Guatemala: I come while others go

Given my late arrival to Guatemala (almost no busses leave past 5pm let along at night), I am stuck in Mesilla (the Guatemalan border town) for the night. Returning from dinner to the hotel I spot 5 youngsters on a bench in the lobby. Right away something abut their appearance did not seem right to me. I don’t know whether it was their fidgety nervous behaviour, their young age or the fact that this is a border town, but I decided to approach them to satisfy my curiosity. At first the conversation is awkward and drags along but at last they gain some confidence in me and share their story. As expected, these boys (maybe 18-20 years old) have come from various parts of Guatemala looking for passage (illegally of course) the land of milk and honey (a.k.a. the USA). They each paid 5000 USD for an all inclusive trip through Mexico to the USA (or so they hope). This is their last night in their homeland which explains the nervousness. As I depart, I wish them good luck and hope that their journey will indeed end in the USA.

Later that night I strike a conversation with the friendly hotel manager who sees people like these passing through daily, all with they same destination, the same dream. But for many of them the Promised Land will only remain a dream because their journey is a perilous one. The fist obstacle is the choice of coyote (nickname for the person guiding these people across). It appears that honest coyotes are the minority and frequently the coyote steals all the money without proving any services, gets them into Mexico and then disappears or abandoning their victims in the U.S. – Mexican desert. Even if they are lucky enough to find an honest coyote, the journey is still far from easy. Getting into Mexico can usually be arranged by a 200 USD bribe but the Guatemalan accent is distinct so the transit through Mexico perilous. The most difficult step of course is the U.S. border and crossing it frequently involves many hours of walking through the desert (without water). Once in the U.S. these people face a life in hiding and are unable to communicate in the official language. Some can seek refuge with a family member already in the U.S. but the majority will find themselves alone and helpless forced to work extremely hard in an effort the repay their border crossing debt, sustain themselves and send money back home.

In transit through Mexico

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It almost seems like all journeys begin and end in Mexico (at least that has been my experience recently) as if it were the gateway to the world. Well, in a way it could be considered a gateway to the Latin World. Since I have grown to love Mexico, this does not bother me one bit. I can now count 10 different arrivals to Mexico. This time I was in route from Cuba to Guatemala where I plan to attend a course at a Yoga and Mediation center. Arriving in Cancun, I had to stop by my favorite destination, Tulum, for a few days of beach and relaxation. Thereafter the road led to Mérida, the capital of Yucatan, a pretty colonial town with lots of history and charm. Next, I spent a day visiting the Uxmal ruins, which I enjoyed a lot particularly because it seemed like I was (almost) the only tourist there. The ambiance of an ancient city like Uxmal completely changes depending on the amount of tourists. Since I fell in love with the Habana malecón, I thought I would also check out the Campeche one (only to find that nothing happens on the Campeche malecón neither day nor night). The main square however is full of life, music and people and the beautifully illumined colonial buildings make a great setting. From Campeche I headed south to Palenque. Although I had been to Palenque and its magical ruins several years back, I did not mind returning. There is something about returning to a familiar destination and observing how much it has changed or how accurate our memories serve us. The next destination was San Cristobal (also a town that has grown close to my heart). Manu Chao was onto something when he wrote the song about the positive vibrations of San Cristobal. Comitan is a small town in southern Chiapas, which I used as a lay over to tour the Montebello Lagoons (a district covered with beautiful lagoons and lakes surrounded by jungle). Walking through (relatively) unspoiled, untouched wilderness is always an amazing experience especially when the scenery is as beautiful as Meontebello. And so my Mexico experience ended in Ciudad Cuauhtémoc, a small little border town. México says goodbye while Guatemala awaits me.

The Innocence of Children

Taking a walk though the Campeche Zocalo, I spot a bench full of children. Since children always provide a heart warming experience I cannot resist sitting down next to them. It only takes a few moments until one of them asks me why I am so tall and wants to measure himself next to me. A little girl asks to look at my blue eyes, which fascinate her. When I tell them I am Germany they ask a million questions about the world cup (the world remembers, even the 5 year old), the language (how do you say melon head in German) and the culture (what do we eat in my house). Since about 15 children appeared to have come with one woman I am curious to how many mothers all these children belong so I ask Carlitos (a 4 year old) how many brothers and sisters he has. He starts counting. At about 15 Diana, next to him, stops him objecting: “No Carlitos, only your true brothers.” But Carlitos insists: “They are all my brothers and keeps counting.” But Diana is strict: “No, you can only count your real brothers, the children of you mom, the ones that live in your house.” But Carlitos is unimpressed makes the cutest, most innocent face in the world and says:” But all the others are my brothers too.”

