COMING SOON HOUSE ADVERTISING ads_leader
It was raining when I landed in Havana. In four weeks it would be one of only four wet days on the island of Cuba. After eight months of Spanish classes i was fairly confident and looking forward to putting those long hours in the classroom into practice. I found a mini casa de cambio in the airport and politely asked..."comprar cheques de viajero aqui?" "No" was the reply. Instead of asking if I could exchange my travellers cheques I was asking if I could buy some. Great start. All good, I had cash so i exchanged that instead. I figured I would be able to exchange my travellers cheques in Havana. If anyone is reading this and wondering why I had travellers cheques, it's because in Cuba now they do not accept anything issued from the U.S. No cash, travellers cheques nor credit cards. Canadian dollars, Euros or in my case Pounds are the best forms of currency to take. There are not so many ATM's in Cuba and unless you want to carry large amounts of cash, travellers cheques are best. After exchanging Pounds for Convertible Pesos I hailed a taxi and made my way into Havana. My first
impressions of Cuba were of a hot, curious and tropical country which had been a little "left behind". My taxi driver dropped me off as close to my hotel as he could get. I was spending my first two nights in Havana at the Hotel Ambos Mundos, which was Ernest Hemingway's base in Cuba for ten years and the reason I chose to stay there. On my second day in Havana I met "Juan Carlos" who was the partner of a lady whom I had met through a work collegue. In exchange for taking him a few letters she had promised that he would show me the city. Meeting Juan Carlos opened the door to one of my most memorable experiences in Cuba. Before coming I had read that around Cuba you could stay in "Casa Particulars", which was a kind of homestay and a cheaper option than staying in hotels. Juan Carlos took me to a family home in Havana Vieja, (old Havana). From the street below he shouted up and from a balcony looking over the street an older man appeared. After some Spanish which had obviously been learnt in the class that I missed, the man dropped
a key from the balcony and we let ourselves in. The man was "Ricardo" the father of the house. He greeted us at the door with his wife "Raquel". Ricardo spoke Portuguese and I can speak a little also, so we were able to converse freely and did so with enthusiasm. Both were incredibly good natured and fun people. Ricardo was about 73, looked 60 and acted 40. I was only the second New Zealander he had ever met and his curiousity of our part of the world was endless. Raquel loved music and loved to sing. Both she did well. Their daughter "Yoany" who was two years younger than me was kept busy with her own daughter ,"Naomi", but still had time to teach me both Spanish and Salsa. My first night with them all had me drinking rum with Ricardo and learning to dance with Yoany, while listening to Raquel sing along to traditional Cuban music on their stereo. I stayed with them for two more nights before semi-relunctantly taking a bus south to Trinidad. Before leaving Havana, Raquel had called a friend of hers in Trinidad who had offered me a room in her house for four
nights, which I gladly accepted. Trinidad is in the province of Sancti Spiritus and is a UNESCO declared world heritage site. "Teresa" was waiting at the bus stop when I arrived, which was a good thing or no doubt I would have been swallowed up by the numerous touts waiting to sell me on other accommodation. If a tout convinces you to go with him or her to a hotel or casa particular, then more often than not you will end up paying an extra 10% on the cost of a nights accommodation that will go to the tout. Teresa's hospitality mirrored that of my family in Havana. Every morning at my desired time there was breakfast on the table and then dinner when I came home. I tried to make the most of every minute in Trinidad. I took a ride on an old steam train built in 1919 to "El valle de los Ingenios", which was once home to many of the country's sugar refineries on which Trinidad built its wealth in the 18th and 19th centuries. The following day I took a "Coco-taxi", (a three wheeled 50cc motor scooter in the shape of a large motorbike helmet),
8km out of Trinidad to the "Peninsula de Ancon", which is a 5km stretch of golden-beige sand that slips into the warm blue waters of the Caribbean. I spent a whole day, on the beach, under the shade of a small palm tree, reading, sleeping and once in a while cooling off in the ocean. The therapeutic wonders of the sea are often taken for granted. Not this time. My nights in Trinidad consisted of great live music, live music and live music. Both the Casa de la musica, (House of Music), and the Casa de la Trova, (House of Traditional Music), were my homes after dark. The setting for the Casa de la Musica was just off the main square of Plaza Mayor and next to the church, "Iglesia de la Santisima Trinida". Originally built in 1620, it now also acts as a backdrop to the open air bar of the Casa de la Musica and to the many live bands that play there every night of the week. The Casa de la Trova is Trinidad's best known live music spot and has bands playing salsa and bolero in its courtyard every night. Its hard to avoid "jineteros" or
hustlers anywhere in Cuba. I tried to visit a cigar factory in Trinidad but the lady at the door would not let me enter until I bought some "blackmarket" cigars from a friend of hers. I refused and was waved away from entering the factory. There is always someone trying to sell you something or asking for something in Cuba. In Havana they have Police stationed on every street corner, in particular in Havana Vieja, watching the movement of locals and protecting "honest trade" being swallowed up by the blackmarket. In Havana outside the Partagas Cigar factory, a security guard sold me two cigars in very secretive fashion. I asked him if what we were doing was illegal and he replied, "In Cuba everything is illegal except for Fidel Castro". After Trinidad I travelled to the city of Santa Clara in the province of Villa Clara. Again, via networking, I had organised to stay with friends of Teresa's in Santa Clara. Miguel, a retired doctor was at the bus station with a cardboard sign saying, "Mechael Anderson", close enough. He took me home where I met his wife "Ires". She treated me like I was a son who had just
returned home after being away for many years. She had me there for a minute, I thought perhaps we had met before, but no, she was just very happy to meet me. She offered to take my bag into my room and would not take no for an answer. I think, however, as a woman in her 60's she probably regretted that decision. I didnt mind my backpack being dragged anyway.
