Cuban Impressions - Real Tourists for Once - 28 Apr 2003
Itís my birthday, Iíll fly if I want to.
Notes on Cuba
Not really Cuban but it happened there
Apologies
And Finally
Itís my birthday, Iíll fly if I want to.
Just in case you, dear reader, form the impression that Pat is so dilettante that he takes intercontinental holidays to mark every birthday I should point out that this was the ìBig four-ohî [webmaster]
We went to Cuba as it had been planned ages ago when we were back in England and were a bit worse for wear. Some of these ideas fall by the wayside and as nothing was firm we were dead excited when Trish and JP started making all the right noises about coming out to meet us. It did leave us in bit of a panic about getting there as we were in Bolivia at the time. As you may have read, we made it with a few complications on the way. A bonus awaited us as our old mate Sarah managed to con her employers into flights from a conference she was organising in Jamaica. (Not a bad place for holding conferences, I am sure you will all agree!)
So there we were, chilling in an all inclusive resort for 10 days and then finishing with a few days in Havana. Mojitos and piÒa coladas by the pool. You will appreciate then that this section of our journal becomes a little disjointed. There did not seem to be the continuity that we get while Bertha-ing our way around the world. We apologise for the following snatches of memories about Cuba. Some political, some economic and most hopefully quite entertaining.
Hitchhiking is not just legal; it is an essential form of transport. At major road junctions there is an official with a clip board allocating spaces to waiting passengers. Government vehicles are required to stop and pick up people if they have space. With so few vehicles on the road and a problem getting fuel into the country with the trade embargoes imposed by USA, it means that they are naturally and out of necessity unselfish about their car use. We of course did our fair share!
At some traffic lighted junctions there is a policeman stood in the middle. His function is to simply point at the lights to show that they have changed. To the uninitiated, he is some kind of entertainment as his pointing at the lights is somewhat Travoltaesque and you donít realise what heís doing until he turns and eyes you dangerously. Donít mess with the cops in Cuba.
Tourists only use a limited number of roads in Cuba and all bear a ìTî at the start of the vehicle registration. Therefore, when you approach a junction, everyone but you knows where you are going and will point the direction as they see fit. We had folks waving, indicating with fish but mostly finger wagging as we went the wrong way. There was a lovely sign that we passed on the road to a gaggle of tourist resorts which made me smile ¥Danger, tourists on the roadí.
There is 100 per cent employment in Cuba. Some of the jobs are loosely defined. At the hotel there was a chap who picked up two or three leaves each morning. Iím sure he left the rest to make sure there were some for the next day.
There is no obvious free enterprise in Cuba. In all the ëformerí communist countries weíve been through there are snack stalls all over the place and kids selling gum or whatever. Here all we encountered were a few spivvy guys mumbling ìWanna buy cigarsî quietly so that the cops (or anyone who might report them) wonít hear.
Here are three currencies in Cuba: Dollars, their own printed convertible dollars and Cuban Pesos. The exchange rate between Pesos and Dollars but tourists are not allowed to use them. In general, commodities are available to locals at the same price in Pesos as they are to tourists in Dollars. Thus one twentysixth of the price. It is very confusing to try and work out actually what the worth of things is in global economy terms as the tourist rate is a complete rip off whereas the local prices seem to be completely subsidised.
But Cubans earn bugger all. Waiters get the equivalent of 5 dollars a month and university lecturers 32 dollars.
Workers in the tourist industry pick up tips in Dollars. Typically a dollar for waiting a meal or carrying your bags or cleaning a room. Whoíd be a university lecturer, then?
This problem is being looked into.
In addition to their paltry wages they get a ration book with vouchers to exchange for the basics, rice, beans a micro of meat etc. Admittedly, the rations are meagre by all accounts but it would explain why no one looked hungry. One nice chap we met had taken up evening classes to get extra rations to look after his daughter. It was a refreshing change to hear of a government that gives you more for trying to improve yourself, rather than costing you money. I was a little confused, but one chap seemed to say that if you go to university, or learn a trade, than even if there are no jobs in that skill available you get paid more in another job for making the effort to advance. This may be why Cuba has the highest literacy rate in the world. Thatís one in the eye for the US.
Cows are protected in Cuba. Something to with trying to let the stock of cows grow and needing them for work and milk. In order to feed the greedy tourists, beef is imported. Most meals are based around pork. Fine so far as I am concerned but bit of a problem for orthodox members of several religions who might like to reconsider their choice of holiday.
Cuba makes cigars. Faasands of ëem.
