I got my tourist Visa at the Embassy of Cuba in Stockholm after a couple of visits and the typical Cuban attitude of “Wait!”. I had paid the fee and all my documents were in order, but the little man behind the glass couldn’t find my payment the first time and suggested I come back the following week. I did so and after making me wait for about three hours, he informed me that my bank transfer was actually unnecessary and that I should pay cash. He would reimburse me later. In Sweden, I don’t bother with cash, all our payments can be made with cards, on my phone, with Swish, you name it, digitally, but I had brought cash after reading people’s stories and given my success, or rather lack of it, with the bank transfer the previous week.
All through this adventure, I should have taken more photos but it was either places where one isn’t allowed to or situations that demand your attention in other ways. I’ll try to illustrate as much as possible with my own photos but also stuff I find on Google, because others have managed better.
The Cuban Embassy was one of those places and situations, but just to give you an idea: the consular section is decorated in horrible 90s style, all documents available to the public are written in awful fonts and use clipart and there are only two people working with these applications – the little man who doesn’t speak Swedish and is painfully slow and the lady who types people’s details on the documents on an equally painfully slow computer. This was the first glimpse into Cuban bureaucracy and the authorities and they didn’t really change character or attitude throughout my trip. They are somewhat incompetent, it’s like they just woke up and are supposed to decipher something really complicated and they have no clue how to do it. Turn your clock some 20 years back, when you and I were learning to use the internet. Something like that. Most employees I’ve had to deal with are also somewhat lazy and arrogant. They seem to have this attitude of “Well my country sucks and I can’t do much about it, might as well just not give a shit…”
I did make a bit of a scandal and informed the little man that he had cost me a couple of days’ work and that I don’t have all the time in the world.
With the visa in my hand, I finally got to December 20th, when my vacation would start. Flew through Frankfurt and Toronto because it turned out to be the cheapest alternative for me.
We arrived in Frankfurt with a delay but Lufthansa were, in the typical German style, very effective and quickly transported us with buses to our connecting flight. We made it and had a quiet and pleasant flight across the Atlantic, arriving in Toronto in the evening. I had more than 10 hours layover so I had booked a hotel room very close to the airport. Toronto works. It’s modern, convenient, friendly. ATMs everywhere, great service, no fuss. The hotel was awesome, not too expensive and their room service is amazeballs. I ordered what was supposed to be a burger and when it arrived it was this humongous sandwich with just about everything, incredibly delicious. Great room, I could shower and get a good night’s sleep, ready for the last step of the journey.
Back to the airport with the complimentary shuttle service of the hotel, got on my next flight. Arrived in Havana at around 11:30 on December 21st. The Havana airport is another place that should have been properly documented, but the stress of my luggage not arriving didn’t really let me. It’s SO not modern and SO not working it’s hilarious. It’s really not built for the amount of people coming in from all parts of the world, the service is miserable and you can consider yourself the luckiest person alive if you don’t have to spend more than one hour there.
I ended up spending about three and a half extra hours after landing, three more hours that evening and another couple the following morning, on a sweaty crusade to get my luggage. It should have been easy, bags get lost in transit, delays cause more delays, it usually works out. But Air Canada should know better than to lose people’s luggage on their way to Cuba. It can cost you days of your vacation…
Heading to immigration control first (which you can see in this photo, good luck reading the signs) I had to purchase a Cuban health insurance. Travel insurance is included in my home insurance, but I didn’t have printed papers of it and my screenshot of my insurance details wouldn’t do so after the inevitable passport control queue I was sent 50m back to one tired lady at a counter. She wanted Cuban money in cash. Here’s the thing, my only possibility of getting Cuban money would show up AFTER immigration control. She looked at me as if it was MY fault and finally admitted that I would be able to pay in Canadian dollars as well. I had to cough up 55 of ’em and it took her forever to manually write my details on an insurance check. Back to passport control, made it after being told not so smile, got out only to discover that my bag hadn’t arrived, I headed over to the lost luggage section, where a great number of the passengers on my flight had started queuing. There were three groups in front of me who continued in line and didn’t give up, only one employee dealing with all these people and hundreds of bags all over the arrivals hall. This took about two hours, bags kept arriving on carts and were placed among us without further care, flights landed, people continued to queue behind us. I really can’t describe the chaos, sweat and frustration, you’d really have to experience it yourself.
