Strangers In A Very Strange Land. . .To Us.

As we walked off the plane, and I saw the name of the airport, it struck me that I never planned on landing at Varadero airport in my life.  Of course, I never expected to go to Usuhiaa (sp?), Argentina either, so I’ve learned to turn down unexpected travel opportunities.

Cuba has never been on my list of place to go, partially because for so long we couldn’t go legally/easily.  The idea of flying to Mexico to buy a ticket and fly to Havana was not something that interested me, particularly since I never bought into the whole romanticized Fidel/Che thing.

Cuban immigration gave us, particularly Carol, a hard time.  My immigration agent seemed content to let them figure out if Carol belonged, and if she did, then I did.  They finally relented, it appears, once they saw that we were staying both at a hotel in Varadero and at a hotel in Havana.  I was about to pull out the conference schedule to show that I was on it, but didn’t have to.

We flew American Airlines to Varadero from Miami.  There were 33 passengers on board.  I’m not sure how these flights are going to last. . .you keep hearing stories that they are half full.  Multiple people on the plane clapped when we landed in Cuba.  We figure they are Cuban-Americans returning to the island for the first time in many years, if not ever.

After the slowdown in immigration, everything else was easy.  The banos in the airport used Crane toilets, and luggage was right there (okay, it’s NOT a bustling airport), and when we walked outside into the Cuban sun, there were emotional family reunions and hopeful taxi drivers.  Carol quickly changed Euros into CUCs, which is the currency tourists may use (the Euro is less penalized than the dollar, although tipping in dollars is fine).  At essentially one-to-one, I’m not sure you are getting your money’s worth, but at least CUCs are accepted.

The cabbie spoke modest English, but was not very talkative.  We zipped along the roads past beautifully green fields and trees, seeing the occasional car from the 1950s.  There wasn’t many other cars on the road.  Our cab was probably from the 1990s.  (As I write this, I can hear cars from the hotel room, so maybe Cuban rush hour is busier.)

Varadero is about a two hour drive from Havana, and sits high up on the North Coast of Cuba.  The resort we are staying, the Hotel Melia Americas Varadero, is a joint venture between Cuba and the Melia hotel group, and appears to have been built in the 1990s.  Everything about the resort is pleasant – from the incredibly soft sand beaches to the nice pools, from the staff to (importantly) the food.

The resort is packed with Europeans and Canadians.  People are genuinely surprised that we are Americans.  The only reason we came to Varadero is that the New Jersey-based travel agent who made the travel arrangements for the conference recommended it.  I did not just want go to Havana, spend one or two nights, and then leave.  I figured it we were going to Cuba, we should see a little bit else of the island.

(When I went to Bulgaria before their first free elections, I quickly change dollars to Bulgarian currency – don’t remember the name.  I literally could not spend any of it – they only wanted dollars, and, there wasn’t much to spend on anyhow.  I ended up giving all my Bulgarian money at the end of the trip to my cab driver, and that was in addition to dollars to pay for my ride – he did well on that fare!).

Check in took some time – while info is on computer, they also hand write everything – and their passport reader couldn’t read our passports, so they sent us off to lunch.  We went to the buffet.  The food was quite varied – leaned to the European style, with plenty of meat, seafood, cheeses, desserts, and more.  It was a bit light on salads and vegetables (many of which were fried). Carol found brussels sprouts, which she said were quite good – I never saw them.  Again, the staff were friendly and attentive.

After lunch our room was ready, so we came up, changed, and headed down to the beach.  I bought a hat for 10 CUCs.  We spend most of our time under the little palm areas, staying out of the sun but enjoying the warmth and the beach.  I finally finished the River of Doubt/Theodore Roosevelt book I had been reading, and then plunged into Barbarian Days, A Surfing Life (fitting at the beach).  Carol mostly slept.

The beach was crowded most of the day, but since we stayed till 5:45pm, it started emptying out around 4:45.  I had some Crystal cerveza, which is (obviously) beer, before we headed back to the room to shower.