So, a number of friends/readers have expressed some skepticism about our trips to Cuba. Aren’t we playing into the hands of the Cuba government, they ask. Or, I’m not one of those jock-sniffing secret lefties on Latin America who worship Fidel Castro and Che Guevera, am I?
No, a thousand times no. Here’s what I believe. The only thing being hurt by America’s embargo of Cuba are the Cuban people. A guy at the Havana airport who says he has been to Cuba 105 times (and says that any American can go to Cuba if they want) said that monthly American tourism visits have dropped from 25,000 per month to 3,000 per month (that’s an 88% drop, for those who haven’t cared about math since they graduated).
Many Cubans we met were surprised and happy to learn we from USA. They presumed we were Canadians (seriously? I look like I like wimpy Justin Trudeau? Heck, I don’t even like Tim Horton’s, primarily because their donuts taste like stale versions of Dunkin Donuts).
(If you prefer Dunkin Donuts to Krispy Kreme, please keep your lame opinions to yourself. On everything, not just donuts. If you can’t be trusted on donuts, you can’t be trusted on anything.)
Once they learned we are Americans, they asked if we liked Cuba, if we would tell our friends to come, and if we were coming back. They were upset about the weak tourist activity from Americans, and how it is hurting them and their families.
The other factor is, I know this is unpopular with some fools out there, but the fact of the matter is, capitalism works! It’s not perfect, and the oligarchy that ruled Cuba under Bautista was not capitalism. Socialism/communism – and I’m not sure of the difference, because in history it is a difference without a distinction – fails every time.
Incentives work. You see it clear as day in Cuba, where taxi drivers appreciate your business, private restaurants serve delicious food and provide great service. With the state-run businesses, you don’t know if you are getting decent service or surly service.
Yes, I over-tipped, but the appreciation from those over-tipped is strong and deep. Their faces genuinely light up, and then they shake hands with an enthusiastic pump. Apparently, Canadians are cheap. Anyhow, I figure it’s our way of trying to pump a little more into these families’ budgets.
The embargo that is keeping Americans from going to Cuba at a high rate won’t hurt the government. As one Cuban said to us, “Growing up in school I learned that you are the enemy, but you are not the enemy.” (No, tweeter meme, it was not in a coffee shop with a bunch of hipster Millennials, it actually happened!). While I don’t think it hurts the government, it definitely hurts the people.
The U.S. can lead by example – the more tourism to Cuba, the more demand for better WiFi, better food, better transportation, cleaner beaches – the better it will be for the people. Cubans are quite friendly to Americans (sometimes too friendly, as my grifter posts will show).
I am not naive enough to think that if we normalize relations (let’s face it, the Russians were most likely behind the sonic attacks) that the government will fall and Cubans will be free of being spied upon by their neighbors or bullied by their leadership. But I think the embargo policy has not worked, so it is time to try something different. I was a big supporter of the embargo, but it did not work.
The more openness, the more likelihood that the Cuban government will be forced to stop jailing dissidents. The more openness, the more likelihood Cuba will move forward toward capitalism rather than backwards to socialism.
Anyhow, we’ve tried it the other way since the early 1960s, and just because it was the right policy then doesn’t mean it is the right one now. Capitalism works, let’s give the average Cuban a chance to do better in life.
Socialism sucks. Help out the Cuban people – go there. I guarantee you will love it!
Saturday, December 15, 2018
Dinner & A Water Show
When you’ve had five dinners in a city, and you’ve only gone to three restaurants, it’s a sign that the restaurants you’ve gone back to are fabulous. And so it is with Restaurant Vistamar.
The Cooks and the Bolger/Farquhars were in Cuba because, once again, we were invited to speak at a conference. The conference is Las Relaciones Cuba -- Estados Unidos: Las elecciones de Medio Termino y la Administraction de Donald Trump. Also invited this year was the esteemed Dr. James Thurber from American University and his wife Claudia. Dr. Thurber is one of my favorite academics (yes, Republicans are allowed to like and respect a handful of academics – Dr. Thurber is one of my allotted PILs – Professors I Like.)
Not only was Dr. Thurber a professor of mine way back in the day, but he has also invited me numerous times to guest lecture, lead a class, be on panels, and even contribute chapters to books he and Dr. Candace Nelson have published.
So, we set it up for the six of us to have dinner. I went with 5 pm reservations, not because we are all of varying ages of 55 and above, but because we wanted to watch the spectacular sunset over the ocean to the west. (Editor’s Note: The sun sets in the west even in Cuba? I had NO idea! Blogger: okay, so that was a superfluous three words!).
