Letters from Cuba, June 2009 (3) Havana people

Our first full day in Havana was marked by adjusting to the heat, and learning to pace ourselves. We managed a short walk along the quay looking out onto the Castillo del Morro, the giant fortress at the mouth of Havana Harbour. We could see the colossal Cristo de Habana, which is of white marble and can be glimpsed from many parts of Habana Vieja.

We also learned to get used to people softening us up and then making demands. For instance, the black African man who said he played for the Buena Vista Social Club and intended to visit New Zealand —and, one more thing, could we go to the shop across the road for me and buy some Pampers (disposable nappies) for his baby. And the man who asked Bill for a light, which he willingly provided, but, when asked why he didn’t have a lighter, said that a lighter costs the same as a packet of cigarettes, and it’s much better to buy the cigarettes.

Our waitress at the El Alfreizar Arabian restaurant asked if we had any soap (unfortunately, I had left my stock in my suitcase). Then she said she earns only $10 per month and had to support an elderly mother; if we planned to leave a tip, please could we place it under the tablecloth so it would be specifically for her — I did exactly this, although Bill thought me unwise. We enjoyed our meal at this restaurant, which was near the Plaza de San Francisco. Bill’s chicken kebabs and my chicken fillets were served with the ubiquitous rice, beans and salad, and we washed this down with some good Cuban beer. I followed this with Diplomatic pudding, which was a piece of cake soaked in syrup.

Bill & Ann Barrie at El Alfreizar restaurant, Havana, 2009

El Alfreizar Arabian restaurant menu, Havana 2009

At the nearby Basilica Menor de San Francisco, I noticed an enormous number of attendants — it had been the same in other such buildings — mostly women, wearing smart uniforms, very professional and pleasant. We were sure they were paid very little, and that it must be a tedious job.

Mosaic of Fidel Castro giving Patriarch keys of Basilica Menor, Havana. Photo: Ann Barrie 2009

We also noticed old Canadian school buses that had been donated to Cuba:

Old Canadian school buses in Havana, 2009. Photo: Ann Barrie

Letter 5, Havana, 9 June 2009

Today we visited two museums: Museo de la Revolución, which is housed in the magnificent former palace of the dictator Batista, and shows memorabilia, film, photos etc from the various Cuban revolutions; and Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, which has Cuban art and sculpture from colonial times onwards. Wonderful.

We dined at an Italian restaurant with a pretty courtyard in the lively Calle Obispo — shared a platter of assorted seafood and cold meats. We enjoyed the music from the band and bought their CD. 

Band in Italian restaurant in Calle Obispo, Havana, 2009   Photo: Ann Barrie

In the evening as we walked back to our casa, we would often pause to watch a group of men playing dominoes. The game as played in Havana differs from that played in New Zealand, or even elsewhere in Cuba. Players each have ten pieces, the largest number of dots is nine instead of six, and the pieces come in different colours.

Inès and her husband arrived back today. She said the house was passed down to them through her husband’s family. There is no real estate industry in Cuba, and on the whole you can’t buy and sell houses. When we paid Inès, the official receipt was for 75 CUC (25x3) for accommodation, but the receipt she gave us had the extra 24 CUCs that we paid for breakfasts. Owners of casas particulares pay quite a steep licence fee, and meals are how they make a little extra money.

We were pleased with our choice of casa for our first three days in Cuba. True, it was away from the centre, and so we needed to budget 5 CUC for a cocotaxi to get there, but the area was clean and pleasant, with most people owning their own homes.

Letters from Cuba, June 2009 (2) Havana first impressions

Letter 3, Casa Ines, Calle Segunda #559 e/ Ayestaran y Ayuntamenta, Plaza de la Revolución.

Bill Barrie with puppy for sale on Calle Obispo, Havana, 2009

Our little apartment, near Plaza de la Revolución, is on the first floor, and has a terrace ‘to take sunbaths during the day’. We have a bedroom with two single beds and a noisy air-conditioning unit that we can turn on and off. There is also a bathroom, and a kitchenette with sink, fridge, two gas rings and a small collection of battered saucepans so we can boil water to make cups of tea. It is very basic, but clean, private and comfortable.

Once settled in we set off walking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. Fortunately, a young woman driving a cocotaxi hailed us — these yellow, egg-shaped scooters carry two passengers (it’s a wise precaution to wear sunglasses to avoid getting grit in the eyes). We paid 5 CUC.

Our destination was Callejon de Hamel, a well-known street in Centro Habana where black Cuban musicians and artists, Rumba groups, and tourists gather  each Sunday from noon. It was a lively, noisy scene. Bill got caught out by a man who persuaded him to buy two expensive drinks, made with a flourish, consisting of a little rum, a measure of liquid honey, and crushed herbs topped up with water.  

