1. CUBA: AN ‘ISLAND’ IN THE STREAM
The big 737 left the main runway in Sudbury on February 15th
at maximum torque. The
runways are not yet long enough to handle the big jets so the pilots need to ensure those
wheels are off the ground before we run out of runway. People were excited about the
trip but an unusual quiet fell over the cabin during this first phase of our journey to sunny
Cuba.
My husband and I had arrived at the Sudbury airport at 11:13 AM for a scheduled 12:00
PM departure for Cuba. I can blame a last minute stop in Espanola for a device that
would convert the power from 220 to 120 volts so we could use our electrical gadgets
(shaver, hair straightener!). At the check-in, we were met with, “You should have been
here an hour ago”. “So much for the fine print on the tickets” we thought. Half an hour
has always been sufficient for our local airport for other flights, but this was different.
We got checked through quickly enough then joined the long line to get our luggage x-
rayed. After that we found yet another amazing line-up to check our on-board luggage.
This took over an hour and we got to be the last ones on the plane even though there were
people behind us in the queue. Both carry-on bags elicited enough attention to warrant a
thorough but thankfully, fruitless search. As we made our way into the cabin, there was
enormous collective relief that the waiting was over. Most of it emanated from those that
had arrived that designated hour earlier. I was just glad there was no clapping. The plane
left at 12:30 PM with my husband happily in row 16, the larger ‘exit’ space, and me in
row 24 with some young Laurentian University students (second year- geography major)
who were on a plane for the very first time.
Once we made it into the air, the pilot announced his presence. His cheery comments
defining geographic highlights; major cities, lakes and the ‘absence of snow’ as we came
further south, made our trip shorter. The ‘claustrophobic’ confinement of the plane was
more bearable too. We made it to Cuba in good time and everyone did clap as the plane
touched down, especially the group of Laurentian students, still traumatized from the
take-off.
In Cuba the spartan ambience immediately created an ‘about-face’ as we entered the
airport and joined the inevitable line-ups of several plane loads of tourists waiting to have
their passports checked. This was followed by another security check for relevant papers
and then on to the luggage area. Total wait: almost two hours. There were only a couple
of small monitors playing Cuban music for several hundred people and the walls, mostly
bare, depicted the victors of the Cuban revolution, half a century ago. Ché Guivera’s face
was prominent and yet there were no images of el Presidente, Mr. Castro.
Finally, we found our way to the buses heading for the Sandal’s Hotels, and once seated,
realized we needed pesos for our passage. A quick jog to the airport got us our first local
money. On the bus a smiling lady said we were being ‘bumped up’ from the Beaches
hotel (five stars) to the Princess, a five and a half star establishment. The Beaches hotel
had been overbooked and since we were traveling alone we qualified for the change. The
‘Princess’ we discovered, was close to the end of the bus route of tourist establishments.
It seems there is a peninsula of hotels the locals refer to as the ‘artificial’ Cuba. This was
a beautiful, modern hotel. When you walked in you were suddenly outside again in a
surrealistic world of palms, pools and beautiful architectural creations. The main lobby
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2. was more like a tremendous archway to the village that lay beyond. Once more we had to
be patient and wait for someone to assign us a room. After this was accomplished,
nothing could stop that escape into the warm February night air. The destination was the
one restaurant, of eight that was still open at 9:30 PM and we enjoyed a buffet supper.
This hotel, being newer, had much to offer. There were several large pools, a huge spa,
eight restaurants, constant entertainment, and a terrific beach with people paragliding,
surf boarding, and boating all in the context of hot brilliant sunshine that arrived daily.
Missing were little shops for the Imodium, antihistamines, or nail files that get forgotten.
The food, while plentiful was often just a little over or undercooked and lacking certain
finesse that might include delicate spices or artistic display. An exception however could
be made for some of the ‘gourmet’ restaurants that you had to reserve a table for.
Unfortunately this process necessitated finding one of two people assigned to the task.
They made their appearances at unpredictable times in two different places for a few
hours each day. Then if you were lucky you only needed to wait an hour. Up to three
reservations could be made at once, but only one or two spots would be available by the
time you got through the line. Phone calls were interesting too. There were three or four
public phones and you had to stand in the room with the lady who connected you to the
outside world. She tracked the time and then you paid in pesos at the front desk. One call
for five to six minutes cost about $15. We had been told our cell phones wouldn’t work
but several people did a good job of fooling us with their lively one-sided conversations
into their digital receivers. Two internet computers were available for the entire hotel but
the internet was mostly ‘down’ so communication was difficult.
