The amazing thing about Cuba is that despite the poverty and desperation, there are no beggars in the streets. Everyone is works hard to find some way of making money, whether it's honest or not. This is all the more amazing when you consider that this is a socialist country and one would assume they've been conditioned to accept handouts from the government- or perhaps it is because they already do, and know the government has no way of providing any more?
If you do decide to come to Cuba, prepare yourself: tobacco smoke is everywhere. People smoke incessantly here, and no matter what shortages they may have, one thing they will never lack is tobacco. It's not so bad outdoors, but in air-conditioned buildings, the smoke takes over the whole room and there's no escape. It affects you- by the end of my trip, I had become so accustomed to tobacco smoke constantly wafting in front of my face that I actually found myself craving some unconsciously, days later. It's was a scary realisation. In Havana, stepping outside does not give much of a respite from pollution, because cars will pass by belching smoke at you, or the pungent smell of rot will invariably reach your nostrils.
Also: Cuba is the furthest thing from a culinary paradise. The national dish is fried pork, rice and beans, and this has stood despite the best attempts of the government to introduce a healthier diet: When they tried to sell lots of fish, for example, all that happened was that the cats got fat. You won't find fresh fruit or vegetables, and often you will order something and hear "no hoy" because there just isn't any. Also, they don't devein shrimp and prawns, which I found out the hard way. Yuck.
But the music here is fantastic, and what's more the music culture here is fantastic. You go to a disco, and instead of seeing teenagers throwing themselves about spasmodically, there are actually dancing: young children doing brilliant salsa, spinning their partners around, performng complicated maneuvers you'd think weren't possible without ending up in an emrgency room, and playing around with the beat and flirting with the rhythm. It's wonderful to behold. Trinidad, in particular, is a great place to learn and practice.
All in all, I'm going to miss Cuba. In my ten days here I've seen many things and made many friends, but there's still much I haven't seen and haven't experienced. It's been so different from anything else that I've ever experienced, and so different from anything I had ever heard about it, and I've had a fantastic time. I will return one day.
My final word on Cuba:
Cuba is a paradise on earth. Why? Because there are no Americans here!!
Cuba has an extremely well developed tourism industry, catering to the every whim and desire of the foreigner with hard currency to spend. Nowhere is this more evident than in the state-run tourism bureaus. Aside from a vast array of organised tours for you to join at extremely reasonable prices, they are willing to arrange any sort of tour for you if you have the numbers (usually, minimum of six) and you have the money. Want to tour a school? A hospital? A rubbish tip? Feeling like cycling the length of Cuba? Walking? On your hands in a clown costume? They can organise it.
It's fun to be an independent traveller, but with my time limited I opted to join a tour group in order to quickly see Cuba's interior towns of Santa Clara, Santi Spiritus, Trinidad and Cienfuegos. As with my previous day trip to Vinales and Pinar del Rio, the best part of the trip was the extremely interesting fellow travellers I met on this trip. Basically, half were Spanish speakers and half were English speakers, and every single person was unfailingly interesting.
Maria, for example, from Mexico, couldn't have been a day under 65 but led the way in climbing up every single tower and building we encountered, ranging far afield while the rest of the group was hiding in the shade and cool of a local bar. She was accompanied by her daughter Rosa, and they were in Cuba for some medical tourism: Cuba has the best health industry in Latin America, at extremely reasonable prices. So they came for two weeks: one for Maria's check-up; the other for tourism.
Raquel and Luis were an affectionate couple who seemed so familiar with each other and so content I assumed they had been married, had been together a long time, and were of a similar age, with Luis being the older one. Of course, I was rather far off the mark: Raquel was thirty-six... and Luis twenty. They had been together three years, but weren't married yet. Needless to say, the revelation of the age difference caused a sensation among the group- not because of the difference, but because no one could believe Raquel was that old. I had them both in their mid to late twenties!
"Well," I quipped, "You know what they say: If you can't find a good man, raise one!"