It was a very different ocean and sky than the last time we were there. Apparently the weather changes just like. . .(wait for it!). . .the weather! First, the temperature was a lot cooler. Secondly, the outside upstairs patio was closed, because it was both chilly and very windy. The ocean waves were dramatically slamming into the swimming pool patio, and on the terrace, you could feel the spray of the waves despite being a good 20 yards from the ocean.
The sky was dark and gray, so there wasn’t much to the sunset.
Well, despite those disappointments (although the powerful slamming of the waves was pretty amazing to watch), dinner was a lot of fun. It’s what happens when you put six people who all can talk, have opinions, and are curious together with great food and excellent service.
After dinner, we took separate cabs, as they were off to the Hotel Nacional and we were going to Hotel Saratoga. Our cab driver took us along the Malencon, where we were treated to quite a show by Mother Nature.
The angry, wind-driven high tide waves slammed repeatedly into the sea wall, and the waves crashed over it, drenching the wide sidewalk and the east bound lanes of the road. The salty spray covered the windshield of the cab so much that, with no windshield fluid, our cabby had to pull over three times to wipe down the front windshield well enough to see.
We were going west-bound, which is fortunate. East-bound was so soaked by the waves that we probably would not have been safe going that direction.
From the Malencon, we took the famed Paseo del Prado (yes, there is one in Havana AND Cienfuegos) back to the hotel.
The night was young, so we headed up to the rooftop bar, where we were treated to expansive views of the city. Right next to the hotel is the Capitol and then de La Gran Teatro all lit up. It was a windy, cool way to end a great day.
The Cooks and the Bolger/Farquhars were in Cuba because, once again, we were invited to speak at a conference. The conference is Las Relaciones Cuba -- Estados Unidos: Las elecciones de Medio Termino y la Administraction de Donald Trump. Also invited this year was the esteemed Dr. James Thurber from American University and his wife Claudia. Dr. Thurber is one of my favorite academics (yes, Republicans are allowed to like and respect a handful of academics – Dr. Thurber is one of my allotted PILs – Professors I Like.)
Not only was Dr. Thurber a professor of mine way back in the day, but he has also invited me numerous times to guest lecture, lead a class, be on panels, and even contribute chapters to books he and Dr. Candace Nelson have published.
So, we set it up for the six of us to have dinner. I went with 5 pm reservations, not because we are all of varying ages of 55 and above, but because we wanted to watch the spectacular sunset over the ocean to the west. (Editor’s Note: The sun sets in the west even in Cuba? I had NO idea! Blogger: okay, so that was a superfluous three words!).
It was a very different ocean and sky than the last time we were there. Apparently the weather changes just like. . .(wait for it!). . .the weather! First, the temperature was a lot cooler. Secondly, the outside upstairs patio was closed, because it was both chilly and very windy. The ocean waves were dramatically slamming into the swimming pool patio, and on the terrace, you could feel the spray of the waves despite being a good 20 yards from the ocean.
The sky was dark and gray, so there wasn’t much to the sunset.
Well, despite those disappointments (although the powerful slamming of the waves was pretty amazing to watch), dinner was a lot of fun. It’s what happens when you put six people who all can talk, have opinions, and are curious together with great food and excellent service.
After dinner, we took separate cabs, as they were off to the Hotel Nacional and we were going to Hotel Saratoga. Our cab driver took us along the Malencon, where we were treated to quite a show by Mother Nature.
The angry, wind-driven high tide waves slammed repeatedly into the sea wall, and the waves crashed over it, drenching the wide sidewalk and the east bound lanes of the road. The salty spray covered the windshield of the cab so much that, with no windshield fluid, our cabby had to pull over three times to wipe down the front windshield well enough to see.
We were going west-bound, which is fortunate. East-bound was so soaked by the waves that we probably would not have been safe going that direction.
From the Malencon, we took the famed Paseo del Prado (yes, there is one in Havana AND Cienfuegos) back to the hotel.
The night was young, so we headed up to the rooftop bar, where we were treated to expansive views of the city. Right next to the hotel is the Capitol and then de La Gran Teatro all lit up. It was a windy, cool way to end a great day.
Scenes from the Vistamar
The waves crashed over
the sea wall into the pool.
From front left -- Dr. Jim Thurber, Carol,
Charlie and Lucy Cook, Claudia Thurber
The view from the rooftop bar at
The Hotel Saratoga. Just past the
sculpture, you can see the darkened
Capitol dome.
Havana Really Is Magical
As we entered Havana, we went by the dramatic El Morro, under the harbor, and then up town. It was neat seeing the same sights we had visited two years ago. With 2019 being the 500th anniversary of Cuba, the city has been benefitting from UNESCO money to renovate, paint, and refurbish important buildings. (More on that later).
