Meeting (Eric) Fidel Castro

After breakfast, we walked out front to catch a cab over to El Morro.  The bellman asked if we wanted a convertible.  I pondered the question for less than a nanosecond, and said yes.

Partway there, I had a flash of inspiration -- instead of touring El Morro, and then walking to the Christo Statue, and back to catch a cab back to the main city, we would just get dropped at Christo and walk one way.  Wiley E. Coyote, Super Genius! has nothing on me!

After some photos with the 1958 Chevy, we walked over to the statue.  The security guy was quite friendly -- his name is Eric Fidel Castro, and he made a big show over telling us we could now claim to have met Fidel Castro.  Then he took our picture a variety of ways -- a very friendly guy.  Of course, we tipped him a few dollars (actually American this time, because we had singles.  Like me, Cubans are fine with accepting dollars.)

1958 Chevy

Havana from the Christo Statue

Che's post-revolution house

Our new friend Eric knew

all the photos to take.

Eric also saved us some money, advising us it wasn't worth spending the entrance fee to go into Che's house.

More Scenes from the Back Lawn, Hotel Nacional

El Morro across the Bay

Great shot of the hotel

Free range peacock, appearing on a menu later

that night.  Just kidding, no peacocks were

harmed in the making of this blog.

Cafe Laurent

I had made dinner reservations the group for 7 pm at Cafe Laurent, which was walking distance from the hotel.  We set off for a four-five block walk through the Vedado neighborhood, with restaurants all around, and people hanging out on the streets.

We got to Cafe Laurent (highly recommended on TripAdvisor), and walked up the four flights of stairs to the rooftop paradar.  Spectacular location.  They seated the seven of us at the wrong table at first, and gave us complimentary mojitos (sans alcohol -- but they added rum for those who wanted).

They realized we were not part of the larger group, so they moved us outside (even better).  I did wonder whether the complimentary mojitos were given to us by mistake (thinking we were part of the larger group).

The food was great, service was good, and we had a great time talking about the conference, the respective activities later that day.  They had a very good (albeit limited) wine list, and my selections were once again a hit with the group.

We headed back to the hotel, enjoying the night.  We grabbed a table out back on the outside patio overlooking the Malencon and the ocean.  The moon was nearly full and quite brilliant in the night sky.

We very much felt alive in an amazing city.

Vegas Looks Like the Corner Craps Game

1946 was the year of the infamous Havana Conference, a mob meeting in December 1946.  The meeting included famous mobsters (or misunderstood Italian-American businessman, depending on your point of view) Lucky Luciano, Meyer Lansky, Santo Trafficante, Jr., Frank Costello, Albert Anastasia, Vito Genovese, and others, including a poor decision-maker named Frank Sinatra.  This meeting was made famous by Godfather II, along with, of course, the Revolution on New Year's Eve, 1958.

The cool Hotel Nacional, and Armando's

cool hat in his cool car.

The hotel has an amazing history -- read it on Wikipedia.

Anyhow, the point is, after our visit to Hemingway's Finca, we got our traditional chocolate ice cream and sparkling water.  Then we got changed and hit the pool, because there was no way I was going to miss swimming where mobsters swam.

In the late afternoon, with no more direct sunlight, the pool was relatively quiet.  Very nice -- plenty of cushioned lounge chairs, bar service, and, of course, the whole mob vibe.

The only problem, of course, was that at some point some people were smoking.

Btw, veering off topic again, the smoking in Cuba outdoors on the beach (thanks Europeans!) and in the outdoor restaurants is quite unpleasant.  The other environmental health scare comes when you see the old diesel cars belching black smoke like a 1960 American car in 1975.  Now, most of the cars in Cuba aren't throwing out dirty emissions, so it's not an epidemic, but it is noticeable every so often.

(The blog title is from the first scenes of Godfather II in Havana.)

Guns in the lawn -- fired on a US warship in 1898

The hotel from the lawn

Hemingway's Finca La Vigia

After grabbing ham sandwiches and scarfing those down, we rushed downstairs to meet our convertible driver for our tour of Hemingway's house, about 12 kilometers outside of central Havana.

Henry had arrangements with our convertible driver the day prior to take us for two hours out to Hemingway's house.  We arranged for a 2pm pick-up, which was incredibly fortunate and lucky on our part, because I didn't realize our panel ended at 1pm.  If we had arranged for a 1pm pick-up, it would have gone badly.

Well, we didn't see him in the lobby or outside.  Or his car (we didn't see it outside, silly, it wouldn't have been parked inside!).  We thought maybe since we were a couple minutes late, that he left.  He had called up to the room, but Carol wasn't by the phone, and I had no idea what he (Armando) was saying, because he was speaking 100% Spanish, and I understand about 1% of Spanish.

Finally, someone who wasn't our driver showed us his cell phone, and a text about Bolger.  Since it is not a common Cuban name, we realized: that's us!  Our previous driver couldn't do it, so Armando was dispatched for the job.

He gave us a quick tour past Old Havana and through Central City again.  When you are stylin' in the back seat of a Ford Fairlane 500 from 1958, seeing the brilliant sights of those areas was not duplicative -- just cool.  Armando was happy Carol speaks Spanish, so he even told us the names of all the buildings we already knew.  Heck, a few times I already knew what was around the corner.

The car is older than we are.  Really!

(For two hours, this baby was ours!)

By the way, I had heard about the old cars in Havana, but never realized just how cool they look.  Some are rundown, but most -- especially those serving as taxis -- are in amazing shape.  They all now have more recent diesel engines, but the rest of the car is amazing.  If I could figure out how to buy one and get it back to the States, I would.  Whoa, they are amazing.