This little boy has accomplished what most of us never will, the ability to transcend the feeling of brotherly love beyond is family and generously included all his friends. May his definition of brother stay with him as long as possible.

The Magic of Tulum

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I continue to be drawn back to Tulum like a migrating bird returning to the same destination when the right season has come. Although every time I visit, Tulum appears a little more developed (in other words touristy), yet it has maintained its charm of tranquillity, empty beaches and an un-spoiledness that is hard to find on the Yucatan Riviera.

Tulum (proudly as billboards display) has now advanced to the status of city from town but still not much seems to have changed. The same fruit-juice lady continues to sell a liter of fresh squeezed orange juice for 2USD and the same broken down rusty car continues to await its burial on the side of the street. After an eventual and exciting time in Cuba, a time of relaxation in Tulum is exactly what I need. I sense that even the old Mayas must have perceived the serenity of this place and decided to build their impressive temples here.

Leaving Cuba

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Many medieval European cities used to be surrounded by walls and only certain people had permission to enter or exit. This analogy is not all that unsuitable for Cuba. To make the comparison better yet one should recall the song “Hotel California” where you can “check out any time you want, but you can never leave.”

With these comments I am referring to my departure from Cuba or lack thereof. Something about my time in Cuba gave me the intuition that I might be wise to confirm my return flight form Habana prior to departure. This turns out easier said than done. After a diligent search I was able to locate a telephone book and in it the telephone number of Mexicana airlines (note that this is a foreign company). The problem with calling an office in Cuba is not the lack of telephones but the fact that no one answers them. After 38 (or so) attempts to call the Mexiana office I finally realized that they were simply not going to answer my call but a Cuban friend reassured me that this was normal and that I would have to go to the office in person. So I walked half way through Habana to the airline building which houses the Mexicana office. After calling out “última persona” and awaiting my turn in line the representative tells me because I bought the ticket on the Internet she would not be able to access my information. After a friendly smile (and a bit of Cuban charm) the information suddenly becomes accessible and she tells me that my flight has been cancelled and gives me a phone number to call to move my reservation to the next day. The telephone keeps ringing in the background as if it was part of the music playing. The 38 failed prior attempts to accomplish something by phone in Cuba are too recent to make the same mistake twice. So I kindly ask her to call on my behalf. Surprisingly on one answers and after a few more unsuccessful attempts she is able to miraculously make the appropriate changes in her computer, the same computer that just 5 minutes ago, or so she had told me, was broken. So my stay in Cuba is involuntarily extended, with is not all that bad of a thing.

The next day I make the journey to the airport (the taxi is only half as expensive as he first taxi trop upon arrival – one learns with experience that in Cuba there are always many ways to get things done). At the airport I join the line of people waiting to check in while one attendant reluctantly works as his co-workers stand around and chat. Eventually it is my turn and I am told that because I have an electronic ticket I have to go to the office around the corner. Another line and finally the validity of my ticket is verified. The clerk phones the check-in counter and tells them to check me in. I return to the counter and without asking me my name, identification or ticket he asks me to which city my ticket is: Cancun, Mexico City or Guadalajara? I pause for a moment, wondering if he would actually issue me a boarding pass to a different city. But then I decide that I really rather go to Cancun. But no so fast, before boarding the plane there is a line to pay the exit tax, one for the passport control and one more for security. In Cuba it is actually necessary to arrive the suggested 2 hours early.

Thank you Cuba for an amazing trip. May the return come soon.

Touching History

It is hard to spend a single day in Cuba without being constantly reminded of the revolution and its principles. Such reminders come in the form of billboards, newspaper or television propaganda. However, nowhere is Cuba have I felt so close to history as in Santa Clara.