Anyhow, the city looks great, even with many crumbling buildings, roads in need of repair, and sidewalks that are broken and unsafe. There is something magical about Havana. Carol hit the nail on the head when she remarked on how vibrant Havana is. It has a beat and a rhythm of its own, and it is very intoxicating, at least to this Iron Tourist and Mrs. Iron Tourist.
Charlie and I had booked separate hotels. We were not doing the old Boston Red Sox thing (25 guys, 25 cabs because they didn’t like each other). Instead I was following the advice of my friend Steven Law and booked at the Hotel Saratoga, whilst Charlie went with the known (to him) Hotel Nacional.
So, Carol and I were dropped off. Our hotel is right by the Capitol building, the Gran Teatro, Jose Marti Square with all the grand old cars from the 1950s. Not far from the heart of the Old City, the Hotel Saratoga was a great recommendation.
Speaking of Jose Marti, there are busts and statues to him everywhere in Cuba. Carol suggested a new drinking game – see a statute or bust of Jose Marti, take a shot. (We didn’t actually do it, but feel free next time you are in Cuba.) It would be very dangerous – not as much so if you take a shot every time our current and most recent Presidents refer to themselves in a speech – but still dangerous enough to get a frat boy wasted.
After a friendly check-in, and learning that we had two unlimited WIFI sign-ins that worked everywhere in the hotel, including our room, we headed off to lunch. Following the concierge’s advice, we went to Ivan Justo restaurant. We had a hard time finding it, as his directions were off by a block. It all worked out fine, though, as the restaurant business card he gave me had a rudimentary map on it.
After climbing the narrow stairs to the third floor terrace, lunch was great. I had lobster tail in a rice sauce of sorts, while Carol had suckling pig. Both were amazing, and sitting up top with the views of Havana rooftops was very cool. I even broke down and had a glass of the house Merlot (day drinking is not a strength of either of us).
We had plans for an early dinner, so we did not have a great deal of time for sight seeing after our late-ish lunch. So instead, we simply strolled the streets of the old city, going to all three of the main plazas, exploring some different sights, before heading back to the hotel.
We had thought about going to the Museum of the Revolution, but scratched that for the next day. My main interest in the museum is that it was Bautista’s presidential palace, and there are bullet holes in the famed marble staircase from when he barely escaped an assassination attempt. That would be cool to see.
Really, just walking around Havana is a great way to spend an afternoon. It’s vibrant beyond words. So instead we walked around Havana, as we only had a few hours. We went to all three main plazas because we could. We then made our way back to the hotel to get ready for our early dinner.
Anyhow, the city looks great, even with many crumbling buildings, roads in need of repair, and sidewalks that are broken and unsafe. There is something magical about Havana. Carol hit the nail on the head when she remarked on how vibrant Havana is. It has a beat and a rhythm of its own, and it is very intoxicating, at least to this Iron Tourist and Mrs. Iron Tourist.
Charlie and I had booked separate hotels. We were not doing the old Boston Red Sox thing (25 guys, 25 cabs because they didn’t like each other). Instead I was following the advice of my friend Steven Law and booked at the Hotel Saratoga, whilst Charlie went with the known (to him) Hotel Nacional.
So, Carol and I were dropped off. Our hotel is right by the Capitol building, the Gran Teatro, Jose Marti Square with all the grand old cars from the 1950s. Not far from the heart of the Old City, the Hotel Saratoga was a great recommendation.
Speaking of Jose Marti, there are busts and statues to him everywhere in Cuba. Carol suggested a new drinking game – see a statute or bust of Jose Marti, take a shot. (We didn’t actually do it, but feel free next time you are in Cuba.) It would be very dangerous – not as much so if you take a shot every time our current and most recent Presidents refer to themselves in a speech – but still dangerous enough to get a frat boy wasted.
After a friendly check-in, and learning that we had two unlimited WIFI sign-ins that worked everywhere in the hotel, including our room, we headed off to lunch. Following the concierge’s advice, we went to Ivan Justo restaurant. We had a hard time finding it, as his directions were off by a block. It all worked out fine, though, as the restaurant business card he gave me had a rudimentary map on it.
After climbing the narrow stairs to the third floor terrace, lunch was great. I had lobster tail in a rice sauce of sorts, while Carol had suckling pig. Both were amazing, and sitting up top with the views of Havana rooftops was very cool. I even broke down and had a glass of the house Merlot (day drinking is not a strength of either of us).
We had plans for an early dinner, so we did not have a great deal of time for sight seeing after our late-ish lunch. So instead, we simply strolled the streets of the old city, going to all three of the main plazas, exploring some different sights, before heading back to the hotel.
