So how does one even begin a trip to Cuba...
...the legendary land of Batista and the mobsters, Ernest Hemingway, and Fidel Castro – as part of an Intrepid Travels touring group? In our particular case every long trip begins about the same: waiting at the curb for our ‘second car,’ the hourly Costa bus, to come by.
Over the years, the Costa bus has become our personal, no-frills, ‘airport limousine service.’ It’s a low-cost, and fairly reliable, way to start our travels. And sometimes we get to see a few Kino friends while sharing the ride.
Soon we’re wandering through the Hermosillo airport, past a thoughtfully designed ‘pet relief station,’ and then we’re riding high on a big bird to Mexico City. Along the way I learn from the seat-back magazine that non-US citizens can get a lucrative ‘green card,’ leading to possible US citizenship, if they invest only US$800,000 in a pricey condo in Palm Beach. Who knew? Somehow I don’t recall ever seeing that ad on any of the cross-border buses we’ve ridden.
After two and a half hours of flying, the sprawling lights of MX City are just below our window, and the onboard map shows we’re now only at the halfway point between Hermosillo and Havana. Mexico is a very big country.
We’ll spend the night at an airport hotel, with a large banner on the reception desk to inform us that the place is under “Suspensión” from offering products and services – but the reception lady gladly scans our credit card and hands us a room key. Don’t ask us about this small episode in the large Mexican Carnival; we’re just passing through.
We decide to split a surprisingly expensive glass of nice red wine and a pricey dessert before retiring for the night. This may be our last chance at that sort of luxury before we return from Cuba in about ten days.
Our morning flight takes us past the iconic and dramatic smoking peak of Popocatépetl, and quiet nearby Iztaccíhuatl, on our way to the cloud-obscured Gulf of Mexico. Within just a couple of hours we spot the Cuban coast far below, and then the lush farmlands of western Cuba.
Soon we’re on the ground at Havana’s José Martí airport, past the customs gate, and waiting outside for our cab. A quick look around tells us we’ve entered the legendary Cuban time warp, where much of the island’s US commerce stopped with the embargo in 1959. We’ve entered the land of cute little boxy Soviet Ladas, a variety of other forms of transportation, and plenty of gorgeous collector-quality US cars from the 1950s and earlier. Almost anyone from our age group who visits Cuba these days will sooner or later spot a beautiful shiny reminder of the first car they ever owned.
The charming street scenes that we passed on our way from the airport, of fruit stands, cobbled-together housing, and neglected classical leftovers from the days of the dictator Batista, remind me of similar scenes in Mexico, Guatemala, Perú, Bolivia, and other Latin American countries. Yet Cuba is not all about crumbling buildings, and some sections of the large city of Havana (pop. 2.1 million) can give an unfair first impression of the island. While there’s plenty of beauty to be found, much of the dilapidation we first encounter also reminds me of scenes from many neglected American cities.
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So what did I expect to find here, on my first visit ever to Cuba – other than an endless number of gorgeous old cars? What was I looking for? And did I have preconceived notions about the country?
Long ago I learned to attempt to purge my thoughts of as many misconceptions as I can before traveling to any other country, because almost all of those preconceptions were wrong wherever I arrived. In the case of Cuba (and also Russia), those thoughts were driven by a constant bombardment of propaganda that was so extreme as be unbelievable by most people of reasonable intelligence. Sure, whatever countries I’ve visited had problems. But what country doesn’t? And it’s easy to form distorted ideas if you only come for a short visit and get a superficial view of the society.
After a couple of extended visits to Russia – ten days in 1994 in and around St Petersburg for a conference, and later a month of working in Ussuriysk, a small city in the Russian Far East, 100km north of Vladivostok – I only feel qualified to tell friends and family to forget all they’ve been told and go with an open mind. You’ll find there are plenty of bad things, and plenty of good things, to discover on your own. Especially if you can open your mind to see things as the locals do. And that’s what I was hoping for in Cuba.
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We got to Havana for our planned Tour – not our ‘modus normal’ – a day early, and we settled quickly into the simple but charming quarters we would occupy for the next three nights.
It was a comfortable place but not lavish, with an artistic flair, a rooftop breakfast spot, and a friendly little dog to greet us.
And then we went out for a walk-around. We set a course for the Plaza de Armas, one of the more important squares in the city, and gathered impressions along the way. The streets of old Havana are lined with architectural treasures, and much of it is in disrepair. But there’s been a concerted effort by the city administration, and a group called Habaguanex, to maintain and restore the city’s important architectural heritage using income from tourism. It’s always easy to look past the good projects that have been finished, and focus on the obvious massive deterioration they still face. But some of the idealists of Cuba are making modest progress in the face of major obstacles and they deserve to be recognized for it.