Ann Barrie at Callejon de Hamel, Havana 2009

From here we escaped first to the Malecón, Havana’s famous 7 km seafront promenade —we appreciated the regular cooling showers of rain —and then to the Hotel Nacional. This hotel, an art deco gem, was opened in 1930 and hosted many famous people in the ‘30s, ‘40s and ‘50s. We had a cool beer in the garden bar overlooking the Bay of Havana.

With our remaining energy, we walked up La Rampa, a lively street with offices, bars and restaurants, to the Coppelia ice cream parlour — this is a large glass and metal building made famous by the film Strawberry and Chocolate. The queue of people waiting to buy ice creams in Cuban National currency stretched right round the block. Feeling rather guilty, we went to the window where you can pay with CUCs without queuing. Across the road is the Hotel Havana Libre, a large, boring block-shaped building that is enlivened by a colourful mural and its history: it was opened in 1958 and a year later was requisitioned from the Americans and became Fidel Castro’s HQ. We noticed very quickly that in Havana there is a cult of Che Guevarra; postcards, tee-shirts etc show Che with his flowing hair and beret with a Commander’s gold star.

Plaza de la Revolución, Havana 2009           Photo: Ann Barrie

Once back at our casa we found there was little food to be had in our residential neighbourhood, being Sunday evening. We eventually located a piece of roast chicken at a little cafeteria behind a petrol station, and we washed it down with a cold beer.

Havana is divided into three areas: Habana Viejo (Old Havana), a UNESCO World Heritage site; Habana Centro; and the ‘newer area’ of Vedado. The vast Plaza de la Revolución, where Fidel made many speeches, and where the Pope celebrated Mass a few years ago, is just south of the Vedado; and our homestay is just south of that Plaza. It is too far to walk to the main tourist sites, but is in a quiet, pleasant neighbourhood. The houses in our street are Spanish colonial style dating from the 1940s, mostly in need of a coat of paint (they seem much nicer inside).

On our first evening, Bill commented that there must be a restaurant next door, as there was a hum of voices from people enjoying themselves. We stepped out on to our terrace to investigate, and decided it was simply the cumulative sound of families enjoying the evening in the surrounding houses . The children play on the street — they appear happy and well-fed and wear smart school uniforms.

Letter 4, Havana, Monday 8 June, 2009

The first morning we slept in. Drina woke us with breakfast near 10.00 am — platters of fruit, large glasses of freshly squeezed melon juice, scrambled eggs, two cups of hot milk, and a little flask filled with strong Cuban coffee, all very nicely presented. The only thing we didn’t enjoy was the square of heavily processed cheese; Bill fed this to the neighbour’s perro triste (sad dog), who had been whimpering the night before; this cheered up the dog considerably, as he appears very hungry.

Breakfast at Havana casa particulara, 2009   Photo: Ann Barrie

We struck out on foot toward the landmark 109m tower that marks the Jose Marti memorial. I paid 5CUC to climb to the top of the tower, which is the highest point in Havana and affords panoramic views in all directions. At the base of the tower, there is a fine sculpture of a man in a reflective pose, and also the Hose Marti Museum — Marti, a great Cuban patriot, is revered by Cubans.

We caught a cocotaxi from the Plaza to the Bacardi Building in Habana Viejo, where Adventure Travel, Wellington, had told us we could pick up travel vouchers for our five days pre-arranged travel. To our surprise, we were barred entry by the security guard who said there were no commercial firms in the building. An hour or two later, after receiving help from a man I approached in the street and also a woman in a tiny information bureau, we finally found the correct building: Lonja del Commercio in the Plaza de San Francisco. The three young women working there said the firm had changed their address two years ago, and they gave me address stickers to take back to Adventure Travel.

In Calle Obispo were saw puppies, far too young to be taken from their mother, for sale. My animal-loving Bill couldn’t resist a cuddle (see photo at top).

Blog by Ann Barrie

Letters from Cuba, June 2009 (1) Toronto to Havana

Ten years ago, restless traveller that I was, I took my husband, Bill, to Cuba. We were both interested in the politics, society, architecture of this country. Bill, already in his late seventies, was nervous at the prospect of going there, and so I arranged for us to go via Canada, a country he had always wanted to visit.*   I organised most of the trip myself, but after becoming anxious at the audacity — or foolhardiness  — of what I was doing, I used Adventure Travel to arrange the five-day central portion.  Here are the letters I emailed to family and friends.