We had thought about going to the Museum of the Revolution, but scratched that for the next day. My main interest in the museum is that it was Bautista’s presidential palace, and there are bullet holes in the famed marble staircase from when he barely escaped an assassination attempt. That would be cool to see.
Really, just walking around Havana is a great way to spend an afternoon. It’s vibrant beyond words. So instead we walked around Havana, as we only had a few hours. We went to all three main plazas because we could. We then made our way back to the hotel to get ready for our early dinner.
Wandering Around Havana
Street scene -- Aguacate
Young Frankenstein
When you have so many cannons, spares are
just lying around on the street. Stop
by San Ignacio Street to pick yours up.
Plaza de la Catedral
This mailbox is cooler than yours.
El Cristo de La Habana
The city seal -- three forts and
the key to the Caribbean
Turret across the bay on El Morro Castillo.
This is called "The Conversation."
But I prefer to call it. . .
"Mansplaining."
I'm not lion -- this fountain
in Plaza de San Francisco is cool.
This is a photo of wedding photos in
Plaza de San Francisco. To clarify,
the young boy is NOT the groom.
Some of the beautiful buildings
benefiting from the UNESCO money.
Friday, December 14, 2018
A Three Hour Tour
The morning of our journey from Cienfuegos to Havana, I woke up with a start. Lucy had generally preferred vehicles with air conditioning (the old Chevy we used to go to dinner didn’t have it, but those were short trips), and I had booked a classic car for the romance of it.
The possibility of a three hour journey with no AC in Cuba caused me to realize romance and that kind of trip would have no intersection. I got up, showered (they fixed our hot water problem after the first morning’s shower, and it was fine after that), and went downstairs to email our taxi company. I was hoping that they were capitalists and, you know, got to work early.
Fortunately, they did. Phew. I did not want to be known in family Cook lore as the moron who booked an AC-less car for a three hour tour. (A three hour tour!). I really didn’t want to be the Gilligan of the trip. (Editor’s Note: I see what you did there! Blogger: Knowing wink.)
The trip was uneventful, and the taxi was big. We had three rows, so Charlie and I sat in the back, whilst Carol and Lucy took the the middle row. They chatted, and after a bit of time, Charlie and I feel into a lengthy conversation about the business of politics.
Looking out the window, there was not much to see – every so often there were great views of the mountains to north, but I have no idea which range it is. There were idyllic scenes of men working the fields, often using scythes or machetes to chop what they were harvesting. Their horses were tied up next to where they were working. At first you see the horse by the side of the road, thinking they had been left in the heat, but then we would see the workers nearby in the fields.
Cuban cows do not look very well-fed. They are the skinniest cows I’ve ever seen, which helps clarify why there is no Capital Grille equivalent in Havana. (If there were, would it be called Socialism Grille?).
We were on the equivalent of a four lane divided highway (two lanes in each direction). Occasionally there were gas stations/rest areas, and we stopped at one. Our driver and Charlie each got an espresso, while I had yet another agua con gas (sparkling water). There were numerous Cubans standing around, quaffing their espressos (served in ceramic cups, these were not grab and go) and talking. Then, for us, it was back in the taxi and on the road again.
It was interesting to be riding on essentially a Cuban interstate, and then to have someone on a bike riding along in the fast lane. A gentle honk, and they would move closer to the median. The distance was about 140 miles, but because of the quality of the roads, it took us a little over three hours.
The possibility of a three hour journey with no AC in Cuba caused me to realize romance and that kind of trip would have no intersection. I got up, showered (they fixed our hot water problem after the first morning’s shower, and it was fine after that), and went downstairs to email our taxi company. I was hoping that they were capitalists and, you know, got to work early.
Fortunately, they did. Phew. I did not want to be known in family Cook lore as the moron who booked an AC-less car for a three hour tour. (A three hour tour!). I really didn’t want to be the Gilligan of the trip. (Editor’s Note: I see what you did there! Blogger: Knowing wink.)
The trip was uneventful, and the taxi was big. We had three rows, so Charlie and I sat in the back, whilst Carol and Lucy took the the middle row. They chatted, and after a bit of time, Charlie and I feel into a lengthy conversation about the business of politics.
Looking out the window, there was not much to see – every so often there were great views of the mountains to north, but I have no idea which range it is. There were idyllic scenes of men working the fields, often using scythes or machetes to chop what they were harvesting. Their horses were tied up next to where they were working. At first you see the horse by the side of the road, thinking they had been left in the heat, but then we would see the workers nearby in the fields.
Cuban cows do not look very well-fed. They are the skinniest cows I’ve ever seen, which helps clarify why there is no Capital Grille equivalent in Havana. (If there were, would it be called Socialism Grille?).
