rant-o-rama comments on life in ireland

CUBA 2.
Some people think that I don't "get "  Cuba.   I get Cuba all right.    I've read their history of colonisation, oppression slavery and more colonsiation.    I know the Americans haded it over to the Mafia in the 1940's and 50's.   I know it had obscene wealth and even more obscene poverty,lliteracy and lack of medical services. I understand absolutely why Fidel and Che started the revolution and I sympathise totally with it.   

I know about  Kennedy and the Bay of Pigs in the 1960's.   I know about the American embargo.    I know that Bacardi continues to pour millions of dollars  into trying to foment trouble on the island.   I know that the C..I.A. assisinated Che and have made numerous attempts to assisinate Castro.   I know that they continue to use Cuban groups in Miami to try and create trouble.   I believe that the American involvement in Cuba is outrageous and its embargo indefensible.

I went to Cuba full of empathy for the revolution and aware that the conditions there would be difficult.  However there were several things that make itCuba extremely difficult for even the most sympathetic traveller.   The American embargo explains why there is so little available  in the shops and why food is so limited but there are things that it does not explain.

Lack of information.  
I speak good Spanish and still found it next to impossible to get reliable information about times of buses or trains.   People who have lived there told us that they have had to wait three, four or even five days to get a train from  Santiago to Havana.    And that they had to go to the station every day to find out what the latest position is.     That's fine if you have no time limit on your travel.    It's impossible if you need to be back to catch a flight.

We had the strong impression that Cuba has no idea how to deal with independant travellers and caters only for group travel.    The irony is that most of the group travellers ( those we met anyway) are  unaware of Cuban history and are there only for sun, sea, sand and sex.   The independant travellers were much more clued in and more likely to be sympathetic to the Cuban position.   They are the ones who want to visit smaller towns and thus bring money to them but their ablility to visit other parts of the island is stymied by the lack of information.

Cost of Living for Tourists.
Because there is little public transport tourists have to relay on taxis and taxis are not cheap.... at least not for tourists.   A visit to the Botanical Gardens ended up costing us over 100Euro... it really wasn't worth it.   Food is very expensive  for what you are getting .   Besides I feel very uncomfortable knowing that no Cuban can afford to eat in the same restaurant as me.   The only Cubans you see are the girls or boys being entertained by middle-aged men.  

When we tried to hire a car we discovered that the cheapest cost 75euro per day but there were none available.   The ony cars available were 175 euro per day! Plus we could not get any decent maps.
A bus to varadero cost 11Euro if we were with a group but 55 Euro if we travelled independently! Plus, nobody could tell us for sure  what time it might go!
 I have no problem at all with charging tourists more than the locals would pay.   That happens in every poor country and that's perfectly reasona ble.    But I think there needs to be some sense of value for money.

The Jineteros
The scam artists and prostitutes of both sexes.   The levels of prostitution are clearly visible on the streets of Havana and as a tourist you are being continuously approached by people who want to scam you.

The sense I had was that Cubans were proud of their history.   Proud of the Revolution.   Proud of the achievements of the Revolution.   Proud of the fact that they have the highest level of literacy in the world.   Proud of the fact that they have sent doctors to Africa and South America.   Proud of the fact that they have educated doctors from Africa and South America.   They were very aware of the financial crises in the U.S and Europe.   It was on every news bullitin we saw.   They saw it as the end of Capitalism.   At the same time they seemed entirely unsure of what the future of Cuba might be and they longed for the freedom to travel and for better times.

rant-in-ireland

CUBA

We landed in Habana after 12 hours travelling with our knees up our noses.   But that’s long haul for you.   We eat the vile airline food, you try to sleep.    We breathe in.   We breathe out.   And finally… we arrived, crumpled, sweaty, our bodies in Habana, our spirits still hovering somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean.

            We found the baggage carousel and waited …and waited… and waited… and waited.   Three-quarters of an hour later our cases arrived.   We joined the line for passport control and waited…and waited…and waited… and waited.   Cuban passport Control involves a lot of writing on forms, a lot of stamping of things, a lot of scrutinising and comparing between your face and your passport photo.   Then they command you to stand back, take off your glasses and look into the camera and click… you’re on their computer.   They compare that, with your passport and you several times….   And finally … we were free.    That took an hour!  

We headed for Currency Exchange.   The queue was even longer here.   Fortunately a friend had advised us to slip upstairs to Departures where the queue was short.   Otherwise, who knows how long we might have waited.

