Travel Tips

February 20

Cafeteria La Arcade is just off the main drag in Vedado & has an inviting porch, adorned with plastic Roman columns & real plants, so this is where I'll splurge on a Bucanero beer.
The rain doesn't bother me much, though the wind splattering water on my new book does. I bought 'Lo esencial en la Ortografia' to teach myself some Spanish until I have enough money to start lessons with the teacher I found.

Inside La Arcada, it's the air-conditioning from hell. I'd rather get wet on the porch and take in the street scene. This is a quiet, run-down street near the Malecon, I can smell the sea, how nice! Young men on the porch are acting real macho-like but respond very well to my one-and-only Spanish phrase 'No me molesta por favor' I can write in peace to the sound of their nasal serenade.

Been in Havana for a while, trying to collect money transfers from home. The machines for this here are broken. I learned the word 'rota' early on, so I wait and try something new every day. Im such an optimist! Patience comes easily to me here, understandably. I can always go home. It's not the same for the Cubans. No es facil...

Just being here is enough for now. I'm not tempted to buy concert tickets or anything else, it all seems ludicrous to spend the little cash I have when I'm fed more than I can eat at my casa. Anyway, there's lots of life everywhere to entertain me while I wait.

I'm staying at a casa particular in Centro Havana. Today, I love the Centro's bustling activity from dawn til dusk, and all night for that matter. Other days, I hate it. Donna e mobil. The Vedado is greener, calles and avenidas larger than Centro Havana's (you see, I speak some Spanish) -- and it's good to breathe some fresh air. Vedado feels far from everything though. It's a different Habana to the one one I'm used to discovering every day.

My wanderlust is not acting up at all. I want to head for Baracoa but it can wait until the cash machines in Havana all unite in the spirit of some Revolucion and start delivering the goods! It's bound to happen sooner or later, no rush.

Lights! Wow, the porch comes alive! A waitress is sweeping the terracotta in slomo, the serenaders have left after singing that they were enchanted to have met me. It's great to be French-speaking, none of the usual platitudes need be exchanged. I can't be too flush with US$ so I hand out cigarillos.

(raining harder now and I have a long walk to go home along the Malecon. This calls for another beer and a prayer to the Orisha of Rain.)

The pic is a scene of every minute Cuba... a man calling up from the street to someone up there, on a balcony. I could do a travelogue on "Cries of Cuba", they're fantastic!

I went to Guanabacoa yesterday, inland, east of Havana. Visited a nice colonial church started by Dominicans and now under Franciscan rule. Met a very nice young novice, who talked about his experience as a monk and things in general. I understood most of what he said and wasn't too frustrated with my inability to express myself. It can be restful to listen, when in the right state of mind.
On the ferry back to Havana, I met another young guy (the older ones all ignore me.) We got on real well, ended up in the Barrio Chino (Chinatown in Havana) for pizza and sangria. Real good, especially after a steady diet of rice with black beans for days.

About food: I'm eating regularly and well at the casa, and I know that this helps me keep my spirits and my energy level up. I'm disappointed, however, with the blandness of dishes and with the lack of variety. Mostly, I long to see fresh food stalls on the streets but they are apparently inexistent here. As far as I understand, casa owners can buy what their guests want for dinner, on the black market.
US$ go a long way here and guests pay the casa in that currency. Still, I'd love to see stalls of fresh produce during my wanderings about town, and I don't.
I saw a tired carrot and some run-down beets in a dark alley yesterday and only noticed them because of the secretive queue of casa owners nervously forming in front of the stall. To be fair, I also saw a couple of wrinkled salads in Guanabacoa yesterday.

At some point, I travelled to a few places in Cuba with a French guy. When we came back to Havana, he kept telling me to try the street food, which even tourists can pay in Cuban pesos. He believed this was the way to eat more cheaply. (One US$ was equal to something like 26 Cuban pesos. And one can get lots of snacks on the street for very few Cuban pesos.)
I was willing to try but I'd been in Cuba about 3 weeks by then and realised a few things. Meal prices at the casa were reasonable and provided me with everything I needed for day-long explorations of the city (not the least of which is a well-appointed table and quiet time.) I'd already met a few long-stay tourists like me, who had chosen *not* to eat at their casa to save money. Well... they ALL envied me the satisfying, regular meals I got morning and night, while they constantly wasted energy and money tasting street-food to keep going.
I never needed to buy any snacks all day, with the complete breakfast I'd taken and knowing what was being prepared for dinner by the good cook at my casa.

