The Road to Havana

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a Bing Crosby/Bob Hope movie, but I did kill two birds with one stone in transferring from Varadero to Havana (the Cubans spell it “Habana” so I’m not sure why we spell it differently – for the sake of my American, and Canadian, readers – I will stick with Havana).

My original plan was to rent a car upon landing on Sunday in Varadero in case we wanted to see some of the surrounding countryside, and then drive on Tuesday to Havana, drop the car off, and get on with the trip.  Apparently the government doesn’t allow that, which for our sake probably was for the best, because between the risk in renting, the aggressive Cuban drivers, the lack of GPS, and not knowing where exactly we are going, we thus stayed more relaxed.

So plan B was found on Trip Advisor (if you don’t use that site when you travel you are limiting yourself – I’ve never been steered wrong).  A company called Cuban Connection would pick us up at our Varadero hotel at 7:30am, drive us the two hours to Havana, then give us an in-depth tour, and eventually drop us at our hotel, the famed Nacional (National) Hotel.  I made the arrangements via email, hoping it would all work.

And it did.  The taxi, replete with driver and guide, was right on time at 7:30am.  Our guide, Henry, had been an English teacher before switching to the more lucrative career of taxi driver and then tour guide.  As they say in Hamilton, that man is non-stop.  On the road to Havana, Henry filled us in on what we were seeing, Cuban geography, Cuban history, what we would be seeing and doing in Havana, the state of Cuban baseball compared to soccer (the latter is the new hot thing on the island), and many other topics.

As we rolled on, I noticed that our late 1980s/early 1990s car had power windows up front, but crank windows in the back where we were.  Henry bemoaned that the usual 1958 Chevy that he drives was taken out of the fleet (of two, I think!) to be repainted.  But, he showed us pictures of the car we didn’t get to cruise in (don’t feel bad, we got to ride in four different 1950s cars in Havana).

The land is green, with rolling hills and distant low mountains.  There were numerous men along the side of the road using a scythe to cut the grass.  It wasn’t until we got into Havana that I saw someone cutting grass on the side of the road with an actual push mower.  It is amazing how few houses we saw in the two hour drive to Havana; even more remarkable because often the ocean was visible not far from the road.

We made one stop at a rest area built way up on a bluff above the highest bridge in Cuba.  The views were quite good, and, importantly, the restrooms were clean!  Honestly, I can’t remember if these restrooms had an attendant, but most do.  Foreigners need to get a paper towel from the them, as well as tip them.  Anything to create jobs, I suppose.

I was surprised how close we got to Havana before we reached the outskirts.  By that, I mean there is not a lot of suburban sprawl emanating out from Havana, at least on the eastern side of the city.  Once the city began to show itself, we were not far from Old Havana.