to radiators, and some in pristine condition, their proud owners and passengers (almost all vehicles were filled with people, windows open wide to take full advantage of the relatively cool night air) working there way down the freeway to Havana on a balmy Summer’s evening. The aroma of thick cigar smoke having been replaced by oil and diesel as we bounced our way along to our hotel, the Parque Centrale in Old Havana for our one night of luxurious accommodation, located opposite the famous theatre Gran Teatro de la Habana. The remainder of the trip we were staying in casa particulares and cheaper hotels.
hotel worker, Havana day one, Havana
the ubiquitos Mojito
After check-in we settled into our rooms and I shot off a few photos of the communist party building opposite from my window. A lot of the historic buildings in Old Havana are lit at night and it’s easy to understand why it was called the Paris of the Carribbean. That is at least until the blackout, which kind of takes the spin off it. During daylight it takes on a different charm which has more to do with the resonant beauty of the cities former glory, now in advancing decay.
Power outages are frequent but fortunately do not usually last for more than an hour or two. This one was only for half an hour or so and after the lights came back on we ventured down to the bar for our first mojito. It may have been 1 am but we were wired and keen to soak in a little of what the rest of the night had to offer. We didn’t have to wait for too long. As we sat down to our second drink music started blaring outside the hotel in the square outside the Capitol Building a couple of blocks over. We downed our drinks and like a couple of moths headed toward the bright lights where a mass of people had materialised out of thin air. We pushed our way through the crowd toward a massive outdoor stage featuring full concert PA, lighting rig and currently Cuba’s hottest band at the time the name of which was shouted at me several times but escapes me.
musicians, Trinidad
I was mindful that I was carrying the bulk of our cash resources (no credit cards or travellers cheques or US dollars in Cuba) as I wasn’t entirely comfortable leaving it In the hotel room and so while soaking in the atmosphere trying to remain aware that I was standing in the middle of 2000 people I didn’t know in a country I didn’t belong, one and a half hours after stepping off the plane. I felt Donna pull away from my side and disappear into a group of people of to my right - her hands outstretched into the air. I quickly pushed my way over to her and was grabbed from behind. I turned around and was confronted with a woman smiling and gesturing for me to do the same as Donna who had appeared next to me.
Salsa.
We had been accosted by a group of revellers and were being forced to dance. Donna was in her element as she is actually very good at it.
I, while I can’t speak for all musicians, am genetically incapable of co-ordinating my feet and body without some kind of instrument attached to it. Fortunately, a fruit juice box filled with rum was being handed around which took the edge of any self conciousness on my part and we salsa’d the night way with our new best friends. Come 4am or so, the music stopped, the square lit up with floodlights and everyone started moving away. Literally, some one flicked a switch and the mood changed and everyone dispersed in an orderly fashion, but with a somewhat cautious and wary eye.
Old Havana
This was a look we were to see on the faces of a lot of people who approached us over the next couple of weeks. The police presence is subtle. It only took one car and a couple of officers strolling through the crowd to dissolve it within minutes. It was evident to us that repression was a subliminal but powerful deterrent.
the ever subtle Police presence
Our new salsa friends nervously hid their rum and ushered us to a shaded area on the perimeter of the square where we had a chat about his former life living in the US. He (and his brother who was a famous pitcher in Cuba’s major league baseball team) had been a resident there for 12 years and worked as a plumber after escaping on a boat across the Florida straits. During that time he was living the life of a Westerner with all the accoutrements of a working class American. He travelled to Germany at the request of a friend and on his return his passport was confiscated. Within hours he found himself deported back to Cuba. I can’t imagine what that must have been like – to have had all of the things denied you, namely freedom only to have it taken away again. The irony is that his freedom was taken from him not by Castro but by the country that epitomised the concept of it not only to the majority of the world but in particular to almost every Cubano we met.
old man, Havana
cigar man, Vinales
We arranged to meet the next day so he and his girlfriend could show us the sights. I realised that it wasn’t just a friendly encounter for them – that there was the possibility of a few pesos to supplement the meagre wage they received each month. Regardless, most Cuban people we met were friendly and helpful and we never resented the fact that this was an essential part of survival to which we happily contributed.
I asked him to swing by the hotel and he explained it was illegal for a Cuban to enter a hotel unaccompanied by a guest. We arranged to meet outside at midday and he gave me his phone number to call him when we were ready. The next day we ventured out early and met another couple who showed us around for most of the day. Sadly I did not get back to see our salsa friend - as these things go when on adventure, fate intervenes and shows you new possibilities and acquaintances.
This was going to be fun.
children, Trinidad
sisters, Havana
cab ride, Vinales style
street sweeper, Havana 5 am
sons of cuba, Havana
illegal cab ride, Havana