So anyway, the French guy and I had a draft beer in a very local joint, then a protein burger, then some pastry. None of it was worth the effort for me, in fact I'd rather forget whatever I tasted on the street. For the record, breakfast at the the casa cost me US$3 and dinner, US$6, and it was always very good.

I move a lot and I'm always throwing away precious travel info to keep my load light. Today I'm being ruthless and tearing up everything I find, tabula rasa... so I might be free. I just found an old journal which I wrote to keep myself company and boost my spirits when I was in Cuba two years ago. It's going to go too... but I just want to save it here.----------------------

Feb.11, 3.30 a.m. - D's place is huge and beautiful, very romantic. My room is on the ground floor and the ceiling reaches the sky! The door will let a very tall person through, if he's slim. Love the harvest-coloured window panes and doors like stencils against white-washed wall.
The shutters are open and I heard a child call out earlier, a reassuring sound. Otherwise, total silence.

4.30 a.m. - To sleep, to stretch out after being folded in 3 on the plane for 7 hours.

10 a.m. - Coming out of my room after a good sleep. Met D again, Jorge, Uca and Herminia. Big breakfast, no rush, good fruits, eggs, bread & strong, very pungent café con leche.

I must fix my bank card problem. Found it was demagnetised when I reached the airport in Montreal, to catch my flight here. Walked to the Banco de Credito with D. Along San Miguel to Av. Italia, very crowded streets, the Malecon is just steps away, the sky is true BLUE and the sun shines brightly. How strange for me!

Last night, coming into town from the airport, the city looked nice and quiet. I had an impression of 'déjà vu' - Spain, Miami & China mixed together, with a big element of colonial architecture everywhere and a feeling of the tropics.

Very latino ambience! The music started around 9 a.m.
1 p.m. - I'm sitting at Cafeteria AVE, corner San Miguel & Italia, by a small park. Drinking Bucanero fuerte, a great beer, 5.4% for not too fuerte for me! Going to Hotel Inglaterra to send a Fax

Feb.12, 1 a.m. - Yesterday afternoon, I walked along the Prado (Paseo de Martí), starting from Hotel Inglaterra, Hotel Telegrafico (Heinrich Schliemann stayed here) to the Malecon. Dozens of young boys jumping into small pools in the rock wall - a very happy bunch! Sun is west now, as I look to Vedado from Centro, no photo possible towards that side.

Men playing domino on a small transversal street. One of them tells me there'll be a world tournament here soon.
Came home happy & exhausted, slept through the music until dinner. Jorge listened to musicians fm Pinar del Rio on the radio & answered my questions while I ate a very good meal. It was Congrís, a local dish of rice & beans.
Jorge got his daughter Yvette to taste the maple syrup I brought them & she was licking her lips. It came in a glass pistol, fits into this Colonial house :-)

After dinner, went to the Francesa bar/pastry shop to taste some rum. Met Dámasos, a nice young guy and we walked to Calle Obispo in Old Havana, where we went into a really neat place with live band. Sang all night with Tamara & Isaac (nice couple), Dámasos & Grace, a tiny, wiry, troubled young women who was interesting to talk to. She reminds me of F.

Feb.13 - A friend came to meet me at D's place yesterday and we went to Calle Obispo (again! I love this street!) for a few beers and a nice chat. On to the Nacional Hotel where I continued on my own. The Nacional is impressive in size, has a nice collection of paintings, but it's impersonal and very cold.

I tried to walk to the posters shop near Chaplin Cine but eventually gave up - it's much farther than I thought. Hopped on a bus supposed to take me back to the Prado - had the feeling we were going the wrong way, nothing looked familiar, plus it was overcrowded. At Nettuno St, I couldn't get off for all the shoving. Further out, I managed to push my way out, people were screaming and even came to blows. Someone punched me by mistake, on the breast. I almost fainted. By then, I was lost and walked 15 blocks back to Calle Lealtad.
Had a great dinner but I could hardly move from exhaustion. Slept badly.
Today, went back to Banco de Credito with D but nothing had come for me. Tried to call home, it didn't work! I asked Eva at the Institute for Friendship between People to call my mother & tell her to phone me at D's. I'm just biding my time at the casa now. Very tired.