My host, Thelma, had sent someone to pick me up at the airport and I felt so bad because this person had to wait and wait and wait and I wasn’t getting anywhere with the luggage. Finally a second employee arrived, somewhat in the middle of her lunch break and happily conversing with others while slowly doing something on the computer. Most employees were doing nothing at all, although they tried hard to look very busy. That’s the norm in Cuba, anyone with a uniform will scratch their heads, scratch their balls, scratch someone else’s balls or whatever and look very busy and dedicated while doing it, when in fact no work is being done. It’s also a matter of Internet the speed of a narcoleptic snail, so even if a good employee would attend you, he or she would be forced to start scratching said head or balls while WAITING for any Internet-related operation to occur on the computer…
Every person who hasn’t been able to collect their luggage receives a note printed on an electric typewriter with a number of the matter/errand and contact details of the airline. The luggage would be delivered to me once it arrived, I gave the lady my address in Havana, but she claimed it wasn’t complete. So I said I would collect it myself instead, so that I know it’s mine and everything is ok. She wrote two phone numbers on the note, which I should call to find out whether or not it had arrived at the airport and when. She also confirmed that she had made a note about me picking up the luggage myself and told me that it would surely arrive with the 9pm flight.
Tired like a dog and really frustrated because this had never happened to me before, I only came without my luggage once, back from the States many years ago and it was returned soon, I headed towards the exit. I had no fresh clothes and no make-up, I was wearing my autumn boots and Havana is hot and humid and not famous for shopping opportunities…
I finally met the person who was waiting for me, it was my host’s father who had kindly stood there all this time. I went straight to the exchange office to get my Cuban money, one more queue to endure because you can’t exchange and get Cuban money anywhere else in the world, so you need to bring currency such as Canadian dollars, Euros or British pounds to exchange as you arrive. If you bring American dollars, there will be an extra fee and you will lose a lot. We got in a taxi and headed “home” to my apartment in Havana, somewhere between the old town and Vedado.
I met pretty much everyone in Thelma’s family who was there at the time, we had the inevitable round of rum and tour of the place, signed papers, went through instructions, the whole thing. Thelma lent me a pair of flip-flops since I basically had nothing else to wear, some shampoo and toothpaste, and her husband Antonio was kind enough to give me a famous Cuban wi-fi card so that I could get online straight away, write some updates and maybe try to sort the luggage thing out. I hadn’t even shaved my legs, in the hope that I could do it first thing upon arrival and start fresh on my vacation, so it was either continue to sweat in black thick tights or be a yeti in shorts I could maybe, possibly find somewhere in Havana… I skipped the quest for clothes, did my little online moment in the park nearby (I will explain how Internet works in Cuba later on) and then the family kindly offered me a typical rice’n’beans dish which really did the trick.
I don’t really remember when I eventually turned to my friend Bosse back in Sweden for help with tracking the bloody bag, but I ended up doing it because Cuba is broken, Cuba doesn’t work, Cuba needs fixing. Must have been after discovering that
1) the number to Air Canada written on my valuable airport paper started with the country code 1 (which is the glorious ‘Nited States o’Murrica, ha ha ha totally forbidden in Cuba, not allowed to call, ain’t gonna happen…) and
2) the numbers she gave me that were supposed to be to the airport didn’t work, nobody ever answered and one of them was in fact that of a hostel in Havana…
All of us with phones kept calling throughout the afternoon as Thelma’s pram had also failed to show up. No answer, we weren’t getting anywhere.
