My Trip to Cuba - (Part 2) Havana

Exiting the Airport

First, I must admit, I did a horrible job filming and taking pictures on this trip. I had just purchased a new camcorder and had never used it until I arrived.  I didn't even read the instructions!  Most of the time, the camcorder battery was dead, so I used my Galaxy smart phone instead.  Hopefully, you will still be able to capture all I am explaining.

When I first exited the airport, I had so many mixed emotions.  I was grateful and relieved that my cousin, Loli, and her husband, Enrique, had found us, and happy that we'd finally made it there.  Loli is a very kind person.  She is always smiling and laughing and that put me and my son at ease instantly.  To the left is a picture of her.  Her laugh is infectious and when she smiles, she has a gap in her front teeth that would make Michael Strahan proud.

I was sad that my father couldn't be there, but thankful that my son, Eric, was.  I was a little nervous as I took it all in -- the sounds of the airport and of the people.  We didn't know a single soul on this island and didn't know where anything was located.  The only information we had to fall back on was a sheet of paper with the US embassy's address and phone number.  I'm not sure what good a phone number would do with no cell service and no phones anywhere in sight and I'm also not sure what good an address would do either.  If someone wanted to kidnap us, they could easily have done it!  This thought had occurred to me before we landed and I decided I would pull the "Yo no hablo!" card, but I hadn't thought it through beyond that.  Maybe once I bought toilet paper, I could use it as bribery?

My cousin explained to me that a neighbor would be picking us up.  He had a nice car he acquired when he worked for 5 years in Guatemala for the Cuban sports program.  As I looked around the airport, I saw some nice newer cars, but those were rentals!

I had heard about all of the classic cars in Cuba leftover from the hay days of the 40s and 50s when Cuba was THE place to be.  Gone are the days when Hemingway wrote of Cuba's beauty, when Cuban music was at its pinnacle and when Cuban cigars were truly legendary for the right reasons. Cuba was a Latin Las Vegas then.  Even during those times, there was an undercurrent of dissatisfaction among the people of Cuba.  They were tired of Communism.  While the right people were living well, many others had less and less and the spirit of the revolution was growing.
 
So... not long after stepping to the curb, my cousin's friend shows up in a 2006 KIA. I was still in a bit of shock with so many things running through my mind.  And as I loaded our luggage and got into the car, I took a last look around and began noticing the older model cars arriving.  

There were billboards (see pic below) hailing the murderer, Che Guevara, as a "guardian of children and a good Samaritan to all."  Propaganda was everywhere.  I wondered what would happen if I spray painted over his face on one of these billboards.  "I've got to stay out of trouble!" I tell myself, "I've got to stay out of trouble!" 

Luckily, I see palm trees.  No matter what my mood is, palm trees always calm me down.  They remind me of beach vacations, sitting under a palm tree, listening to the wind rustle the large leaves and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.  As I'm envisioning myself in a hammock under these palm trees, I was quickly brought back to reality by a very sharp jerk of the car.  What the heck?  For no apparent reason, our driver swerved out of our lane and into oncoming traffic!!  A few hundred yards ahead, he did it again and then I saw why.  Pot holes!  There are pot holes everywhere. Not your average potholes either.  These could be historical landmarks!  Sure, there are small ones, but the big ones appeared to be staring at you with fangs ready to pounce on any tire that came near it.  


In the United States, if you have a car problem or you need parts for your car, you can go to an auto parts store.  In Cuba, there are no such stores.  A flat tire could be catastrophic and crippling if you use your car to make a living.  This makes it even more amazing that these old cars are still running.

Potholes are not the only obstacles.  In a city where most people don't have cars, you see many people walking, riding bikes or motorcycles.  Some people were also driving horse and buggy.  There were dogs everywhere - many of which were pregnant.  I only saw one on a leash.  People are overflowing the sidewalks or walking in the road.  When you mix all of this together, driving through Havana is like a bad video game.  You constantly hear car horns honking as the faster drivers let the slower ones know they are passing.  The horn is their method of communication and a reminder to the slower drivers not to move over to avoid a pot hole or risk getting hit as the faster drivers pass them.

