It Was A 455 Rocket!

Henry and our driver took us to a restaurant near Old Havana -- a restaurant called Ocho (something -- and no, it wasn't Ochocinco).  Anyhow, they left us at one table and they had lunch at another.

It was a basement paradar -- very cool.  It was set up for late evenings to be a nightclub, which is fine as long as food and drink were still being served.

We each had lamb ropa vieja there, and it was quite good (ropa vieja is one of my two favorite Caribbean dishes.)  We also sucked down water after being out in the hot sun.

There was also our first experience with something that seems quite common in Havana restaurants -- no toilet seats on the toilets.  I thought maybe it was just in the men's room, but Carol reported the lack of the seat in the women's room as well.  It's a regular toilet, but has neither seat nor cover. Given my needs at the time, it wasn't an issue for me.  I will never say Cubans don't know squat about going to the bathroom.

After lunch, we were driven over into Central Havana -- shown the Granma museum, the Capitol (under renovation), the ballet place (a beautiful building, the Gran Teatro de la Habana).  We parked and walked around the city center, past multiple art galleries, the museum of the revolution, and all over.

Then, we did final treat for the tour.  Henry negotiated a ride in a convertible for 10 CUC -- which was parked with many others at Jose Marti Square.  I thought, from Henry's gesturing, that we would just be going around the square.  Instead our driver for the convertible, Armando, took us all over center city and even Old Havana (not the parts inaccessible to cars, obviously, but the outer roads).

Our ten minute ride lasted more like 20 minutes and it was one of the coolest things you can do in life -- cruising through Havana in a convertible.

We felt like royalty, riding in the back of a beautiful 1958 Ford Fairlane.

This was our Ford Fairlane

-- with a Mitsubishi engine. 

After the ride, we got back into our regular cab, and headed off to the Plaza de la Revolucion.  (For those of us bad at Spanish, that's the Plaza of the Revolution).

It's Hip To Be Square, Part Deux

We wandered a few blocks more, peeking into open doors, taking pictures of courtyards, and enjoy the flow of the people.  Obviously, many were tourists like us. . .off cruise ships, in town for the jazz or movie festivals, but others were Havanaites, off to their work or (well, I’m not sure exactly!).

There were police every few blocks, but they were generally just standing around, talking to fellow police or security.  They certainly took no notice of us, and not once while we were in country did we have anyone official come to us at all.

Next we came to Plaza de Armas, and then went to the Castillo de la Fuerza.  We didn’t go in the fort, but wandered around the outside, looking at the cannons and mortar.  Each cannon was marked with where it was made in Spain, and when in the 1500s it was made.  Each cannon also had its own name.

Plaza de Armas is perhaps the most beautiful of the four squares – grass and palm trees, with a striking sculpture of someone (probably Jose Marti, but I don’t remember specifically!).  There were booksellers and posters for sale, including the famed picture of Fidel Castro and Ernest Hemingway.  The English language books for sale in the square are primarily Hemingway books, but there was an English guidebook to Cuba that we probably should have bought for  planning future trips.

From there, as the temperature rose, we wandered down streets, including Obispo (Bishop’s street), past historical buildings to Plaza Vieja.  All of the squares are quite beautiful, and nothing was overcrowded.

The final square we went to is the Plaza de San Francisco de Asis – which has an amazing fountain of lions, as well as the modern sculpture called “the Conversation” (see picture in post below).  It looks like there is a man talking to a woman, so I told Carol that in the States the sculpture would now be called “mansplaining.”  That got a laugh from her.

And then it was noon and time for lunch.  Yes, we covered that much ground before lunch.  The Iron Tourist was back, baby!

More of Old Havana

The hard part with the photos is NOT including many photos.  So many great scenes to choose from.  Here's some more:

Restaurant on Cathedral Square.  Note the

doors and balcony on the second floor.

Henry's photo framing skills aren't the

best, but it's us and the Cathedral.

Mailbox.  Still in use.

Old Havana street.

Cannons make effective 

barricades to keep cars

out of Old Havana.

This is a statue of someone, in

a courtyard that's. . .heck

I don't remember, but check out

the arches and palms.

Look closely -- the rocks were wedged 

in the tree by the heavy wind of a storm. 

