Havana, Cuba
by Rebecca Tompkins
Cuba smells of cigar smoke and guava. The rich, earthy smell of cigars assails you as soon as you step off the plane, as portly airport officials smoke Cuba’s finest. The guava takes longer to place. It’s juicy, pink flesh and tart taste accompanying almost every meal.
But Cuba also smells like history, like revolution, hardship and triumph. Its past, present and hope for the future is reflected in the booming voices and frequent laughter of its residents, who remain cheerful and appear genuinely happy despite the constant restrictions of ration books, rules and regulations.
Arriving in Havana leaves even my cynical and spoiled travel mind agape. I am staying in Casco Viejo, Havana’s old town, once home to rich sugar barons and real American gangsters. The elaborate mansions built by these once-residents of Havana remain. They are dilapidated, crumbling but nonetheless majestic, echoing their former glory, like grand old dames whose jewellery has lost its gemstones and once fine clothing has become threadbare and moth-eaten.
These regal remnants of a bygone era of wealth stand guard along Casco Viejo’s many streets, but don’t let their rundown appearance fool you, the decrepit buildings and ramshackle sidewalks of Havana are alive.
Washing hangs from every balcony, a multitude of coloured flags flying high above the street, and music and families pour out of every doorway. Women sit and gossip on the steps, calling out to one another and laughing heartily. Men sit playing checkers on the pavement corners, and children play baseball in the street, overcoming their lack of sporting equipment by using sticks as bats and bottle-tops as balls.
Now and again the baseball players part as a fifties-style American Dodge, Ford or Chevy car rattles past. These ageing automobiles are everywhere in Havana, their smooth running and excellent condition testament to the skill and ingenuity of Cuban mechanical engineering – unable to import any car parts from the US, Cubans fashion their own replacement pieces out of scrap metal.
If your Spanish is up to it, or if you are lucky enough to find an English speaker somewhere along the way, it is fascinating to engage in conversation with a local, to get their take on their everyday life, their current political situation and Cuba’s fascinating past.
Through my Casa experience I meet Roberto and Mariella, a smiling, effervescent couple who constantly attempt to engage in conversation with me despite my halting Spanish, who are exceedingly proud of the meals they produce for me, and who envelope me with hugs and kisses like a long lost relative when I leave. By chance, I also meet Eduardo, a 30-something, gold toothed Cuban who offers to help me back to our Casa when I become lost in Casco Viejo’s rambling streets. Eduardo is the youngest of 13 children and still lives at home along with his father, most of his siblings and many of their spouses and children. His mama, he tells me sadly, making the sign of the cross and offering a quick prayer, has recently passed. Eduardo, his tongue loosened by some fine 30 year old Havana Club rum, also whispers furtively that he does not like the government, and that “everything is their fault”.
Undertones of the communist regime run throughout Havana. Some are obvious – the lines of people waiting outside the bakery to have their ration cards filled, the women approaching you on the street asking for soap or lip balm and the bare-as-a-baby’s-bottom supermarket shelves. Others you have to delve a little deeper to find – the restrictions placed on television programming, internet usage and travel for Cuban citizens, and the complete absence of any form of advertising (a fact that you may not notice until you return to a capitalist country and are seemingly assaulted with advertising virtually everywhere you look).
Havana wears her heart on her sleeve. Her political situation, her music, her lively inhabitants, her colourful past, her vibrant present and her uncertain future. I cannot help but be absorbed by her.
I enjoy Cuba Libres and Mojitos in smoky jazz bars, I am amazed by the quick feet of the dancers in Havana’s many salsa clubs. I delve into Cuba’s fascinating history in the city’s revolutionary museums, I eat churros by a roadside stall and watch the world go by, and I simply lose myself time and time again in the magical streets of Casco Viejo. Havana delights, confuses, fascinates, frustrates and captivates me. It is a truly unique and essential travel experience.
If You Go:
Be sure to stay in a ‘Casa’ rather than in a government owned hotel.
Make sure you take lots of cash with you as there are virtually no ATMs and very limited credit card facilities, and it’s expensive due to the tourist currency.
Be sure to sample some of the 25 year old Havana Club rum and smoke a cuban cigar.
Public transport is limited. You will have to rely on taxis which don’t come cheap. However, there are long haul buses between some cities. These can be booked through most up market hotels (even if you are not staying at them).
Places to visit other than Havana include Trinidad, Vinales, Santa Clara and Varadero.
Cuba Explorer has more travel information to Havana and beyond.
About the author:
Rebecca Tompkins is an environmental lawyer and part time writer. She is an avid traveler and most recently spent a year backpacking around the globe, visiting Peru, Bolivia, Cuba, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Costa Rica and Panama, among numerous other countries. She is particularly interested in developing countries and immersing herself in indigenous cultures.
All photos are by Jeremy Tompkins.