Okay, so Cuba is a poor nation.   It’s often like this in poor nations and besides, they inherited their bureaucracy from the Russians.   And no one loves Byzantine complexity more than the Russians. 

            Outside the airport all was chaos.   It was already dark, the temperature was in the high 20’sC and there were only a few dim bulbs.   There are no airport busses in Cuba.   Hotels do not send coaches and Casas Particulares ( Cuban B+Bs) are not allowed to send taxis to pick you up.   Taxis were coming at us from all directions but none were available.   Newly-arrived passengers milled about like bewildered koalas.   Men in yellow shirts bustled about shouting at taxi-men and chivvying people into vehicles, apparently at random.   Men, assuring us that they had a friend with a taxi, dashed into the dark. Finally somebody asked if we’d mind sharing a taxi and off we shot into the night.

            The taxi-man did not know how to get to the first address.    We hurtled into the city, down a couple of lit streets and then plunged into streets with no lighting.   The taxi driver kept stopping to ask for directions.   At one of these stops, in particularly dark street, a door opposite opened and inside there was a blue light.   Latin music throbbed and a crowd of people ranging from grannies to infants were inside dancing  shaking their booties.   Finally we found our address and discovered that both groups of passengers had to pay the full price!   Well it’s a poor country… 

            We arrived at our Casa Particular where we were met by Armando.   The front door had a piece of scarred metal tacked over it.   Armando hauled our suitcases up two flights of dimly lit stairs.   Cracked steps, peeling paint, a broken window…   Welcome to Havana!

Inside the apartment was neat and clean and we met Armando’s grandmother Luisa, an old lady of 84 who was running the B+B with his help.   He did the required form-signing and passport-examination.   She made us coffee.    Our bedroom was simple, clean and comfortable and we had our own bathroom.

In the morning Armando helped with the huge breakfast of fruit, fried eggs and chips, bread, honey, coffee and fruit juice.   Once he’d established that we were, in his words, “very good people. Muy simpaticos.” And that I could speak Spanish, he  left us to his granny.   We never saw him again instead she was joined by a friend, Coralia who helped.

Our place was so close to the seafront, the Malecon, that we decided to start there.    Just as we went to cross a large junction, a long white 1950’s American car swung round the corner.  

“Wow, look at that!” we exclaimed in delight. “One of the famous fifties cars.   Oh wow!”

And immediately the front wheel fell off!   The driver jumped out.   The passengers staggered out.   Men appeared from nowhere to help and advise.   They got the wheel back on,  they opened the bonnet, and there… my abiding image of Cuba.   Four men, tón san aer. (arse in the air) heads deep in the innards, repairing the car.   Car breakdowns become so commonplace that you stop noticing.

            Havana is stunningly beautiful.    Like a combination of all the best bits of beautiful Spanish towns with a Caribbean flavour.   Beautiful 18^th C and 19^th C buildings both public and private with pillars and porticos and decoration.   But they look like they’ve suffered some earth-shattering catastrophe.   All of them are  crumbling .    Lovely detached houses with porticoed balconies, plaster decoration, have peeling paint, washing hanging outside and three or four families living inside.  

Parts of the old city have been restored, courtesy of private foundations in Europe and Japan.   The restored buildings are glorious and all you want to do is take photos.   The squares in that old part attract lots of women dressed up in the old Cuban style.   Bright scarves tied on top of their heads at the front, multicoloured tiered skirts and baskets of fake flowers.   Every time a group of tourists arrive they swoop on as many of the men as they can and kiss then on the cheek for the camera and a tip.     Then there’s the peanut vendors, the cigarette lighter vendors, the cake vendors.  The guys that call “Pssssst" from doorways.

"You want cigars?   Very cheap.”

I was even approached one day by a teenager selling his school text books.

Not to mention the music.   Every bar, hotel and restaurant has a band and, as you seldom hear the same one twice, I assume there must be some kind of official rota.    But these bands are good and you can hear great Cuban music everywhere.   However, after three or four songs, they come to flog their CDs and collect tips.  The music also attracts dancers who perform for tips.  

Cuban people are incredibly friendly and thrilled when you speak a bit of Spanish.      However there are problems,

            They have two currencies, one for locals (Peso Nacional, PN) and one for tourists (Peso Convertible CUC.)    1 CUC = 24 Pns.    Restaurants and bars are priced for tourists so you pay for a meal what a Cuban doctor gets in a month!   Naturally Cubans think tourists are incredibly rich and, apart from the photograph ladies etc., almost everyone  you speak to asks for money… for the children.   And then there was the problem of getting information.

