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Published: November 8th 2008
Havana - Vinales - Cienfuegos - Trinidad - Playa Ancon - La Habana 'Fidel is bad, everything is bad; the shelves in this shop are empty. We have nothing, no food, no money' The elderly man who is telling me this points his walking cane at a middle aged European tourist & the young Cuban woman at his side. He directs some spit at her feet & declares with disgust that she is a prostitute. He doesn't hate her, rather the system that has led to her fate.
A few hours later we'll have left Cuba; it's taken until now to find someone willing to tell us how much they despise the situation that Cubans have lived with for so long. Until now the romantic notion of this revolutionary anti American tropical island is all we have seen.
For some Cuba is a packaged holiday paradise of white sand beaches & exotic nightlife, with politics & everyday Cuban people far from their minds. Take a charter flight from Europe or Canada to one of many resorts & you can be safe in the cocooned knowledge that no ordinary Cuban will ever get near you; many of the
Coco Taxi
La Habana resort areas are entirely off limits to any Cubans other than the ones that work there.
For others Cuba is a unique contrasting contradiction of Latin and Caribbean cultures, perhaps a socialist utopia where rum & cigars are a way of life & salsa music can be heard on every street.
Our journey begins & ends in Havana, or Habana as it is known locally. We arrive with no real idea of what to expect, this being our first venture to anywhere remotely near this part of the world. I expect to see a few old American cars on the streets, perhaps drink some mojitos or be engulfed in a cloudy haze of second hand cigar smoke. I arrive thinking I know a little about revolutionary (then) Prime Minster, Fidel Castro & the Argentinian revolutionary Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, who is revered as much in Cuba as Fidel. I arrive wanting to learn more of how the US government came to hate Cuba so much & hope to finally understand how, as such bitter enemies, they manage to maintain the notorious military base on Cuban soil in Guantanamo Bay.
We've barely left the airport before we overtake a
vintage 1950's American car; I resist the temptation to find my camera, thinking that perhaps I'll see a few more. As we head into the city a feeling of familiarity engulfs me; I can't decide why - perhaps it's the palm trees gently swaying in the warm breeze; perhaps the decaying colonial architecture. It's more than likely got something to do with the large amount of people just hanging out on the streets. Meeting friends, talking, playing simply passing the time of day; here there doesn't have to be a purpose to be outdoors. You don't need to be going to work, or going shopping. People are outdoors, talking, meeting, relaxing, enjoying themselves. Everything is so colourful, so vibrant so full of life. Even the smallest shack of a home is brightly painted pink, blue or yellow.
Arriving in old Habana the streets narrow & are cobbled; on either side three or four storey high terraced buildings cast a shadow across men playing cards, women with babies & kids playing football.
We arrive to find that the accommodation we thought we had prebooked doesn't have a room for us. An ironic situation - in order to get a
Revolutionaries
Museum of the Revolution Cuban Tourist Card (a visa of sorts) you must have a room booked for when you arrive. The lack of a bed for us doesn't seem to be a problem; because this is not a hotel, a guest house or a backpacker hostel, this is a casa - a family home. We are sat down & offered a drink while the proprietor calls a few friends to see if anyone else has a spare bed.
This is where we will first learn of about one of the many contradictions that exist in this socialist paradise. We are told that all property is state owned, and while perhaps it is, many people live in a home that has been passed through the family, from generation to generation. In this society all people may be equal, but some inherit colourful downtown colonial villas or spacious modern apartments while others make do on the edge of town in remote towerblocks or squalid corridors. The casa system, which is works so well for people like us, is also helping to create an unofficial middle class. Only the lucky ones who live in a desirable location can rent rooms out & even then they
No. 74
Vintage car outside No. 74. Havana need a license. Although a monthly fee (US$100 - $250 per month) is paid to the government (whether they have guests or not), the lucky few can earn some serious hard currency.
A new casa is found for us & the following day we set off to explore Havana. We are staying in the older part of town, Habana Vieja, a compact grid of high colonial terraces & shady, often narrow & cobbled streets. High above us on greenery filled balconies, laundry stirs in the breeze & dogs bark. On the cobbled streets vintage cars squeeze past, children play & people go about their business.
The majority of tourists are spread between any of the four large squares that have become the focal points of the old city. Interspersed with colourful homes are shops, cathedrals, musicians & restaurants. Much effort has been made to renovate these areas to make them attractive to visitors, which has in turn attracted locals looking to make some extra money. You're never far from an artist or craftsman, a gallery or a cafe.
