Don't Cry for Me, Cuba

We got back to the hotel from the fort a little before 3pm, and then headed over to the Prado restaurant.  Fittingly, it is on the Prado, and is a couple of small rooms with high ceilings.  The restaurant was crowded when we got there, but emptied out as the afternoon went along.

Lunch was great.  Lucy was greatly affected by the heat, so she and Charlie cabbed back to the hotel.  I had wanted to walk the Prado, and so we did.  The avenue is lined with many interesting buildings, columns and columns representing different buildings.  Some are incredibly beautiful, while others are on the bring of tumbling down.  

The north and south roads are separated by a raised wide strip in the middle, with trees and statues placed every so often.  All in all, it’s a pretty main street.

We found our way back to the hotel for a brief break, then headed to Jose Marti Square.  The Cathedral was closed (it’s only open in the morning, which we figured out too late), and we could not find the art gallery that received rave reviews on Trip Advisor.  

It was all good, as Ferrer Palace was open.  We waited a little bit while a photographer was staking pictures of a young woman at the entrance doors, but as the photographer was making an adjustment, we blew past and in.  After paying the modest entry fee, we headed upstairs. 

The second floor had balconies with expansive views of the square, and we felt like Eva Peron on a balcony, except no one was listening to the speech we were not making.  It’s okay, don’t cry for us.  

The building has beautiful tiling and rocco work, but it is also in bad need of renovation.  It’s like much of Cuba – beautiful in a Spanish/Carribean way, and yet badly in need of fixing up.  It’s a faded charm, but the charm still is very impressive.  If you want perfect and new and updated, don’t come to Cuba.  If you don’t mind the mix of old world charm and communist dysfunction, it is a pretty great place to visit – especially as the people are friendly and the architecture is often stunning.

We continued up to the third floor, and then I climbed up two more flights of the tower.  The top of the tower was a bit nerve-wracking, as there was little to stop you from falling over the edge, but once I didn’t immediately plunge to my death, it was quite breath-taking, as I had 360 degree views of the bay, the mountains, and all of Cienfuegos laid out beneath me.  I almost leaned forward and shouted “I’m the king of the world,” but then like Leonardo DiCaprio, I’d be dead.

(Editor’s clarification: DiCaprio himself is not dead, just the character he played in the movie!  Blogger: Whatever!)

After that, we headed back through the park, and hung by the pool bar, watching two Cuban baseball teams go at in what went from a 10-6 game to a 10-14 game thanks to bad pitching, timely hitting, and effortless defense.  (And by “effortless defense” I mean “no effort.”).

For dinner, we found our same 1959 Chevrolet (“see the USA in your Chevrolet!”) Cabdriver from the night before, and headed down to Pelicanos restaurant.  We climbed one narrow flight of stairs, followed by going up a rickety spiral staircase.  Safety is not a huge priority in Cuba right now, and, as Charlie tartly noted, there is no Cubans With Disabilities Act.

Dinner was great, and we noticed a change in the weather, as a cooling front came in along with the bay breezes.  Our cabbie was there to take us back after we struggled down the spiral metal staircase, and we headed back to the hotel.

At the hotel, we continued our nightly ritual of heading up to the rooftop bar, listening to music, enjoy the breezes, and having a nightcap.