Elementary students taking their lesson outside.

Cannons at Castillo de la Fuerza

Christo de la Habana

Typical Havana convertible.

Some dude in a cool corner park.

Plaza Vieja

Interesting art on a wall.

Two Views of the Conversation

The front of "The Conversation" in 

the Plaza de San Francisco de Asis

And from behind.

Havana Scenes

Carol took these cool photos from halfway up the Cathedral Tower.

Dog on a balcony.

Woman with a cigar.

Women resting before work.

Back In The US, Back In The US, Back In The US of A

So, today was uneventful (I know I have two and half days still to write about -- hope to finish by Sunday!).  We were up early, and caught a cab to the airport.

The cabbie took us to the domestic terminal (terminal two) -- and he realized it was not the right place.  So he made us wait in the cab, got directions to the international terminal (it's not close to being next door!) and then drove us over.

Waiting to go through immigration, Carol went up and asked the officer if I could come up too, or was it just one person at a time.  The woman held up one finger, which, with my Spanish language skills, I swiftly translated as "one."  Carol helpfully turned around and held up one finger -- you know, in case I didn't understand the woman's single digit.

Then, I got in line for security -- with a guy with an Angola passport in front of me.  I flashed back to the late 1970s.  Far different times.

We breezed through immigration (thanks Global Entry!) and customs.  Now, we're having a drink with Carol's old college roommate, Cammy Clark at her house in the Florida Keys -- after spending the mid-day on South Beach looking at the Art Deco buildings.  Havana for breakfast, South Beach for lunch, and now the Keys for dinner.

More blogging tomorrow!

It's Hip to Be Squares

As we came out of the tunnel into Old Havana for the first time, we were greeted by the Castillo de San Salvador de la Punta (the Castle of San Salvador at the Point) in front of us, with the Castillo de los Tres Reyes and Morro (Castle of the Three Kings/the Moors) behind us.

We parked quickly (and easily – as it turns out, there is only modest traffic in Havana.  Pedestrians cross the street where ever and when ever they want, and the drivers wait patiently.  I bought six Cuban cigars in a shop – back at the end of the Cold War, I smuggled 50 Partagas Cubans in from Bulgaria.  The cost?  Just $25 dollars – the Communists needed hard currency quite badly back then. These six cost about $11 each, so there you go.

We checked out a place to buy rum but weren’t interested (we were warned not to buy cigars and other stuff on the street from people who approach you – it’s usually junk/counterfeit/cigars stuffed with newspaper, etc.).

After that, we walked down narrow streets with barricades to block cars, meaning that much of Old Havana is pedestrian only.  In turn, that means it is beautiful just to walk around.  Henry (our guide) was taking us to the four squares of Old Havana.  The first was the Plaza de la Cathedral, which is a stunning square dominated by, surprisingly, the Cathedral.  We went into the Cathedral, and we were allowed to take pictures.

The highlight of the Cathedral is paying $1 CUC each to go up the Tower.  There are three stops on it – one about halfway up, where there were numerous bells (before we went up, the guard warned us – “don’t ring the bell.”  We could see why – if every tourist who went up goofed around and ring a bell, it would be quite annoying.) He was quite a pleasant fellow – proud to claim American heritage – he had grown up in New Orleans!

Anyhow, there was an extended roof on the midlevel to walk around – great views.  The twisting, narrow stairs going up the first half of the tower got even scarier going up further – they turned into narrow wooden stairs with open areas and only one guard rail, so a missed step could easily mean a deadly plunge.  Carol declined.

Her loss, as the views from above are stunning.  The Capitol, el Morro, the Christ statue, the ocean.  If you go to Havana, you’d be kooky not to pay the one CUC (pronounced “kook”) not to go up the Tower.  (Oh, come on, you had to expect “kooky” was coming at some point!

Carol did get some great pictures of women in costume resting between hustling for photos.  I will post them soon.

(By the way, the Canadians we talked to at length said a reason they love coming to Cuba is that people don’t walk up to them to try and sell things or beg.  That may be true in Varadero (only resort workers are allowed there, despite it being a “public beach.”) but not in Havana.  It’s fine – not a complaint, just an observation, but do expect when you go to be approached to buy something, pay to pose with people in costume, or to give money.  (Okay, so that’s a foreshadowing!)