            We wanted to see the Cuban National Ballet which has world wide reputation.    Someone said Carlos Acosta might be in town, or was that next week?   Or next month?  We decided to ask at the National Theatre.   The Security man sent us to two ladies sitting inside the hall at a desk.   They didn’t know anything about Carlos Acosta.   Will there be any ballet performance this week end?   They shrugged and pointed to another lady sitting on a chair on the other side of the hall.   She knew nothing about nothing either. We tried several more doors and more employees of the National Theatre… Nada.   Someone suggested the Tourist Office.  

The tourist office official was all spit and polish and spoke English.   She tapped efficiently on a computer, pressed return and sat back.   Nothing.   She shrugged and she suggested we ask at the office of Cultural Affairs which was within walking distance.   

At the office of Cultural Affairs we passed the security person and headed straight for the two ladies behind a desk ( it’s a rule - every office and public building has to have them!).   They looked taken aback at our questions and informed us, in no uncertain manner, that they only dealt with paintings and sculpture and we should try a travel agency.  

We tried several, nobody knew nothing.   

            Finally we did get information but only because Coralia, our B and B lady, had been a dancer in her day and had contacts.   Even then we could only book tickets on a Thursday between 2 and 3 pm!   But we did get tickets and it was fabulous… you feared for the scenery but the dancing was top class.   And the orchestra kept missing out notes which made you fear that they would put the dancers out of time… but the dancers were fabulous.

           

            Car hire was prohibitively expensive so that scuppered our plan to drive to Santiago.  Besides, we could not get maps, the roads are poor, the driving dangerous and the signposting very desultory.   We went instead to Varadero where we were in an all-in hotel.   Varadero is a beach with hotels full of Canadians and Russians.   The Canadians were making comments like,

“I can’t understand why they wanted a revolution, they were doing fantastically well with the Americans in charge.”

The Russians were avoiding all eye contact with everyone and being unspeakably rude to the staff.

There is nothing more to be said about Varadero.

We returned to Havana and stayed in the Hotel Nacional.    It is the Hotel where all the Hollywood stars stayed pre-revolution.   It is advertised as a 5 star and it has a great location overlooking the sea with a fabulous terrace above the Malecon  (seafront).   But we’ve stayed in better three star hotels in China and Peru.   One of the things that made it uncomfortable was the sense that every time the staff did anything for you they were looking for money while believing that they were working in one of the world's most luxurious hotels.

            The all over impression we had was that Cuban people are fabulous, friendly, funny and warm.    That they haven’t a notion how the rest of the world operates because their media is so censured.    Food is very poor and even fruit, which in the tropics you’d expect to be good, was of the poorest quality.  The music and dancing are first class.   

With honourable exceptions Cubans do not understand what it is to work.    They keep telling you that everyone has a job but, the sense you get in the streets is of a lot of people hanging around smoking and talking with their friends.   It seemed to us that many of the “jobs” are nominal.   Besides, as everyone gets paid more or less the same, i.e. really badly, why on earth would you bother killing yourself working? 

            They have a lot to learn about tourism.   Clearly they are only geared for all-in group tourists… and even then they seem unaware of  mass tourism standards elsewhere.   They are entirely unable to cope with independent tourists.   Whether that is the plan or not I’ve no idea Perhaps they do not really want us.   I kept thinking, why don’t you ask the Chinese for tourist information, or the Peruvians or the Africans?   Neither my husband nor I have any problem with basic services but the lack of information was the killer.  

A curious thing happened towards the end of our stay.   We were looking for cards in envelopes for Luisa and Coralia ( our B+B ladies)   We found the cards but  could not find any envelopes anywhere.   We tried every conceivable shop and I kept asking,

“Why is it so difficult to find envelopes?”

“The post.” Said some, “there are problems.”

“Do Cubans never write to one another?”

“No never.”

“Why not?”

“The post is only for foreigners!”

That says something about the state of information.

All that said every Cuban professes to love Fidel Castro, and I quote

“He has made mistakes but he is only human.   Mostly he is very wise.”

But they seem a lot less keen on Raul.    They have no answer to what might happen when both of the Castro boys have snuffed it.   They assured me that  they will stick to their anti –imperialist, socialist principles.   At the same time the queue for visas outside the American Trade legation every day  is very long indeed.