Raquel laughed hysterically and Rosa ordered me to the back of the bus.
Another couple with a big age gap was Chris and Amanda, from Belfast. He was a very experienced traveller, a ruggedly handsome Indiana Jones type with great charisma and a full head of hair (By the way Chris, make the cheque out to "PJ Thum" and you can post it to me in Singapore... thanks). Amanda was ten years younger at 22 and what struck me most about her was the dreamy look in her eyes. I'm not sure if it was due to the haze caused by her endless chain smoking, but probably it was because she and Chris were very happy together.
Another Irishman was Frank, who looked like central casting for an Irish hooligan. In fact, I was highly amused when Chris and I found out we both had independently concluded that Frank looked like a very thin Vinnie Jones. Not only that, but he had a temper to match that, too. He was a very curious creature- 49, unemployed, but had travelled to 56 different countries and was very keenly aware of social inequities and kept up a constant commentary about what we saw in Cuba vs. other countries, particularly the UK and especially Manchester, where he lived.
Finally, Brenda was a larger than life Aussie who grew up in a small town on the West coast of Australia, had spent ten years in the mining industry, had worked for the past few years in London, and has at various times had her life threatened- including once by a local gangster in Australia, whom she had insulted while drunk and was waiting for her when she woke up the next morning, sitting calmly opposite her bed; and once when she was a hostage in a bank robbery, when she was used as a human shield. The robber holding her hostage was nervous and shouted to his partner what to do; his partner replied empatically several times, "Shoot the c--t." Brenda's continued existence is a marvel to her and she values every day of her life every much.
The tour itself paled beside this collection of characters. Che's mausoleum was very interesting, although instead of being a solemn tomb the interior decor in parts reminded be of a 1950s "Hawai'ian Tiki lounge" with lots of wood and tropical plants. Trinidad was a marvel due to its preservation as an 18th century Spanish colonial town, with barely a hair changed since its local sugar industry died around that time. While I was there I got to sit behind the wheel of a 1914 Ford Model-T that still runs and is in excellent condition. Santi Spiritus didn't have anything special; neither did Cienfuegos, although both had their own charm and appeal. Overall I probably had too little time in any of the places to experience them fully. As I've always observed, however, my true enjoyment of any place is determined not by the place but by the people there, and in this case I had those people travelling with me.
Calle Hamel, a little alleyway in central Havana, unites two art forms: music and visual arts. It is home to the art studio of Salvador Gonzalez Escalona, a famous self-taught Cuba painter who's been feted across the art world. He's had exhibitions in places such as New York, Paris, and Rome.
Salvador has painted large bright Afro-Cuban murals on the walls of Calle Hamel, combining a mixture of abstract and surrealist design with phrases giving advice and warnings about danger, death and life. This project is affectionately called Callejon de Hamel. It's is recognised as the first open-air mural in Cuba dedicated to Santeria (the traditional African religion brought by African slaves to Cuba) and reflecting Afro-Cuban scenes. Salvador himself describes Callejon de Hamel as a community-based project, "from el barrio, to el barrio and with el barrio."
Every Sunday 1200-1500 a free Pena Cultural Alto Cubana, known as la Rumba de Cayo Hueso, is held to honour the different Orishas (basically, Gods of the Santeria reglion). This is basically an outdoor concert, and is extremely popular, attracting large enthusiastic crowds. It's not only locals but many tourists who turn up, hearing about the event. It's a wild, riotous, extremely fun time. It gets very hot and there's little shade. Everyone's dancing and sweating and compressed into a narrow alley, so if you ever go, bring lots of water.
There is, however, one other option: El Negron bar, set in the side of the alley, sells a potent mojito which they make with honey instead of sugar. Before the concert started, I went to the bar to try their famous drink (so famous that they've already taken advantage and jacked up the price to $3!). Waiting at the bar for my drink, I glanced around and saw, behind me, an incredibly beautiful Japanese girl.