One square down, three to go.

Cathedral Photos -- First Day In Havana

Remember, click on any photo to

view larger.  More detail that way.

There are beautiful random courtyards with arches

and palms like this one all thru old Havana.

There are remnants of the old city wall, and 

guardhouse all throughout Old Havana.

Shockingly to me, there are FAR more monuments

to Jose Marti than to Fidel Castro.  Interesting to

see if that changes now that Fidel is dead.

One of the two towers

of the cathedral.

In memory of Gene Wilder, "What knockers!"

The altar

Halfway up the Tower.

I can't remember his name, but

his face sure rings a bell.

Beautiful roof pattern.

Refurb on a building in the Plaza de la Cathedral.

The Nacional Capitolo in the distance.

More of Havana from the

top of the Cathedral Tower.

El Morro -- the main fort that guarded the

port of Havana.  "Moor" on that later!

The Cathedral and El Morro.  Very cool shot.

At the top -- nice Polish American

woman from Chicago took the pic.

Palm tree in the sky across from the Cathedral.

A Love Letter to Havana

Let me be perfectly clear.  I absolutely love Havana.  Carol shares that feeling, but my remarks here may go beyond even what she is comfortable in expressing.

After not quite 72 hours in this city, I have already crowned it as the most remarkable, coolest, vibrant city I have been in the New World, and it competes on equal footing for the title of the most impressive in the world with London, Paris, Rome, Prague, Vienna and Seville.  (I haven’t been everywhere, but I doubt much can compete with Havana).

The architecture is stunning – colonial Spanish with squares, colorful buildings that have been redone as of late.  Havana is certainly benefitting from UNESCO money meant to fix it up before the 500th anniversary in 2019.  The squares are stunning and alive.

Whether on foot or in car, there is a delight around every corner in Old Havana and in City Center.  While some of the buildings are crumbling and rundown, many more recently renovated and painted, retaining the historic charm but looking clean and fresh.  There is a vibrancy to the city, sometimes no one is around, whilst other streets are packed.  Perhaps we are foolish, but we felt completely safe walking the streets – no worries about pickpockets such as in Barcelona (irregardless, don’t be stupid!).

(Homage to my mom the English teacher – it would drive her nuts when my dad would say “irregardless” because the “ir” isn’t needed – which of course is why he would say it!  Now, don’t get me started on the ironic overuse of “literally” and the nearly literal death of “figuratively.”  That’s not what this blog is about – if it was, I’d be pointing out improper use of apostrophes and that people have no idea how to use quotes.  Or, should I say “quotes.”  Glen, get back on track here!)

Many of the buildings are open to the public to just walk in and gawk at the courtyards.  Those that are not open are either government buildings, or they are museums with a reasonable fee of (essentially) $2 or $5, depending.  I can’t think of any city where you can go inside as many facades as Havana.

Every restaurant we ate at is fabulous.  I know, I know – the average Cuban can not eat at those restaurants.  Hey, that’s why America needs to stay engaged in Cuba and cannot undo what Obama started – more American involvement, investment, and tourism will help lift more Cubans out of their lower economic strata.  The paradars (private restaurants) prove that capitalism works (not perfectly, but profit motive results in hard work by many).  And remember, not every American can afford to eat at great restaurants in the States.

One advantage of a lack of cars (although the ratio of well-maintained pre-Revolution cars to those which are not well-maintained is probably greater than five to one) is that there are no back-ups, even in City Center.  Which means that Cubans cross the road where ever they damn well please.  No “cross at the green and not in-between” ad campaigns here.  Most times there is no traffic coming, other times you may have to wait for two-five cars to go, and as you are waiting, you are slowly venturing out into the curb lane, cutting off the drivers’ options.

Is everything perfect in Havana?  Of course not, but that also is part of its charm (having no hot water to shower in is decidedly not charming, but it concentrates the mind on soaping up, shampooing, rinsing, and finishing!).

At the National Hotel (hangout for mobsters in the 1950s), there were quite a few foreign tour groups – including many Americans.  One minute the lobby would clog with an incoming group fresh off the bus, and the next minute we would make ourselves scarce and leave.  Given the Cuban inefficiency of doing almost everything by paper, check-in must have been a nightmare.