We soon found out that every deed deserved a tip. This was an all-inclusive hotel but the
staff only made about $10 a month and each ‘convertible’ peso ( a tourist peso was worth
the same as an American dollar but equal to 25 Cuban pesos) was the standard tip at the
bar, the restaurants and any place else that provided a service. An innocent gesture of
goodwill, a peso tip to a lady cleaning the washroom in the main lobby got me a reaction
I wasn’t prepared for. She fell on her knees, chanting “gracias, gracias”, while grasping
and kissing my hand. I was immediately overcome with a profound sadness that this lady
felt she had to do this to ‘make ends meet’. I left a peso and small soaps, shampoos for
the housekeeping staff each morning and this was rewarded with a daily array of elegant
‘towel’ swans as well as fresh bouquets of flowers.
By 9:00 Am, daily, we made it to the huge buffet, where we got everything from fried
beans, yogurt, cereal, omelettes, and meats to an abundance of fresh local fruit. After a
few days, we found the tiny tennis club café and it became the neatest ‘haunt’ at lunch
because you didn’t need a reservation. They had great smoked salmon (for me) and
familiar burgers (for my husband). One tended to avoid steaks as they were less than a
half inch thick, rather tough and always well done. Chicken and pork-chops were fine on
the barbeque at the beach. After a while you got familiar with the ‘lay’ of the place.
On the beach, young Cuban men sold large shells and they wanted goods in trade: soaps,
shampoos, toothbrushes, a Nike shirt, sunglasses or runners were highly sought after.
Later we were told that these shells were becoming rarer and they could be confiscated at
the airport. Of course, this was after we had made our trade. Nevertheless, walking the
white beach beside the turquoise water was amazing. You could study the vast array of
tiny translucent shells and be engulfed in the warm salty air.
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3. We didn’t just sit on the beach, drink beer and eat, although we did a good job at that for
a while. Every self-respecting tourist has to sign up for a few excursions. For $130 each
we toured Havana meals included, and visited the famous Tropicana night club. Our tour
guides were Orlando, ‘extrovert extraordinaire’, and a well-know (in Cuba) ex-soccer
player who was in ‘tourism training’ and very nice. We passed by Montanza Bay
(montanza means slaughter) where some Spanish conquistadors had been drowned by
unhappy local natives. The Spanish invaders quite logically sank to the bottom of the bay
in their heavy armours. In retaliation the Spanish governor ordered all the native people
in the area, killed. This kind of dampened our spirits but we tried to focus on the new
sights we would see the rest of the day.
Coming into ‘La Habana’ was eye-opening. If the condition of the buildings was an
indicator, the apparent poverty had to be overwhelming. Nothing had been done to 95%
these buildings, dating back to the 1700’s, for at least 50 years. The areas the tourists
were allowed to see close-up were well appointed. One huge dwelling previously
occupied by Spanish gentry had a huge inner courtyard that extended three stories to the
sky. It was flanked by salons, bed chambers, gathering places, kitchens, libraries and
sundry other rooms. In the courtyard a male peacock entertained the tourists with his
brilliant plumage. The ‘Doubervilles,’ a name I recognized, had been visitors here
according to the records, in another lifetime. The nearby governor’s mansion, once a
highlight of the oldest part of Havana, had been reappointed as a high-end hotel for
dignitaries.
We walked to the Hotel Ambos Mundos where Ernest Hemmingway held court and
produced some of his famous works. The old metal elevator clanked and groaned with
our collective weight as it slowly ascended and we realized it must have made the same
familiar protests when Mr. Hemmingway was ensconced in it. He would have been
anticipating a few hours of quiet time, followed by entertainment of fellow patrons while
imbibing a few favourite local brews. We reached the roof-top bar and with its panoramic
view and were drawn to the ancient, wounded architectural remains of Havana. These
buildings would have been in their prime in the middle of the last century, before the
revolution, when the mafia and American actors had their ‘heyday’ here. As we sipped
the spicy, clear drinks the bar was famous for, a huge luxury cruise ship made its way
slowly into the city not far from where we sat. That was an awesome view. On the other
side overlooking the inner city, two small girls waved to us amid strewn debris and
windowless ruins. They were displaying the Cuban energy and pride, alive despite the
chaos.
The tour guides wanted us to reflect upon the idealism of their revolution, a powerful
source of that very pride and they preferred that we did not take pictures of the other side.
Many years of American embargo and lack of productivity had taken their toll. Our
guides took us to Revolution Square where young Ché delivered his words of freedom
more than 50 years ago, celebrating the naissance of a revolution that they hoped would
see the people rise up and control their own rewarding future. In reality, it seems that one
type of autocratic leadership was replaced with yet another. Behind the huge tower
dedicated to this birth of socialism, we saw the low, modern government building where
President Fidel Castro worked. Our tour guide said no one had seen him for many weeks.
