Going away on your own is something that not everyone discovers the pleasure of. This was particularly apparent when I told people what I was doing and got a load of responses along the lines of 'what's wrong. Are you and the boyf ok? Or even... 'Sorry about your breakup'. Yeah. No... we are great thanks. It is just brilliant to travel alone (sometimes).
What I knew of my itinerary the cold rainy morning that I left for Gatwick was basic to say the least: Fly into Havana for two nights... and fly out of Havana again at the end of it all. Whatever happened in the middle was still up for grabs. For us super-important-metropolitan-grey-skinned-sleepy-eyed professionals, at least creating the illusion of this being 'travelling' rather than just a holiday was high on my agenda and having no real plan was an important part of that.
I arrived in Havana to a warm dusk with the day's earlier rainstorms still heavy in the air. I was greeted by the lovely Rubi (the mother from the family I stayed with) holding up a cardboard sign with my name and squinting at the incoming flight load of people to see if she could recognise my Facebook profile picture. She welcomed me with a big hug and ushered me through the hectic arrivals lounge and into the local car park round the back where one of Havana's beautiful vintage cadillacs was waiting for us. These cars are two-a-peso in Cuba, but I still got excited every time I got into a new one. Their interiors are often decorated with what seems like decades of different owner's personal touches taking dashboard-dog kitsch to new heights.
That night, I got changed and immediately slipped out into the night to find a bite to eat. Without having my bearings yet, this turned into a dark, anxious and blustery walk through the residential area of Vedado down to The Miramar, where I pretty much fell into a tourist hotel, weak from exhaustion and sleep depravation and ordered some cheese on toast before cabbing it back to bed as soon as I could. The first night aside, I quickly got my bearings in Havana and fell in love with the city's colonial buildings, bright colours and music filled streets. It's not easy finding the right place to be at nighttime. Havana is a big place and the best bands will only play one or two venues per night. More on the night life in a bit.
On day one, I walked and walked - getting lost, finding myself again but maintaining a confident stride and not getting out my map or guidebook once. I quickly discovered that if I did this, people thought I was Cubana so I barely got hassled at all. L'Habana Vieja is the easiest place to head to as a tourist (if you're taxi-ing, I'd just ask for Plaça de Armas as straight off). You'll arrive in a picturesque square just off from The Miramar and it's view of The Atlantic Ocean. This is Havana's biggest and oldest book market, set around a leafy square where second rate musicians serenade tourists for their change and book hawkers sell Che paraphernalia and old Theatre posters at ridiculously high prices. I managed to charm one of them by attempting to haggle in bad spanish and came away with three 1950s cigar papers for the equivalent of £1.50 which are now framed (at a somewhat greater cost) and will soon take pride of position somewhere in my house.
The other places that I particularly enjoyed in Havana were mainly little coffee shops where bands start playing at random. I didn't feel the need to tick everything off (being on my own, there was no one to judge) and instead contented myself with soaking up the atmosphere.
The Saratoga also proved a relaxing (though again somewhat expensive place to have lunch). A salad of roasted vegetables and fried calamari with more rum once again. On my last afternoon back in Havana for the second time, I stopped there for lunch before heading to the big working print warehouse next to the famous and very good restaurant Donna Eutamia in Havana Vieja.
Here I fell in love with two prints of hot air balloons by a sad-eyed young artist. All his works show traditional Cuban modes of transport - the state owned buses, the coastal trains, the vintage American cars with hot air balloons attached to them. The vehicles remain earth-bound, like dead weights pulling downwards against the buoyancy of the balloons. I asked him if his work was about this feeling amongst young people that they have to get out of Cuba and he nodded sadly. Cuba is often described as a third world country with a first world mentality. It's part of the beauty of the country but in the current climate, it is also very sad. 98% of the population are literate and everyone is healthy because of brilliant state health care but the older generation can't afford to live with modern conveniences (the average monthly wage is between $15 and $30 USD, but fridges cost the same as they do in the West). I bought his prints for a relatively high price knowing that it could be money towards feeding a family for a month or so. They have come home with me as a proper souvenir of that feeling. A week later, Obama made his announcement that the US embargo will be lifted next year.
Rubi's beautiful colonial hallway |
More on other places in Cuba to come.
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