18 October to 23 October 2015
First impressions: I arrive at Havana airport and it looks similar to other tropical airports. It is hot and it rains slightly. Everything is easy, the immigration guy is friendly and good looking, both my bags arrive, I hand over my customs form, they don’t even look at me or the form and I am in the arrival hall. Everybody knows that you should not get touted by anyone. You should just refuse any taxi offers, do everything yourself and get into the yellow tourist taxis, which cost 25 CUC to anywhere in town. What do I do? I go with the first cab driver that talks to me into a green Lada that is about to fall apart, after he has taken me to the moneychanger in the airport. He hardly has any teeth left, but is friendly and chatty. He is a chain smoker and I am ok with him smoking in his cab. His name is Leandro and he explains the money system to me. I exchanged CUC, pesos convertibles, the tourist money. One CUC is one US dollar. The locals, however, use CUP, Cuban pesos, the national money. Leandro exchanges 5 CUC for 125 CUP, apparently a good rate as I find out later. He also stops the car and we walk over to a cafeteria where he shows me the local prices and food. When I ask him whether I can leave my luggage unattended in the open car, he laughs and says that we will chop the arm off anyone trying to steal my bags. At my guesthouse, he waits until the lady opens and lets me in. I pay him the 25CUC and he is happy about the additional 3CUC I tip him. This can pay him 3 evening meals in the cafeteria he showed me.
My guesthouse (casa particular) is in the middle of Havana Centro, next to the biggest club in Havana, Casa De Musica Havana. It is run by Gregory from Russia and his Cuban wife Arjani. How I see the relationship is that this is Gregory’s business model: he wanted to come to Cuba and run a BnB. He therefore looked for a Cuban wife to get access to the property market (if you still need this to buy property in Havana – we heard different stories) and help him run the BnB. He said they met on the Internet – but how did Arjani get onto the Internet two years ago?! If I am honest, I am not sure about the long term prospect of the relationship. There was a bad mood in the house when I came home the second evening. Arjani was unhappy that Gregory had drunk a half litre bottle of rum, but he explained that she needed to understand, he was Russian after all. It didn’t help that he invited me to a beer that same moment.
On my first evening, Gregory recommends the cafeteria ‘La Juliana’, a few blocks down the road. I feel a professional traveller, when I venture out into the Havana night. There are lots of people in the street, walking or hanging around in the entrances of their houses. Old men playing chess or domino and arguing loudly. In front of one building there is a particularly large crowd. First I think it might be a bus stop, but then realise it is one of the wifi hotspots. Everybody is on their phones, some people sit on the floor, laptops out. You can log onto the wifi with an access code on a card, which you can buy for 2 to 4 CUC, depending on the vendor. It gives you 1 hour wifi, but is slow and frequently throws you out. These wifi hotspots have apparently only been introduced two months ago.
‘La Juliana’ is not difficult to detect. It is beaming with people and there is no apparent order. I ask who the last person in the queue is and therefore know my turn after the young couple with child. The half chicken with rice is tasty, but Juliana’s speciality is pizza. I have it a few days later at 2am with Candice and Bart, a Dutch traveller, after a game of Wizzard. The family next to me is drinking Coca Cola – I thought there was no Coca Cola in Cuba! Otherwise there are still little foreign products (well, there is generally not much). Cuba is free from any chains. No McDonalds, no Starbucks, no H&M. Then again, there are not many local stores either or they are quite empty.
The next morning, I decide to go for a run along the promenade, the Malecon. The running is desastrous. After one month of hardly any exercise (apart from late night dancing), I am completely out of shape. I manage to run about 1km down the Malecon and have to turn around. On a rainy Monday morning at 9am there are few people about. A couple is dancing Salsa on the wall of the promenade. From time to time a wave is breaking onto the pavement. That morning I stay moreless dry (apart from sweating profusely in the Caribbean heat). The following morning, however, the sea is so stormy that a big wave swaps over the pavement and over me like somebody had emptied a bucket just in the moment I pass by. I am drenched and feel stupid, the stupid tourist who had to prove it to the world, when there was nothing to prove (and no world).
When I first walk through the Havana streets, I feel slightly uncomfortable, but soon find my rhythm and relax. I love the buzz, the music from bars and velo taxis, the colours of the houses, the art and street art, but also of the people – the mix of European and African heritage (indigenous have almost been eradicated) provides all sorts of shades. I sit down in a nice bar “Patio Amarillo” – Yellow Patio, I must have chosen it for this reason, I am crazy about yellow, and drink a delicious, fresh lemonade.
The pace here is slow. Even with my ‘I am on holiday’ slow pace, half of my London walking speed, I am too quick. I need to slow down to blend in. Obviously, I won’t blend in anyway. My features and my walking sandals (spot the German!) tell I am not from here (although on our last day, Candice and I have some limited success when the entrance lady to the cementary asks whether we are residents, and tells us we dress and look like Cuban women). Also, once Candice arrives on Tuesday, there is no more hiding at all. We converse loudly in English and are clearly tourists. Having beautiful Candice at my side a) increases the whistles and ‘beautiful’ hisses and b) makes me more confident, I have my guardian now, so I start looking at the good looking and flirting with the goodlooking guys. So what we are young and wild and free… NOT.
Even tough I have only been in Havana less than 48 hours, I show Candice the town like I am a local. It is so nice to share my impressions with someone there and then. Candice also likes the city. She is surprised how run down it is, more than she thought. It is true, most buildings look like they are about to collapse and are in dire need of restauration. She also points out that there are still payphones and people are actually using them! I am so happy Candice is here. Even though it has only been a few weeks since I have seen her last, we have lots to catch up on.
On Wednesday night, we are invited for dinner at Luis Humberto’s mum, my Mexican sister’s boyfriend, if you remember. Leandro my cab driver from the first day, takes us to Magaly’s home for 10CUC. Magaly later tells us that this is her monthly salary in a lamp shop. She says this without bitterness. On the contrary, she laughs a lot. “We Cubans laugh at our circumstances. We may not have much, but we are a happy people. We take great pride in not letting us go. Hope dies at last.” She looks good, young and happy. Candice and I have so many questions about Cuba, which she and her 17 year old son Rafael answer openly.
Some details we learn:
- The water comes on every second day in each neighbourhood in Havanna. The second day people use the water Tank.
- The Pope passed just outside the house and both Magaly and Rafael were happy to see him. All houses on this road have been renovated nicely to welcome the Pope. The rest haven’t.
- Magaly bought her house. It is mortgaged by the bank. She can sell the house to private people including foreigners, however, the state always acts as intermediary in real estate transactions. Later on, Candice and I hear different opinions and we are not sure how easily foreigners can actually buy property in Cuba.
On our way back to our casa particular, I notice that there is no advertisement anywhere. It is pleasantly absent. The only billboards you see are communist propaganda like the famous “Hasta la victoria siempre”, “Socialismo o Muerte”, “Con Fidel y Raúl vive la revolución”.
I wonder how all this will change in the decade(s) to come when further reforms are introduced and the country finally opens up. Of course it will be good when the living standards go up, houses are renovated, infrastructure improved. It will also be positive when people have access to free, impartial information (then again what’s worse – a state run newspaper or the Daily Mail?!), and above all right to free development.
But what about greed? At the moment, I don’t see much greed in people: I don’t hear or see much about corruption, the difference between rich and poor does not seem great (everyone is relatively poor), it is very safe, safer than most places I have been to.
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