Havana

Our first glimpse of Havana city was at 2am, from the back seat of a taxi at 110ks, no seat-belts, singing along to the driver's Phil Collins CD. We'd spent a fair amount of the night at the first stop on our cuban cultural experience - Jose Marti airport. With a stern "one by one!" from the robotic young female immigration officer, our visas were sternly stamped before we were sternly told "welcome", a buzz sounded and she sternly gestured towards a door next to the booth. For both of us, tired and disoriented, the door was an effort to open, though the robot provided stern midwifesque encouragement... "push!!!"

The second cultural experience was the baggage claim. Weighed down by all the products Cuban people are not allowed to buy (or are rationed), the conveyer belt inched around with bags of toilet paper, toothpaste, clothes, LCD screens, printers. Almost everything had been cut open by customs officials behind the scenes.

Waking up in next day we looked out the window to see Havana at its best. Spanish colonial buildings, set against soviet-looking apartment blocks, locals slouching about along the streets, big 1950's Chevs, Fords and Cadillacs along with dozens of more recent Ladas (the classic lego-car design).

The hotel (Parque Centrale) is right next to Havana's central park, in the old part of the city. Subsequent research reveals that it is probably owned by the Cuban military. Cuba began to open up to tourism in 1992, after the fall of the Soviet Empire meant it lost billions in aid and trade. About 5% of Havana's population works in tourism - because the ability to earn tips over and above the (very low) fixed wages mean it's the most lucrative industry to work in. This means that, as a tourist in Cuba,  you get a lot of attention from spruikers ('Hey amigos, you wanna go to Salsa festival?', 'Happy holidays amigos you wanna buy cigar?'). So our first experience in Havana was getting bullied by a horse and cart driver into taking a trip with him and his horse Marlboro. I do not use the term bullying lightly. He stalked us to the ATM and was waiting outside our hotel when we got back. We wanted to run upstairs and put some money in our safe, so took a different entrance - and he spotted us and ran after us yelling. So, beaten into submission, we took his tour. It was about an hour long and involved him pointing at buildings and saying 'Church!', 'Square!'. Not a lot of information, but it did give us a nice orientation tour of Old Havana, and the cart's hood kept the worst of Havana's scorching rays from exacerbating Mark's sunburn. 

After a short nap and a dip in the roof-top pool, we set off for an evening walk. We headed down La Rambla, modeled on the one in Barcelona - sadly, you get the feeling that if the buildings were well-maintained, this one would be much prettier. Half way along we were accosted by a young man who told us that Cuba was the best country on Earth. Then, after trying to get us to go to a salsa bar, asked us if we could buy milk for his baby in a shop he isn't allowed to use. Cuba has two currencies, the convertible peso (CUC), for tourists, which can be converted into other currencies, and the national peso (CUP) for locals, which can't - and which is also worth about one fourteenth of a convertible peso. So, if you give a local one convertible peso, it's like you've given them fourteen pesos - the gratitude for tips in Havana was a bit heartbreaking. It also means that some shops only use one or other of the currencies, resulting in an effective tourist/Cuban apartheid system in places. Anyway, so this dude wanted us to buy some milk for his baby. I strongly suspected he had no baby, so declined (later we found out that every Cuban kid gets a litre of milk per day in rations). We also found out that you go in, buy the milk for 2CUC (about $2US) and then give it to the dude. He takes the milk back, gets a partial refund from the shop owner and they're both about $1US richer - which is pretty good when you consider that most Cubans have about $20US a month in disposable income (everything they 'need' is rationed [see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rationing_in_Cuba]). 

We wandered along the waterfront - which like most of Havana was filthy but beautiful. Old men fishing off the stone walls that surround the port, others floating in inner tubes on the water trying their luck with their fishing rods. Then back up the plaza in front of the stunning Spanish Embassy and the Museum of the Revolution - the former Presidential Palace in the Batista days and before. Kids were playing soccer, old men were hanging about looking Cuban. 

Past the Granma invasion monument - complete with aircraft and vehicles used in the invasion, and protected by young Cuban soldiers with an incredible ability to remain completely stationary. Then on to Central Park, where the elderly had perfected the art of sitting on park benches looking Cuban and smoking cigars, past the massive Capitolio building (very similar to its estranged cousin in Washington D.C., only as every Cuban will tell you, it's over a metre taller). The Capitolio has a huge garden in front of it, with statues of heroes of the American continent - including Abraham Lincoln, who is much revered in Cuba, although not as much as Che, Camillo Cienfuegos, and nowhere near as much as Cuba's greatest hero Jose Marti who accounts for almost every statue, bust and painting in Havana... or so it seems.  We sat down for what we hoped was a quiet beer under the massive veranda of the Hotel Inglaterra opposite Central Park, however we were soon interrupted by the strains of Guantamera played live from further down the veranda. This was to become a constant theme in our time in Latin America (although, interestingly, we were away for more than a week before we heard La Bamba). Back to the Hotel before midnight, to find a wee note from the lady who cleaned our hotel room saying hello. Over our three days in Havana, we struck up a pleasant correspondence with her. Mark also spent a fair while watching the garbage collector men, who parked in the back alley behind our hotel and went through the rubbish they'd collected, carefully placing the valuable things (partially finished toilet rolls, for example) to one side.

Next day we went to the lobby for our guided tour of Havana. It was the best tour we've ever been on. You're given your own guide, who answers all your questions (to a certain extent) and takes you to the main places and wherever else you want to go. We started by driving to Revolution Square - the largest public square in the world, where the iconic pictures of Che and Camillo gaze down on you from the Military buildings which surround it. 