I turned back to the bar and blinked. Surely not. Surely I was hallucinating. I turned around again. No, she was still there, with her hair dyed a light red and holding a large and expensive Japanese SLR camera, snapping photos of our surroundings, in a light brown outfit, waiting in line behind me for the bar.
Several swigs of honey mojito later, I plucked up the courage to talk to her. She was indeed Japanese, travelling alone, didn't speak a word of Spanish, spoke passable English, was doing a further degree in sociology, was interested in human culture, and had decided to come visit Cuba because of her interest in the people and the art.
For those of you unfamilar with the Japanese, let me give you some background: Japanese society is extremely insular, very pragmatic, and extremely group oriented. The Japanese are not very concerned with the world at large, nor do they have a strong tradition of study in the humanities. Finally, it is rare to meet a Japanese alone: they are almost always in groups or at least in pairs. In fact, Japanese society is in many ways like Singaporean society.
So here I am in Cuba and I meet a beautiful Japanese girl who appears to fit in with her society about the same that I fit in with mine (i.e. very little)- well, let's just say I felt I found a kindred spirit.
Unfortunately, with the concert underway, we could barely hear each other. After some time of fruitless shouting at each other
(e.g. Me: "How do you like the music?"
Her: "What?"
Me: "I SAID, "HOW DO YOU LIKE THE MUSIC??"
Her: "It's very good!!!"
Me: "What?"
Her: "IT'S VERY GOOD!!!"
Me: [despairing] "Oh, okay.")
I asked her to have lunch with me after the concert. She said yes. I was very excited.
Then I lost her in the crowd. Couldn't find her after the concert. Never saw her again.
As Blackadder said, "I think the phrase rhymes with 'clucking bell'.
Here's a quick tip if you're looking for cheap cigars:
Tobacco farmers are now allowed to keep a small amount of tobacco for themselves for their own use. As such, many of them roll the tobacco themselves and sell them to passing tourist groups. The prices are ridiculously cheap- 20 Cohibas can be bought for US$25. The drawbacks are that the cigars come unlabelled, uncertified, and bundled in paper instead of nice boxes, but those are minor drawbacks- especially when you consider that 20 Cohibas normally cost ten times as much.
On the other hand, never buy cigars from the street unless you are an expert at judging cigars. There are legitimate sellers, but the vast majority of them are fakes, made of inferior leaves or even banana leaves, dried and rolled in the same manner.
Cigars are, of course, one of Cuba's biggest exports. I've toured two cigar factories here and have enjoyed the tours very much. The Partagas Cigar Factory in Havana is a must-see, if only to see the actual huge room where hundreds of torcedor are skilfully putting their cigars together with deft, expert movements, wielding their special knives (chaveta). They make an average of 120 cigars a day- more for the smaller cigars, less for the big cigars- while listening to somebody read the daily news, or from great novels. That, in itself, is a very important tradition and has never changed- no radio, music, or audiobooks. Someone will sit in the front of the room and physically read into a microphone. Culture is a very important part of being able to roll a cigar properly, and it infects the way you handle the cigar.
I mention all this because today I visited the province of Pinar del Rio, where much of the tobacco for Cuba's cigars is grown. The miles of rolling countryside, dotted with palm trees, fields of tobacco, corn, sugar cane and other crops, and animals such as cattle, also have a distinctive feature in Western Cuba called mogotes. The rocks around Vinales are pure limestone formed in the Jurassic period around 160 million years ago. Unlike other rocks, limestone can be dissolved by water. Where a valley is formed in tropical limestone, often by downwards faulting of the rock, it may be filled with fertile red soil. Rotting vegetation increases the acidity of the groundwater on the valley floor. This highly acidic water eats into valley sides, undercutting the rocks and producing steep cliff-like features. These steep-sided hills are known in both English and Spanish by their Cuban name, mogotes.