We were on the equivalent of a four lane divided highway (two lanes in each direction). Occasionally there were gas stations/rest areas, and we stopped at one. Our driver and Charlie each got an espresso, while I had yet another agua con gas (sparkling water). There were numerous Cubans standing around, quaffing their espressos (served in ceramic cups, these were not grab and go) and talking. Then, for us, it was back in the taxi and on the road again.
It was interesting to be riding on essentially a Cuban interstate, and then to have someone on a bike riding along in the fast lane. A gentle honk, and they would move closer to the median. The distance was about 140 miles, but because of the quality of the roads, it took us a little over three hours.
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.
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.
Photos from the Ferrer Palace
Town Hall, from the 2nd Floor
The Bell Tower at the Cathedral, through
palm trees in Jose Marti Parque.
Rococo scroll work on a balcony.
Eva Peron or Mrs. Iron Tourist?
The Arc de Triomphe, Cuba-style.
Football in the park. The bench was one of the goals.
Is this just a burned out bus, or a
metaphor for the Cuban government?
Remember, most buildings in Cuba are in bad shape.
An example of the beautiful design of the Palace.
A good look at both towers
of the Cathedral.
A view of the bay. The long spit of
land that sticks out is Punta Gorda.
One of the few freighters we saw the whole trip.
The views from up top were
spectacular, if a little unsteady!
One last view of the Cathedral.
Thursday, December 13, 2018
Riffs on Transportation in Cuba
Crossing the street in Cuba is a pretty sedate affair. There’s just not that much traffic, and most of it is going slowly, especially the horse-drawn carriages (don’t think of New York City), the bikes, the scooters, and the small motorcycles.
Crosswalks are for losers. Whenever the mood strikes you to cross the street, that’s when you go. Rush hour isn’t. As a pedestrian, you feel a sense of freedom. With the increasing number of cell phones in Cuba, I do have to believe there is an increase in the number of pedestrian getting hit as they stare at their screens and walk blindly into the street.
The rough roads have the added “advantage” of slowing traffic down, if only to avoid being swallowed in one of the many potholes that dot the road. Even when the roads don’t have potholes, they are rough enough that drivers have to go slow. Interesting fuel conservation strategy.
On a two lane road in the countryside, if one side of the road is rough and the other is relatively recently paved (last 20 years or so), drivers will drive on the wrong, but smoother side of the road if no traffic is coming.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining (if I lived there, I suppose I would), but just reporting on my observations. Frankly, the road conditions didn’t bother me. . .I wasn’t driving.
Two years ago, I was discouraged from renting a car, so this time I did not even inquire. It appears car rental is more of thing now.
Cuban license plates all have a B (government), P (private), or T (tourist), and I actually saw plenty of T plates – not only in Cienfuegos, but also surprising numbers in Havana. Driving in European cities is not something I dread; it, like driving in Boston or New York, is a challenge to me, a test of my man skills. You could not pay me to drive in Havana. (Test me out, send me plenty of money, and I still won’t drive in Havana).
Walking is not totally safe, however, as the sidewalks are in dangerous shape in many places, uneven, broken, or featuring ankle-snapping ruts, you can look up and walk a bit, but you do have to look down at where you are walking. There is no evenness to sidewalks and streets, I could put my hiking boots to good use.
A lost art in America, hitchhiking is popular in Cuba. It is popular because it is necessary for many. I never saw anyone getting a ride, although they must because they keep doing it. Apparently the busses almost never make their schedules, if they run at all.
I asked our guide in Cienfuegos if he owned a car. He laughed ruefully. He would point to a 10 year old, somewhat beaten up used car, and say, “that would cost $40,000.” Of course, most,if not all, Cubans do not make that much money in a decade, much less a year. He got around by hitchhiking, as he lives in a small town about 15 kilometers from Cienfuegos.
Transportation in Cuba fascinates me.
Crosswalks are for losers. Whenever the mood strikes you to cross the street, that’s when you go. Rush hour isn’t. As a pedestrian, you feel a sense of freedom. With the increasing number of cell phones in Cuba, I do have to believe there is an increase in the number of pedestrian getting hit as they stare at their screens and walk blindly into the street.
The rough roads have the added “advantage” of slowing traffic down, if only to avoid being swallowed in one of the many potholes that dot the road. Even when the roads don’t have potholes, they are rough enough that drivers have to go slow. Interesting fuel conservation strategy.
On a two lane road in the countryside, if one side of the road is rough and the other is relatively recently paved (last 20 years or so), drivers will drive on the wrong, but smoother side of the road if no traffic is coming.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining (if I lived there, I suppose I would), but just reporting on my observations. Frankly, the road conditions didn’t bother me. . .I wasn’t driving.
