Learning to Eat Rice
Scott’s sequestered in his room again this morning, so I re-pack and catch up on emails. He drives me to the airport and gives me a giant hug goodbye. At the airport, I drop in to the information booth to say hi to the ladies who kept me company when I arrived. Only one is on duty and she comes out of the booth to give me a hug. Islanders are such friendly people.
All goes smoothly with the flight to Havana, despite the fact that it is on a Dash 8, a small prop plane. The only hitch is after takeoff, when they advise everyone that eight bags wouldn’t fit in the hold and will be sent on later, so if my bag doesn’t arrive I’ll have to wait at the airport for a few extra hours. I figure fate has already dealt me enough lost baggage in the past few years, so I should be alright this time. I’m right for once.
Fate doe has other plans for me, though. There is no-one there to pick me up, which I paid for. I wait a while then go to the information desk and they send me to the Cubatur office. There’s no-one there. An official looking guy sees me waiting and gestures for me to follow him. He takes me to a Cubatur representative who then takes me back to the office. It takes a few phone calls to get things sorted and I have no idea what’s going on since this is all in Spanish, but eventually he leads me out of the terminal and guides me into a taxi, giving the driver a voucher, so I guess I’m sorted.
My first impression is that Cuba is very green. We don’t drive through the centre of Havana, so I don’t see a lot. My hotel seems to be in the middle of nowhere. I hope it’s just a quiet street and that there are shops and restaurants nearby. The hotel is a combination of hotel and motel. It has a hotel exterior, but is open in the middle, so the rooms open on to outdoor corridors. It’ll do. It was all part of the package I booked, which is focussed on learning to salsa dance.
I unpack and go looking for supplies and facilities. It is not a successful tour. Firstly, the receptionist tells me the tap water in the room is not potable. I go to buy some from the hotel store and it’s not open because it’s Sunday. The free internet in the lobby is no longer free, and the signs to the laundry don’t lead anywhere. I head out to walk around and see what’s nearby. The answer is very little. About five blocks down is the waterfront, with a rocky bank that locals sit and dive into the water from. There are no shops. I spy a supermercado sign in the distance and head for that. It’s closed. I walk up and down and find the embassy district, but no food, water, or vendors of any kind. This does not make me happy. I’ll confess to quite serious homesickness here, although I’m not sure whether I’m homesick for Australia or Dubai. Maybe it’s just being homesick for something familiar. I also have blisters and the dance school and hotel are miles away from central Havana. I go to my room to mope.
I discover the café in the lobby sells water, so that prevents a total breakdown. I then decide to chill for a little bit, so I stretch out on the bed and watch some rubbish television. Suspect I may get through some of the movies I brought with me, although I’m sure everything will seem better once I do my first dance class and work out how to get around. Deciding to get productive, I throw all of my clothes into the bath with some bath gel and give them a good soaking. I’m close to my last lot of clean clothes, so this is a necessity. It takes ages.
I’m not envisaging a lot of options for dinner, but head hopefully across to the hotel that backs onto this one. They have two restaurants, but they look a little pricey, so I decide I’ll make do with the lobby café in my hotel. For dinner I have a pork steak. Through the language barrier, I ask if it comes with anything and the answer seems to be no, so I order fried potatoes and salad. The waiter really wants me to have rice, but I’m not keen. The salad is cabbage and tomato and there are about ten fries. It’s food though and I’m hungry. When I get the bill I realise the potatoes, salad and probably rice, had I agreed to it, must be included as they are not on the bill. If I had known I would have had the rice too. Now I know why the waiter was so insistent.
Meeting Old Havana
I check the location of the salsa school first thing so I can plan the rest of my morning until the three-hour class starts at 2.30pm. This is when I discover the school is miles from the hotel. I’m somewhat annoyed by this given this is supposed to be the closest hotel according to the travel agent and it’s not the cheapest option. I do the maths. The hotel is on street 70. The salsa school is on street 32. 70-32= 38. There are only even numbered streets and odd numbered avenues. 38÷2=19. I have to walk 19 blocks every day to and from the salsa school. That’s a solid 20-25 minute fast walk each way with my short legs. Then I’m going to dance for three hours. Guess I won’t need the fitness centre. Did I mention it’s extremely hot? Think Dubai early summer – around 35 degrees – complete with humidity, and no car. Sweaty times ahead.
