30 Minutes to buy Cheese

Half an hour into a day trip it occurs to my fellow travelers and I that it might be wise to purchase some food to talk along the trip and since there is a store ahead of us we pull over. As it turns out, the “store” was not really a store but rather a wooden kiosk on the side of the street. We walk up and study the menu. Fortunately it is possible to order food to go. We place our order but unfortunately our order is sold out. We try another selection, then another one, each time receiving the same answer. Eventually we ask what it is that we CAN order. The worker in charge pauses for a moment and contemplates this difficult question. Finally he responds that he has cheese and ham available for sale. We ask if there is another store close by. He smiles and points down the road. Not making the same mistake twice we ask if he knows what the other store has for sales. He pauses again and says: bread.

So we decide to order 10 slices of cheese and ham and send 2 people back to the other store to buy bread. What now unfolds is the reason I write this story: the ambitious worker retrieves the cheese from a sketchy looking fridge along with a knife, measuring stick and scale. As if conducing an exercise in geometry he carefully measures the cheese and finally cuts one slice then weights in and makes necessary adjustments to the prior cut. This he repeats several times until the cut and weight are prefect. 20 minutes later the bread crew returns from their trip (nothing is fast in Cuba), while our friend is still measuring and cutting.

After 30 minutes he is finally satisfied and hands us our order – or rather his piece of art. At last we continue the journey. Why do something the simple way when it can be down complicatedly?

La Playa y la Vida

Looking out of the window of a car can be like a movie unfolding before ones eyes and taking a drive from Viñales to the nearby ocean Cayo Jutías is nothing short of that. There is the breathtaking scenery that almost seems unreal, too beautiful to be true or so rich that the mind can hardly comprehend it, and to add to all this there are the charms that only Cuba offers. People waving (old men and children alike) to that unknown car passing by as if they had sighted a good friend, the eclectic mix between poverty (mules pulling trailers on the highway and people living in wooden huts), revolutionary propaganda (Che Guevara proclaiming: Hasta la victoria siempre), the frequent police checkpoints and everyday life displaying itself in front of your eyes. After a little more that one hour we finally covered the 40 km to the beach and the destination was well worth it (the journey itself was worth the trip). A beautiful virgin beach lies in front of us and after parking the car and walking through a little forest along the beach we have completely left behind the few remaining tourists: Turquoise-blue water (bathwater temperature), a few sprinkled clouds in the sky and trees gently swinging in the wind. The afternoon on the beach is perfect and only interrupted by an occasional fisher boat on the horizon. There are some days where life presents one with the gift of opening itself fully and giving the observer the chance to see its abundant beauty, like a flower opening its blossom to the world displaying the mystery hidden inside.

Viñales, Cuba

After 1 week in Habana I “finally” managed to proceed. By “finally” I do not mean to imply a discontent with the amount of time spent in this magical city. Quite the opposite, at the time of departure I was just starting to feel at home. However, I mean to convey a feeling that my time in Cuba is racing by very fast and there remain so many things left to do, hence my decision to continue on with my travels.

The bus door of the Viazul tourist bus opens (foreigners are restricted to travel in designated air-conditioned buses for which they have to pay in dollars, while Cubans are stuck waiting for hours for a bus that may or may not show up for Cuban pesos – a fraction of the price), and I am overwhelmed by the huddle of women awaiting and storming towards me. Holding up posters with pictures of their houses, they are all trying to convince me to stay with them. The prior night without sleep leaves me a bit overwhelmed and I decide to leave the huddle and sit down on a nearby bench. But without success a certain fraction of the crowed follows me. I am left no choice; I simply pick one of the offers that sound reasonable, collect my luggage and leave the crowd behind me, which continues to fight for the remaining tourists. Low season has begun in Cuba and there is obviously a large excess supply of rooms with owners eager to fill them. The government charges these “casas particulares” a fixed monthly fee regardless of whether or not the room is filled. Despite the fact that the majority of the rent proceeds go to the government many people are eager to accept the challenge because it is one of the few (legal) ways to earn a few dollars.

It turns out that I could not have chose a better family to stay, the house is lovely, the room spacious, the owners amazingly friendly and it turns out that the room rent includes “free” salsa lessons.

Surprisingly, the rhythm of life in Viñales (population 15000) is not all that different from La Habana. Sure, everything is on a much smaller scale and everybody knows each other. People are similarly relaxed, have all the time in the world, joke, laugh and try to get things down the Cuban way.

I sense that I have found yet another place where I feel extremely comfortable. How could you not, hiking through one of the most amazing landscapes imaginable (luscious green vegetation, home to the world’s best tobacco harvest, sharply contrasted against rocky cliffs sticking out of the ground and surrounded by red earth), making friends and joking with the locals and dancing salsa at night (which features some of the best dancers I have ever seen).