I don’t know what I would have done without Bosse and the fact that Internet is so available in Sweden… I decided to take a trip to the airport that evening and try my luck with the 9pm flight. Which btw is actually the 10:30pm flight, the lady had no idea what she was talking about. After resting a couple of hours I basically threw myself in front of the first best taxi, ready and willing to waste 25 CUC more for a one-way trip. 1 CUC is the equivalent of a dollar so no, a trip to the airport isn’t exactly free. Also, the chance of hell freezing over is bigger than the chance of getting a receipt in a Cuban taxi, which means that I will most probably not be able to get a refund from Air Canada, since they want receipts…
At the Havana airport, there is a back-door area for losers like myself and tens of others who had to face people in uniforms once more. My kind driver, Orlando, decided to wait with me and try to help as much as possible. Queuing at that gate is useless, it basically gets you nowhere, even if you are fluent in Spanish, which I am. There were already people on the other side of the fence and the (as always) busy and dedicated employee with the huge key to the lock was only allowing 1 person in every 14927502 years… Some were getting their luggage, some had to continue waiting, the rest of us outside, almost like fighting for rations in hard times… The Dutch couple from my flight whose luggage was also missing was also there. After about an hour on the wrong side of the fence, we made a bit of a scandal (that’s what seems to get the wheels turning in Cuba, a bit of a scandal) and the lady let us in. The wait continued on the right side of the gate and finally we were allowed inside. Without any big personal belongings, of course, security is of utmost importance (no x-ray or anything, no control) so his wife and my driver were left waiting with the small bags we had, our passports were finally checked and we were taken to see the luggage storage rooms.
Those rooms are one dirty and dark corridor where the completely clueless employees of the Havana airport schlep whatever luggage didn’t fit in the arrivals hall or didn’t get collected. The names of the airlines are handwritten on random pieces of paper glued to the doors. A funny (he thought so himself as he insisted on making jokes together with his co-workers) man led us through the corridor and we searched. Naturally, we were a group of about 10 people so we started the search with other airlines. Guess who was last… And guess whose luggage was NOT in any of those rooms… Yep. Toronto flight, not so much, and nothing from the 10:30pm, err I mean 9pm flight. Even the funny man was perplexed and it really looked as if he finally felt sorry for us, so in the end they allowed us in the arrivals hall, to search among all the bags that were all over the place. I kid you not. In a sea of luggage, spread all over the hall and with hundreds of people everywhere, there we were looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. The funny man gave up and put another lady in charge of us, she was pissed because her job was apparently answering the phone and now she was stuck on the floor with us… “I am the one who has to answer all five phone numbers and look what I have to do now!”. I did the math, it’s funny she should say “all five phone numbers” because comparing my paper with the one the Dutch got, other passengers’ and Thelma’s, there were definitely more than 5 different numbers written on them. Plus the hostel one I got… Our bags were nowhere to be found, the lady was getting fed up with us, so eventually we had to give up.
We were told to go to the office of the airline, which was located one or two floors up. I SO want to show you what those offices look like, but of course we couldn’t take photos right in the middle of the stress and frustration. I can’t describe the back corridor of another back corridor and the dead end of realizing that at that hour no one would be working in ANY office at that airport.
This is one back corridor, it’s the fancy, LIT one. The one where Air Canada had its glorious HQ was at the other end of the airport, in complete darkness. Needless to say we knocked on any door we could find and by that time we were basically laughing hysterically and crying at the same time. We then decided to check the info desk in the arrivals hall and see if we could get an airline number, preferably to a local office, that ACTUALLY WORKED… The lady at the desk was busy video-chatting with someone and had no interest whatsoever in helping us. The hall was dark and my patience had disappeared so I started yelling at her to do her fucking job, help us the fuck out, pretty much LADY GIVE ME THE NUMBER TO AIR CANADA OR I WILL BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU. She reluctantly took out a binder and looked up the number, then read it out to me quickly and put the binder away. I asked to double check it, since it was dark and my brain was going out of order, but she had no intention of showing me the binder again, it was as if her work there was done. We went outside and I called. Naturally it didn’t work, I don’t know if she gave me the wrong number or if I was so tired that I couldn’t write it properly…
This is a photo I found on 14ymedio.com that shows a bit of the arrivals hall, ON A GOOD DAY. Pity a photo can’t illustrate the lack of air..