Fidel Castro & Camilo Cienfuegos 1959

Letter 1, Best Western Hotel, Toronto Airport

Saturday 6 June 2009

Almost in Cuba ­— our flight leaves at 8.30 tomorrow morning.

On our Air Canada flight from Toronto I sat next to a Canadian woman who holidayed in Cuba two years ago. She and her husband travelled round in the buses, like Bill and I plan to do. She said she went to Canada with a whole lot of questions, and came away with a whole lot more.

We haven’t seen much of Toronto, only our airport hotel** Last night we dined at at Vietnamese restaurant, one of the few businesses near the motel. It was called Van’s Passion, and the owner was setting up for the Saturday night cabaret – he showed us the huge and perfect roses he had bought for the tables.

I had a swim in the hotel pool and chatted to a Canadian family who had holidayed at Varadero beach resort, a popular spot in Cuba for Canadians wanting to escape the long northern winter.

Letter 2, now in Cuba:

Our Air Canada flight left promptly at 8.30 on Sunday. There was a big, ebullient, pony-tailed, Indian-born Canadian seated next to us. He was off for a ‘boys’ weekend away’ weekend at Varadero Beach, and had managed to incorporate some business into the trip. He seems to be on numerous high level think tanks advising heads of government and so on — or perhaps he was bragging — and he said tAir Canada is almost on its knees financially. Certainly the inflight entertainment wasn’t working, and every morsel of food had to be paid for on the spot.

During the flight we filled in three forms, including the all-important tourist card. (An advantage of Air Canada was that they arranged this, rather than passengers needing to sort it out for themselves.) Among items it is forbidden to import are bread toasters — when we later saw the precarious nature of electrical wiring in Havana, we decided this ban was perhaps wise.

Customs declaration for Cuba

On the approach to Cuba we flew through high columns of cumulous cloud, and it was a thrill to see the island. We arrived at Havana’s Jose Marti Airport around 12.00 noon, and were immediately struck by the fact that ALL airport workers were wearing masks as a precaution against swine flu.

Once through Immigration, our first task was to change Canadian dollars to Cuban currency at the CADECA (Official Government Exchange House). There are two official currencies: Peso Convertible (CUC), which is for tourists; and Cuban Peso (CUP or Moneda Nacional – M.N. for locals. We got considerably less for our Canadian dollars that we had expected, and are now working on the basis that one CUC is worth almost NZD2.

Our next task was to get a taxi to travel the 25km into town. We had been advised it was obligatory for tourists to use a Government tax; to agree on a price before leaving the airport; and that it would cost about $25. In fact, we paid $30 and realised later we’d been taken advantage of.

Our taxi was a beat-up Lada and we travelled into Havana at high speed. Our first impression was of a very green country, with a Caribbean feel — not the colourless place some people say it is. Just like the tourist brochures say, we saw some big American cars from the ‘50s, but we also saw Japanese cars, some World War II jeeps, an occasional Citroen, and, above all, beat-up Ladas.

I had written the address of our casa particulara (homestay) on a piece of paper: Case Ines, Calle Segunda #559 e/ Ayestaran y Ayuntamenta, Plaza de la Revolución. The address proved difficult to find – our taxi driver, and every subsequent taxi we took, had to stop to ask directions.

Our casa particulara was at Calle Segunda, Plaza de la Revolución

We were sightly taken aback to discover that Ines, the owner of our homestay was away at the beach until Tuesday. A sweet, 70-ish woman called Drina, who spoke not a word of English, was holding the fort. I summoned up enough Spanish to order desayuno (breakfast) next morning.

We chatted to a Frenchman, who was staying in the downstairs apartment, and is about to leave Cuba after holidaying here for two weeks. He has come annually for the past nine years, but no longer likes Cubans. He says they are all liars, and do not agree to fixed prices; that after living under Communism all their initiative has been sapped; that they don’t think about the past or plan for the future — for instance, if they get any money, they spend it immediately. We decided that since we have only been in the country for five minutes we would make up our own minds about all this.

Shortly afterwards, a harassed-looking neighbour arrived. Since Ines was away, he had promised to register Bill and me, and our registration had to be handed to the committee this evening. We had to show him our passports, as owners of casas are obliged by law to register tourists’ personal data with the authorities. We struck a minor setback when his biro ran out of ink; I offered him mine, but he said it would not be acceptable to the authorities unless the ink was the same colour — fortunately it was.  

*Our other options would have been Mexico and South America, as it was not possible to fly to Cuba from the USA.

**We have planned two nights in Toronto, rather than one, but Air Canada schedules were changed.

Blog by Ann Barrie