As a brief reminder, Santa Clara played a pivotal role in the revolution, which had its origin in the east of the island and gradually spread west from the Sierra Maestra. The final battle was fought in Santa Clara, the mot important city of the center of the country. 300 revolutionary fighters defeated over 3000 Batista troops and ambushed a supply train with would, had it arrived, have made victory almost impossible. This cunning defeat was led by no other than Ernesto Che Guevara. Two days after the fall of Santa Clara, dictator Batista fled the country and the revolution had been won. It is of little surprise that Che Guevara holds a special place in the hearts of Santa Clarans.

After visiting the Che Guevara monument and museum I return to my host family’s house and start to talk about history with my 62 year old host. He proudly tells me about his memories of the battle of Santa Clara (he was 15 years old at the time) and his father was a commander in the revolutionary army fighting side by side with Che Guevara. It is one thing to walk through a museum of Che Guevara artefacts, but to talk to someone who has personally known him almost brings history back alive.

Cuba: for better or for worse

No es fácil – It is not easy: is the phase used by Cubans to describe the daily struggle. And certainly I have to agree it is not easy (but where is it). I will not turn this discourse into an economic report nor render judgement on Cuban socialism, for neither I am qualified after such a brief glimpse into Cuban life. Rather I will try to confine this to anecdotal narratives from countless conversations and impressions gathered over the past weeks.

The average Cuban earns between 10 and 30 dollars, which translates into 240 to 720 Cuban pesos (1 to 24 exchange rate). Even without paying rent (most Cuban “own” their home or rather receive permission by the government to live there for free) this amount does not suffice to survive let along buy clothes, fix things in the house or enjoy life. Every Cuban received a monthly food ration free form the government, which they pick up at a certain store and includes basics such as rice, beans and a bit of meat. This allowance will last about 2 weeks thereafter you are on your own and have to use your Cuban pesos (or dollar convertibles) to buy the rest. The problem with the Cuban peso is that it is not very useful. In Cuba there are two types of stores, the ones that sell in Cuban pesos (you can easily spot them by the empty shelves or the long line of people) and dollar stores (which are similar to Western stores both in terms of selection and price). Obviously, one does not get very far with 10-30 dollar per month in these dollar stores (I once spent 10USD on groceries that lasted me for 3 meals). So the Cuban has to scavenge hunt the peso stores (which sell at prices much lower) making the best of their pesos but any good somewhat special (soap, deodorant, clothes etc.) is simply not available for pesos. To make a long story short, as hard as you try you cannot survive off your government income. Depending on whom you ask, a Cuban family of 4 would require 60-100 dollars per month to get by. This is where the daily struggle (that Cuban love to talk, complain and laugh about) begins. The Cuban is a master of invention and has to think of ways to come up with the missing 40 dollars / month (this does not sound like much but is almost 2 monthly incomes). How does he do it? Before proceeding, I want to stress that the question is NOT, does he do it? Because without a doubt he does. No one in Cuba starves, even the poorest have a belly and look well fed and while not dressed in Armani suites, the typical Cuban is dressed nicely.

There are two ways to earn extra money on Cuba: legally and illegally. Most common legal ways include renting your home out to foreigners, producing something part time and selling it (e.g. food, art, furniture) or you are one of the many Cubans with relatives abroad receiving monthly support. Common illegal sources of income are renting your house to tourists illegally, trying to “obtain” a dollar or two from a clueless tourist, stealing at work and selling it on the side and sadly prostitution.

Let me offer some observations about the consequences of Cuban socialism. Cuba today is largely a race-equal society (the difference between rich and poor are far smaller than in developed countries), the government provides for free to everybody housing, food for about 2 weeks per month, the right to a job, free education from kindergarten to university, free health care and a country almost free of violence. All of these are substantial accomplishments that did not exist before the Cuban revolution and still do not exist in many developed countries.

However, what keeps Cuba’s economic progress limited is 1) massive inefficiencies due to government bureaucracy and 2) a work culture of “indifference.” Most jobs offer great security and it is almost impossible to get fired – attendance is frequently not required and even stealing often only results in a warning. Conversely, the person working diligently sees no (material) benefit. In such a culture it is of little surprise that nobody seems to work. Many people do not go to work at all, show up periodically or are physically present without making a contribution (it is not uncommon to see people sleeping at work or you being the only customer and 2 attendants patiently finishing their conversation before helping you 5 minutes later). How is a country to progress if a large portion of the work force simply is not productive? In addition to this economic inefficiency I should mention my natural reservations regarding the undemocratic nature of the government, the absence of free speech and political freedom, the police state and tragic human right abuses. This is justified by the government by necessity in the face of adversity to assure survival of the Cuban revolution.