They also honk the horn to let the people who may be crossing the street know that they are approaching so they don't step out into the road.  Many of the pedestrians look at you like they want to play a bad version of chicken and walk out anyway, just to force you to stop.

Then, there are the stop lights.  There are many Cubans in Miami and when I lived there, I wondered why as soon as the light turned green, you had to be moving.  Not beginning to go... moving!  If you weren't, someone behind you would honk their horn to let you know it was time to go.  I would always look in my rear view mirror as if saying "I'm not interested in driving, I just want to sit here at this intersection and enjoy the scenery, you idiot!"  Sometimes, I'd show them who was number one!  Ah, I don't miss living there one bit!

But, in Cuba, it's even worse.  The red lights blink to let you know they are about to turn green. Some intersections have timers to let you know exactly when the lights about to turn green. You better be rolling a second before that light changes or you're going to get an earful of a car horn, or four or ten, advising you the light has turned green.  I quickly figured out that, in Cuba, you stop on yellow... you don't even think about going on yellow.

With all of the pot holes, slow cars, people and animals crossing the road, the lane dividers are just meant as a recommendation.  I filmed this video too late.  The road opens up and there isn't as much pedestrian traffic as was in other areas. This drive was for me to inspect the car I would be renting for the next four days.  As we approached a Toyota land cruiser that had been converted to a mini bus, the driver explained to me how Cubans earn extra money -- by selling items from work on the side, and in this case, it was fuel.                                                                                                                            
Finally, we arrived at my cousin Loli's home. As I peeled myself out of the seat and stepped out of the vehicle, I couldn't believe what I was seeing.  I still have trouble explaining the scenery.  It was like looking at an old, rusted, beat up car in a junk yard.  You know that at one time it had to have been beautiful and new, but it's so far gone that it's difficult to imagine it that way.  That's the way the homes are in Havana. Their Spanish influence is very apparent.  What was once a beautiful baroque or neoclassic home looked more like a patched up cement box with few signs of its past beauty. Occasionally, you would see a partial statue, an ornamental column or a huge wooden door that you knew was made long ago.  It clings to existence only because it can't be repaired or replaced.  It's truly sad.  There are no Home Depots or helpful hardware men here.  To an ordinary citizen, there are no means of making repairs. If you can, you patch it.  If not, you just go with it and live in it until it's no longer safe to do so.

                                               

Loli motioned to Eric and me that she lived down at the bottom of the hill (see photo). As I turned around to see where she was pointing, there was a long narrow alley on a steep hill and, of course, her home's at the bottom.  We grabbed our suitcases and began our walk down the steep hill. As I walked by the other houses, everyone had their doors open.  The inside of these homes reminded me of some of our housing projects, or the ghetto, if you will.  Most of the people were sitting by their front doors or sitting outside.  Women were hanging clothes out to dry.  A sofa, maybe, and an old tube television or a couple of chairs made up the living rooms.  These rooms were about the size of a small secondary bedrooms in the US, about 10 x 10. These were more like condos or townhouses instead of homes.

Loli explained to us that everyone knows one another, so we exchanged a few "holas" as we made our way down the alley.  I noticed a pregnant woman who looked like she was about to explode.  There are no maternity clothes shops, so her belly was out for all to see.  Her belly button, which looked like the knot on an overfilled water balloon, had a tattoo of a star around it. 

"She is due any day now," Loli tells me. 

"How nice!" I said, but I don't think the look on my face matched my words.

We came to a seven-foot tall steel gate covered with a sheet of metal so you couldn't see the other side and Loli unlocked the door. When she opened the door, I was a little surprised.  She actually has a very small back yard.  It was a little oasis in the middle of a concrete jungle. This brought me comfort and I was happy to see the flowers and small banana trees in her back yard. She had a couple of love birds in a cage, something that I realized is very common in Cuba. Their singing helped to drown out the noises of the city and I welcomed that.