It is here that the locals celebrate the Triumph of the Revolution, and where Fidel has made most of his celebrated (and lengthy) speeches. Off to the public park in Havana, where the Santeria practice their faith (we saw them playing with beads near where a chicken had recently been sacrificed) and then around the waterfront, past the Hilton which was taken over by the Revolutionary government pretty much just as it was finished - meaning the Hiltons never got to make any money out of it, the Swiss Embassy, which also deals with US immigration issues and which was the scene of protests during the Elian Gonzales days. We then started a walking tour of Old Havana, most of which dates back to the Spanish colonial period. It is ornate, filthy and absolutely beautiful, with large squares surrounded by old hotels with wide, shady verandas, churches, and museums.

Many of these buildings were previously wealthy families' homes and apartments, but were reclaimed by Castro's government in the days following the revolution. Some people are able to continue to occupy these buildings for as long as the family member who owned it prior to the Revolution survives, and then it is taken over by the government, either to use as offices, or to house other Cubans (people who have served the country well are rewarded by being housed in prime real estate). We enjoyed beers and pina coladas with our guide on the rooftop of the Hotel Nacional - Havana's oldest glamour hotel (the Pope stayed here during his visit, and so did Jimmy Carter) with incredible views of the port and the old city. The Hotel Nacional is not far from the Hotel where Ernest Hemingway wrote The Old Man and the Sea, which is set in a village outside of Havana. Apparently the 'Old Man', discussions with whom formed the basis of Hemingway's novel, only died in 2002 at the age of 104, and sat and enjoyed a drink at the same bar, where he met with Hemingway, regularly until he died. You can see why people want to get in tourism - the tip we gave our guide was half the average Cuban monthly wage, but Americans would probably have felt slighted by the tip. We'd been given strict instructions as to what a maximum tip could be - after our guide's stellar effort, we thought he deserved the maximum.

We enjoyed a few beers and a frank discussion with locals at a bar in Central Havana. The arrival of tourism and limited, slow internet in Cuba has opened people's eyes to the comparative luxuries the rest of the world enjoys. There seems to be some desire for change, but also a large amount of apathy. The main desire seems to be the ability to visit other countries - which is near on impossible for Cubans. Mark showed one guy pictures of himself snowboarding on his iPhone - the combination of snow and an iPhone nearly set the guy off. Not to mention their amazement when we told them how Mark sold his car on TradeMe before we left - the internet, the ability to own a car, and then sell it yourself with zero government intervention was incredible to them.

We thought we'd try some genuine Cuban food that night, so headed to a place recommended to us by our guide. It was very meat-centric... and unfortunately the meat was almost unchewable. But the seasoning was good. I was a bit distracted by a waif of a dog with a badly broken leg, who hung around the outside tables. It was a really cute wee thing, but its entire lower leg was bent under and its foot was splayed sideways. As a result its walk was a weird, painful looking lumber. It was heart-wrenching. Our waiter (typical young Cuban man - very tidily dressed with an army-style hair cut)

saw how worried I was about the puppy and gave me a wink - later we noticed as he was clearing our plates he surreptitiously knocked a few pieces of uneaten meat on the ground for it (it was quite chubby, I suspect this happens a bit). Unfortunately, the cleaning lady swept them up not long after - luckily we had saved some in a napkin and left it for the puppy next to a pot-plant. The waiter also got a near rule-breaking tip for being a top bloke.

Next day was hot - again. We got up early to go for a walk before the heat of the day kicked in. We headed for the Museum of the Revolution. Neither of us is hugely clued up about the why and wherefores of the Cuban Revolution and its subsequent relationship with the USA. The Revolution Museum was an interesting (if somewhat text-heavy/exhibit light) way to be shown the official Cuban line on it. Lots of "Triumphs of the Revolution", "Imperialist tyrants" etc etc. There were a few highlights - Che Guevara's beret, Fidel Castro's fabulous wayfarer sunglasses, Raul Castro's jackboots. It's quite hard to know the fact from the propaganda, from any perspective. There was a literacy drive in Cuba in the 60s (I think it was the 60s), which apparently reduced illiteracy to nil... while it is apparently true that Cuba has one of the highest literacy rates in the world, a nil illiteracy rate seems a big call. The Museum was followed by a turn in the rooftop pool, complete with Cuban cocktails. The view overlooking Havana is really curious - many of the old Spanish colonial buildings in Old Havana are unoccupied, and appear to have been hollowed out. It's not clear whether they've just been cleared of any dangers, or whether they're being prepped for something. Apparently Raul Castro is more open to tourism and international interests than his brother, it may be that they're planned for hotels or more museums. Big blue plastic water containers sit on top of most buildings, amid washing lines and kids beating up their little brothers.

After a short siesta we headed off to the Spanish fort overlooking Havana - right as a thunderstorm hit. Big time. While trying to find shelter from the relentless rain, we stumbled across a) a weapons museum which contained both a battering ram and a catapult and b) Che Guevara's post Revolution office, and an interesting exhibition in his honour. There's no denying the man was photogenic. 

Our flight to Cancun left at 7 - so our pick up from the hotel was (dun dun!) 3am... so after a pizza, a beer and the big fat Cuban cigar Mark bought earlier that day from the Cigar factory, we tried to get to sleep in spite of the raucous Havana night that erupted outside our window. Cuba was fabulous - I wouldn't want to live there, but I definitely want to go back and see the whole island next time.