It is an odd
feeling leaving the UK in the midst of a terror campaign on the streets of
London. To a certain extent it is good to get away but also a small feeling
that we should be at home in solidarity with our friends and family and the
general public, especially those that walk the streets of the capital on a
daily basis. We are in Cuba and never
felt more cut off from things at home due to the fact that internet and mobile
phone signal is very sparse here. Not
what we are used to. The BBC World News
channel wasn’t working on the first day we were here and there are only one or two US channels which show very little international
news. However
we get to see a couple of clips of our friend Richard on BBC and Channel 4
doing his bit to demonstrate that the terrorists won’t win by going back to the
Borough Market restaurant the next day to tip the staff who so bravely tried to
protect their customers.
We left an
empty house, almost literally as building work is due to start when we get
back. It has been a massive job clearing
the house of 21 years of accumulated stuff.
A lot of it went into a skip or was ferried to the local recycling
centre and charity shop but there was also a lot that was a fantastic memory of
the past and which we will keep. Sian is
now back from Kent and will be watching the house though she goes straight into
her new job. She is a grafter!
It is a long
flight to Varadero, Cuba which is a small airport near the beach and about 2
hours coach ride from Havana where we will start our holiday. We have to wait an hour for our bags to come
off the plane. We are told they will be
with us in a few minutes repeatedly over the tannoy
system. We relax on the floor of the
baggage hall.
So after a 9 hour flight and 2 hours to
get through a tiny airport we are finally on our coach for the 2 hour drive to
Havana. Most people are very soon asleep
but for some reason there is a stop en route to
Havana so we can get off, stretch our legs and buy a drink. Most, including us, just carry on
sleeping. Our driver is Fidel and I
assume he earns a commission for stopping the coach there. It has been a very
long time since we did a traditional package holiday in which you travel at the
speed of the slowest and most annoying fellow traveller – we haven’t missed it.
Our hotel is in
the centre of the old City on a smart square called Parque Centrale. We go for a quick bite in the bar and I have
my first taste of rum. Mrs K asks for
Coke but she gets some sort of Cola – US brands are not so dominant here. That’s one of the reasons we decided to come
– to experience the city before the invasion of Starbucks and McDonalds.
The next morning we dutifully turn up to meet Asi
who is our tour company rep. We hope to
find out about the local excursions which we might use over the next 2 ½ days
in Havana. We are promised it will only
be 15 minutes. Mrs K unwisely seats us a
long way from the door. After about 20
minutes, Asi is still going strong telling us how she
loves to talk, how timings in Cuba don’t always work as advertised and to drink
lots of water because it is very humid.
She also explains to us how the currency system works including the
colour of each bank note.
We finally
escape and make our way onto the streets of Havana. We are just walking down one of the main
streets which is a hub-bub of people, small shops and music at almost every
corner. When I say shops, they are
really just doorways behind which various low levels of commerce take
place. The only shops that Mrs K is
interested in are in a brand new plaza across the road
from the hotel. It looks like it has
just opened with Mont Blanc and Mango the first ones to move in. There is a
camera shop but it doesn’t sell any accessories and the young lad says there is
nowhere in town where I can buy a replacement Nikon lens cap. Buildings around the city are mostly
incredibly old and often dilapidated, although occasionally have been
refurbished to look absolutely stunning.
The Capitol building is being refurbished and so we can’t visit.
Asi is right and it is very humid. We stop at a square and sit outside a café to
watch the world go by. Young kids are
playing soccer and seem not to be bothered about falling over on hard paving
slabs. There is music coming from a café
opposite. I wish we were there instead
when I am told the café we are in doesn’t serve beer – only rum and a couple of
other drinks which I don’t recognise. We
walk through some back streets and see the level of poverty amongst some of the
locals. It is a city of contrasts.
We search for a
restaurant for lunch that was recommended by the concierge at the hotel. A local lad who is walking beside us in the
street with his Mum helps us with directions.