After that quick tour, we headed out of town.  The neighborhoods and buildings were not in as good shape, but we saw lots of Cubans out and about, passing schools, restaurants, factories, and homes.  The temperature dropped as we headed up to the surrounding hills, and then reached the finca (farmette).  

Unless you are with a special tour group, you can't go into the house, but you could look in all the windows and open doors.  Lots of books (shocking, I know!), and animal trophies.  Even though you can't go in, seeing his library and various rooms, with the original furniture and wall hangings is pretty cool.  We could go up the small tower next to house, and get good views into Havana.  He had a writing room on top of the tower, and we could peer into that.

Looking through his front door.

Hemingway's sitting room

Bullfighting poster from Spain

Half of his library, and some rando dude.

The other half of his library.

Any bullfighting poster owned by

Hemingway is worthy of a picture.

A Hemingway-owned Picasso bull.

Mind officially blown.

After the Tower (the stairs were crowded at first, then no one), we walked down to his old pool -- at one point it was the biggest in Havana until Meyer Lansky built a bigger one, saw his boat -- the Pilar, and the old cockfighting area.  There was also a small cemetery for his favorite pets.  It was quite peaceful, and cooler than down in the city.  Built in 1886, it felt like the kind of house you'd want to own in the tropics.  

Old slide projector in Hemingway's room

Palm tree on his property, but

you already figured that out.

The Tower

Side of the house

The pool.  I wanted to jump in,

but, you know, it's empty!

Cool root system next to the pool

His boat, Pilar, and fishing chair.

Part of the front of the house

Hemingway had written "For Whom The Bell Tolls" and "The Old Man and the Sea" at the Finca.

After our short tour there (30 minutes at the most), we headed back to the car.

I wasn't given the chance to drive.

Carol's nail polish matched the pink in the seats.

We headed back to the city, with a quick spin on the eastern bank -- past El Morro, the Bay of Pigs weapons display, and the Christ Statue that overlooks the city (more on that in a future post).

On the ride back, we drove past the domes

of the Russian Orthodox Church 

Guns on the Eastern side of Havana Harbor

Bay of Pigs weaponary

Christo de la Habana

Havana from the car

Armando, back at the hotel.

The Room Where It Happens

So, Wednesday morning, we had to do the business for which we were there, which besides being a poorly written sentence, was interesting in its own right.

The conference is the XV Edicion de la Serie de Conversaciones: Cuba en la Politica Exterior de los Estados Unidos de America (loosely translated by a non-Spanish speaker: the 15th Edition of a series of conversations: Cuba and the political relationship of the USA.)

After breakfast, we all met in the lobby of the Hotel Nacional (no group text or email possible, remember) and cabbed over in a minivan.  As a side note, breakfast is definitely European-style rather than American style (that's NOT a complaint, just an observation -- we love European breakfasts for a period of time!).

We walked in to the building, the Instituto Superior de Relaciones Internacionales, where there were Cubans and Americans milling about, sharing hugs and reminisces.  Suddenly the program organizer, Soraya Castro Marino, grabbed me, give me a big hug, and planted a kiss on my cheek.  As an American male not wanting to ever get accused of sexual harassment, I halfway hugged back, caught by surprise more than anything else.  Now I know the custom, although if I do get back (as I hope to), odds are high it will have changed and I will be jailed for harassment.

We went upstairs to the fourth floor auditorium, found seats, and got ready.  The program was sponsored by CIPI, the Centro de Investigaciones de Politica Internacional, and ISRI, the aforementioned Instituto (previous paragraph).  They appear to be Cuban think tanks.

After an introductory speech, Charlie Cook kicked of the first panel.   There was also a speaker from CIPI, an American University professor, and former Congressman Mike Kopetski (from Oregon).  The main topic of conversation was Trump, with Trump as the beginning, middle, and ending of the discussion.  It was Trump entree, Trump on the side, Trump for dessert.  Understandably so, as his election will have an unpredictable impact on the opening between the US and Cuba.

Charlie and his panel

The good news is that they had simultaneous translation.  While most panelists and questions were in English, there were Spanish speaking panelists and questions.  

Paul and I went up for our panel -- we had a PowerPoint.  We were last on the list of five -- and some of the panelists went long.  The first speaker was from Harvard, but he is Latino and spoke Spanish.  Then Bill LeoGrande, an American University professor -- and one of the leading American experts on Cuba for at least three decades -- went next.  Soraya spoke, and then Peter Hakim from Interamerican Dialogue went.

Professor LeoGrande is a legend at American University (Carol and I both graduated from there).  In fact, Carol took a class he taught in the fall of 1983!

By the time it was our turn, time was running out.  Paul presented our bi-partisan poll from 2014, and then I went through more historical data from the past of American attitudes toward Cuba.  I'm pretty sure we were interesting.

Paul, fittingly, is to my left.

While they may look like the Cuban government put

the  human equivalent of car boots on our ears to

ensure we couldn't leave, those things on our ears

were actually the translation earbuds.  They worked well.

After that, the conference broke for lunch, and we rushed down to get cabs back to the hotel.  Just as we walked out the hotel, two cabs zoomed by, but they weren't looking at us.  Then, of course, no cabs came by.  We walked over one block to Paseo, which was more of a busy street.  Still no cabs.

Then a coco taxi came along, and Carol and I grabbed it.  It wasn't the fastest transport -- essentially a three-wheeled moped.  As it labored up the hill to the hotel, a regular cab with our compatriots zoomed by as they mocked us.  Still, we've managed to a new type of transport to our list.

Cocos for cocoa puffs!  (this picture is not us --

from Google images, but you get the idea.)