Anachronism

Ah, Cuba! We flew from Seattle to Los Angeles to Mexico City where we met up with Mackenzie, Matt and Adrienne Friday, then proceeded on to Habana today, all without incident.

On arrival in Cuba we were astonished by the “time capsule” and “Caribbean” atmosphere. Passing through Immigration at the airport was . . . . slow! The young female official frowned at each of us and motioned us to quit smiling while she took our photographs. She stamped lots of pieces of paper, including our “visas”, but not our passports. And she processed us one at a time, requiring the others to remain behind the red line until each in turn disappeared through a locked door, and only calling the next forward as the door clanged shut.

We rode a taxi to our hotel, which turned into a 30 minute guided tour courtesy of our friendly and talkative (Spanish only) cabbie, enlightening us to historical events, important persons and places, and propaganda about how Cuba is the most beautiful, welcoming, safe, friendly and "tranquilo” place in the world – some of which seems like it may be true! He also inquired whether we were afraid to come to Cuba because we might get home to find Obama had seized our homes and would put us in jail because we’d traveled here. Mackenzie assured him “we’re a little afraid, but we think it’s worth it since we don’t think those things will happen”.

We have three rooms in a 14-story government-owned hotel (everything is government-owned, so don’t read a lot into that statement) right on the Malecon, two of our rooms with gorgeous views of the Caribbean sea looking north, and private balconies. It took an hour to process check-in, but we had a beer (Bucanero) in the lobby while we waited and eventually were given room keys.

Dense buildings constructed in the 17 and 1800’s in the Colonial style filled with residential apartments are everywhere. Most of the buildings are clean and neat but clearly have not received any preventive maintenance in the 50+ years since the Revolution and are crumbling badly now. We’re told that when it rains it’s not unusual for buildings to literally collapse. And it’s common to see shells or facades of buildings that are no longer habitable.

Shops and restaurants are rare, and sidewalk cafes of the style common in Europe and Africa are almost non-existent. Since we don’t really understand how the economy works, we didn’t really understand everything we saw, and since we were told it is almost impossible to engage Cubans in conversations that might be viewed as “political”, we couldn’t ask. But we think we saw folks lining up at some of the rare shops to get rations of things like eggs and bread. The streets are astonishingly clean. While many people smoke, including inside restaurants and bars, cigarette butts and other kinds of garbage are very rare. People are sweeping the streets constantly (full employment perhaps?)

The city is astonishing. Many cars and taxis are American versions from the 1950s – Chevys, Chryslers, etc., many in excellent condition, but some clearly on their last leg. There are also a significant number of old Ladas from the Soviet era still chugging around. The newer cars, about half the total, are a mix of Japanese and European, while most of the rental cars appear to be Chinese. The people are oh-so-friendly and helpful. They dress surprisingly fashionably, smile and laugh a lot, try to get us to avail ourselves of their services so they can make money, but are not pushy and obnoxious about it as we’ve seen in some other poorer countries.

Saturday we walked the Malecon (waterfront boardwalk) and Prada (artists’ pedestrian mall), two of the “must-see” streets, then had lunch at one of the government- authorized private restaurants with tables on the second floor balcony of what seemed a private home. These “Paladars” are limited to 12 tables and we are told are heavily taxed, but still highly profitable for their owners compared to state-sponsored jobs.

We later had daiquiris at La Floridita, the favorite “fancy” Hemingway watering hole in Cuba, and then listened to live music at another bar before dinner at El Guerijito, a little place with waitresses dressed in skimpy cowgirl attire where the food was very good.