Cuba – Pearl of the Antilles
Day Eleven – 16 January 2016
Weather: Warming up after the rain. Low 20s. Bit sticky.
I managed to sleep right to eight and was down for breakfast. Since I had skipped it on my first two days, I didn’t know what to expect and again, the rural hotels have it beat. The scrambled eggs were not edible. I had fruit, tea and bread.
Before we were finished, one of the waitresses asked if we had something for a bad stomach. We both said yes and we’d bring it down. Not sure if it was a rouse to get some stuff from us, but I didn’t care. It would get used. I gave her three rolls of Rolaids and she was interested in how many she should take, so she may have been truthful. I do find the people in Havana are much faster to ask for stuff than the people and hotel staff in the locations outside Havana. My maid would later come by twice today to say hello. The second time she had a five euro note (as people leave tips in their own currency) and I said I couldn’t change it. I completely forgot I was going to Italy in April and could have used it.
If it was real. That had been my first thought but looking back on it, I’m pretty sure it was real.
We were on the road at ten and it was a long drive through the interior of Havana to a community project called the El Tanque.
There was another group arriving at the same time so we combined for the tour. One woman was saying something about how she could have came direct to Cuba if Monsanto had sent her. I turned around with only one question – Monsanto is in Cuba?
Apparently, and appallingly, yes.
Guess they got around the embargo because it doesn’t cover food.
Our guides was named Victor and he told us the site of the project was a dump only fifteen years ago and that Camilo Cienfuegos had grown up in the neighbourhood. They asked the government for the property and the government thought they were crazy.
Victor said they were, but that was besides the point.
When they were granted the property to build the project, they cut back the jungle and found an old concrete cistern.
It was perfect.
They cut a hole in the side and dug it out by hand. They even came across a skeleton, Victor said. A lizard skeleton. Ha!
The project makes its money from selling art, CDs, DVDs and t-shirts. It provided art lessons for two hundred and fifty kids a week.
There are some two hundred other community project for artists and musicians throughout Cuba but that this is the largest and it recently won an national award for community work.
Victor showed us some of the work on permanent display around their site (which he noted is never vandalized). The portrait of Che and Camilo are made of limestone. (I can honestly say I never saw a single picture, portrait or likeless of Castro anywhere in the country).
The peacock is made from the metal of discarded car parts.
The owls are metal and made from recycled car springs.
The rooster is an axle.
In other words, the birds are recycling Detroit here.
A bench has the name Elena on it. Before it was restored, an old woman by the name of Elena would come and sit on the bench everyday and when someone asked her why, she said she was waiting for her love.
One can never be too old, she said.
Victor added that love is the only thing that can defeat intelligence.
Too true.
He said after Elena died, they restored the bench and inscribed her name.
Then he showed us up into the cistern area. He noted that the tiles are often broken as they can’t afford to always get intact ones. Not an issue. It adds to the atmosphere.
When Victor was finished with the tour, we sat down for a performance by a group of musicians.
We had some time to wander the establishment and an old woman showed me up to a place where I could get a view of Havana as good as Hemingway’s. I gave her a handful of candy and she let me take her photo.
When we got back aboard the bus, Alex noted that one never knows how realistic some of these projects are but that he is certain this one is still worthwhile for a visit. He had a friend in the neighbourhood and having visited him over the years, he has seen first hand how the project has changed the neighbourhood.
We drive back into Old Havana and have some time to wander the streets before lunch. I partake in my favorite pastime in Cuba – Car watching.
There are thousands of cars. I just stood on the edge of the square facing a crosswalk where all cars stop even if no one is on the crosswalk and that is an ideal opportunity to take photos when they’re stopped or just starting to accelerate.
Out of the three thousand or so photos I’ve taken, a quarter of them are probably of the cars.
Not hard to kill twenty minutes doing this.
We have lunch at a restaurant right on San Francisco Plaza. It was the most elegant of the meals we had and seemed to cater to cruise ship passengers looking to eat off the ship but not eat in a typical Cuban restaurant.
The chicken was good and the lemonade was excellent. If I had thought of it earlier, I would have been ordering lemonade instead of the local cola.
After lunch, we learn that our driver was in the hospital with a kidney infection. Apparently, he had been diagnosed in Santa Clara and given anti-biotics but likely the long drive to Havana didn’t help and he needed to get IV anti-biotics. At the end of the day we were told he was doing much better.
So we got another driver and it was his first day.
First day on the job, not first day driving.
Louis really looks like a kid around sixteen and he’s really really skinny. If someone trips up on the stairs getting off the bus, they’re gonna kill this kid.
Louis’ first job is to drive us to the The National Museum of Fine Arts of Havana (Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes de La Habana).
It was established in February 1913 by Emilio Heredia, an architect who lobbied for the museum and became its first director. It was moved several times before it was finally placed on the site of the old Colon Market and opened in 1954.
We had forty-five minutes to look around and most took in an exhibition by Peter Turnley who has had a number of photos on the cover of Newsweek going back several decades. His photos are from the world’s troubled areas from Somalia to Croatia to Russia. The photos were amazing.
I left the museum a little early to take a look at the exhibit across the street. I didn’t have enough time to go in but I could see most of it from the street.
Inside the glass building is the yacht that Castro used to sail to Cuba.
As I was walking around, an old woman with a cigar in her mouth jumped in front of me and said “photo!”
I kept on walking, not knowing how much time we had but on my way back, she got me.
Another peso and some candy gone.
We are back to the hotel after three and have until seven thirty to get ready for the farewell dinner. Some of the plumbing problems some of us had earlier were fixed and I took a shower and got packed for the next morning’s very early departure.
I said hello to my maid again and she asked when I was leaving. Not hard to translate. I stuck up four fingers and she went “ohhhhh!”
I had already laid aside some things for her including what was left of my hairspray, shampoo, sunscreen, candy and other items. I also left my nail clipper.
At seven-thirty, we met for a drink on the hotel porch and we used this opportunity to give Alex his tip. The recommended tip was higher than what I was used to with Trafalgar but well deserved. We know the money is appreciated and we know Alex uses the money to care for his extended family. One person working in the tourism industry and it benefiting a number of others.
Around eight, we left to go back to Old Havana for our Bueno Vista Social Club experience.
What a time. I had a mixed meat dinner and our seats were right in front of the stage. Not sure how Alex keeps getting us these seats!
Just as we finished eating, the band started up.
Then this older gentleman that just seemed like he’d fit right into New Orleans came out to sing. He was phenomenal.
Turns out he is eighty-five and an original performer by the name of Ignacio Mazacote Carrillo. He gave a great performance here.
What a night. The two dancers were phenomenal.
Don’t know where they got the energy. Near the end they dragged us up for a conga line.
We were done by eleven and we got back to the hotel and said our goodbyes.
Quick for some of us. We had only four hours until our wake-up call.
Go to Day Twelve
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