Problems aside, the National is a great, historic hotel.  Its fame as a hangout for the American mob, movie stars, Frank Sinatra, and others is not just what makes it cool, although that helps.

Sitting up high on the famed Santa Clara bluff (what, you’ve never heard of that bluff – well, famed in Cuba!), it has great views of the Atlantic, across to the El Morro fort, with a huge lawn in the back for drinks and relaxation.  There are also trenches that were used during the Cuban Missile Crisis, and cannons from the Spanish-American war that fired on American ships.  The lobby is huge, with people from many nations milling about, looking dazed and confused.

I developed a tradition (three times counts as a tradition) of, at the end of a hot day of sightseeing, of heading down to the cafeteria (nicest “cafeteria” I’ve ever been in) and buying two sparkling waters and two chocolate ice creams.  The third day the gentlemen working there just started putting it together when I walked in, and they joked that I knew how much it cost (which I did!).  One fellow handed me a card for his small hotel in Havana, urging us to stay there next time!

Opportunity is knocking, and many Cubans want to answer the door!

Other Americans at the conference was Paul Maslin, a Democratic pollster and my partner in crime, and Charlie Cook and three of his family (wife Lucy, son/girlfriend).  Talk about old-fashioned – we would have to see them to make dinner plans – texting was not an option, and we never knew when any of us would be on email.  It was like the 1950s, or 60s, or 70s, or 80s.  Basically, it was life pre-Blackberry (if you are too young to know what a revolutionary device the Blackberry was before it was supplanted by smartphones, well, then you have know idea what I mean!).

(By the way, having some people to go out to dinner with every night – and then get a drink or two back at the hotel with, really made the trip even that much more special.  As old friends do, we could discuss American politics without venom or anger, which seems rare these days, and also share in the delights of our days doing our separate tourist things.  We really enjoyed their company.)

Two last points for this posting:

1.   Cubans do not walk around with their heads down, focused only on their smart phones, ear buds in.  Instead they do weird things like engage in conversation.  Weird stuff.

2. If you haven’t figured out, I absolutely love Havana, and can not wait to come back.

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.

Photos from Varadero/Road to Havana

Pelicans in Flight

The Old Man & the Sea. . .Kayak

My Life Amongst the Pelicans

Merry Christmas,

Charlie Brown!

Car circa 1958

Cuban countryside

Dinner on the beach

View from the Hotel steps to the beach

Cuba Riffs. . .Vol. 2

So, we’re right next to sea – surrounded by it, actually (that, Glen, is why it is an island!), so it’s hard not to have a lobster dish every night for dinner!  Now I know why the mobsters liked coming here. . .speaking of which, our guide for our first day in Havana always referred to them as “American Italian mobsters,” I suppose Meyer Lansky would disagree.

When trying to make a turn at a crowded intersection, cars, motorcycles, etc. will line up four and five abreast and all take off at once. . .watching the vehicles all take off at once to compete for two lanes is breath-taking – how we haven’t banged into other vehicles is simply a matter of luck, because multiple cars attempt to fit in the same space at the same time.

So, we’ve been to a couple of nice restaurants that did not have toilet seats.  There were regular toilets, but no seats. . .it’s good to be a guy.  Another restaurant did not have toilet paper in the ladies room (so I’ve been told).  Most of the facilities have been good, but how do you NOT have a toilet seat.

Beyond that, if we stop normalizing relations with Cuba, we are making a huge mistake. . .the people are welcoming to Americans (and our dollars, I get that). . .but it also means a chance at a better life for them.

Smart phones. . .our iPhones are essentially dumb cameras.  Can’t turn them on because it burns data minutes, which is $2.99.  Occasionally I needed to in order to text, but that was only for work requirements.  Carol’s has been on airplane mode the whole time.

Some Cubans have smart phones, but you do NOT see them doing the “walk around cluelessly with their eyes staring at their phones” thing that most of the rest of us do.  In Miami, there was a woman on the sidewalk veering all over the place, and Carol tried to avoid her.  When the woman had to stop because she almost walked sideways into Carol, she gave Carol a dirty look, as though it was Carol’s fault the woman couldn’t walk straight.

Can’t wait to post some photos.