Travellers coming to Santa Clara are predominantly guilty of being there for the sole purpose of paying homage to the cities adopted son, Ernesto Che Guevara. I for one was guilty as charged. Located on the outskirts of the city is a monument, plaza and museum paying tribute to a hero and legend. I have read and followed Che's life and demise through books and travel. To stand below this massive monument to a man not even born in this country is a testament to the love and respect that the Cuban people still have for Che Guevara. The monument itself is typically revolutionary style being basic and of concrete. On top of a tall, thick slab of concrete is a statue of Che looking out over the "Plaza
de la Revolucion" dressed in his normal military uniform and trademark beret. Inscribed just below his feet are the words , "Hasta La Victoria Siempre", ("Ever Onwards to Victory"). Underneath the monument is the Museo Memorial al Che. The memorial is more of a tomb that has an eternal flame burning for the Peruvians, Bolivians and Cubans who died with Che in Bolivia. Each man is also commemorated with his name and portrait etched into the walls; Che's is obviously more grandeur and taking pride and place. The museum next to the memorial is a showcase for items including photos, letters, pipes, reading glasses, a beret and a camera belonging to Che throughout his life. There is even a photo of him playing Rugby and a Rugby magazine that once belonged to him. I'm sure Che would have been a fan of the All-Blacks. I spent the whole day visiting other sites of interest relating to Che including the "Monumento a la Toma del Tren Blindado". This was the site in 1958 where Che with only about 300 rebels derailed a train and ambushed 408 government officers and troops during the revolution. After three days in Santa Clare I headed
north-west to the peninsula of Varadero in the province of Matanzas. This stop off was all about me. Varadero is regarded as having the finest beach in Cuba. After spending 4 full days there, I can honestly say that it is one of the finest beaches I have seen anywhere. I treated myself to a hotel, "The Pullman", which was one street back from the beach. I was told by the manager that the hotel was full but only saw one other family there. This suited me fine as I was given one of only two rooms that had balconies from which you could see the ocean. After dropping my backpack and checking out the view from the balcony I headed straight for the beach. I was almost blinded by the brilliant white sand and stood in amazement of the emerald greens, turquoise and blues of the sea. I dont mean to sound so over the top with my description, but the scene before me that day was somewhat surreal added to that there was no one within 200 meters of me. I did nothing for 4 whole days except sink myself into that picture I just painted for you.