The soil also determines the quality of the tobacco grown, and as we all know, the soil in Cuba is the best in the world for tobacco, hence the quality of the cigars that come from this country. Tobacco is never wasted- lower quality tobacco, and tobacco scraps from cigar production, are made into cigarettes. Tobacco is very labour intensive, and grown between October and December, harvested in January-March, and stored and aged for many months, or even years, before they reach the hands of the rollers.
When the tobacco fields are not in use for tobacco, corn is planted because it helps the tobacco fields recover. Thus, if you visit a tobacco farm in September, all you will see are fields of corn.
And that's all I saw in Vinales: corn.
My initial impressions of Havana were off, after all. Perhaps it was because my first few days here I felt like a fish out of water, and wasn't used to being hailed from all angles by strangers. However, after several days in Havana, and after meeting several locals as well as several fellow tourists, a nice, much brighter image of Havana has emerged.
For one thing, only a very small group of those people who hail you are out to swindle you. My paranoia got the better of me in my first few days here. Many others were simply curious about where I was from and what I thought of their country, and were eager to help if I was lost. Some people even offered to share with me their food and drink, which I thought was very generous in a country where no one has enough to eat.
The vast majority of people, however, fall in between. They are friendly and curious, and enjoy chatting with you, but they also would like to make a buck by selling you something or providing some service in some way. As I wrote in my previous email, everyone here is searching for an angle in the fight to survive. This can take different forms. For example, one common way seems to be sketching you or drawing a caricature of you as you walk by, then offering to sell it to you. The sketches are usually terrible, but at least they try and they leave you alone if you give them a firm 'no'. Other people dress up in traditional Cuban costumes and offer to let you take photos of, or with, them, for a tip. Still others will offer to act as your guide, and direct you to whatever you are looking for- but they will take a commission as their fee. Sometimes this can be quite excessive. And of course, they will only take you to places which do give a commission.
Either way, a pleasant chat usually reveals a person who is quite proud of their country and will leave you alone if you politely decline whatever they are selling. It seems to me that Cubans have a very ambivalent relationship with the USA. They see themselves as David to the USA's Goliath, and are quite defiant in their struggle against the US, but they also acknowledge the US as a land of opportunity, where many of them have relatives sending back money to help them out.
Havana itself is actually a very pleasant city to stroll about in, or to relax at a bar and sip a mojito while watching the world go by. Life definitely moves a lot slower here, and can be very idyllic. In the evenings, in particular, when it's not so hot, everyone's favourite preoccupation appears to be to sit out on their balconies and chat while watching the world go by. The lack of modernity also extends to the lifestyle- you don't see many of the distractions, the rush and the pressure of modern life. It's very relaxing to be here.
Havana is simply like no other place on earth I've ever been. It's like everything froze in the 1950s and slowly started decaying, and that's how it has been ever since. Some parts of Havana would not be out of place in a war zone- what I've seen with my eyes is reminscent of images I've seen from Sarajevo, Beirut or Iraq.
Old Havana, on the other hand, has been restored. Walking around in the streets of the old city is also like stepping back in time: every single building is exactly as it was in the 17th and 18th centuries, albeit with modern trimmings. But the difference between the tourist heart of the old city and the residential new city (central Havana) is immense.
The people here have universal education and healthcare, and look well and speak well, but their lives seem mired in desperate poverty otherwise, and it all seems so pointless. The one intelligent conversation I've had with a local was with two students from the University of Havana, who both were learning languages and aspiring to leave Cuba and experience different cultures. Other than them, everyone else seems to be in it for the money: from those in the tourist trade, the guides and drivers, who speak politely and smile and are working for the tips, to the jineteros who hassle you in the street, looking to make a quick buck and swindle you. However, if you move away from the tourist areas and walk through the depths of Havana, through the stinking, badly cracked streets and past the houses that are crammed with inhabitants, people generally leave you alone, although they eye you up and down, being the obvious foreigner.
Every day here is a new adventure, a new learning experience, and brings new excitement. I'm glad I came- I have been disabused of any remaining romanticism/idealism about socialism.