The school is my first moment of reassurance – the guy there is really friendly and I sign up for an excursion in to old Havana after the class that day, so I’ll get to see a little more and hopefully meet some people. They also invite me to stay and watch a brief salsa, Reggaeton and percussion demonstration. I’m glad I chose salsa. The Reggaeton looks like a cross between belly dancing and hip hop that’s way too energetic.
On the way back, I drop into the supermarket to get some apples and water for my room. Turns out supermarkets are somewhat different here. Firstly, I have to check my day pack into a security area round the corner. The supermarket is dimly lit and has about five aisles. The prices are in CUC (Convertible pesos, approximately 1 CUC= $1), which means it is designed for tourists and high income Cubans. They have a fairly limited stock of items, no fresh vegetables or fruit, no cheese, no fresh milk (only long life milk), no cold store items. Basically, they have cereal, a couple of tins of vegetables and a lot of mayonnaise. They also sell nail polish, which I buy as my Dubai pedicure is in a sorry state. They don’t sell nail polish remover. At the door, the guards check my items against my receipt before I’m allowed to leave.
I drop the stuff back to the hotel and have a sandwich at the hotel café. I end up talking to a Danish guy, John (*not his real name), who is travelling alone and looking for someone to explore with, so we agree to meet up the next morning.
Back at the school in the afternoon, we are paired up, but my dance partner is late. We start learning the basic steps and my partner, Yonas, finally puts in an appearance. We start dancing together and the head teacher asks if I’ve done salsa before. I tell him I’ve done a little but not much formally. He says I’m doing really well, which I’m quite proud of. I discover I have three hours a day of classes, while everyone else only has two. I think it’s because they’re all learning Spanish with salsa as an add on. Everyone else leaves and Yonas and I dance for the additional hour. The teacher tells me I’m way ahead of the beginner class and he may move me tomorrow. I’m half please, half terrified.
I have just enough time to dash back to the hotel, change t-shirts and douse myself in deodorant before I have to be in the lobby for the Havana excursion. There are about 14 of us. The scenic part starts as we drive along the Malecon – the eight-kilometre-long waterfront. Apparently this is the centre of Havana nightlife, as families, couple and solos all head there in the evening and the street vendors get to work selling beer, flowers and the like. We follow the road all the way to the end of the bay, where we start walking. Across the bay we can see a fort and a statue, Cuba’s version of Brazil’s Christ the Redeemer.
We head into old Havana, full of restored and renovated buildings. It is really beautiful. There are seven open plazas scattered throughout the narrow pedestrian streets, each of which has a different character, but all of which are surrounded by grand buildings. It’s quite overwhelming. Every now and then someone approaches dressed in bright clothing and poses for photos then demands money. The guy from the salsa school acts as our guide, pointing out interesting buildings, including the hotel where Ernest Hemingway stayed when he was writing For Whom the Bell Tolls. He has a good knowledge of local history and cleverly avoids comment on the current administration.
We stop at a lovely courtyard restaurant for dinner. We are given a choice of fish, chicken or pork, but we’re told the chicken is not great. I’ve also read that fish is not a Cuban specialty, so it’s pork again for me. We have a salad entrée, slices of soft white bread and unsalted pork crackling. The meat comes with a small scoop of vegetables, rice and potatoes. I’m sensing a theme here. The waitress then dollops out black beans, the tastiest item on the plate. Dessert is a flan that tastes like crème caramel, but not quite as good.
We share cabs back to the hotel and I run into John in the lobby. He has stomach problems so probably won’t make it tomorrow morning. It was a nice idea.
The value of CUC
I get up early and have the hotel breakfast, which I forgot was included, so missed yesterday. It is two eggs , a quarter of a slice of some kind of processed meat and a few small slices of French loaf. The highlight is the coffee, which is not particularly good, but it’s free and it’s not instant.