My days were spent walking white carpets of sand and swimming clear blue sea. At night I dined in one of the many local restaraunts, then came back to my hotel to enjoy some "Havana Club" rum with a cigar on my balcony. On my second night I walked up to an open air bar to enjoy a beer and some live salsa. I enjoyed the salsa and really enjoyed the beer so after a recommendation from my waiter I went to check out a local club. Standing outside the club was an Irish couple, "Albie and Sophie", whom I had bumped into on several occasions while waiting for or travelling on buses. They, like me, had one or two local "nectars" and we were well on the way to having a good night. My final few days in Varadero were spent just like the first few. I caught a bus back to Hanvana and arrived mid-afternoon. I was looking forward to reuniting with Ricardo, Raquel, Yoany and Naomi. On my first night back, Ricardo pulled out the bottle of "Santiago" rum that he and I had started on my first night in the house while Raquel cooked up a
small banquet. I had planned my last four days with presicion as there were still many things I wanted to do and see. I dedicated part of the remainder of my time to the memory of Ernest Hemingway. I took a taxi southeast of Havana to the suburb of San Francisco de Paula which was also home to Hemingway's villa where he lived for 20 years. The villa now not only acts as a museum to the man but also offers very impressive views over Havana. Parts of the house were closed as massive renovations were taking place; Even when the house is fully opened to the public access is limited to peering through windows. Hemingway's fishing boat, "The Pilar", is suspended in a wooden pavillion where a tennis court once was. Next to the pavillion is the pool where "Ava Gardener" once swam nude while a party took place at the house. My guide told me the story of how Hemingway's wife was so angry at her husband watching that she took Ava Gardener's clothes that were by the pool and took them inside the house. This forced a very embarassed Gardener to walk through the party naked back
to the house and her clothes. I also made the pilgrimage to the small fishing village of "Cojimar" which offered Hemingway his inspiration to write the classic novel "The Old Man and the Sea". It was here that Hemingway sailed The Pilar from the hooped shape bay out to many of his own adventures at sea. He also met an old fisherman in his favourite restaurant on the bay, "La Terraza de Cojimar", on whom he based the character of "Santiago", for the novel. There were no old fishermen when I came to visit, in fact it was just myself and the waiting staff, which suited me fine. Before my lunch of fresh fish was served, I explored the walls full of photos of Hemingway in and around the area and paintings depicting the burly white bearded American in all his glory. There was also a photo of Fidel Castro sitting at a table overlooking the bay in the same restaurant. As there was no one to fight for it I chose that table to enjoy my lunch. Back in Havana, I followed the well trodden tourist path to Hemingway's favourite watering holes. "My Daiquiri's in El Floridita and my
Mojito's in La Bodeguita", a coin phrase of Hemingway's which I followed. Behind the "Capitolio", which has an uncanny resemblence to the Capitol Building in Washinton is the "Fabrica de Tobacos Partagas", which is one of the oldest and most productive cigar factories in Cuba. The factory produces some of the world's most recognisible cigars and in the 45 minute tour you can see them being dried, rolled, sorted and boxed. One venture I had planned months before leaving for Cuba was to take a ride around Havana in one of the many vintage American cars still in use even after 50 odd years. My car of choice was a 1955 convertible pink Chevy Desoto. I took Ricardo with me as in all his 73 years of living in Havana he had never been for a ride in one of these very cool classic cars. We drove around central Havana, me in the front seat and Ricardo arms out stretched over the backseat and looking in awe of his own city. We drove down the "Malecon", a stretch of road alongside an ocean playground for children on one side, and home to some of the finest yet forgotten old buildings
and apartments in Havana on the other. We went as far as, "The Riviera Hotel", built by the famous gangster, "Meyer Lansky". Infamous for also contributing to the Las Vegas skyline, Lansky was invited to Cuba by ousted President, "Batista", in the 50's to bring a little Vegas to Havana. I couldnt pass up the opportunity to pose with the hotel and the Desoto from the same era for a photo. If you make friends with the right people, going out and Havana nights can be something special. Every night of the week, central Havana can present you with bands playing live music, people dancing, eating, drinking and enjoying. Whether you dance or not, all fall victim to tapping their toes and forgetting everything except for the beat. By day, you can easily lose time by simply getting lost in the magnificant colonial architecture lining cobblestone streets. Washing hanging from balcony's, rustic wooden shutters opening to let music out onto streets below, children playing in the street oblivious to both you and a world of electronic toys, older gents, neighbours, sitting at tables and chairs in animated games of chess and dominos and the heat bringing everyone out onto balcony's,
frontdoor steps, the footpath and the streets to cool down, meet and hustle. Havana is really unique in the fact that it's a city that always reminds you of exactly where you are......Cuba.
COMING SOON HOUSE ADVERTISING ads_leader_blog_bottom
Tot: 0.566s; Tpl: 0.017s; cc: 5; qc: 48; dbt: 0.147s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb
Karan Michael
non-member comment
WOW!!!
Hey Mate, What a fantastic trip I have just experienced thru you... After a long work week, I came home to this (via Melissa) and feel as though I took my own mini vacation to Cuba. You have missed your calling, you most definitely should be writing travel commentaries or doing a travel show of sorts. Thanks for sharing the experience and add me to your contacts. All the best, we are all good and miss you :) With love, Karan and the gang.