El Cubano Libre

Our flight to Havana was a late one and Ryan kindly drove us to Vancouver Airport. In the check-in queue we noticed quite a lot of people in traditional Mexican dress. Closer to the counter we noticed a sign welcoming us to AeroMexico’s first flight between Vancouver and Mexico City (where our flight is stopping over). Any nerves that arose because of this were quickly eased in the departure lounge where there were free cocktails and cupcakes for passengers, as well as a DJ busting out the Macarena and Ricky Martin!!! We had the unfortunate experience of being seated next to a total jerk who was not entirely aware of the boundaries of personal space, but after choosing to just ignore him he took his tequilas and beers to a spare seat several rows in front and accosted another poor unsuspecting passenger.
Our transfer in Mexico City was stress free and I was delighted to sit next to a very pleasant man who was happy to read and mind his own business on the flight to Havana.
We had no problems getting a taxi to take us into the city and were immediately blown away by the heat and the old cars. I thought that there would just be a lot of old cars, not that practically every single car is old, and really old! We dropped our bags and changed into shorts and t-shirts (feeling practically naked) and set off exploring.
We visited the Revolution Museum which is in the old parliament building complete with bullet holes from an attempt to assassinate Batista in 1957. The museum is basic, has no chronological order and a lot of the information is in Spanish only. Despite this, it is a fascinating building complete with a great deal of information about the revolution. The section outside houses the boat Granma that Che Guevara, Fidel and Raul Castro and Camilo Cienfuegos used to reach Havana after their exile from Mexico in 1956. There is also Fidel’s Land Rover, bullet holes and all!
Our days in Havana were spent wandering the run down streets amazed at what 50 years of poverty and no money can do, marvelling at the positive spirit of the Cubans and of course checking out the old cars. Whether you have any interest in vintage cars or not, there is something remarkable about seeing them as the ‘normal’ vehicle in Cuba. We drank mojitos and puffed on cigars at the Hotel Nacional de Cuba, a hotel with a rich and illustrious past including housing guests such as Winston Churchill and Frank Sinatra. It also served as Castro and Guevara’s head quarters during the Cuban missile crisis.
We had planned to catch the bus to Trinidad, a town on the south coast of central Cuba, but when we arrived at the bus terminal we were greeted by many taxi drivers willing to drive us. Having heard that this is quite normal we negotiated a fare just a fraction higher than the bus tickets, for a significantly shorter journey time, and were on our way. Our friend Ryan had given us a list of casas (home style accommodation) that he stayed in several years ago and we decided on a whim to head to Casa Juani where Ryan had stayed. Juani was only able to accommodate us for one night as she was fully booked the other nights, but arranged for us to stay one block over with her son. Juani remembered Ryan, even getting her guest book out and showing us Ryan’s comments. She has a beautiful house with a lovely courtyard which we enjoyed relaxing in with one of her freshly made mango juices!
In the morning we hired bikes from one of Juani’s friends to ride the 14km to the beach where we lounged and swam and relaxed. Upon our arrival back to Juani’s we were met by her son Michel and taken to his place. He does not have a peaceful courtyard, but he has a balcony that gives a great view of the hustle and bustle of the street below. We watched people queuing for ice cream, horse and cart taxis, people participating in some kind of raffle for kitchen appliances, people riding all sorts of bicycles, kids playing and people selling a medley of things to make a living.
We took full advantage of the beautiful beach, enjoying several afternoons cooling off in the Caribbean. By night we ate watching live music and sat on the steps in town listening to more live music and sipping mojitos sold out of someone’s living room window- everyone is trying to make some cash! One night was spent in the cave nightclub – which is exactly that! A nightclub deep underground in a cave. The music starts as quintessentially Cuban and salsa-like and then trickles into pop and even the most reluctant of dancers can’t help but bust a move (even Hayden)!
Hayden had once heard a phrase that Cubans demonstrate evolution out of necessity. It couldn’t be more true. Their cars are made up of an assortment of parts, but they go, their food sources are often limited so they use what they can get, buildings are falling down but somehow they keep them up. Need a child seat on your bike? No problem, just bash one together out of old bits of wood. Don’t have the Internet? Easy, talk to people instead!
The internet is scarce but relatively easy to find. First you look for the area where everyone is glued to their phones, then you stand around a bit trying to look like a tourist until a guy comes and asks if you want to use the Internet. You say yes and what takes place next can only be likened to a dodgy drug deal. He glances left, then right and then puts his hand into his underpants and pulls out an Internet card that is valid for one hour. You pay him the small amount and then leave to find a perch next to everyone else.
The Cubans have an exceptional way of life. Everyone is poor, everyone is trying to get by, yet everyone is happy. They are a resilient and resourceful bunch, nothing goes to waste, unlike most of the world who live in such a throw away society. There were even men in the street doing cigarette lighter repairs and I guess when they are so hard to buy new, you keep the one you have forever. Children play not with wiis, Xbox or tablets but with a square piece of wood painted with football lines and nails hammered in as players. A coin acts as a ball and you take it in turns to try and flick your coin into the goal. They couldn’t be happier!
Eventually we had to leave paradise and head back to Havana. Michel had organised a collective taxi for us which we shared with a very interesting Iranian born Canadian guy who lives in Berlin. We had one last night getting lost in Havana and a final mojito at the rooftop bar of Hotel Ambos Mundos where Hemingway wrote ‘For whom the bell tolls’. We leave this heavenly place hoping that as the Cubans rebuild their relationship with America that the country retains its former charm.