Feb.14 - On my way to a bar, a young guy gave me a rose and told me it was Valentine Day. Sweet. Yo estoy en ristaurante/bar Monserrate, bebiendo cerveza y fumando uno cigarillo Popular. Es muy simpatico aquí. La direcion es en Habana Vieja, en periodo non lejo del Prado.
Adíos denaro por hoy porque corriere electronico del Banco de Crédito es rotto! Llamado mi madre, espero ahora que elle puede ayudarme con Visa... por la fin de semana. :-)

Now that everything that could go wrong has gone wrong, it can only get better. Wasted all day yesterday waiting for something to arrive. Today I walked back to Hotel Inglaterra to check my emails, wasted $2.50 to get online, Hotmail never opened.
A friend was supposed to call round 8 last night and I was looking forward to going out for more than a stroll to the Internet spot. Got all dressed up but he didn't call so I read til 3 a.m.
Time passes -- dozens of useless calls, walks and various attempts later, things are getting more complicated. Now I know why Hemingway took to the bottle! I haven't seen a green veggie in a week & the thought of eating black-eyed peas for 3 months is driving me nuts. I've gone on a hunger strike here, eating the cheese & chocolates I brought as gifts, in my room...
Paolo sent me a political Valentine, cute! So I warned him about my 8-pager on Cuba which I'll mail when I have money for a stamp... Wrote to R. too. Many Germans here, the ones I see stick together a lot though. I notice they keep a low profile and are hesitant to say where they're from. Some Cuban friends told me they found Germans loud and arrogant, so perhaps the majority is paying for the reputation some gave them. The ones I meet are 'subdued'. I must say most Italians I meet here are much more obnoxious, very clannish & uncaring of others. Alfred sent me Valentine wishes and my Net time was up before I could reply :-(((

The promiscuity on the street is getting to me. People run into you without bothering to look or to step aside, as though they don't see you. They are very nice when a conversation starts but it's often to practice their English - I find it hard to let things sink in, to really look at anything, in peace. I'm accosted every step I make by people who want to be my 'friend'. No problems of the 'hustler' type at all, just too many people stopping me all the time.

Reading 'River Town' by Peter Hessler, who taught in Fuling in 94. He reached conclusions about the value of teaching in China that are similar to mine. I find him quite judgemental and he needles the Chinese into discussing sensitive political subjects, apparently hoping to prove them wrong... But he's very honest about his own shortcomings and I have to remember that he was only 27 when he went to China. I like the way he gradually realises that a lot of what he sees happening in China related to treatment of minorities... also happened in the U.S.

Feb.21 - Back to 'Lotte in Weimar' , lots of introspection, love it! Another day where no money showed up. And I waited for calls that came the second I went out for a breath of fresh, hot air...
Strange ambience at my Casa... like no one talks to each other. A group of teens with 2 chaperones were here this week, from the San Juan Islands, Washington State. The chaperone slurred his words more than the teens, I couldn't understand them. Americans I meet on the road often seem ill-at-ease in unfamiliar surroundings. This group certainly was... the chaperone made off-the-mark assertions about Cuban politics and life, when it was clear he had no idea about things here. He launched into a monologue to prove to me that the reason I never saw any Cubans reading was that the Government doesn't want them to. That surprised me, so he fell back on 'oh well, books are too expensive for them.'

I mentioned that I found it distressing to see most people in Centro Habana just hanging around, staring at passers-by, from doorsteps that could use a good splashing of water. Everywhere, we have to step around refuse & watch out for all sorts of... dirt. To this, the American retorted that Cubans have no soap and no water... That's not true, their clothes and body are impeccably clean, and their 50's old Fords are sparkling! It's the streets and sidewalk that need attention.

I'm not in my element on a tropical island. It's all too languid for me. Of course, if I wasn't so frustrated in my efforts to get some money from home, things would look up a lot :-)
Okay, this is it. I'm not writing any more in this boring journal. Better practice my Spanish. Ojalá!