On the edge of the old town is the Capitolio Nacional which was once home to congress. Dating back
Revolution
Cienfuegos to 1929, the magnificent building bears a striking resemblance to the US Capitol Building. Marble, bronze & mahogany ensure that the inside is magnificent too. Diversity is abundant in the surrounding streets which are filled with a grand colonial hotel & theatre, shops & markets, a multitude of vintage taxis & what appears to be a downtown vintage train graveyard.
It's a short ride across town to Vedado where the scenery is quite different. Here there is history too, but there's also the suggestion of a vision of the future. By Havana's standards the highrise apartments look futuristic & there's obvious signs of wealth, partly dating back to when Vedado was frequented by the US East Coast Mafia. Plenty of modern buildings are interspersed with shopping malls & fast food restaurants (where you can get a rum tea for breakfast). Looks can be deceiving though, on closer inspection, one of the most impressive buildings isn't finished & looks to have been abandoned some time ago.
Taking a stroll from here along the waterfront we are now close to the 'US Interests Section' - not an embassy, but the closest thing to it. To be honest I'm surprised to
Cuba
Vintage cars on Cuba Street, Havana find any US presence here at all. Although Fidel Castro was originally welcomed into power by the US, the friendship was short-lived. From the US Interests Section to Guantanamo Bay via sugar cane, vintage cars & the Cold War, the hypocrisy & propaganda never ceases to amaze me, yet I am no closer to learning much more about it.
From Havana we travel a few hours west to Viñales, a small town surrounded by tobacco plantations. It's a sleepy place that appears to be populated by more tourists than locals. Relaxing in a rocking chair is the main activity in town, although there is the option to trek or go horse-riding nearby. The most exertion we use is to take the hop on hop off bus to the town's handful of surrounding sights.
The host of our casa used to be a chef at the only major hotel in town so the food & the cocktails are good. A highlight of many countries is the food; but for Cuba expectations were low. I'd read that vegetarians would have a hard time finding anything to eat & that I should take food with me, but although locals may struggle
to live on their meagre rations, I found myself being given more to eat in most meals than I have in years. What I get may not vary much but there is always plenty of it, especially at casas. There are public restaurants but most are government run & very limited in choice (& often service). Eating at home in the casa provides not just more variety but also an added source of income for the owners. For Kylie there's fresh fish, prawns & lobster, for me there's an abundant supply of black beans & Spanish tortilla, better known as omelette. The beans may appear to be coated in glue & the tortilla often more oil than egg but the quantity is always astounding, with generous helpings of salad, fruit, rice, potato & dessert thrown in. It's hard to know if the vast quantities are supposed to show us how prosperous & plentiful Cuba is; all along we know that most people couldn't afford to eat as much in a week as we are offered in each meal. It plays on your mind, and you are never quite sure whether it is rude to leave food that's been prepared for
La Bodeguita
Artwork or tourist kitsch? These prints are for sale everywhere you, or whether by leaving it, it will get fed to someone who needs it more.
Cuba is the largest of the Caribbean islands and with just a few weeks we don't have time to see all of it. With this in mind, we head back east, beyond Habana to Cienfuegos. In addition to the Spanish & Caribbean influences there has also been a French input here. The town is larger & has the now familiar contrast of old & new, yet it in places it looks & feels a lot more modern; It's mainly the shops that make the difference, here they appear to be normal shops selling useful everyday things. Many Cubans only survive thanks to the heavily subsidised bodegas or ration shops. Here people can shop with the official everyday Cuban currency, the worthless Peso. Since 1962 the libreat or ration card has provided individuals with a limited supply of basic foods along with one toilet roll per day, toothpaste & soap. Although the bodega prices haven't changed in years, the shelves are often empty. The dual economy & growing class divide means that those who have access to hard currency can get their hands on
Green
At times it looks like the cars & houses are colour co-ordinated. Havana the Convertible Peso, which can be spent on the same goods at much higher, but readily available prices.
Outside many of the shops in Cienfuegos the queues aren't for staple goods, they are largely outside the fashionable clothes & glamorous shoe shops.
Although already living on a healthy diet of rum based cocktails, as night falls we decide it's time to find some of the vibrant nightlife that we've heard about. We hear music almost everywhere in Cuba but the only salsa I've seen has been for the tourists, I'm keen to find somewhere for the locals. It's Friday night & we've got the names of at least three or four potential places where people, young & old are said to go. The first, we are warned, is rough & ready where the cheap rum flows & flows & flows. It may flow all day, but bars & clubs rarely come to life until deep into the night, so we are disappointed to find that through the glass windows of the bar we can see that the tables & chairs are stacked away & the cleaners are already in.
