Havana: A Little European City in the Middle of the Caribbean

My first day in Cuba landed me straight in Havana. I’m not sure what I expected, it is after all a major tourist destination, especially for the likes of Europeans planning on visiting America, who first stop in Cuba. It’s like any international city, perhaps more so. The capital buildings are gorgeous, if not slightly decaying, but this gives it a very European feel. In fact, I’d say Havana outpaces some European cities for the sheer grand spectacle of it’s capital.

If I had posted the pic below unlabeled, would you guess that this façade was one of the many in Cuba’s capital?

I had read the Lonely Planet guide to Cuba, a fascinating find at a Vermont bookstore, considering Americans aren‘t supposed to go there. To be honest, I don’t usually buy guidebooks, but I knew Cuba would be pricey, so I was hoping for some money saving tips. The book spends a good part of a chapter warning potential tourists about the jinteros, the cubanos who try to sell you cigars or lead you to restaurants so they can get an under the table kickback from the owner. The thing they don’t quite warn you about is just how nice and friendly they can be. I’ve been hussled before, but never so well. They are just… charming. One guy came over to me, striking up a conversion, “Friend!” I have friends, I replied. “Well they are fired.” I had to laugh. Oh really? “Yes, where are you from? Want to go to a discoteque?” This is his pitch. There wasn’t much to do except walk away, but with so many people approaching you the first day, it’s hard to not feel like the most popular kid in town (which you are, as long as you have dollars).

The picture below is from the main park, where I didn’t mind having my camera out, even though it meant one older lady practically ran across the park to ask me for spare change. But seriously, even she was nice about it.

From above the city, it’s even more breathtaking. I took this picture eight floors up where they have the mirror obscuro, that lets you see the entire city rotoscoped. The woman working the door said they were closed, but my Cuban friend (an actual friend not a jintero) called her bluff. She was reading her book and didn’t want to be bothered. She made me and my friend hid behind a door while we waited for the elevator so that no one else would know it was open. She turned away a Spanish speaking couple saying, “No… estamos cerrado” (We’re closed). My friend explained she gets paid the same amount no matter whether people come in or not, so why do the extra work. He seemed to think this was due to their cultural system, but I don‘t think it‘s unique to Cuba. Employees cutting corners is pretty much universal.

Signs of the anniversary of the revolution are everywhere, and this is one banner on a building in the capital. They are also selling commemorative posters, which have some of the worst Photoshop work I’ve ever seen. If you like you can get just about anything with picture of Che on it, although when I see local artists incorporating this in their artwork, I have to wonder if it’s not just for the tourists. Later that night, I actually attended a private gallery showing in a Cubano’s home, that had some “subversive” artwork. There was a 5 foot tall rendering of a Cuban passport and visa where the usually legal disclaimer was replace with Spanish text that roughly translated to, “This visa allows you to leave the country one time, after which you can never return. After a (blank) amount of time, we will proceed to confiscate your belongings and you will no longer be a Cuban citizen.” Someone at the showing rolled their eyes and said that art students are always trying to be “extreme”.

One of my favorite parts of Cuba so far is the 1950 style cars that are everywhere. They are in various stages of upkeep, some barely rumbling along, others perfectly restored. The one below was one of the nicest, but definitely not unusual in the city.

I had lunch in Habana Vieja, at a place called the Jardin del Oriente. It was surprising good and much cheaper than anything else I could find which my entrée costing just $3. They also offer free entertainment in the form of a dozen or so small cats that prowl the restaurant, all with the same black and white patch work.

Below is a plaza in Habana Vieja. We cut through to avoid a small parade of street performers, when I fully realized how little Cuban Spanish I can understand. In fact, I can’t understand a single word, when they’re speaking naturally, and when they try to slow down and enunciate I can pick out maybe half of what they say. Julie from Collazoprojects.com (who has traveled to Cuba many times and has been speaking Spanish for a long time) warned me about this difference.  I would say, it’s similar to trying to talk to a drunken Scot, with a lisp. Sure, it’s still English, but it might as well be Swahili for anyone with a tenuous grasp on the language.

After my long day of walking, I spent the evening with some new friends drinking 5 year old Cuban Rum and dancing to a mix of American 80s music, Spanish pop and Reggatone. I could have been anywhere in the world.