Transport comes in many forms. Omnipresent are Eastern European motorcycles of all forms, mostly with Eastern European side cars for extra carriage. There are of course the 50ís American behemoths for which Cuba is famous. But let us not forget the humble Lada and the Moskvitch. I was a bit disgruntled not to see any old Skodas or Wartburgs. Horse carts, Cattle carts, Trishaws with coverings making them look like oranges. Horses without carts. Buses, trucks with flatbeds covered with folk. If it moves, it can be used to transport people.
Where else in the world can you take three taxis in a day where the first is a Daihatsu mini car, the second a 1954 Studebaker and the third a Moskvitch. And would you want to? Us girls went for a trip into town, picked up a ëtaxií and trundled on our way. The poor old beast coughed and spluttered down the dual carriageway. The driver did explain that the problem was water in the petrol, to try and make it go further. After two stoppages where the car not just spluttered but ground to a halt, I suspect that our fare was needed to purchase some more petrol to get him home. As we approach the main square he refused to enter, explaining that he was not an official taxi and the police would arrest him.
There was definitely an undercurrent that people were afeared of the police and in conversations with Hugo, a waiter, while we ate our pizza, he became very nervous about saying things against the government in such a public place. You see he had a prized job working with tourists with the potential of tippage and was understandably unwilling to jeopardise it and end up sweeping the roads. I trust that Hippy gave him no dollar tip now that she knew how unfair the system is on ordinary workers!
There were things I loved about Cuba:
...the bare chested bronzed chaps riding horses bare back
(can you tell Hippy is writing this bit?)
with panama hats that had weathered with them.
...the three blokes sat chewing their cigars together on a wall; with faces and hats with so much openness, contentment and character you could tell they loved life. They revelled in music, enjoyed their families, and could have gaffed for Cuba with their mates. I am sure that if I went back to that spot in Trinidad those three geezers would still be there.
...the houses in Trinidad open to the street for extra breeze with wonderful antique furniture and the lady of the house watching the world go by from her rocking chair
...the little lad in Banes determined to try and find the UK football for us on the TV who we followed in the car while he rode his 1970s chopper bicycle, and led us to, his mate, Alfredoís house with a TV. We did not see the football, but instead we felt the genuine hospitality of the Cubans.
...the music. Well from the women I heard from the car on the first morning to the Jazz club it was excellent (well apart from a rather dreadful singer in our hotel, who ended up being usurped by the cook, complete with apron, who was excellent)
Öthe relaxed atmosphere, people chatting on doorsteps, people of all ages and sexes enjoying cigars and bantering with their mates.
Religion, thereís a thing. After the revolution all of the churches were taken over for worthy causes ñ orphanages, offices for the people, etc. There was always something of a groundswell of public opinion wanting the churches back. Eventually, church worship was made legal except for Party members, public servants and members of militia and police. We learned this from a young man, Alfredo, who guided us around Banes ñ the town where, ironically, Castro was married in the church on the main square.
There is an eight lane highway that runs from end to end of Cuba, nearly. This is really quite ludicrous given the pitiful number of vehicles that move between towns. Obviously this was one of the great commy white elephants designed to show the people how wonderful everything was. Regrettably, on completion (?) of about 200 km, the five year plan must have been changed. Elsewhere there are traces of the road, but the completed part is now beginning to fall apart so there will be nowt left of this great dream in about 10 years time. Heigh, ho.
Pretty much all housing looks pretty tatty. The original colonial buildings have only been well maintained where there is tourist cash to be gained from it. Apparently there are holiday packages staying in old gaffs which must be rather nice. Conversely, there seems to be a lot of internal stuff that seems well kept up. Furniture, panelling in shops and homes and some frescos seem to be rather tidy. Itís a bit of a shame as there is plenty of variety to be seen in the colonial architecture mostly of the southern Spanish or Moorish styles.
Water and electricity were consistently good. Rumours are that areas of local housing are deprived of services from time to time in order to ensure the comfort of tourists. Hippy reckoned that the water treatment may well be throughout the island on the basis that if you are providing a free health service, it pays to keep ëem healthy. I see her point and admire her faith in commy planning.
Machu Picchu is a variety of frosted-pink lip stick. We have to thank Sarah for that pearl of wisdom. We will not repeat some of her other observations.
We were there for May 1st which is obviously a pretty important day for Fidel and the rest of the old guard. Important, too, to be seen by ones colleagues waving the flag in Plaza Revolution.