The next place is more of a club
than a bar but from outside we can tell that there's music & light inside so we try it out. We pay a fee to get in & find ourselves alone in the cavernous room. We order a couple of mojitos, followed by a couple more. Finally three or four other people arrive & sit on the other side of the empty dance floor. The music is mainly Reggaeton, a Cuban fusion of hip hop, reggae & the odd salsa beat; it may not be what we expected but at least it's authentic. As we sip on our overpriced & underwhelming mojitos a group of teens settle at the table beside us. While some can't wait to get onto the dance floor, the rest are clearly focussed on their drinks, drinks that they have brought in with them. While they crack open endless bottles of 'bring your own' cheap rum, the staff are only too happy to provide polystyrene cups & ice to go with it. Is this the true sign of Fidel's socialist utopia?
We move on & stumble across the road to a very small bar for more mojitos & more variations on the rum theme. We
get talking to someone who works there who is the first person who we really learn anything from. He tells us more about the casa system that is working so well for us. He too wants to rent rooms in his house, but the authorities won't allow him, they say he lives too far from the centre of town so it won't be desirable to tourists. I ask him about the cars which have fascinated me since we arrived; along with the vintage American classics and rusting Russian imports are a lot of very new European models, there's even a large number of very shiny new people carriers, SUV's & 4WD's. If no one really has any money & no one really owns anything, then who is importing these new vehicles & how can anyone be able to own one? I assume it's because no true communist or socialist system exists in the world, there are always the elite (& the clever) who make money be it legal or not. He does his best to find an answer & says something about all the good cars being ex hire cars, but it doesn't really add up. Once again, it is
obvious that all people are not equal here. Ultimately everyone wants to make a few dollars & they will do whatever they can to make them. There clearly is a class system & ironically the tourists play a large part in building & maintaining it. Anyone who is remotely connected to tourism has a chance to earn very valuable hard currency - largely £'s or Euros. From the proprietor of a successful casa to the attendant in a museum who earns the odd $1 tip, every little bit of hard currency can make a very big difference.
Finally it's time to give up, there was no salsa but at least we learnt a little more about life in Cuba. It's late, but on the way home we hear music. It's coming from what initially looks like a private party, but we are warmly welcomed in. The place resembles an RSA or Working Men's Club. There's a live band playing salsa while elderly couples fill the dance floor around them. Kylie is asked to dance while I am offered more rum & a seat. It's the last dance of the night, but we made it just in time, this is
exactly what I had had in mind, the local social club where the local people come to dance, socialise, drink & enjoy.
On the south coast of Cuba lies Trinidad, a World Heritage listed town of cobbled streets, pastel painted terraced bungalows and tourists. It's an idyllic town that almost has the feel of an outdoor working museum. Leading out from the church & museums in the main square are endless streets of galleries, craft shops, cafes, bars & locals looking to make a few extra pesos. From knock off cigars to second hand shoes, just about anything is for sale. Strolling through the streets, you quickly notice not just the whispers of 'you want cheap cigar' but also that inside the opened shutters of most people's front rooms, there are random personal possessions up for sale. However no-one is too pushy & the scenery makes it worthwhile.
The town is surrounded by lush tropical views & just a few miles away, an endless stretch of Caribbean white sand. High from the tower in the central square's historical museum, the vista encompasses palm trees, mountains, the Caribbean Sea & the multi-coloured homes of the town below.
We
Vintage
Trinidad split our time between aimlessly wandering the streets & relaxing on the white sandy beach of Playa Ancon. There may be two moderate hotels near the beach, but this stretch of coastline is a far cry from the all-inclusive package holiday resorts such as Varedero on the other side of the country.
Through the day tour buses regularly spill throngs of holiday makers in & out of Trinidad. Most stay a few hours & climb back onto their buses which then take over the narrow cobbled lanes as they crawl back out of town. Like in many places, the town square is host to a few bars & bands who play salsa while a few locals dance with the crowds of foreigners. We join in briefly hoping that no one will notice our lack of rhythm. There are plenty of foreigners who do know what they are doing & it's amusing to watch as a young European woman who is here to enjoy herself salsa in style with a local, while her boyfriend looks on unimpressed & static from the side-lines.
One night, after another filling meal & a couple of mojitos at our casa while contemplating whether
to head out, go to bed or laze about in the garden some more, we hear the beating of drums. It doesn't sound too far away & we ask our host what it is likely to be. We're not sure what the answer is so we head out to explore. A few streets away small crowds are gathering & making their way to the source of the noise. Many are dressed in red & most are clearly of Caribbean rather than Spanish descent. We follow the flow of people & find ourselves led through to a church of sorts.