Mrs K comments that everyone wants to know where you are from and when
you are coming back to Havana – they are so proud of their country. Lunch is fantastic but sadly is the exception
in this town where they have no challenge of competition – Gordon Ramsay is a
long way off.
In the evening we eat at a fancy restaurant. The place is pretty quiet – the band almost
outnumber the customers. Mrs K approves
of the music though with Billy Joel, Barbra Streisand and the Bee Gees
featuring. She is the only one clapping. The highlight of the evening is the crepe suzette. We get the full treatment from our
waiter. The house lights are even turned
off when he ignites the alcohol in the pan.
I am not sure what the other diners thought about that but it was worth
all of the $6 we paid for it. Eating in
the restaurant and even the way the food was presented was a bit like going
back in time 35 years. In fact, Havana
reminds me a little bit of Malta before the EU money arrived. As we leave the 3
band members wave a goodbye to Mrs K – their biggest fan.
After dinner we go to a Buena Vista social club. This is just one of several in town but they
originated from a group of musicians who were prevented from leaving Cuba to
play music internationally so they set up their own club and it became a mecca
for the locals. There is an entourage of
about a dozen musicians, singers and dancers who entertain us for the
evening. Judging by the look of some of
the guys they might even have been around when the original club was set
up. One of them walks slowly up to the
stage with the aid of a walking stick and takes a stool. They are all dressed in flowery shirts and I
can’t help thinking of the film Cocoon, but especially when they start
performing. These guys are great! During the show, the audience are invited to
get up and dance at the front. At times there are more people on the stage than in the
audience. Mrs K is dragged out of her
seat and goes very happily.
Tuesday is Mrs
K’s birthday but it’s not a big one. As
I have said before, what happened 2 years ago was definitely a one off so this
one is much lower key. In preparation
Mrs K brought her own presents from home and opens them in bed before
breakfast.
We organise a
car to take us first to the cigar factory and then the Rum museum. We are driven by Eugenie in his 1950
convertible Chevy. He shows me the
engine which is the original V6.
The cigar
factory is Government owned and we get a brief tour of the factory and an
explanation of how different brands are made.
You can ask us anything about Cuban cigars – we are experts. There is a myth that Cuban cigar leaves are
rolled and pressed between the thighs of Cuban women. But looking at some of the women, I wouldn’t
put it past them. The temperature and
humidity in the factory are in-humane and we hear that the workers earn about
$80 per month. This explains why one or
two try to sell us cigars (5 for $20) when the guide is out of earshot. At the
end of tour, I try to give our man a small tip but he is busy ushering a couple
of Americans into a private room – no doubt some private business going on
there.
Eugenie is
waiting for us outside and he takes us cruising around town. It is a bit overcast with occasional spots of
rain but it is incredibly humid and fortunately the rain holds off. We are dropped at the Rum museum. The best part of the tour is the tasting at
the end. We taste some 7 year old Havana Club which knocks Mrs K for 6.
Tomorrow we
head for the beach.
Part 2
On
Wednesday morning in Havana we have a few hours to kill and just wander across the city
until we reach a fabulous square. We find a cafe and park ourselves
there. Cola for Mrs K and a few Cristal beers for me. We watch the world go by
and enjoy a short set by a roving band which is moving from café to
café.
On the coach to Varadero (about 150km) the weather turns. The rain
is lashing at the windscreen but
the tour rep Janet is undeterred. She carries on telling us about the delights
of Cuba. Varadero was once mostly owned by a guy called DuPont. Al Capone also
had a property here. I am guessing Castro and Che Guavara
put and end to that. There is a man made canal between Varadero
and the mainland which was built in the 1950s. It is almost as though
Castro wanted to keep the tourists away from the locals. Janet points out the
bars and night clubs near our hotel but all we can see are shacks.
