Cuba – Trinidad. I have always wanted to visit Cuba. It may have been the picture of thick cigar smoke in an old worn out salsa club with a Havana Club mojito in hand which may have done it – although I can’t quite work out where I got this picture from?
The country has yet to disappoint the stereotypical ideas which spring to mind. The vintage cars, the music blaring from front rooms, corner bars or plazas with young and old dancing alone or together to the sound of any beat. You can even spot an old man sitting on a donkey, his wrinkled face staring at you, taking in the tobacco of a thick Monte Cristo cigar. This is a country which is living in a time warp – where time stood still.
There are a few other things that spring to mind when Cuba is thought of: a socialist government, almost half a century of US economic embargo which only now has the prospect lifting, the icons and personalities of Fidel Castro and Che Guevara, and the revolutionary history the country holds.
The guide book calls this a country of ‘maddening contradictions’ and we couldn’t agree more. Tourists are treated torturously different to locals who boost up prices at the sight of a visitor although I still can’t work out why they can tell us apart (sly wink).
Too often we walked away from everyday transactions feeling more like a wounded bull than a welcomed wallet as it seemed that the everyday Cuban has not associated the socialist ideal of “everyone is equal” to extend to tourist. Tourists even transact mostly in a differently currency – yes, don’t even get me started on the dual currency situation…
Back to the stereotypical Cuba and what you don’t think about when it comes to visiting this island. We decided that we would only stay in the cheaper ‘casas particulares’ (private houses) which rent out rooms to visitors.
Our first casa in Havana was definitely the most ornate and interesting we encountered. The 18th Century furniture was covered in tacky porcelain figurines throughout the living/dining area and was framed by plush purple curtains. Our bedroom was a tapestry of peach, rose walls, watermelon skirtings and 2 crystal chandeliers. Old and worn-out Spanish inspired mosaic’esqe floor tiles were lime green, yellow and off white and it seemed all the furniture which was mainly mahogany, was covered in gold leaf (more like gold paint). To top it all off, reproduction French 16th Century art was framed and was featured on all four walls.
Internet? Wi-fi? Not unless you stay in one of the few grand hotels and pay. You can spot these hotels from a mile away for locals all congregate outside with their phones to connect to the wondrous wide world. We were reminded that mobile phones or the web were not available until 2008, but by the inaccessibility and cost, we could be forgiven if we thought the introduction was only last year.
Stepping onto the street the first thing that strikes you, and puts a smile on your face, is all the vintage cars. Chevrolet 1955 being the most popular but also old Fords, Buecks and even European beauties are spotted. What you don’t think about is all these old beauties can also be seen broken down on the side of the road – everywhere.
Travelling the country in a 1980’s Peugeot taxi we spotted antique trucks, still in full operation which looked like they haven’t stopped service since circa 1945 Soviet Russia. These same trucks bellow out black diesel fumes onto people queuing for transport due to the lack of 4 wheels in general. Locals are seen on the side of most key roads trying to tempt drivers with avocados, bananas or honey just to get a ride – they wait for hours as full cars crammed with people speed past – including ours.
Firstly taking for granted ease of transport experienced everywhere else we have visited, we were in for another eyebrow raising moment as we ventured into the streets to pick up some much needed supplies for our stay.
I didn’t think we were in a supermarket when we walked in. Thinking to turn back onto the street, this medium sized rectangle room, with half empty shelves and empty glass counters along the perimeter, was indeed the grocery store. We watched a local purchase a kilo of flour (of which there was only 5 of the same brand in stock), a can of tomatoes and some sugar all from the attendant behind the counter. No need to ponder what brand of juice or sugar you buy – the choice is made up for you.
We never spotted a bustling market place, only small windows selling specialised produce of pineapples, eggs or avocados. Often we tried to live locally and sampled some window only takeout joints which were in fact “cafeterias”, operating from front rooms of casas. Simple pan pizzas with cheese and chorizo (if they had meat available on the day) would set you back 30 cents (USD) and would be a hearty snack. Venture to one of the tourist sit down restaurants and you would be sure to pay 25 times more.
It’s hard as a tourist to peek behind the stereotypical and romantic facade of Cuba. The class of tourist and locals are worlds apart and unless you cross the path of genuinely kind and open locals, and can speak Spanish, you have no hope of learning the Cuban way of life, current thinking and future hopes and dreams.
Yearning for change but not knowing what change is and what it means for them, Cubans are going to be in for surprises, good and bad, over the next few years as the world as ‘we’ know it inevitably descends slowly upon them. The country is the antithesis of consumerism and commercialisation – yet there is vision and ambition of capitalism in the hearts of Cubans which is becoming unleashed as we speak.
On that note, what do you say about a walk around the plaza, find a nice cafe to take in the sites and savour a cigar to contemplate which salsa bar we will dance at tonight? Let’s live the dream, the dream of old Cuba, for now…
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