We gave up that evening, there was literally nothing else left for us to do that didn’t involve becoming physically aggressive. The Dutch couple and I shared my cab into town, all in all that little evening adventure cost me around 100 CUC because I felt I had to give Orlando something more for completely wasting his whole evening.
In the morning, the Dutch messaged me saying that they had managed to speak to someone at the airport and that our luggage had arrived. At the same time Bosse had spoken to the airline from Sweden and my bag was nowhere to be found… They couldn’t locate it in the system, which is funny to me since the lady seemed so sure it would arrive with the 9pm flight. Pardon me, I keep forgetting she lied and the flight was THE TEN FREKKIN’ THIRTY PM. So I jumped up and called Orlando to begin the new airport quest. You know how it is, new day, new Cuban airport scandal… By the way, Orlando drives a tin box of a Lada that actually works…
As we got to the back-door “wrong side of the fence” area, there were the Dutch still struggling to be allowed inside. New employee with the key, had no idea who we were and no interest in letting us in. Release the scandal. I yelled and insisted that our bags had arrived and that I would have none of this shit anymore. For the first time a Cuban agreed behind me and scolded the staff, yelling that this is a horrible lack of respect towards us all. But we were still getting nowhere so I decided to take my scandal upstairs to the airline office, hoping that since it was now morning, SOMEONE would be in charge there. I knocked and knocked and got no answer and just as I was about to give up, a lady showed up, walking casually towards the door. THE ODDS! THE ODDS OF HER WORKING IN MY OFFICE! MY OFFICE! THE OFFICE I NEEDED HELP FROM! So I yelled at her as well until she had no choice but to go downstairs and find my bag. But not before telling me that I shouldn’t have come because my bag was going to be sent to my address in Havana… Remember the confirmation and note that I would pick it up? Yep, that’s Cuba for ya…
So she would go downstairs through the arrivals hall, we would go outside and back to the miserable fence queue, we’d meet her there, she’d let us in from the right side of the fence. FINALLY the Dutch guy and I got inside. After yelling at her, I could now almost hug this woman. AND THERE THEY WERE! OUR BAGS! Apparently, they HAD arrived on the 9pm (I will make jokes about this forever, 10:30) but no one knew how to check bag tags. New passport control, how they check passports is beyond me because they take your documents and disappear for eons, and finally another clueless employee appeared with a notebook. If she could scratch her head and write at the same time, I’m sure she would because she wrote my passport details BY HAND in her little notebook with this huge question mark for a face. Then she kept looking at the bag tag trying to decipher what it meant. She asked me what airport I came from, what flight etc. It was all written on the tag on the bag, just as it was written on the tag I am given upon check-in. She knew nothing of this procedure… So for about half an hour, I stood there staring at my bag, not allowed to just grab it and go. The Dutch also got theirs and finally we could get the hell outta there.
I really can’t describe to you how wonderful it is to get your fresh clothes back and not feel that you will waste your vacation fighting to trace a bag. The bags kept coming in from all over the world, airlines from Turkish to Aeroflot to Copa to Iberia. Some people we met on the wrong side of the fence told us they were on day 7 of showing up at the airport without any luck… Phew!
From the moment you arrive, when dealing with employees in places like airports, bus terminals, offices and anything else that is state-owned and governed, you need to arm yourself with a ton of patience, lower your expectations and be ready to show you take no bullshit. A bit like my home country Romania, these are the consequences of crippling a country like this.
But once you get past this, you will find great kindness and hospitality, a very open attitude towards a lot of things and a hell lotta fun, so stay tuned for the next chapter!
HELLO CUBA!
When I booked my trip I did enough research to figure out it wouldn’t be worth it staying in a beach hotel in Varadero, the typical charter destination. Apparently the resorts are nowhere near the number of stars they claim to be and the prices are ridiculously high in relation to the standard offered. This was definitely confirmed to me when I saw some of the hotels myself, both in Havana and at the nearest beach area.