The hotel in Varadero has the saddest fake Christmas tree in the lobby.  The rest of the decorations and lights are quite beautiful, but this looks like Charlie Brown’s tree on steriods.  Huge gaps between the branches, and the fake evergreen looked on the verge of dying.  Every time we walked by it, we felt bad.

 

Capitalism Works!

One of my favorite sayings is that “Capitalism Works!”  (For adventure sports, such as skiing, I also like “Gravity Works!”

My point isn’t that capitalism is perfect. . .every system has its flaws, but this system offers both risk and reward, and because there is reward involved, people tend to be motivated to do a good job.

And that was true of the paladar we ate at on Monday night in downtown Varadero.  The food is fabulous. . .but that’s not to say the evening went off without a hitch.  Why would we pay to eat out when we could have had a perfectly fine dinner for free on the resort?

Well, I wanted to try something off campus – eat at one of the paladars.  (A paladar is a restaurant in a private home – a dipping of the country’s toe in the water of capitalism.  They started ten years ago or so, and have sped up as one of Raul Castro’s reforms.)  They are wildly successful, and the food is so much better than what it used to be (based on many, many comments).

Apparently, the New York Times has just ran a piece that the foreigners eating at paladars are taking away vegetables that the Cuban people used to eat, so now they don’t have as many vegetables.  First, there are not many vegetables with any of the meals we have eaten.  Second, the NYT once again shows its basic ignorance of economic life – the more demand, the more production.

Anyhow, we get to the paladar early, with the idea of walking around Varadero a bit before dinner.  But instead the head waiter is there at the door, waiting to check us in.  Except they don’t have our reservation (that I had done via email).  So, after not finding us on their list, they grumpily offered us a table in the smoking section (not everything is paradise in a worker’s paradise – too many damn Europeans sucking on their cigarettes, ruining the air I breath.  Cuba needs a no-indoor smoking law!).   Finally, they grudgingly sat us at a table for two away from the smoking section.

The paladar, Salsa Suarez, is beautiful.   We sat on their huge front porch (there were also three tables inside).  The covered porch contained probably six tables, plus four in the smoking section, as well as a bar, and many Christmas lights (Christmas trees seem to exist in every hotel and restaurant).

They grumpily took our order after making us wait for a while (everywhere else we have been, our order has been taken promptly and in a friendly fashion).  They brought me the wine list on a Samsung device, so I choose the list of red wines.  It was a lot longer than at other restaurants.  That means there were probably 14-16 red wines to choose from, instead of 4-6 as at most restaurants.  I ordered what I thought was a Cab Sav/Merlot blend, because both were listed on the same line.  The waitress insisted I choose between the two.  I said it was a blend – she went to the manager, who didn’t like us, and I was promptly corrected.  I went with the Spanish Merlot.

We ordered the chef’s plate of appetizers (which was quite good), and the Spanish seafood stew.  It was simply the best seafood stew we’ve ever had – better than great Cioppino in San Francisco, great paella (not a stew) in Spain, and seafood stews in New England.

After I complimented the manager and the owner for the best seafood stew we ever had, they beamed at us.  After we shared dessert, they quickly brought us two “I (heart) Cuba” shot glasses, and filled it with a limoncello derivative (the secret recipe includes basil, so it’s not exactly limoncello).  Carol enjoyed it, and I drank it to be a good sport in front of our hosts.

They called us a cab, enhtusiastically shook our hands, and sent us off.  If you are ever in Varadero, eat at Salsa Suarez!

The Old Man And The Sea. . .Kayak

So, I’ve now kayaked in Cuba.  Our first full day in Cuba, we spent most of the time hanging out on the beach.  I know that’s hard for fans of the Iron Tourist to believe, but Mrs. Iron Tourist wanted a day to do nothing, and she got it.

But, we still did some things.  I went out sea kayaking in the morning before lunch.  The waves were not as strong as they had been the day before.  In fact, Sunday they had shutdown the various water sports – kayaking, canoeing, snorkeling, catamaran.  Surprisingly, the SUP revolution has not come to Cuba.  If you are looking to be an enterprising businessperson in Cuba, might I suggest importing Stand Up Paddleboards.  I’ve even got a name for your business – What’SUP!  (The sound you hear is my daughters rolling their eyes after reading that great line.  Admit it, you laughed.)