Two years ago, I was discouraged from renting a car, so this time I did not even inquire. It appears car rental is more of thing now.
Cuban license plates all have a B (government), P (private), or T (tourist), and I actually saw plenty of T plates – not only in Cienfuegos, but also surprising numbers in Havana. Driving in European cities is not something I dread; it, like driving in Boston or New York, is a challenge to me, a test of my man skills. You could not pay me to drive in Havana. (Test me out, send me plenty of money, and I still won’t drive in Havana).
Walking is not totally safe, however, as the sidewalks are in dangerous shape in many places, uneven, broken, or featuring ankle-snapping ruts, you can look up and walk a bit, but you do have to look down at where you are walking. There is no evenness to sidewalks and streets, I could put my hiking boots to good use.
A lost art in America, hitchhiking is popular in Cuba. It is popular because it is necessary for many. I never saw anyone getting a ride, although they must because they keep doing it. Apparently the busses almost never make their schedules, if they run at all.
I asked our guide in Cienfuegos if he owned a car. He laughed ruefully. He would point to a 10 year old, somewhat beaten up used car, and say, “that would cost $40,000.” Of course, most,if not all, Cubans do not make that much money in a decade, much less a year. He got around by hitchhiking, as he lives in a small town about 15 kilometers from Cienfuegos.
Transportation in Cuba fascinates me.
A Random Walk Down Paseo del Prado, Cienfuegos
Not every building facade was this
pretty. But many of them are.
This is a statue to a famous dude.
I have no idea who though.
Not every car in Cuba is from
the 1950s. Some are even older.
He's carrying a heavy load.
Santa hanging out on a balcony. There are
actually a surprising number of Christmas
blow-ups -- always on the second floor.
Street art on the Paseo del Prado.
Gives you something to reflect on.
Guy on a balcony.
Wednesday, December 12, 2018
A Pretty, Yet Pointless Nut & the Third Most Important Fort in Cuba
I had a vague idea of a plan for Monday’s touring – figure out what we saw Sunday, give my three faithful traveling companions some options, and then have the hotel hire us a taxi with air conditioning (Lucy’s one request, and it was quite a reasonable one)!
So, the options were:
1. Travel the 80 kilometers to Trinidad and spend the day sightseeing there (I had originally tried to work a day in Trinidad into the plan, but was worried it would be too much travel in a short period of time);
2. Spend the day at the beach, and maybe see a few sights; or,
3. Go to the Guanaroca Lagoon where flamingos winter, the Botanical Garden of Cienfuegos, and Castillo Jagua – the old fort from 1745 that guarded the bay from pirates.
Lucy, Charlie and Carol were unanimously for the third option, so Carol and I made it happen. All three sights were out of town, and our first stop was the lagoon. Alas, upon our arrival we found it out the tickets for the day had already been all sold, so we hopped back in the cab and headed for the botanical garden.
Our driver spoke no English, and seemed to understand less, but Carol’s Spanish improves daily here, so communication was not the problem to be answered. The botanical garden features trees from all over the world (tropical ones), and was quite beautiful. There was a huge eucalyptus tree and stands of giant bamboo. We were able to walk “inside” the trees – they formed huge circles enveloping us – a cathedral of trees.
The most interesting tree to us were the two varieties of Brazil nut trees. The Brazil nut, which is the most pointless nut known to mixed nuts, is very cool to look at on the tree. They grow in cases where the bottom drops off and then the nuts fall to the ground one at a time. You don’t actually see the nuts until the bottom falls off and the nuts fall out (when they are ripe).
(Blogger’s Note: If you are preparing to contact me with a missive detailing the health benefits of Brazil nuts, I have a better idea. Don’t. Just Don’t. That is all – thank you.)
The first cases we saw were all over one tree, and they were smallish, about the size of softballs. Charlie and I (mostly Charlie) struck up a conversation with a Cuban woman who was leading a guided tour in Spanish. She is a horticultural engineer, and, like many professionals here, spoke excellent English. She was happy to fill us in. The small cases hold around six nuts, but she told us about a nearby tree where each case holds 20.
We wandered over to the tree, but couldn’t spot any. She then helped us out – the huge cases (about the size of soccer balls) were not as plentiful – we only saw four or five total on the tree (no doubt there are more, but we only looked from a few vantage points).
I have a new, healthy respect for Brazil nuts. But, I will still skip over them as I take a fistful of mixed nuts in the future. Just because I now know they grow in a very cool way doesn’t mean they will taste any better.