We did not get up early enough to go and see the celebrations but managed to watch a few bits of speech and stuff on the telly in the hotel. Fidel is obviously losing his power to hold an audience for a few hours as, apparently, he was once wont to do. We couldnít make out too much of his speech but the words ìBushî, ìEstados Unidosî and ìTerrorists en Miamiî cropped up now and again.
Most of the political banners by the side of the road proclaimed that all is well and final victory for communism is on the way. There is also a huge campaign against terrorism and war. No brownie points for working out who that is aimed at. Finally, there are a large number of posters indicating that ìThe five will returnî. I was a bit puzzled by this, thinking that maybe Cuba has a bunch of guys going up to work on the Russian Skylab thing. It turns out that 5 guys were arrested in Miami for alleged terrorist activity. The Cuban line is that they were in the US tracking down the terrorists responsible for acts aimed to unsettle Cuba including the downing of one of their planes a few years back. Jury is out on that one.
JP enlightened us that the US base on Cuba (yes, there is one and has been since the turn of the century so why the Bay of Pigs invasion when they were already there? Oh, sorry, the Bay of Pigs was not an attempted invasion by US trained forces. Silly me.) is being used to ìholdî alleged terrorists as itís safer than keeping them in the States. Allegedly.
Not really Cuban but it happened there
Thereís a certain breed of holiday maker who is easily pleased. Having had a sunny time one year and enjoyed the food and drink, they return year after year and are seemingly never let down.
We booked at one of the specialist restaurants in the hotel for dinner with a sunset instead of the dinner with a queue at the buffet. We got a message under the door telling us that unfortunately we had booked for the evening of the ìreturners dinnerî but that if we contacted them there may be space for us. We did and there was. We were feted with lobster and a champagne reception. Very nice. Then they held the awards ceremony. ìHow many people have been here 5 times?î, etc. This continued until the longest attending holiday maker was revealed ñ a Canadian lady who had been 32 times. How could you? It wasnít that memorable a hotel.
In the group of many times returning holiday makers there was a bit of a strange vibe. One of their number had attended every meal that we had been to in a different hat: toppers of different types including a four foot Dr Seuss, foam spikey affairs, wigs of outrageous hues, wee Willy winkies and more. Coupled with his smocks and other odd accoutrements he looked a bit, should we say politely, daft. Hippy believes that he is probably a high flying business man simply unwinding on holiday. As a former mohawk wearer I believe I am entitled to label him prat on a takes-one-to-know-one basis.
Also in their little party was one of those strange hairy things that we used to have on top of our pencils. Gonks, I believe. Hippy muttered about this strange ladyís hair condition. I was simply fascinated in how someone with four foot six hair could live with it fluffed out all over the place.
OK, so itís mostly political. A trip to Cuba is bound to be, though, unless you are happy just to sit on the beach and drink your free drinks. I had set off with the intentions of just having a holiday and doing just those things but the place is so fascinating, you just have to find out what makes it tick.
It was a whole different world that we entered going into that hotel in Guardalavaca. Huge posh hotel foyers, air conditioning, cleaners who laid flowers on the bed to decorate the towels. On arrival after one night in an airport and the next in the car it was all a bit of a culture shock. For me the best bit of luxury was a bath! I love to soak in a bath till I go wrinkly and this was the first I had seen since England. Marvellous. This was enough for me.
There was also the chance to sunbathe without the concern that it wasnít really culturally sensitive. I know that it isnít really rational, but I always feel healthier when I am brown. With the all inclusive food and booze I am sure that my delusions of better health were merely that.
We didnít have to worry about the bike, where we would stay, where to eat, we could just chill. The issuing to us with an all inclusive bracelet when we arrived did give me a strange feeling of being tagged and on our jaunts out to the real world of Cuba I hid my tag under my watch strap.
As for seeing friends. It was great, and it did reassure me that if we decide to return to the UK we will have a fine set of friends awaiting us. When we left them at the end of the holiday, it was sad to see them go off in different directions. Knowing it may be a long time till we see each other again.
It was pretty hard trying to do the internet thing in Cuba as it was so slow and pretty darned expensive. Hippy tried to get a telephone number to folks to ring me for my birthday and it seems that lots of people tried but not a single one succeeded!
A big thankyou to everyone who sent me birthday messages (and beer from Andy Smith). It was excellent to know that so many people were thinking about me. I hope I have managed to reply to everyone but hereís a public apology if I havenít.
To Trish, JP and Sarah, what can I say? The sacrifice you made coming to Cuba and wilting under the sun and taking in all those awful meals, drinks and seeing those sights. It must have been a trial. It was so lucky that I was there to make your trip worth while.
Seriously, thanks. You were the best present of all.
You can all go and cry in your curry now.