She opened the door to her home and ushered us in.  We walked right into a small, 10 x 10 living room with two rocking chairs and a tube TV.  There was a large box on the wall and I guessed, correctly, that it was a fold-down bed. The front door was on the right side of the living room and the opening to the kitchen / dining room was to the right on the far wall.  No door, just an opening. The kitchen was about the same size, maybe a couple of feet longer.  There was only a cement floor in the kitchen area, as they haven't been able to buy any tile or mortar to finish the floor.  She had a small 3-burner propane stove, like you would see in an RV, and a small single-bowl kitchen sink. The refrigerators in Cuba are about one-third the size of our refrigerators in the US.  Again, they reminded me of RV appliances.
 
On the right side of the kitchen / dining room was a small door which led to the only bedroom.  There was a full-size mattress and about one foot of clearance on each side of the bed. There was also just enough clearance between the front of the bed and the door opening to open my suitcase fully.  Across from the foot of the bed, there was a small alcove that served as a closet. 



On the left side of the kitchen was a small door that led to the bathroom. The bathroom didn't have a normal door, it had a vinyl folding, collapsible door. The bathroom was remarkably nice and appeared to be newly remodeled. The toilet; however, did not have a seat.  But, they did have a roll of toilet paper!  I never thought I would talk about or write about a roll of toilet paper being such a big deal, but man, try not having any and see what you think!!  The shower head had wires which ran to it and, as a firefighter AND a plumber, I was curious.  As it turns out, my cousin actually had hot water. It was an instant hot water shower head.  (see photo)  Actually, an instant warm water shower head better describes it.                                           

In between the bathroom and the kitchen was another door leading to the back yard. I went outside to look at the scenery and have a seat as the day was winding down.  

As is tradition in Cuba, Loli made some cafe Cubano or Cuban coffee. Drinking coffee is still a social and cultural activity in Cuba.  Now... there is coffee, and then there is cafe Cubano!  Cafe Cubano is basically espresso that is sweetened with sugar as it is being brewed.  It's given to you in a small cup about the size of a shot glass. The cups remind me of small teacups used by children when playing tea with their stuffed animals.  So small your pinkie finger will always be up while you hold the cup with your thumb and index finger.  But nothing that is served in shot glass portions should ever be taken lightly!  After a cup of Cuban coffee you will talk louder, use your hands more when you speak and generally be more animated, as if Cubans needed any additional help with that!  It could also be the reason we are so impatient.  Maybe it's why they drive the way they do in Cuba.  Try to picture me, six-foot-one holding a tiny cup, pinkie finger up, drinking coffee-flavored octane fuel.  I picture myself as Beavis on a caffeine overdose, "I am the great cornholio, ahhhhhhhhhh!!!"  

The coffee tasted different here, not sure why.  I'd have to investigate that later.  It was still delicious and I'd never turn a cup down.  And, for that moment, I was happy to finally be there.

Outside in their backyard, Loli's husband, Enrique, had a couple of cages with pigeons in them and, immediately, two caught my eye.  One of them was grey and black and the other was white.  Enrique explained to me that he could release the grey and black pigeon and it would always return.  He pulled it out of it's cage and released it.  Up, up and away it flew until I could no longer see it.

I examined the white one closer and noticed it was moving it's head in circles and to the sides. It reminded me of Eddie Murphy's imitation of Stevie Wonder in 48 hours. As this pigeon did this, it would walk in circles touching the sides of its cage. When I asked Enrique why, he told me that the pigeon was blind; therefore, it remained in this cage all of the time.  "Hmmm, strange!" I thought to myself.  It would stink to have wings and never fly, but, I guess, it wouldn't do you any good if you couldn't see.


I decided to go back inside to unpack, but, of course, I checked to see if there was any coffee first so I could have another hit... er, shot serving?  There was and the itching subsided.  Loli told me that we would have plenty of time to see Havana if we wanted to go sightseeing. I named a few places I wanted to see.  

"Great idea," she said, and, as preparations were being made, we unpacked our suitcases.