We continued on, adding a stop to Rancho Luna Beach (which is the beach we would have gone to if folks wanted a beach day). The reviews on TripAdvisor were mixed at best. Some people called the beach beautiful, while others noted it was the dirtiest beach they had ever seen.
I could see both sides of the argument. There were beer cans and broken glass, but it was not as bad as I expected. The beach itself was not the sugar sand smooth we found in Varadero, Cuba on our trip in 2016, but it was still beautiful. Being a Monday, there was almost no one there.
We didn’t stay long, and so it was off to the castle. We did stop for a photo opportunity at a lighthouse (not open to the public). Not sure how well the photos will turn out, as the sun was at the wrong angle for where we were.
Then, we headed down a dirt road, leading to another dirt road. Don’t worry – both had equal numbers of potholes, so neither road could feel superior to the other.
Following our driver, we walked down to the dock along the channel that leads from the Caribbean Sea (remember from your Cuban geography class – Cienfuegos is on the south side of the island, not the north (Atlantic Ocean) side.
Cienfuegos Bay is the most protected bay in the world, as the narrow channel means that land surrounds most of the bay, protecting it more from bad weather and storm surge. Also, the narrow channel also means that ships could not charge into the bay en masse.
The hill above the channel provided a natural place for a fort, which was finished in 1745 as a way to fight off pirates. The Castle actually has two names, but we’ll go with the more-used Jagua Castle, which is the name of the Native tribe that was here when Columbus sailed into the bay in 1494.
While we waited for the ferry to come back across from the western shore, we watched lots of fish dart in the dirty waters below. Down the channel, closer to the ocean was a large sign that reads “Nidos Cuba Socialism.” As Charlie and Carol speculated on the meaning, I noted that the “U” had probably fallen down, so it likely read “Unidos Cuba Socialism” – essentially Cuba united in socialism. Beautiful country, great people, but how’s that working out for you? Socialism is the sports participation trophy of life.
At first there were only a handful of people waiting for the ferry, but once it came, many more streamed down the hill to cross the channel. It was a short go across, and we made one stop first (there are three stops, and there is no rhyme nor reason to the direction the ferry goes in – sometimes clockwise, sometimes counterclockwise). It doesn’t really matter, as the three stops are all very close. We did get good views of egrets and pelicans near the first stop.
After disembarking at the second stop, our driver and Charlie were besieged by restaurant callers. If you’ve traveled, you know the type – they try cajoling you to eat at their restaurant. Ignoring them, we headed up to fort, trying not to step in the dog crap or the horse manure on the street. We were successful (there is no other way to measure poop stepping – either you fail by stepping in it or you succeed by not stepping in it. “Almost” definitely does not count in poop stepping.).
We crossed the drawbridge into the fort. A guide started talking to Carol in Spanish. Lucy had decided to not go in, as the heat was getting to her. Charlie wandered around for a brief time before going back out to check on Lucy. So, we had a guided tour of the fort, with Carol occasionally translating.
The fort had commanding views of the channel out to the sea, and had two San Juan-style turrets, as well as the big cannons. At the urging of our guide, we went down the algae-covered stone staircase to view the well (neither of us slipped, so that’s win!). Saw the dungeon, got a tour of the museum, and then headed up the narrow spiral stone stair case to the top of the fort, where we were afforded wonderful views of the bay, the channel, and the sea.
The fort is considered the third most important fort in Cuba, which is good to know if you are ever on Jeopardy, and you are asked about it. We've been to the most important fort (el Morro in Havana) but not to the second most important fort (it's in Santiago de Cuba). Our goal is only to go to the top odd-numbered forts in the country.
I would give you more of the history of the fort, but you really don’t care, so why put you to sleep, my dear reader? And so it was back over the ferry, and then in the cab to Cienfuegos.
So, the options were:
1. Travel the 80 kilometers to Trinidad and spend the day sightseeing there (I had originally tried to work a day in Trinidad into the plan, but was worried it would be too much travel in a short period of time);
2. Spend the day at the beach, and maybe see a few sights; or,
3. Go to the Guanaroca Lagoon where flamingos winter, the Botanical Garden of Cienfuegos, and Castillo Jagua – the old fort from 1745 that guarded the bay from pirates.
Lucy, Charlie and Carol were unanimously for the third option, so Carol and I made it happen. All three sights were out of town, and our first stop was the lagoon. Alas, upon our arrival we found it out the tickets for the day had already been all sold, so we hopped back in the cab and headed for the botanical garden.
