Cuba

After Obama opened travel to Cuba, and before Trump closed travel to Cuba, my daughter, Valentina, and I went. We spontaneously booked a cruise over her college winter break…one day before sail! All we had to do was get from San Francisco to Fort Lauderdale before the ship set sail the next day. The itinerary was perfect: one stop in Key West and two nights docked in Havana.  

The first thing my daughter and I did was book a tour of the city in a classic car, of course. What better way to see Havana than from the back of a 1950’s candy-colored convertible? Driving away from the ship along the infamous Malecon, Tina and I were speechless. First impressions: decaying, not an arrested state of decay, but actively, aggressively decaying. The former mansions along the seaside drive were barely standing, looking as though they had been bombed out during an air raid. Even more surprising: they were occupied.  People were living in these precarious shells. Neither one of us spoke, we rode in awful shock. All I could think of was how could Castro drive around his city, his country, and look out his window. How must he have felt seeing his people suffer and his country rot?  

Despite this unnerving introduction, Tina and I both completely fell for Cuba. Our tour guide kept proudly pointing out the new construction: the ugly new western hotel, the Russian embassy with its stark Soviet Union architecture. He associated “new” with beautiful, and who could blame him? But we were more interested in the old, the history. We could recognize the beauty hidden in the city’s former glory days.  

Our tour made a stop at the Hotel Nacional where the rich and famous used to stay and play. We both had mojitos since the drinking age is 18. On the way out, I saw a lady in the lobby selling cigar ashtrays. I stopped to buy one for my husband and then, over her shoulder, I glimpsed some old hotel china. Once again, mistaking their history for old discarded junk. I very excitedly asked if I could buy a hotel monogrammed platter. She was happy to sell it but probably would have been happier to trade it for new china. The bus was leaving so Tina and I rushed to board with our heavy treasures. I think the other tourists were jealous when they saw what we had found tucked away in the corner of the lobby. Super Score!  

I asked our guide about the possibility of getting to Hemingway’s house. He said another couple on the tour were also interested and that he would arrange it for us for an additional fee. We hooked up with them and made our way to the author’s former estate which was very interesting especially because we had just visited Hemingway’s other house in Key West. In Cuba, it was interesting to hear our tour guide explain how Hemingway “donated” his estate and all of its contents to Castro after the revolution. I found two things very charming there. The first was a scrappy flea-ridden stray dog who followed us around the entire time. This dog was very cool, asking for neither food nor petting, just walking along showing us his home as if he were the tour guide.  Secondly, Hemingway had a baseball field on his property that local kids still play on today. We met an old man who collects equipment for the kids. I wish I would have asked for his address to send him some baseball equipment. I realized later that that was probably why we were introduced. Stupid me.    

That night, Tina and I went to a nightclub to hear live Afro-Cuban music. The band was enormous with a huge horn section, two very distinct singers, and three back-up dancers. We loved it. We drank more mojitos and danced with everyone in the bar including our waitress.

We ended our stay in Cuba with one last cocktail because for my 18-year-old daughter this was a novelty and a highlight. We chose a beautiful restaurant in the main square and sat on a narrow (and rickety) balcony overlooking the plaza. I ordered a sangria and Tina got a mai tai because she wanted to try something other than a mojito. I didn’t have enough money left for food. So on an empty stomach, Tina had to cut herself off after a few sips so that she could walk back down those rickety stairs and back onto the ship. 

With a change in the White House, Cuba should once again open up to American travelers… that is, as soon as travel opens up in general.

Because I’m looking forward to getting past this pandemic and getting back to Cuba!

Streetscapes of Havana