Frequently Western media (U.S. propaganda in particular) cites low living standards relative to Western developed countries as evidence of failure of Cuban socialism. I submit that such a comparison is simply not fair (apples are compared to oranges) because every developing country’s living standards are far lower than in the developed world. Without rendering judgement (this will be up to the reader) let me just offer two approaches by with to measure Cuban progress.

1) Comparing Cuba today vs. the situation prior to the revolution in 1959. On this measure, the vast majority of Cubans are far better off. Pre-revolution Cuban was a racist country where a few U.S. companies and Mafiosi owned essentially all of Cuba and reaped the benefits of exploitation leaving the masses in poverty, uneducated and without access to medicine. Of course the former elite class (which has since fled to Miami) laments the old days.

2) Comparing Cuba today to the countries in the region which had a similar standard of living 50 years ago as a measuring stick to see whether Cuba has done better or worse than this peer group. On this measure there are pluses and minuses. No other country in the region has eradicated analphabetism, hunger, the housing problem, has the medical system Cuba has or offers the security that the Cuban streets provide. All of these are major milestones for a developing country. However, most of the other countries in the region offer greater political freedom, easier access to travel and greater economic mobility for the middle class.

I have tried to present this report as unbiased as possible and hope to have challenged the reader to think rather than jump to conclusions. As far as I am concerned, the past weeks in Cuba have been some of the most fascinating and thought provoking of my life. ¡Viva Cuba!

Anecdotes from Cuba

Cuba is truly unique in many respects: its economy, its people, its music … It is impossible to put into words what Cuba is, or what makes it different. These short anecdotes are an attempt to describe just a few moments that I perceived as uniquely Cuban.

• I met a group of people in a city plaza. We strike a conversation. As I leave they invite me to come back saying: “We are here everyday. Come back anytime.” I casually ask what time they tend to be there and what time they have to work. The answer is the same for both parts of the question. “We work form the morning until the afternoon – that is when you can find us here.” It turns out that attendance is not a requirement for many jobs.

• Cienfuegos bus station: the building is full of people: passengers coming, passengers leaving, passengers waiting, sales men offering their goods and bus staff going about their business. My object is to buy a bus ticket to Santa Clara. There are about six ticket windows, all of them are staffed, only one has a line with people waiting. I proceed to a counter and ask where I can buy my ticket. “Not here,” is the answer and she points to the counter to the left. There I receive the same answer until I am eventually directed to the counter with the waiting line. I patiently wait my turn and am told that this is the wrong line and that I need to go to the office around the corner. Unfortunately, the office is closed and I am told to come back the next day. So I ask another person (I have learned never to rely on a single person’s advice) who sends me back to the line I just came from (but I already know better), I ask a few more people without success (one telling me I need to go the train station across town). I eventually ask at the luggage counter and am told to wait for the shift manager who is not there at the moment. He actually does appear after 10 minutes and sends me to yet another office around yet another corner. Inside is a woman sleeping with her head on the desk. The shift manager must have heard my unsuccessful attempts to awake her and comes to my assistance. The woman does not look pleased after she finally wakes up, issues me the ticket (which consists of a piece of paper with a few illegible words scribbled on it) without saying a word, hands it to me and goes back to sleep.

• I enter the (shared) bathroom of a guest house where I am staying to take a shower, but find the bath tub filled with water. I ask the owner if she was planning on taking a bath. “No,” she says, she is saving the water in case there is an outage. She then opens the closet and retrieves about 20 empty plastic bottles. Together we fill the plastic bottles and then put the remaining water in a few buckets. I then take my shower. Her foresightedness is rewarded the next morning when only a few drops come out of the tap. She smiles and hands me two bottles of water, which suffice for a quick shower.

• El último (the last one): Since Cubans are experts in waiting, they have invented a very clever system, which is called: El último, which makes waiting a bit more pleasant. Instead of forming a straight line and awaiting ones turn (this would go against the nature of Cuban rhythm anyway) a waiting line in Cuba is more like a cloud of people moving around, conversing and greeting each other. The secret lies in El último. A person joining the line calls out: “Who is the last person?” and this marks their place in the line. That way everybody knows exactly who is in front and behind you and there is no need for unnecessary orderliness of forming straight lines.