It seemed obvious that the principles of equality and sharing of wealth only work if there
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4. is productivity and subsequent wealth to share. One aspect that was beginning to make a
difference was the tourist money coming into the country. Young Cubans were attending
school to learn English, French, German and other languages so they would be able to
facilitate the tourist economy. It is a field that many now enter willingly because they are
exposed to the generosity of visitors and the excitement that the industry generates.
The Tropicana night club put on quite a show for us. Scantily-clad ladies pranced about
the stage, stairs and passageways. They displayed their love of music and dance, as well
as their cleavage to admiring crowds of 300 or more in a small outdoor amphitheater.
Free rum and a few souvenirs helped to drive the good feeling most exhibited when they
got on the bus to go home.
The coral reef was a second destination. We traveled by catamaran, entertained by the
friendly staff along the way. At the reef, they encouraged us to float on the surface with
snorkels and look at the terrific array of fluorescent fish. This was supposed to be easier
if we had been plied with some beer first. Instead the alcohol resulted in a few of us
getting back on a different boat. After all, there had been four boats to choose from, all
identical and if you hadn’t memorized a few of your fellow-travelers, making this
decision was just a bit tricky. Nevertheless, the fish were truly spectacular when you put
your ‘goggled’ eyes into the water. A warning for the unwary; try the art of breathing
through a snorkel before you go under salt water the first time. We also swam with the
dolphins that day and my husband was convinced that this intelligent animal was
communicating with him when it swam by and looked him directly in the eye. We
returned home with the feeling that this had been the highlight of our trip to Cuba.
The jeep tour was last and our vehicle was the designated leader of the pack of eight
similar vehicles. It was manned by a young driver who managed to whistle at, or call to
all young ladies he met along the way. We stopped for some more snorkeling and toured
an awesome kilometer-long underground cave then headed to a Cuban ranch for lunch.
Horses, turkeys, chicken, pigs and a huge 200 year old Ceiba tree that held religious
significance for the Cubans were the highlights of this ranch. You had to touch the Ceiba
tree and walk around it seven times for good luck. We saw a coffee plant with green
coffee beans and a real one-horse power water pump. The horse, tethered to a large
rotating vertical axle, walked in unending circles and the water bucket slowly rose on the
rope. A man emptied the water into a huge vat and then the procedure was repeated.
Our plane ride home was uneventful, after a two and a half hour wait to get through the
luggage line-up, passport office, and the security check. A 25 peso ‘departure tax’ was
paid for each of us so we could leave Cuba. The plane landed in Sudbury by 9:15 PM
with the same gusto it displayed taking off, stopping before we ran out of runway. Then a
long wait to get through customs and a line to retrieve and then check luggage so you
could leave. At that point, clad in light sweaters and back in the frigid snowy north, we
found our car battery was flat and the CAA would take about an hour to get there.
Luckily another passenger had some jumper cables and we got out sooner and were home
by about one AM.
Thinking back, the trip to the hot sunny climate of Cuba in February was a fabulous
event, breaking up the monotony of snow, ice and cold wind in northern Canada. The
people we met were warm and energetic but the desperate poverty lends a sober
pragmatism that lingers. No doubt the tourist dollar is very welcome and much needed,
but there may be other avenues that will allow something more valuable: initiative and
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5. self-direction. We, as Canadians could do our bit to encourage economic linkages with
Cuba. Hopefully the long standing embargo with the States will be lifted in the near
future when the government changes hands. Lifting this restriction should help foster
economic growth as the Cuban government relaxes the rules of ‘equality’ to allow more
entrepreneurialship and subsequently, greater returns for all the inhabitants. Such a bold
change will make visiting this “island in the stream”, so close to Florida, more rewarding
for both the Cubans and the sun seekers.
Gracias Cuba, for your generous spirit and your beautiful seascapes.
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Words:2742
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6. self-direction. We, as Canadians could do our bit to encourage economic linkages with
Cuba. Hopefully the long standing embargo with the States will be lifted in the near
future when the government changes hands. Lifting this restriction should help foster
economic growth as the Cuban government relaxes the rules of ‘equality’ to allow more
entrepreneurialship and subsequently, greater returns for all the inhabitants. Such a bold
change will make visiting this “island in the stream”, so close to Florida, more rewarding
for both the Cubans and the sun seekers.
Gracias Cuba, for your generous spirit and your beautiful seascapes.
30
Words:2742
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