I realized I would be better off with a home base in Havana. Then I thought why not visit a couple more places, Cuba is not very big and surely I could get around easily. So I decided to start in Havana, do a few days there, then leave my luggage and visit Viñales (where all the tobacco magic happens) and Trinidad (which is a wonderful colonial mix of colors and textures) by bus and finally return to Havana for one last week.
Airbnb is now allowed in Cuba, even though renting people’s rooms and places had been around there long before the Internet, and I came across Thelma’s apartment. I’m not that picky and I’ve stayed in some shitty places throughout the years, but I’ve also had a bit of luxury so nowadays I look for at least basic comfort and good reviews. I’ve always had great luck with Airbnb and this felt great. It looked a lot more modern than most homes advertised, it was not too far from the old town and the price was good for two weeks. When it comes to decor, Cuba reminds me a lot of my home country sometime between the 50s and 90s, they haven’t come farther than that. It’s all very kitschy and very old so it was a great surprise to find this place.
The building looked a bit run down and so did the area, but if you ever travel to Havana you will see that everything is run down, even the richest of places. And the neighbors were great, there was music all the time, people said hello, children were playing in the street, no trouble at all. I went out by myself at night too and felt safer than I do most of the times in Stockholm.
The only trouble is that it’s pretty dark. Most buildings are not properly lit and the lamp posts in the street aren’t really anything to brag about. In the old town, the only structures that are considered important enough for display are the ones around Parque Central and the Capitol. The theater is lit, the fancier hotels as well.
On the other hand, Cubans are very fond of tacky LED light-strands. The tackier, the better and in December the place is filled with blinking reds, greens, Santas and penguins.
Havana is a weird place really. It’s what is left of a completely different era, luxuries and posh places, history and riches mixed with the brutal times that hit the country after the revolution and together with the embargo. The area between the old town and what is called Centro is on one end full of fantastic architecture of various degrees of decay and ruin, with people living in dark buildings and piles of garbage occupying most street corners.
At the other end of town, a cleaner area full of tourists, pedestrian streets, the Capitol and fancy hotels, the grand theater and the two famous squares Plaza de Armas and Plaza Vieja which could really be any square somewhere around the Mediterranean.
Outside of this city center, everything from fantastically beautiful turn of last century villas to brutalist monsters to humble sheds.
One day I took a bus tour, one of those hop on – hop off. Yes, believe it or not it exists in Havana and it’s cheap and good. For 10 CUC, you’ll have your ass seated comfortably getting to see a lot of the city and its main attractions. Here’s the thing with Cuba, and Havana in particular. It’s not that they don’t have things to show. There’s everything from pharmacies to cinemas, from shopping malls to discos, from museums to markets, from stadiums to big parks. It’s just that everything is shittier than most places in for example Europe, it’s more run down, paint is coming off the walls, the shelves in the stores are mostly empty and the Cubans don’t seem to know we’ve probably seen better. Either they’re naive like that, or they’re awfully ashamed so they try to glorify everything, or they’re continuing the sort of deceitful communist propaganda I recognize from Romania and some documentaries about North Korea – the place is crap, but the tour guide will present it to you as if it was the best thing since the folded napkin. Problems? What problems, we don’t have problems here. Nevermind that one brick problem just detached itself from a house and could have hit someone in the head, continue in the working spirit of the revolution and together we shall achieve progress… Fists in the air and all…
A lot of places are what’s left behind the glorious revolution days and they’ve tried their best to redecorate and use the facilities. The products available in Cuba are the type of leftovers from our own trends, the clothes we liked 20 years ago, the furniture we had in our homes 30 years ago, the gadgets we could barely afford 40 years ago.
Don’t get me wrong, however. It’s not like there isn’t any quality in Havana. There is fantastic potential there, but with the situation this country is in, not much can be done at a faster pace. There IS progress in Cuba, it’s just painfully slow.
For example, two years ago there was no Internet on the island. There is no freedom of the press, but people now have access to a lot of information online since wi-fi hotspots have been created all over the country and even in a few people’s homes. In Havana, you can go to pretty much any park and get online, just as long as you’ve purchased your 1 CUC wi-fi card and it’s not as bad as you’d think.