It was easy to get beyond the breaking waves, and I paddled out as far as they would let me (a buoy marked the spot).  The water was crystal clear the entire way, even thought the depth was probably 10-15 feet in spots.  Also paddled near a group of 10-12 giant pelicans. . .larger than any pelican I’ve seen in the States.  As I got out further, the views up and down the coast line were amazing.

After I had been out for nearly my allotted time (30 minutes), riding the waves back in was easy.  So, now I’ve gone kayaking in Cuba, Antarctica, New Zealand, Costa Rica, the British Virgin Islands, Alaska, California, Hawaii, Virginia, and Maryland. . .and probably more places I will remember when I’m more awake than 7am.

Cuba Riffs. . .Volume 1

Well, it’s been two days since I got to blog, and we’ve seen and done so much, I’m not sure where to start, so it seems some riffs are in order. . .

The food is much better than I expected. . .they allow some private enterprise, and suddenly quality increases.  Shocking. . .capitalism works. . .not much traffic even now here in Havana. . .but the old cars from the 1950s are loving restored and in beautiful shape. . .took a ride in a 1958 Ford Fairlane convertible. . .we felt like the King and Queen of the world. . .last night after dinner got a ride in a 1958 Chevy taxi. . .much cooler than the 1990s taxis that abound. . .just seeing all the old cars on the streets is amazing.

Cubans working in the tourism business are all quite friendly. . .they make more money doing this than working field like medicine.  There is so much opportunity in this country. . .Havana is one of the most impressive cities we have been in the new world. . .and even the old.

One complaint. . .the exchange rate is unrealistic and terrible. . .there are two currencies in Cuba. . .one for the people and one for the tourists. . .dollars are worth ninety cents to the CUC. . .the convertible unit of currency, also pronounced “kook.”  I do wonder if there is a growing resentment between the government workers (those who get paid a salary from the government to do anything not in tourism) and the entrepreneurs who drive taxis, have a restaurant, work as tour guides.

Many of the traffic lights in Cuba have large countdown clocks in red and green that count down the amount of time left in a red light or green light.  While it is great, let’s not do that in the US.  First, they don’t have yellow lights.  Second, I can see people leaving early when there are only two seconds left in a red light, or gunning it through just after the countdown ends on a green light.

I hope to post some pictures soon, but it have to wait till we are back in the US of A. . .internet is not speedy here!

Find a reason to come to Cuba. . .it is easy to fall in love with this island and its people.  Before coming, a long-time friend noted he had been here ten years ago, and said it is a sh*thole.  Thankfully, that is no longer true. . .not every works great in a workers paradise, and you have to endure the nonstop images of Che Guevara, but the people are great and the island we’ve seen so far (Varadero and Havana) is amazing.

So, This Is What It Is Like To Relax On Vacation

I can’t say it enough.  The beach at our resort, Melia Americas in Varadero (go ahead, look it up on a map – two hours east of Havana), is one of the most spectacular beaches we’ve ever been to. . .and having been to Australia, Hawaii, the BVI, Puerto Rico, and multiple US beaches.

The palm trees are stunning (Cuba has more than 90 different types of palms), but it is the smoothness/softness of the sand that makes the beach particularly memorable.  Don’t look for us to come back with major tans. . .we stayed hidden in the shade of our palm frond palapas (umbrellas) that are conveniently everywhere along the beach.

All beaches in Cuba are public, although that does not mean this one is easy to get to.  The resort is gated. . .when we returned from dinner Monday night we had to show our wristbands to prove we belong (otherwise, since it is all inclusive, everyone would be showing up for free beer, wine, and food!).   The gate is quaint. . .the person working the gate has to come out and open it manually by hand.  Cuba is not into efficiency. . .although it is not like it is hard to pop out of the booth and open the gate.

We didn’t even go out to the beach until 10am or so.  We got up when we woke up, and I slept in till 7am (oversleeping!).  We went down to the breakfast buffet. . .plenty of good options available, and then I bought an internet card and did so email.