Surprise! The hype was bigger than reality! While the Cuban cuisine can hardly be described as adventurous, it was a far cry from “No hay!” I now believe there is truth in the maxim: “Tourists first – Cubans last,” but I saw little evidence where luxury goods were involved. Bathroom requisites especially, soap in particular.
The hub of life on the Plaza de la Catedral in the Old Quarter. The square is not large. It could be dropped without trace into most of the Revolutionary Squares which dominate Cuba’s cities and towns. The sixteenth century Cathedral has enormous character, watching over the Plaza like a hen guarding its chicks. These particular chicks are the many stall-holders who, since the communist relax, have been allowed to take on ”private enterprise” schemes [largely souvenir stalls] in an effort to aid the economy. Each stall his its own brightly coloured awning so that viewing the Square form the Cathedral steps in the dazzling light sunlight presents a feeling of looking into an emerald casket.
Also in the Square, one of Havana’s most exciting Rumba ensembles plays throughout the day at El Patio. An exciting feat for a local Cuban band that send revelers when it munched Portuguese lyrics with our English lyrics when we took together on stage in the evening.
Certainly, there is a fair number of decaying crumbling once-elegant buildings. But Havana is well into a vast renovation program, thanks to the World Heritage Site claim stamped on the city by UNESCO.
here is little evidence of Cuba’s legendary former Head of State, Fidel Castro. Far more in evidence, especially in Havana, are tributes to the American writer Ernest Hemingway who lived in the capital for over twenty years. There are statues and plaques in his honour all over the city. His house is now an intriguing Museum, almost like a shrine. Across the city, many of the writer’s ole haunts and watering holes still proudly bear his name. There is even a hotel named after his novel, El Viejo y el Mar [The Old Man and the Sea] where we stayed for several nights. Prices ere quite reasonable – but still beyond the average Cuban’s income.
The words of our friends reverberated in our heads as our big Viazul bus pulled into town. The usual crowd of entrepreneurs pressed up against us as we disembarked, most wanting to take us back to their casa particular for accommodation. We already had the name and address of one that we hoped to stay at, so we fought our way through the hordes and made it to the office of the local cab company. Upon arriving at our destination, we found that the house was already occupado. Not to worry – we were introduced to Yiya, who happened to be walking by. Before we knew it, her Casa Candelaria Negrin (House of the Black Candle) was our home away from home for the next few days.
There’s always a bit of a sense that the casa hosts want to keep a bit of distance from you. They generally eat separately, or at a different time, and they usually have separate living quarters. It’s understandable … you are invading their home. Don’t get the wrong impression, though. Yiya and her family were friendly, hospitable and as informative as they could be, given the language difference!
The area is a magical terrain of hills and caves where life centres on growing tobacco. Farmers, most of who came from the Canary Islands, arrived around 1800 and began cultivating tobacco across the region. Two hundred years later, the tobacco grown in the distinctive red soil of the area is still the lifeblood of the Viñales Valley. Only the best leaves get sent to Havana, where hundreds of workers called torcedores or anilladores hand roll them into cigars. Cuba still produces 65 million cigars a year, packed in cedar boxes and exported world-wide.
One of the more interesting attractions in Viñales is the little Casa de Caridad Botanical Gardens located at the north-eastern end of town. Started many decades ago by two sisters, their descendants are now running the gardens. The lush gardens in the sizable back yard feature a mix of ornamental and medicinal plants and flowers, as well as palm and fruit trees. Adding to the curious nature of the grounds are homemade decorations like heads ripped off dolls hanging everywhere. The Miranda sisters were well-known practitioners of voodoo back in the day. No admission is charged, but a 1 CUC donation is warmly appreciated.
Music is in the Cuban people’s DNA. Almost every restaurant, coffee bar and nightclub in Viñales offers great entertainment. Given the rural nature of the area, the music is different from that in the big cities like Havana and Santiago de Cuba. On our first night, we ended up in an open air night club called Polo Montanez Centro Cultural. For a 3 CUC cover, we were treated to traditional groups, a contemporary salsa band, singers, dancers, fire-eaters and more!
Regretfully, we were only in Viñales for a few days. It wasn’t nearly long enough to see all the sights. We didn’t get to the horseback riding, caving, hiking or bird watching. There are also magnificent beaches to the north, less than an hour’s drive away. We hope to go back again soon, take our bicycles, and spend at least a week there. Sleepy old Viñales is full of warm, friendly people, enchanting adventures and breathtaking sights. Similarly to those folks who said it to us, we now say to you, “Just GO! You won’t regret it.”
A few minutes later I entered the grounds of the Capitolio Nacional building, and walked towards its imposing front, which is similar to the US Capitol Building. It was built between 1929 and 1932, and held the Cuban Congress until 1959. It is now used by the Academy of Sciences and the National Library of Science and Technology.