We are at a Santeria festival - Santeria being a religion based on West African beliefs brought here by slaves imported to the Caribbean to work the sugar plantations. While many followers of Santeria in Cuba also consider themselves to be Catholic, there are unique aspects to Santeria such as a tradition of trance for communicating with ancestors and deities, animal sacrifice and the practice of sacred drumming and dance.
There's no sacrifice tonight, but there is plenty of drumming & dancing. As the relentless drums keep beating, we are invited to join the dancing by an elderly man
Taxi Rank
La Habana & what could be his sisters, wife or friends. We try to communicate but it's far too noisy & our conversation is based around none of us speaking the same language. At the time we fail to learn much about the religion or this particular festival; the place we are in has an altar of sorts, with depictions of Jesus & offerings of multi coloured cakes as well as bananas. While many people are dressed in red, we aren't sure why.
Outside the crowds grow & a few kids are doing brisk trade selling what looks like homemade rum & cheap cigars. Spirits are high & at times it's hard to tell where religion ends & partying begins. For the older teenagers revealing clothing seems normal & at one point a couple of people's alcohol intake sparks a fight. Suddenly the crowd backs off as objects are thrown & things look dangerous; but the fight is over as quickly as it began & the talking, dancing & general trance like behaviour takes over again.
That night we befriend a few kids & the following day we visit their house. It is few streets away from the large open
plan colonial villa where we are staying. When we arrive they are out so we wait outside, sat on the kerb on the dusty street. An old man & some kids play cricket without a bat in the road; a man sits beside us puffing on a cigar & makes conversation. From time to time a relic of an old car slowly crawls past. Kids pass by on their way home from school, largely oblivious to the complexities of the life they have been born into in Cuba. When we finally enter the house it is a far cry from the casas we have been staying in. Here, perhaps generations of the same family are crammed into a tiny terrace that resembles a corridor rather than a house. But they make do with what they have & like so many families we have met in so many poorer countries, they give the impression of being far more content with their lot than the people whose space we share at home.
Leaving Cuba I leave yet another country where many people have in many ways been forced into a living a life far more backward than they would wish too.
Caribbean
Trinidad Although many appear to live a simple but happy existence there is much poverty & there are plenty of intelligent people who want for more. Whether you agree with Fidel's policies or not few could doubt that he is behind some impressive feats; Cubans enjoy universal free healthcare; the country has set up eye clinics in a number of third world countries & was even in a position to offer aid to the US following Hurricane Katrina (the offer wasn't accepted). Yet many Cubans can only afford to buy food from the ration shops, shops which we saw were full of empty shelves. Like so many countries that are supposed enemies of the USA, many people love all things American from the music & movies to Coke & fast food. For me it's a pleasure to go to another place where life doesn't revolve around advertising, money & consumerism, but the people without these things crave them.
The things that we love about Cuba are the things that we perhaps couldn't live with; vintage cars impress me but are a burden to their owners. Sixty years ago there were 60,000 of them in Havana, more than any other western
city; but while the world moved on, they stayed the same. Their owners still have to somehow maintain & repair them.
We see what we perceive to be the good side of life - it's safe for kids to always be outdoors at all hours, playing unsupervised. The colonial buildings are colourful but are decaying. There's rum, deck chairs & ice cream. But we forget that although ice cream is a national treasure, the massive queues we see to buy it are because there are few other luxuries that people can afford.
We forget that freedom is limited; as we arrived in Trinidad I noticed that the entire town appeared to be washing their floors, the water flooding out to the streets. I asked if it this was normal - a whole town washing floors at the same time on the same day. Apparently it's the rule, if they wash at any other time they will be fined.
It's a brief visit; I leave having learnt little more about the how’s & whys of Fidel's Cuba. But at least we have made it while Cuba still is Fidel's; two months later, he resigned as Prime Minister. Change
Laundry
La Habana will take years. But it will happen; some for better, some for worse.
the blog is currently running about a year behind schedule.... if you're new to ours then feel free to look back & see what we were up to in times gone by; a trip that started with beach & curry and ended with alleged terrorists & pizza. There's always the chance that it will get updated again someday, so subscribe if you want to be kept up to date plenty more photos below & on the next page Visited Countries Map 
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walkabout
trixie deveau
Cuba
The reality for the average Cuban is a very hard life. Even doctors. which are sent all over the world (?) in Cuba find that bar tending allows them to provide better for their families. I call that a failure of the system and refuse to go back to support this regime as the average Cuban, does not benefit from tourist dollars.