The only problem, at the resort re internet, is that my laptop refused to accept the security of their internet.  So, I had to use my iPad, which meant I was spending $2.99 a minute on data.  That adds up quickly, so I hopped on, handled email, and then hopped off.  It’s also why the blog is several days behind posting.

So, we went out to the beach, where I spent much of the time reading “Barbarian Days, A Surfer’s Life.”  I figured, with the sound of crashing waves providing a sound track, it was a good choice.  After kayaking, Carol and I went for a swim.  I tied my backpack up to my chair, figuring it slow any thieves down (can’t trust those Canadian tourists!).

Then it was back to the buffet for lunch (there were other restaurants, but the buffet had plenty of choices, so it was an easy default option.  After lunch it was back to the beach.  Carol kept apologizing for spending such a lazy day, but surprisingly I was fine with it!

Mid-afternoon, we went out on a small catamaran.  I brought my iPhone and got some great pictures.  Our Cuban captain (one was required, tourists couldn’t just take the cat out) spoke extremely proficient English. . .turns out he had lived in the Bahamas for six years.  The catamaran zipped through the winds – it was a great sail, albeit too short.

After we got back, we started chatting with the folks on the lounge chairs next to us.  They were, like many at the resort, Canadian.  Very nice to talk to, although they were quite critical of many things (French Canadians, Buffalo, Americans, kids in general, Mexico, and more).  This was their third and fourth times to Varadero – it’s a short direct flight from Toronto.  This time they were staying ten days (sorry, beautiful resort, but ten days?  Not a chance!).  They had golfed six times, and rotated among the resort’s restaurants. . .never going off campus, as it were.

There is a nice walk up bar just behind where we were all sitting, and they serve Cerveza (the Cuban brand names are Crystal – lighter colored – and Buccanero – slighter darker).  Crystal is all they have at the beach bar, which they pour into four ounce plastic cups.  I made multiple trips. . .and I also went for Carol’s pina coladas.  Service was fine, but got infinitely more responsive when I left a three CUC tip.  After that, they started bringing the drinks out to us.
 

Fidel is Dead. Long Live the NFL.

So, out of curiosity, I had turned on the TV after the beach and watched some of the Green Bay-Seattle “game” (Green Bay killed them).  At one point, flipping through the channels, came across a Cuban TV station showing a paean to Fidel Castro.  I half expected it to be a “if you act now, we will throw in his famous five hour 1966 speech!”  But, I didn’t wait around to see if it was.

After dinner, I flipped on the TV and found that they WERE broadcasting the Giants-Cowboys game!  I never expected to be able to watch my New York football Giants from Cuba.  The NFL, despite recent problems, continues their worldwide march!  I assume these channels, including CNN international, are just at the resorts.  Some of the channels are in English, while others are in Spanish.  It may have been on ESPN out of Mexico, but muting the Spanish announcers was a fine way to enjoy the game.  I should probably mute American announcers back home.

Short story short, my Giants beat the now 11-2 Cowboys with punishing defense, and one lucky offensive play.  It was fun to watch, and particularly interesting to see the commercials running in lieu of the tired American commercials I’ve seen too many times throughout the season.

I never expected to watch a Giants game in Varadero, Never.

Surf and Surf and Turf and Turf and Turf

Although it was all inclusive, the resort did offer a private, romantic dinner on the beach – either 35 CUCs per person or, if lobster, 45 CUCs per person.  We opted for that – how often does one get to have private dinner on a Cuban beach.  The food was great, the service was attentive, and it was nice having dinner watching the waves crash the beach.

Besides our choice of unlimited Spanish red or white, or champagne (not shockingly, we opted for the red), the meal started with shrimp cocktail, then lobster bisque, followed by the main course.  There was a big lobster tail, but also steak, chicken, salmon, and pork.  Oh, and a couple of green pepper slices and two tomato slices.

Our main waiter is a big baseball fan, and the local team, Matazanes, is currently leading the Cuban league.  He’s optimistic for winning the championship.  We talked about Yasiel Puig (he’s a Dodgers’ fan for that reason), and reminisced about the Hernandez brothers – Orlando and Livan.

Dessert was a fruit tart – a plate of guava, oranges, grapefruit, and apple tarts.  All good.  After we signed the bill, they let us stay at the beach table until we were ready to leave.  We took the bottle of champagne back to the room.

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.