The worst of what I saw during our Cuba visit reminds me of the notoriously dismal concrete apartment blocks the Soviets built quickly after the Second World War, using the minimalist ideas of Corbusier to provide cheap emergency housing for millions of refugees left homeless after the destruction of the war. The US, which emerged largely unscathed from the war, and facing no such emergency, also embraced Corbu’s flawed ideas, and littered the American landscape with infamous failed structures, such as the Pruitt-Igoe project in St Louis. Its long-hoped-for destruction was memorably chronicled in slow-motion in the 1982 movie “Koyaanisqatsi,” with a haunting sound track by Phillip Glass.
As night fell over the old city, we gathered a couple of other early arrivals for the Tour and found a little restaurant with an excellent band playing what we’d soon recognize as the ’sound track of Havana.’ What I began to call ‘the big three,’ “Guantanamera,” “Quizas, quizas, quizas,” and “Besame mucho,”* seem to be the tunes most Cuban bands in every plaza and on every street corner think that most visitors to the island want to hear. They’re all fine songs, and played by a lot of good little combos hoping we’ll drop a buck or two into the hat, and we do. But after a long afternoon of repetition we were ready for something – anything! – else.
How about “El manicero,” for example, inspired by the peanut vendors calling out their wares in the streets of Havana? (Here’s a 1932 version, with words.) After the band paused for a moment, to make sure they all remembered that old tune, they played a passable version for us. And then they followed up with several more local tunes that made us feel like we’d actually arrived in the streets of Havana vieja.
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Some Music Notes
• The gorgeous Cuban tune of “Guantanamera” (1929), is about a rural girl, a guajira, from Guantanamo and is based on a famous poem by José Martí. It was made popular on Cuban radio over many years by Joseíto Fernández. It was recorded later in the US by the The Weavers (1963), The Sandpipers (1966) and others, and became world famous. It’s also been recorded by Cubans artists, such as Celia Cruz and Compay Segundo.
• The sexy and suggestive, “Quizas, quizas, quizas” (1947) was written by Osvaldo Farrés, another Cuban composer. The English version, as “Perhaps,” was first recorded for RCA in 1948 by Desi Arnaz. A number of other versions have been recorded by Bing Crosby (1951), Nat “King” Cole (1958), Celia Cruz (1964), Doris Day (1965), and Andrea Bocelli with Jennifer Lopez ((2013).
• “Besame mucho” (1932), was written by teenaged Mexican songwriter Consuelo Velásquez and inspired by a piano piece for Goyescas by the Spanish composer Enrique Granados. Her song is considered to be the most recorded and covered Spanish language song of all time, with versions by Dale Evans (1944), Frank Sinatra (1954), The Coasters (1960), The Beatles (1962), Plácido Domingo (1983) and many others.
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After enjoying a fine evening of music and dinner we wandered back through the mysterious and enchanting streets of old Havana to our lodging for a good night’s sleep.
Another warm Caribbean day brings another fine wander. We’re still waiting for our Intrepid Travel group to assemble, as their various planes arrive during the day. So we head out into the busy streets for more exploration, to find some refreshment, to pause at a nice shop of local artistry. And other than a variety of colorful characters, there are also plenty of Lada (Лада), Moskvich (москвич), Zhiguli (Жигули), and other Soviet car brands to add an exotic touch. Judging by the large number of these cars still on the streets of Havana, these ubiquitous little rides seem to have held up well enough in Cuba, although the Moscow Times reported in 2014 that in Russia “just one in 20 Lada-owners said they would recommend the car brand to their friends or colleagues.” Still, I actually appreciate their simple boxy design and easy repairability – and yes, there are plenty of Lada jokes around!
Some Lada Jokes
• What do you call a Lada at the top of a hill? A miracle.
• A man drives his Lada to a mechanic and asks, "Can I have a spare hubcap for my Lada?" The mechanic says, "Sounds like a fair trade."
• How do you double the value of a Lada? Fill its gas tank.
• What's the difference between a Lada and a Jehovah's Witness? You can shut the door on a Jehovah's Witness.
• Why does a Lada have a heated rear window? To keep your hands warm while pushing it.
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We pass a church with a notice in the doorway for an afternoon concert of music by Mozart and Beethoven celebrating the 15th anniversary of Havana’s Mozart Lyceum and Orchestra. We and some other Intrepid folk make a point to attend, and there was a fine orchestra playing. It was a good decision. It is a gift to happen upon such things in our travels.
At 6:00 p.m. there’s an important first gathering for all of us to meet Yanet, our Intrepid Travel guide, and to make our introductions. It’s certainly a diverse crowd that we’ve signed onto, and we’ll get to know each other better over the next several days. Soon we head out to enjoy our first dinner together. Then it’s back for a good night’s rest to prepare for our first official day in Cuba on an Intrepid Travel tour. We used them a few years ago to visit northern Hungary and Romania and we like the way they do things.