Havana is full of hidden gems too, if you know how to look and who to ask. If you do your research properly before going there and even find a local to give you the best advice, you will know that sometimes you need to find the back door of a place and the food will be better there, or you’ll need to queue for stuff early in the morning because the line will eventually become very long and they run out of stuff pretty soon.
On my first attempt to buy more wi-fi cards I queued in the corner close to my home one evening and just as my turn had come the lady behind the window told me there were no more cards and I should come back tomorrow. I had no intention of spending my days in queues, if I lived there and the trip hadn’t cost me this much already I’d be more relaxed about it, but this waste of time was not in my plans, so I bought the cards from the guys in the street who had done the queuing in advance and were selling the cards for 2 CUC instead of 1. “How many do you want?” they asked. “How many have you got?” I would answer and always buy more than one. Apparently some will try to dupe you by selling fake cards that won’t work, I was lucky and that never happened to me. Maybe because I speak Spanish, or maybe because not all Cubans are asses. In fact, a lot of people just want to help.
Havana is also one of the most laid-back capitals I’ve visited, in spite of all the problems. People are out in the street all the time, there’s a lot of hangin’ going on, friends, family, total strangers. That is of course unless they’re queuing for something. It’s crowded but it never got on my nerves, even in the most touristy areas where your name will inevitably change to “Taxi Lady?” or “Pssssss” or “Holaaaaaa”. It’s too much but still not too much, if you get what I mean. Even with the huge amount of cars of all shapes and sizes, traffic was always light, I didn’t see any accidents and drivers were mostly polite towards eachother and pedestrians. The only place that was scary for about 2 minutes was the Malecón, the famous waterfront promenade that stretches from the old town all the way to Vedado and that’s cause there are no crossings and the cars pass at tremendous speed, so you’re supposed to just confidently start crossing like a local and hope to get to the other side alive.
The Malecón is a wonderful place for a sunset and lots of people go fishing there. Sometimes the waves that crash into it are so powerful that you won’t be able to walk closest to the sea without getting completely soaked, but then you always have the other side of the road that offers shade and one or two corner bars.
If you follow the Malecón in the direction of the fortress you can slide right into the old town and be a nerdy tourist. In the other direction you will end up in Vedado and you can stroll around Avenue 23, where you’ll find lots of entertainment and food options.
I did a lot of walking, mostly without a map because it’s difficult to actually get lost. As a tourist you will most likely not stray too far off the beaten path and the outskirts of the city are of no interest, unless you’re looking to document other things. But if you ever visit, the Maps.me app is the best thing ever, cause you can use it offline and it even shows you where you are in real time.
House numbers in Havana are usually irrelevant to taxi drivers, what’s important is that you mention the main street and the two streets your house or point of interest is located between. For example, I stayed on a street named Espada, at number 61. But to any driver I had to say “Espada, between Principe and 25”. Very much like in the US where you have to name the corner, and a lot of streets are one-way, reminded me a lot of places like New York and New Orleans. 25 is a street name, just like 23 and there are others named with numbers. Some streets are called letters of the alphabet. My closest wi-fi spot was the park on 23, so I would say “23 and P” whenever I wanted to be dropped off there.
Also, if you stare at maps of Havana long enough before you travel, you’ll learn the areas and find it’s really easy to get around. Google street view doesn’t exist for Havana but other sites offer decent 360 views.
Havana has always been famous for the cars. The whole island really, but it’s even more noticeable in the capital. Once you visit and meet people, you will understand why. I was having a conversation and said something like “It’s so weird to me, there are no products in the shops and people go hungry sometimes, there’s no money, this nation is crippled from outside as well as from within, but there’s always time AND money for these cars. Everywhere I turn guys are polishing them, painting them, fixing them.”
The answer I got simply makes sense and should open anyone’s eyes: the average salary in Cuba is somewhere between 20 and 40 CUC a month. Surviving is not impossible, but to actually LIVE is usually not very cheap for Cubans. Clothing items are expensive, toiletries as well and a lot of things are just hard to find. If you need to repaint a wall, it’s not like you can just pop down at the store, buy the paint and tools and get the job done. There may be a paint shortage, there’s usually a shortage of something.