There are 60+ hotels along Varadero. Our hotel is brand new and looks great as we turn off the main road. We plan just to relax and enjoy the facilities. The coach
will make 9 stops but we are thankful that ours is stop 3.
When
we arrived (Wednesday) we visited the all-inclusive
buffet which was a bit like feeding time at the zoo. The food on offer is a
bizarre selection and not improved in the tasting. We resolve to book one of
the al a carte restaurants for the following evening.
For this we have to go to a particular desk at a certain time where it takes 15 minutes to make reservations for the next
2 evenings. But as always it is service delivered with a smile. I
am wondering how this system can possibly work for a hotel with about 1000
rooms. It is a small city. But the city planner needs to go back
to design school. The layout of the
hotel is just weird, making it very difficult to walk from one part to
another. The lifts seem to be in a state
of disrepair already and there are pools of rain water in many of the
corridors. In our room
some of artwork is bizarre. Could you
sleep with this staring at you? Wifi is available throughout the hotel at a charge of $1.50
per hour. Oh, throughout the hotel
providing you are standing in reception.
The
next day is election day and it is a miserable day
but we find a corner and make good progress with our reading. Mrs K has a
massage booked at 2 so we try a small snack bar for an early lunch rather than school dinners in the main restaurant. We
go for the safe choice of a cheeseburger but are served an unappetizing sight
with cold chips. But the beer was fine. In the evening, we enjoy the Japanese restaurant which is a poor man’s
Benihana, but at least the food is edible. We are seated between a young Polish
couple (limited conversation there) and another young couple from London (a
doctor and a dentist). There is also a
large family from Canada and some Germans.
The Canadians are loud. The chef tries a few tricks with eggs but none
of them come off but he does show off putting his hand in a flame.
Friday morning. It seems to
have finally stopped raining. The good
news is that I have finished one book and have made a very good start on a
second. Mrs K is ploughing through her
book for her book club but complaining she is not enjoying it – 1st
world problem. We are even more cut off
from home here than we were in Havana.
The TV does not have BBC. The
only news channel in English in CNN but from what I have seen they just spent
the last 10 hours talking about the Comey testimony.
How much can you say about a conversation where at the end of the day each side
will accuse the other of misinterpreting what was said? At 5am (10am UK time) I
go down to the reception to get some wifi so we can
find out what happened in the election.
Theresa May is probably feeling a bit like we feel about the weather
here. But it is looking brighter!
Mrs K is happy because we had some sun today, between
thunderstorms. As we sit in the open
reception on nice sofas we hear the rumbling in the distance, but it is warm
and relaxing and there is a free bar. I
might just stay here for the rest of the day, maybe until Sunday 3pm when our
transfer coach comes.
Part 3
Mrs K is by the pool
catching some last sun. It is a beautiful
day. Yesterday we had good sun too, in
between bouts of heavy rain, but more than enough for me. My golf tan was nicely topped up but other
areas are a bit overdone, like my steak last night. Actually no, that was so
tough I had to put it in a napkin. Mrs K
said she didn’t get her usual opportunity to critique blog (part 2) before I
sent it and that I made it sound like we were not enjoying ourselves. Hmm. Luckily we have got to the stage where you just have to
laugh. We just went through 24 hours
without hot water and they have been upgrading the wifi
which meant no internet for 24 hours either.
This morning I haven’t noticed any difference. Last night we had thunderstorms and as a
result most of the corridors in the hotel have an inch of water – not just
puddles, a lake on each floor which maids are feverishly having to mop up
because there appear to be no drains even though the corridors are open to the
elements.
So I need to tell you
about the good bits and the interesting bits.
In one of the stormy interludes
we are sitting in reception enjoying our books. (I can’t remember the last time
I finished 3 books in 5 days – that’s what no TV and no internet does).