On the following morning I peer over the balcony railing as a gorgeous – and huge – old 4-door Buick Roadmaster pulls up to the curb below. (Woody Allen once said in a film, “The roaches in this apartment are as big as Buicks!!”) And I make a point of being early in line for a seat in this beauty.
This one recalls fond memories of my own first car in 1962, a well-used cream-colored 1953 Buick V-8 Super 2-door with a red and black interior. Her ‘laker’ glass-pack mufflers gave off a mellow sound that made that heavy car sound a lot faster than she was. I fell in love as soon as I saw it in the back row of a used car lot, and my dad had to lend me $300 to buy it. Fond memories indeed, of high school prom night, in a maroon madras dinner jacket, white socks and all. “Those were the days.”
We’ll start the day in retro-style by touring the city of Havana in a convoy of the country’s famous, and gorgeous, old pre-1959 US cars. Seven of us are jammed into the Buick, and one of the other rides is a big old white Chevy that looks like Carolyn’s first car.
Our first stop will be an homage to the island’s colorful and thriving ‘Santeria’ religion.
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SANTERIA
Santeria is a syncretism, dating back as early as the 16th century. Spanish colonists brought many thousands of enslaved Africans to the island, and these people practiced their religion in secret, melding their deities with those of the Catholic religion and incorporating West African Yoruba practices with Roman Catholic ritual.
During the revolution of the 1950s, Castro's government eliminated many religious institutions, expelling priests and religious leaders; however, Santeria survived due to its flexibility and resilience. Worshippers continued their practices in small groups and in private homes. Not only did it not disappear; it has grown stronger. And in the current climate of economic stress, it is once again gaining popularity. It has sometimes been discouraged by the authorities, but is now generally tolerated. You can easily identify new practitioners of the religion as they dress entirely in white for one year.
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Our tour took us into the vibrantly colorful Santeria district with its idols, images, music, and dance.
The streets of old Havana are filled with yet more gorgeous and paintable images – if one had the time! and the talent! – as we trade cars and head off to our next stop.
The Plaza de la Revolución is filled with towering monuments to Che, Cienfuegos, José Martí and other icons of modern day Cuba. Our colorful parade of ancient cars, most of which have been ‘Cubanized’ in vibrant paint unlike the subdued factory-original hues I recall from my teen years, add a bit of flare to the scene. And it’s likely that few of them still retain their original engines. I asked the driver of an early 1950s Chevy about what was under the hood, in hopes of rekindling fond memories of Chevrolet’s reliable old workhorse, the 235ci inline 6-cylinder that preceded their V-8 era. It was produced from 1941 to 1962, and even the 1953-55 Corvettes had the old ’stovebolt 6’ under the hood. The driver’s reply was, “Oh no, it’s now a used Mercedes engine.” Ah, progress.
And then we’re off again, for a drive through Havana’s dense urban forest parkland and onward to lunch with more good music, at Mojito Mojito.
We’re now back in central Havana Vieja. This is where the cars depart and we’ll enjoy an after lunch walk-around through streets that have seen so much history. Among the sights are a statue of a naked lady with a giant fork riding a rooster (we’ll let you work out the symbolism on that), and an eccentric Spaniard, now bronzed and known (for some reason) as “El Caballero de Paris,” who quoted classic Spanish literature while a longtime denizen of these ancient alleys. And I got a picture I’ll call “Lady With a Cannon.” Apparently Havana found itself with an abundance of old cannons and they’ve been repurposed in pedestrian areas as street art traffic control measures.
After a good long wander – and a nap – the evening is ours. We recruit our friends Helen and Maggie and head for La Floridita, the bar that Hemingway made famous. Or vice versa. There’s a good band playing near the crowded bar, but first we commandeer a table in the next room for dinner. And a round of cold daiquiris from the alleged ‘Cradle of the Daiquiri.’
After dinner we head to the bar for more music and a nightcap with ‘Papa’ himself, who once said, “I.drink to make other people more interesting.” He’s now been bronzed but still hanging out in his usual spot, in the corner leaning on the bar, right by his picture with Fidel.
Very shortly, a line of tall gazelle-girls march in the doorway and file straight behind the bar to get their pictures with the two handsome and harried bartenders. Then they file straight back out the door and disappear into the night. I have no idea what that was about, but wish I’d had the presence of mind to ask! Maybe a new promo shot for La Floridita?
And then it’s time for us to file off into the balmy Havana nighttime – just as a very pretty early-1950s Ford station wagon rolls by, in the endless classic car parade that is everyday life in Cuba.
We're leaving Havana to continue the tour. Next stop — Vinales. — PRW