Thursday, November 6, 2014, The fourth in a series of
Cuba is where everything is moving but nothing has changed. Here, every day is, as in the movie, "Groundhog Day," a repeat of the one just passed. In most places on this earth, one returns to say how much things are different. Not so, here, I suspect.
In our spacious two room suite at the lovely Meliã Cohiba, we are sleeping on a mattress that has seen better days in a room where the drapes only open if the occupant wins the fight with the rollers and hooks. We have been warned to use bottled water for tooth brushing. The electrical outlet in the sitting room doesn't work. On the other hand, the hair dryer is excellent. Maid service is very good. We received this handwritten note, in English, when we returned to our room last night: “Hello!! Dear Guest: Good Morning. Welcome to our Hotel. I wish you a nice stay and unforgettable days. Thanks for tip. Your Maid, Roxane.” We left two U.S. dollars on our bed last night and will repeat that for each night we stay. In relative terms, that’s a lot of money for Roxane, assuming she gets to keep it all.
At 9:15am, we’re on the bus and off we go to The University of Havana. We see a sublime campus in the middle of the City occupied by the same sort of students one might find anywhere in the world. The education is free—if you can get in—and the internet, with some sites blocked, is free. Free expression is encouraged but organized protests against the government or anything it does are prohibited. Our student guide speaks poor English so Vicky translates for us.
Next we go to the Hotel Nacional where we tour the manicured grounds and take in the view from above the Malecόn. This is where mobsters met and persons both famous and infamous have stayed. Among those pictured as having been here include U.S. President Jimmy Carter, Venezuelan President Caesar Chavez, Iranian President Ahmadinejad, Russian President Medvedev, Kevin Costner, Mobster Meyer Lansky, Barbara Walters, Charlie Rose, John Wayne, Charlie Chaplin, Steven Spielberg, Frank Sinatra, Walt Disney, Robert Redford and more and more and more. Many ask why we didn’t stay there and the answer is that the rooms are musty and electrical service in unreliable.
A poster appears prominently in multiple places in Havana. It refers to the “Cuban Five.” Alongside five photos, the poster at El Aljibe’s Havana Club, our lunch spot, reads as follows: “Who are the five Cuban Heroes jailed in the U.S.? Five young professionals who decided to devote their lives, away from their homeland, to fighting against terrorism in the City of Miami, the hub of most aggressions against Cuba. The five men were put on a manipulated trial in Miami, a completely hostile city dominated by a Cuban-origin Mafia, where no fair and impartial trial was possible in keeping with U.S. and International Laws. On March 10, defense attorneys made their case in the Miami courthouse before the Appeals Court. As we wait for the Appeals Court to hand down its ruling—a decision that could take several months—call on all dignified people of goodwill to join the increasingly larger movement of solidarity with the five Cuban heroes who are now political prisoners in the United States.” We are told that two of these men have since been released but that three remain in U.S. jails. They are the persons I mentioned on Day One’s blog that were the subject of an idea to “trade prisoners” in return for Cuba’s release of American Alan Gross who is currently being held in a Cuban prison.
After lunch we head to a local dance school and are treated to a performance. I buy some musical instruments there for Megan (continuing a tradition that goes back many trips). We wrap up our day with a final stop at Estudio Taller Fuster (the studio of local artist Taller Fuster) where whimsical ceramics and paintings abound. Fuster is described as the Cuban Picasso or Gaudi. I buy a tile and BR finds a painted empty bottle of Cuban rum that she cannot resist. From there, we head back to the hotel, arriving around 4:30.
I find today’s note from Roxane: “Hello!! Dear Guest. Good Morning. Thanks a lot for tip & gift. I am a lovely person. Thank’s. Have a nice day!! Your maid, Roxane.” I assume the “lovely person” reference is a response to BR who left “I Am Loved” buttons—in Spanish “Soy Amada”—on the pillow along with our tip.
Meeting at 6:15, we are off again to dinner. Tonight, we go to Gringo Viejo (The Old American). It’s OK.
To wrap up this long Thursday, we take in a performance of the Havana Ballet; the 24th Festival Internacional de Ballet de la Habana, to be precise. The performance was held at the Teatro Nacional de Cuba. Our seats cost 25 CuCs, about $25 U.S. Cubans could buy tickets, depending upon the seat they chose, for amounts ranging from five cents up to fifty cents. Under the direction of the famous Alicia Alonso, the lengthy performance (9:00pm-11:20pm) contained dances from the full “Prologo Para Una Tragedia” inspired by “Otelo, el moro de Vencia” by Shakespeare to an energetic “Tango” interpretation to a farsical “As You Like It” and on and on and on. The coach ride to the hotel was our latest foray in the nighttime of Havana. Absolutely, positively, nothing was happening at 11:30. Few cars were out; few pedestrians could be seen.
During the day I ask why virtually every ground floor window and door in virtually every residential building is protected by decorative iron bars. The answer given is that when the Soviets left Cuba in the nineties, “things got pretty rough.” We are told that the City is very safe but the bars send a menacing signal. I am relieved to hear that “those days are past.”
In Cuba, we see virtually no construction activity. No cranes soar into the sky, no orange cones close roadway lanes, no concrete trucks roar down streets and no building seems capable of withstanding much more than a brisk wind. Here, maintenance is a forgotten concept. Buildings are in a wide state of disrepair whether occupied or not. Much of what we see is a dirty grey color reminding me of what depressed me when I visited Russia a few years ago with my son. We did today see some stores and shops and even a supermarket of sorts. I asked if we could visit but there wasn’t time. Vicky told us about her state-issued food ration book. Many on the bus were startled. She can buy only so much for her family. If she wants more she must go to “private” purveyors who charge much higher prices—if she can even find what she needs. The only billboards one sees are festooned with political messages; no products or services are advertised.
When the embargo is eventually lifted and investment comes to Cuba—as it surely will—there will be no shortage of places to tear down, build up, remodel or rehabilitate. Along the waterfront and on the squares, there are precious few coffee shops or bars or sidewalk cafés and that will change. There is no McDonald’s or Subway or KFC or Starbucks or Houston’s or Chevrolet dealer or Ace Hardware or Macy’s or Nordstrom or Quik Trip or Taco Bell or Marriott or Dairy Queen or Walgreens or Apple Store or AMC Theater or, well, anything of that sort.
These brands are everywhere around the world but they are not here, just 90 miles from our shore. The run down and bleak Havana waterfront will be reborn and bustle with tourists and entrepreneurs. Cruise ships will call on what will become the busiest tourist port in the Caribbean. I have naively predicted that President Obama, with nothing more to lose after this week’s elections, will lift the embargo “within 90 days.” Everyone scoffs at that notion but then, with serious faces, they ask me, “Do you believe it could be true? Oh, God; could it really be?”
"Oh, God; could it really be?"
Thursday, November 06, 2014
Havana, Cuba
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2025-02-11
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Carlito
2014-11-13
Paul - just Wow ! Pictures are great and you should get Blogger of the Year!