I have directions on how to catch the public bus, 19-7÷2=6 blocks away. There is quite a line up, but a bus comes straight away and most of the people cram onto that. I’ve been told buses are a hit or miss affair and there’s no guarantee on frequency or timing. Five minutes later another bus comes and I’m on my way. A taxi would have cost around 8 CUC. The bus is 5 cents. It actually costs half that – it’s priced for locals in Cuban pesos – but there is no smaller coin in CUC. It takes about half an hour to get to the Capitol building, which I know is close to the centre.
I’m aiming for a book store, which I have an address for, so I can pick up a Lonely Planet guide to give me more ideas. The only problem is that the address gives me a street, not a specific location on that street. The Capitol building is huge. I plan to go back there, but I’m on a mission. I’m also feeling a bit out of place. I’m outside the historical centre, in ‘real’ Cuba, which is full of previously stunning buildings that are now slowly decaying and disintegrating. There are people everywhere and the whole area has a crumbling haphazard feel to it. I pass through a Chinatown arch, but I can’t tell which side of the arch is Chinatown. Eventually, I end up back in the historic district. One of the plazas we went to last night is now bordered by second hand book sellers and the bookstore is somewhere near here. I don’t find the latter, but I find an old Lonely Planet at one of the second-hand sellers and pay 10 CUC for it. Few of the tourist sites change anyway. I follow the recommended walking tour around the old district and manage to order my lunch in Spanish, which is impressive since I really don’t speak any.
I have just enough time to see if I can find the agrimercardo (fruit and vegetable market) before my class. As I wander, a Cuban guy starts walking with me and talking, which is interesting since he doesn’t speak English and as mentioned, I don’t speak Spanish. He’s a salsa teacher as well, as evidenced by his official ID. He shows me where I can buy apples, then gives me a hard luck story on how he can’t buy milk for his children. I suspect I’m being conned, but I go with it and buy him a pack of milk as I figure I can afford it and he probably can’t. He tries for two and I have to stop him and tell him I can only buy one.
Over at the taxi stand, which is full of ancient looking rust-bucket vehicles, he negotiates with a driver for me. I get in the taxi and confirm the address and the driver starts complaining. I have no idea why, as this is also in Spanish. He stops to talk to someone and I understand enough of the conversation to realise it is a price negotiation, then another person gets in the cab. The price I’ve offered is the same as I’d pay for a solo cab, so I assume that he’s going to wait until he gets more people and reap the benefits of me paying the full cost. This is about the time I say ‘no thank you’ and get back out of the taxi. I walk down the road and pay the same price for a more modern car and a driver who speaks English.
I spend the next three hour session in my intermediate class. It’s hard work, but fun, and I think I am doing alright for a non-salsa dancer. I lose the rhythm every now and then and change my feet occasionally for no apparent reason, which makes Yonas roll his eyes when he thinks I’m not looking, but we’re doing a lot of moves to fast music and I’m keeping up.
Back at the hotel I do an A-Team fix it on my camera, which has jammed, and get it to the stage where if I leave the lens out and turn it off by popping the battery in and out I can take photos. That’s going to have to last me until I can find a camera shop. I run into John in the lobby and he is feeling better. He asks if I’d like to grab dinner with him and suggests a restaurant he went to before. It is only a couple of blocks away, but you would have to know it to find it – it is a parrillada, which is a house that operates as a restaurant. They are supposed to serve less than twelve guests and can only prepare certain food, but they all have bigger rooms out the back and serve whatever they can get. At the front, it looks like an ordinary house. We go down a tiny side alley and through a door into a classy looking restaurant, with the full white linen and candelabras. It is an Italian restaurant and John recommends the pizza with cheese, pineapple, mushrooms and chorizo. It’s good…and huge. I take half of it home with me for lunch tomorrow. John insists on paying as he says he’s pleased to have the company. Unfortunately he is really negative about Cuba and all things Cuban, so I doubt he’ll be spending much more time in my company.
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