Being a doctor or a teacher will allow you to survive, as will most jobs there, because every place needs doctors, teachers, workers, mechanics, electricians, especially those jobs that are sought after, but you will never live in the lap of luxury and tons of things will still be out of your league. To actually have a decent life, you need something lucrative on the side. There are two currencies in Cuba, the peso convertible CUC and the moneda nacional CUP. Cubans are usually paid in CUP and this money is almost worthless. Tourists use CUC and that’s what you will get from ATMs and exchange offices. A lot of Cubans SO desire the peso convertible because it’s worth so much more and allows them to have a better life. But in many places it’s difficult to pay with bills of 20 or 50, that’s so much money. And for a 50 you will usually be required to present a passport. Sometimes, when someone can’t give you change in CUC, you will receive CUP and you have to do the math and make sure this person isn’t duping you, because 1 CUC is 24 CUP.
So if a pair of sneakers costs around 50-100 CUC, just like they do in Europe or other places, you’re gonna need more than two months’ salaries to get those. That’s the fucked up part, stuff is simply too expensive for the income of the average Cuban. But if you’re lucky enough to inherit your dad’s car or if you’ve saved every penny and bought your own car, you can live a better life as a taxi driver.
In Havana, especially as a tourist, the fastest way to move is in someone’s car. Whether it’s a fancy, polished pink Chevrolet or a dodgy Lada, whether it has the taxi sign and you can travel alone or it’s a bit more obscure and collects more people along the way and you share the fare, the car is one of the best sources of income to a local.
A short ride could cost you 5 CUC, a fancy driver with a really fancy car could sometimes charge 25 for a ride. So in a day, a driver could earn more than the average salary and it’s more than worth it. That’s why cars are so important here, that’s why they’re always taken care of.
There’s also a sense of community when it comes to cars here, sharing and having a good time together. If you, like myself, happen to be in a shared cab on New Year’s Eve, you will most probably be having a blast together with your fellow passengers and the driver. Not unlikely that a bottle of rum will be shared among you and the sound system will be blasting some awful reggaeton which you will eventually succumb to.
If a Cuban doesn’t drive a car, he could drive another type of taxi: the bicitaxi or the cocotaxi. Equally fun and equally cheap, you can use the bici (which is a cycle rickshaw) for shorter rides, since the driver is most probably working his butt off on the pedals and the coco (auto-rickshaw) for longer ones. You will probably feel like you’re gonna die at any time, but it’s not gonna happen, you can just enjoy the wind in your hair and the conversation which you will inevitably be having with your driver.
We did both bici and coco and I think my favorite ride was the coco back home on New Year’s Eve, after celebrating in the old town. All dressed up, with a bottle of champagne, at the speed of OMGIMGOINGTODIE in a coco on the Malecón. The adrenaline!
When I wanted to get away from the city and be all lazy at the beach, I didn’t have to travel far. Some of the nicest beaches are right outside of Havana, the place is called Playas del Este. From the Parque Central, you take the T3 bus that takes you to the beach in about 30-40 minutes, for 5 CUC. A taxi will cost you a bit more so this bus is great! Naturally, on my first trip I didn’t know the 5 CUC was for a RETURN ticket, so I paid 5 more to come home. The second time I had company who explained to me that all I had to do was present my ticket, which would be valid for the return trip as well. Doesn’t get any cheaper than that!
The bus stops at a couple of places along the way before reaching the beach area. It’s just lovely, no fuss, hot sand, great water, chairs and umbrellas you can rent for 2 CUC a piece and dudes walking up and down the beach with coconut drinks and souvenirs, but not like in Rio where you couldn’t get a moment’s rest before some guy would ask you to buy a bracelet or a dress or a pair of sunglasses. Just perfect!
You can ask for a table to be brought out for you and order some food from the nearby joints or leave your chair, which is yours for the whole day, and eat something next to the beach.