• Mundane things like opening a door can be tricky business in Cuba. Yes, there are locks and keys like everywhere else but sometimes the key does not fit all that well or the soft metal has bent over time. One instance comes to mind where the landlord handed me little hammer along with the key explaining that when they key reaches a certain location in the lock, I had to strike the lock from a certain angle (or maybe twice) which would allow the key to proceed. He considered this a permanent solution to the problem. Often in Cuba spare parts are expensive or not available so improvisation is required. A frequently quoted Cuban saying: “Invention is the mother of necessity.”

• The bottle of rum: Although every expensive (for Cuban standards) Cubans love rum and will do almost anything t obtain it. Once the treasured good has been secured the fiesta starts. Word travels quickly and a group of friends gathers around the bottle sharing drinks. These groups of people gathered around a bottle can be found everywhere anytime. Despite its cost Cubans are incredibly happy to share their rum with others so if you ever find yourself lonely in Cuba (hard to imagine) look for a bottle of rum with a group gathered around and start talking to them or even better, buy a bottle yourself and you will quickly have a few new friends and a fun time guaranteed.

• The art of buying a house: Given its status of communist republic, technically private property does not exist, which means that in theory the house in which you live does not belong to you but to the state which grants you the permission to live there. Because it is impossible to sell which you do not own, the person desiring to move from one house to another has a difficult talk ahead. There exists a provision in the law that allows for exchanging of houses. This means that the person has to find a satisfactory house with an “owner” who equally desires the other party’s house. Only if both parties desire each other’s houses an exchange can happen. The law prohibits any payment of money (but because houses rarely have equal value this happens regardless – illegally). Understandably Cubans do not move very frequently.

• At 9pm across the country of Cuba it is possible to witness unanimous display of enthusiasm for the telenovela (soap opera). In fact, there are two soap operas on Cuban television, which rotate daily, one from Brazil and one Cuban. I have never been much of a fan of the TV much less a soap opera so I took the Cuban fascination of the soap opera with amusement. Cuba is a tropical country and to make the heat somewhat more bearable people tend to leave their doors and windows open to allow the wind to enter providing welcome relief. This has the effect that when talking a walk through a residential Cuban street at 9pm one will receive a continuous broadcast of the latest intrigue on TV because all TVs will be turned on and tuned to same channel with entire family glued in front.

Sugar and Slaves

At one point in history sugar was a valuable commodity and countries producing it prospered accordingly. Especially when the labor used in the production was free (e.g. slavery) profitability was astonishing. This is precisely when Trinidad saw its peak (the price of sugar high – and the practice of slavery unrestricted). Later things turned more difficult as slaves started to demand certain rights (such as freedom) and started revolts (e.g. burning down the plantation). Consequently the Cuban sugar production was relocated to more submissive areas.

Being integral to the country’s history I wanted to see such an old plantation and it so happens that there remains a train in service taking passengers along the ancient route passing through abandoned plantation and small villages. Not surprisingly there are two distinct trains (both following the same route) one for tourists and one for locals, one costing 0.10 USD the other 10 USD. Coincidentally no one seemed to have knowledge (or rather wanted to disclose it) of this local train. But further investigations revealed that the local train cleverly leaves at 6am and 6pm rendering it practically useless for tourists. It further turns out that despite promised punctual service, the train was broken and in repair for the past week(s). Of course this you are not told when making the reservation but 30 minutes after departure time when the train is still not in sight.

So I decide to improvise and rent a bicycle and follow the old train tracks nevertheless. In retrospect it turns out to have been the better decision anyway (well, except for the heat and seat perhaps). It is amazing how much more of a place one sees when casually bicycling along rather than looking out a bus window. Every 10 minutes I pass a horse pulled wagon (which does not seem to have changed much since the sugar days). I exchange greetings with people waiting by the street (who look at me curiously). Trucks pass me (unlike in most countries, in Cuba the majority of trucks are used to transport people who usually stand on the back like stacked up bushels of corn) and its passengers wave friendly. The bicycle trip by itself was far more rewarding than seeing the plantation remains because not much remains that could give an idea of how life here must once have been.