Suddenly the entertainment staff announce there will be a music quiz. Two teams are hastily put together – average age
on each team about 20. Mrs K and I carry
on head down in our Kindles. It is a hullbaloo. Each question
is shouted out in Spanish French and English, normally with a bit of music
played. The team on our side of the room are trailing but soon a couple of
questions come up which neither team know.
We have the age advantage but we can’t believe no one knows the
signature tune to ‘Gone with the Wind’ and nobody can recognise Nat King Cole.
Mrs K and I are drafted in to help out and our team win the quiz. We are offered one of the hotel hats by our
grateful adopted team but politely decline the offer. This is about as involved in hotel activities
that we have ever been, I think.
On Friday evening when
we returned to the room our maid had left us a present on our bed (1st
picture). We reciprocated and left her a
small present on the bed the next morning.
Last night we had another creation awaiting us (2nd picture).
On Friday night we were in the hotel bar. It is a fee bar but surprisingly not that
difficult to get served. They have a
couple of singers who are pretty good actually and you can easily pass time
enjoying a drink, conversation and the show.
Later that evening, we were treated to a preview of a kind of circus act
that was going to be featuring in the hotel theatre later that evening. It included a woman who could balance on
three spikes, then two and then incredibly one spike – a bit like one of those
Yoda stunts that you see in London. Next
came on a guy with a whip. He looked a
bit crazed and out of control and proceeded to whip flowers out of the teeth of
his assistant. That was impressive but
we were more concerned about the young girls who were quietly doing some colouring
at the front table just a couple of feet from the end of the whip. No one else seemed to care, including their
parents, presumably propping up the bar.
Our routine has been
very regular, so last night we ended up at the bar again, after school dinners
and the tough steak. I mentioned the
loud Canadian family at the Japanese restaurant the other night. Robbie, the loudest one, and his brother-in-law
install themselves next to Mrs K at the bar.
Robbie is just one of those guys who talks to anyone he is next to. We
quickly establish his family are from Vancouver. We discovered the other night that his father
in law was originally from the UK. I
mentioned that we were in Seattle last year and asked him how far that was from
Vancouver. It is a couple of hours but
he tells us he can’t travel to the US because he has a record. In fact, he did time in Canada for being
involved in the drugs business. He
starts to tell us about how he used to ship cannabis in secret compartments in
trucks to New York and would get cocaine back on the return trip. I can hardly believe he is telling us this
while he sips his whisky and coke and puffs on his fat cigar. He also tells us his brother was actually
running the operation but is now in Chile where he earns $1m per week. We notice Robbie is free and easy with his
tips. He tells us he brought $100k with
him to Cuba, would we like some? “I
probably shouldn’t be telling you this”, he says. “But my wife has everything she wants, as
many pairs of shoes as she wants to buy”.
That catches Mrs K’s attention. So Robbie served his time in prison (4 years I think he
said). His wife stayed loyal and waited
for him. Now he has to wait 5 years
until he can apply for entry into the US.
He said he has a sister in the UK and he has been a few times and liked
it. A really safe country, unlike Vancouver
where kids are being murdered all the time, mostly due to drugs. So what is Robbie
doing now? He is a licenced cannabis grower. Apparently it will
be legal for anyone to grow it next year.
“But doesn’t cannabis give you brain damage?”, I ask him. “No man!”, he says “I’ve been smoking it
since I was 18 and I’m fine”. I am afraid
the jury might be out on that one.
We made our escape from
Robbie and went over to the theatre for the Boogie Nights show where we listen
to a medley of ELO, Boney M, Marvin Gaye, Heatwave
and many many others. It’s only when the kids come
out to help with the dancing for Village People’s YMCA that we realise most of
the audience are parents of the kids – they are all up on their feet with their
phones, recording the performance for posterity (and probably embarrassment for
the kids later in life).
It is now 11.45am and I
am 2 beers in. Only a few hours left
before we leave, so this is me signing off properly.
Thanks for reading and
for those we haven’t seen for a while, hope to catch up soon.
Jeff