If you happen to spend your beach hours next to a group of Cubans, you will also have a fun soundtrack in the sun, because these people will schlep the biggest speakers they can afford pretty much anywhere and turn the music up. Neighbor’s speaker is louder? Irrelevant. Turn yours up even more. PARTY!
What the beaches lack is showers and proper toilets. The hotels won’t allow you to use the bathrooms if you’re not staying there. There’s one cafe where you can get the toilet-with-lady experience, which is so typical of Cuba. You give the lady some coins and she provides you with toilet paper, because in most places there either isn’t any or very little of it is available. Also, you’re supposed to throw it in the trash and not flush it, because apparently the pipes in Havana are so bad that stuff gets stuck and they explode. After you’ve done your business, the lady will throw some water in the toilet and possibly clean the floor a little. You can imagine what toilets are like then, it’s not the most pleasant experience, but hey, I survived so it’s perfectly fine.
Havana is generally pretty dirty and the old cars aren’t helping the environment at all, the garbage is left in the street for days before anyone bothers to pick it up. There are stray dogs and cats and don’t even get me started on the potholes and dust. But in spite of that, food doesn’t go bad because they know how to handle products in this type of climate. It’s one of the great contradictions in this country, how hygiene both doesn’t work but still miraculously works…
Nightlife in Havana is also great, there are tons of bars of all shapes and sizes, there are restaurants and people will get up and dance pretty much anywhere. There’s live music even in the shittiest of local canteens and it’s frekkin’ groovy. I can’t say I’m a big salsa fan, but you simply can’t sit down when the music starts, and as a girl you will be invited to dance as soon as you set foot outside the apartment.
I had read reviews on TripAdvisor and wanted to check out a few places in particular. One of them is called El Dandy and it’s a great little bar and art gallery with ties to Sweden. The drinks are great, their pork tacos are just amazeballs and it’s always crowded. Tourists flock to this place and it’s not always easy to get a table, but hanging at the bar or just waiting for one to become available is really worth it.
Another place I just stumbled upon was Cafe Suiza, on the pedestrian Obispo, which is completely different from the local joints in terms of decor and menu. They have a concept. But service is incredibly slow and the second time I was there they couldn’t handle our orders at all. The breakfast menu however was totally worth it. It’s delicious and I could go there again just for the warm, fluffy white baguette with butter and marmalade you get when you order breakfast. They have smoothies, all sorts of coffee, fruit cocktails, eggs and omelettes, chocolate cakes, ice cream and croissants, very continental and not expensive at all.
There were two other restaurants I wanted to check out. One of them is called Starbien and apparently famous for seafood, which is a must while in Cuba, it was not very far from my place but after the walk in the sun we were disappointed to find it closed indefinitely. In Cuba, shit happens more often than in other places…
The other one was a rather fancy place with great reviews called La Guarida. Tucked away in the old town, it looked really nice. Naturally, we should have booked a table because it was packed and there was no chance of getting one. It also had a terrace bar but my company was 100% Cuban and already freezing his butt off, so we couldn’t stay up there as it was a windy night. The guy at the door suggested another place to us and it turned out to be fantastic. He said “Go to this place around this and this corner, it’s a Swedish restaurant.” Whaddya know, a place for me…
It’s called Casa Miglis and it was wonderful for our last night, they make a delicious chili and the wine is great. It’s a bit pricier than a regular local joint, but definitely worth it.
Other than that, I had my meals in local joints, whatever looked decent, with the typical rice’n’beans and inevitable mojito, sometimes pestered by flies, sometimes completely devoured by mosquitoes, almost every time having to decline a salsa invitation. One night, in Plaza Vieja, the band leader decided that the flute player would dedicate a song to me as they performed. And indeed he did and his voice was fantastic.
I didn’t get to explore all there is to see in Havana so I think I will definitely go back. There are art galleries, there are markets, there are tons of other joints to discover.
As you can see, I got incredibly handsome company along the way and more about him and the place where we met in the next chapter, Viñales!
CRISTINA ON THE ROAD 