I take a seat under a big tree on a hill overlooking this luscious green valley. The heat is scorching and there continue to be a number of sugar fields in use today, but not one worker is in sight, yet there are 5 workers staffed behind the tourist post card stand, another 5 at the admissions booth at a scenic tower. It suddenly strikes me that 200 to 300 years ago these people as well as the innumerable people I passed along the way (waiting or napping in the shade) would have been working under brutal conditions and be rewarded by the whip. Frequently over the past years I have been upset by the way global politics have evolved. But putting things in perspective and comparing these well fed, educated and leisure-time-rich slave descendents to the miserable existence of the ancestors, gives me renewed hope that perhaps little by little (despite its painful setbacks) the world is gradually becoming a better place, not just for the few select but also for the impoverished masses.

Trinidad, Cuba

Trinidad is an old colonial town (the 3rd town founded in Cuba in 1514 after Baracoa and Bayamo) but in recent centuries has not grown much. Today tourism is by far the most important branch of its economy and it shows. I have to agree with the Lonely Plant travel guide when it says that “some destinations absorb tourism well, Trinidad is not one of them.” Granted, Trinidad has a beautiful colonial core that is fairly well maintained (for Cuban standards), which is what attracts the tourists in the first place. Probably because tourism is so important to this city, everything caters to them. Walking through the streets, even the un-touristy ones, I felt like everybody looked at me as a tourist (with a lot of money) first and a person second. In my travels I always make an effort to blend in with the people (as much as
possible), understand and see their daily lives. In Trinidad this seemed to be a challenge. The Cubans are so open, friendly and importantly seem to have vast amounts of free time, that I have met some amazing people leading to amazing conversations. Fortunately, Trinidad was no exception. I met some amazing people here leading to some of the most fascinating conversations I have had.

A distinct aspect of Trinidad is the music. Of course Trinidad cannot offer the music of Habana, but given its small size there seems to be (usually live) music everywhere. Of course this is to attract tourists (who else could afford expensive mojitos) but has the pleasant effect of covering you in Cuban rhythms all day long. After so many hours of uninterrupted music (in the background) I caught myself subconsciously tapping my feet to the rhythm or adjust the pace of my walk to match its cadence.

Viñales: Reflections and Anecdotes

Rarely have I been to a town where the people seem as happy as in Viñales. Certainly this could be a premature judgment because one week is hardly enough to fully understand the dynamics of a place and the people with whom I had contact was a limited sample. Nevertheless, I can only describe Viñales as a little paradise in the sense that despite poverty people live a happy and content life, rejoicing in the simple pleasures in life like music, dancing and rum, enjoying vast amounts of free time (in and outside of work – I have yet to meet a Cuban that seems to be stressed) and living in a physically beautiful location.

I am still trying to comprehend how a society or the town of Viñales in this case can sustain itself with so few people seeming to work. I do not mean that in a derogative way at all, rather in fascination because this village seems to have figured out how to maximize free time (and make the most of it) while satisfying all basic needs (housing, food, education, healthcare and rum).

Although it remains a point of contention between Cuba and Puerto Rico, Cuba claims to be the cradle of Salsa music, which evolved from traditional Son music. After only 2 weeks in Cuba it is evident that Salsa lives in the hearts of these people. The passion with which they play, sing and dance is breathtaking. How effortlessly their bodies move to the sound of music never losing its rhythm and yet playful, graceful and sexy. Having rediscovered my passion for dancing, I decided I better brush up on my skills with a few salsa lessons. The owner of the house where I am staying introduces me to a local professional dancer who happily agrees to teach me. Besides being a great dancer, Alberto is also very funny and socialable and smilingly agrees to stick around after Salsa class for a chat when I mention the bottle of rum in my backpack. Towards the end of the conversation he pulls out a few photos showing him performing at a show in Las Vegas and another picture of him next to Julia Roberts. He proudly describes his visit to the USA (the vast majority of Cubans has never traveled) where he was invited to perform in Las Vegas and give a private show to Julia Roberts. Listening to his story made me feel like the film “Buena Vista Social Club” where long forgotten musical geniuses are rediscovered. Likewise I feel that Alfredo, who undoubtedly is an excellent dancer, now lives a simple life in the small village of Viñales. Maybe one day a “Buena Vista Salsa Club” will discover this hidden pearl, one of so many that walk the streets of everyday Cuba.