El Malecón

For me the Habana Malecón has become a magical place where everything can happen. During the day this ocean side walk is home to fishermen and pedestrians, children playing in the ocean and tourists taking pictures, but with sunset the Malecón fills with people of all ages and colors and with every passing hour the mood seems to brighten. You are guaranteed a good night just walking along the ocean (a bottle of rum in one hand to uplift the spirits) or just to sitting down watching other people passing by. I have been amazed at the type of people one can meet here, their openness and friendliness: Everyday Cubans, always happy to invite you for a drink and sharing never ending stories about the many things that can only happen in Cuba. Of course there are the ubiquitous salesmen and tourist hustlers but if you tell them you do not want anything they either leave you alone or quickly forget their financial interest and stick around for some stories or a cup of rum.

One night, admittedly it was a late one, I was sitting on the Malecón conversing and sharing drinks with some Cubans when two musicians walk along and ask if we want them to play for us. We tell them we have no money but a friendly exchange of words changes their mind and so the music stars. There is nothing like feeling the ocean breeze in your hair, the moon shining from above, the crashing of waves in the background and live Cuban guitar music energizing the night. 30 minutes later, the musicians seemed to have forgotten that they were out to make money, two more musicians walk along with African drums in their hands. Without asking they stop and join the song and gradually the rhythm changes from a gentle guitar serenade to upbeat dancing music. And so we follow the call of the music and dance the night away.

Life in La Habana

Waves wash against the infamous Malecón (seaside walk) that leads along most of the city. Fishermen line its wall, tourists and locals alike taking a stroll, children playing in the ocean, musicians playing a tune, hoping for a tip, the ubiquitous bottle of rum being shared by a group of friends day and night alike (and since Coke is almost the same price as rum, why waste money on Coke). As the day draws to an end more and more couples fill the Malecón holding hands, kissing or just looking out over the ocean.

Time has a different value here, as most the day seems to be spent waiting: waiting for the elusive bus that sometimes comes, sometimes not and most of the time is full (but there is always space for a few more people), waiting in line for the few goods that are on sale for Cuban pesos, waiting for other people who tend to show up with random delays or waiting for the monthly food ration to arrive which is granted to all Cubans by the government. Moreover it seems that most the jobs involve waiting: police officers on every corner waiting all day (which gives a weird feeling of “Big Brother” watching), door men waiting, street hustlers waiting for their prey, salesmen waiting in their empty stores for customers to enter. And do the waiting goes on.

Since public transportation is at best spotty, distances not too far and almost no one owns a car, there is a lot of life in the streets: people walking, talking, buying, queuing and laughing. The city almost bursts with vibrancy and the difficult economic situation does not seem to have diminished passion for life.

And life is difficult indeed for the average Cuban that does not have relatives abroad sending monthly checks. Although everybody has a job (or those that want one) they only pay 15-30 USD per month and even with the free monthly food ration it is almost impossible to get by. So the people are very creating in finding income on the side: renting out rooms to foreigners illegally (doing so legally requires large monthly lax payments), talking home some company property to sell on the side and paying each other off to get by with it. It seems that the Cubans are very cognizant of the benefits they receive from the government: free health care, free education (from first grade to university), free housing, free monthly food rations, free child care and almost free public transportation. This however does not keep them from complaining about the things they do not have. At the same time there is dissatisfaction about the poverty and the difficulty of getting by. But life goes on. Cubans seem to have mastered making something of nothing: for example inventing tools and parts to repair their 50 year old cars that have to keep driving. Although they like to complain a lot, the Cubans have maintained their happiness and lightness of being.

Cuba – First Impressions

La Habana, Cuba: 10:30PM, 04 September 2006: The Mexicana jet glides down the runway and docks at the airport gate. Only a few planes are visible. Inside the airport, there is little more life, as if arriving to a restaurant 30 minutes past closing, only a few visitors remaining. The customs and luggage collection process, take only a few minutes and before I know it I am aboard the taxi heading for the center of La Habana. Having just paid the equivalent of a 1 month Cuban salary for the 30 minute drive, 15 USD, the sharp contrasts of this dual economy sink in. The streets are equally deserted and it is hard to believe to be in a big city (I almost wonder if the Taxi driver is taking me over back roads).

I arrive at my host family’s apartment. They already await me and after a courteous greeting we spent the next hours conversing on the balcony overlooking the Malecón and the ocean. The next morning I awake early as the city has awoken back to life: buses are honking, trucks with squeaking breaks as if they were next to my bed. After a refreshing shower I return to the balcony to be greeted by the ocean and friendly morning sun. I sit down and relax – my Cuba experience has begun. A few minutes later I have to run for cover as a truck drives by leaving a cloud of smoke that leaves the entire block in mist. My host had warned me – a government program fighting Dengue fever.