Our driver spoke no English, and seemed to understand less, but Carol’s Spanish improves daily here, so communication was not the problem to be answered. The botanical garden features trees from all over the world (tropical ones), and was quite beautiful. There was a huge eucalyptus tree and stands of giant bamboo. We were able to walk “inside” the trees – they formed huge circles enveloping us – a cathedral of trees.
The most interesting tree to us were the two varieties of Brazil nut trees. The Brazil nut, which is the most pointless nut known to mixed nuts, is very cool to look at on the tree. They grow in cases where the bottom drops off and then the nuts fall to the ground one at a time. You don’t actually see the nuts until the bottom falls off and the nuts fall out (when they are ripe).
(Blogger’s Note: If you are preparing to contact me with a missive detailing the health benefits of Brazil nuts, I have a better idea. Don’t. Just Don’t. That is all – thank you.)
The first cases we saw were all over one tree, and they were smallish, about the size of softballs. Charlie and I (mostly Charlie) struck up a conversation with a Cuban woman who was leading a guided tour in Spanish. She is a horticultural engineer, and, like many professionals here, spoke excellent English. She was happy to fill us in. The small cases hold around six nuts, but she told us about a nearby tree where each case holds 20.
We wandered over to the tree, but couldn’t spot any. She then helped us out – the huge cases (about the size of soccer balls) were not as plentiful – we only saw four or five total on the tree (no doubt there are more, but we only looked from a few vantage points).
I have a new, healthy respect for Brazil nuts. But, I will still skip over them as I take a fistful of mixed nuts in the future. Just because I now know they grow in a very cool way doesn’t mean they will taste any better.
We continued on, adding a stop to Rancho Luna Beach (which is the beach we would have gone to if folks wanted a beach day). The reviews on TripAdvisor were mixed at best. Some people called the beach beautiful, while others noted it was the dirtiest beach they had ever seen.
I could see both sides of the argument. There were beer cans and broken glass, but it was not as bad as I expected. The beach itself was not the sugar sand smooth we found in Varadero, Cuba on our trip in 2016, but it was still beautiful. Being a Monday, there was almost no one there.
We didn’t stay long, and so it was off to the castle. We did stop for a photo opportunity at a lighthouse (not open to the public). Not sure how well the photos will turn out, as the sun was at the wrong angle for where we were.
Then, we headed down a dirt road, leading to another dirt road. Don’t worry – both had equal numbers of potholes, so neither road could feel superior to the other.
Following our driver, we walked down to the dock along the channel that leads from the Caribbean Sea (remember from your Cuban geography class – Cienfuegos is on the south side of the island, not the north (Atlantic Ocean) side.
Cienfuegos Bay is the most protected bay in the world, as the narrow channel means that land surrounds most of the bay, protecting it more from bad weather and storm surge. Also, the narrow channel also means that ships could not charge into the bay en masse.
The hill above the channel provided a natural place for a fort, which was finished in 1745 as a way to fight off pirates. The Castle actually has two names, but we’ll go with the more-used Jagua Castle, which is the name of the Native tribe that was here when Columbus sailed into the bay in 1494.
While we waited for the ferry to come back across from the western shore, we watched lots of fish dart in the dirty waters below. Down the channel, closer to the ocean was a large sign that reads “Nidos Cuba Socialism.” As Charlie and Carol speculated on the meaning, I noted that the “U” had probably fallen down, so it likely read “Unidos Cuba Socialism” – essentially Cuba united in socialism. Beautiful country, great people, but how’s that working out for you? Socialism is the sports participation trophy of life.
At first there were only a handful of people waiting for the ferry, but once it came, many more streamed down the hill to cross the channel. It was a short go across, and we made one stop first (there are three stops, and there is no rhyme nor reason to the direction the ferry goes in – sometimes clockwise, sometimes counterclockwise). It doesn’t really matter, as the three stops are all very close. We did get good views of egrets and pelicans near the first stop.
After disembarking at the second stop, our driver and Charlie were besieged by restaurant callers. If you’ve traveled, you know the type – they try cajoling you to eat at their restaurant. Ignoring them, we headed up to fort, trying not to step in the dog crap or the horse manure on the street. We were successful (there is no other way to measure poop stepping – either you fail by stepping in it or you succeed by not stepping in it. “Almost” definitely does not count in poop stepping.).
We crossed the drawbridge into the fort. A guide started talking to Carol in Spanish. Lucy had decided to not go in, as the heat was getting to her. Charlie wandered around for a brief time before going back out to check on Lucy. So, we had a guided tour of the fort, with Carol occasionally translating.
The fort had commanding views of the channel out to the sea, and had two San Juan-style turrets, as well as the big cannons. At the urging of our guide, we went down the algae-covered stone staircase to view the well (neither of us slipped, so that’s win!). Saw the dungeon, got a tour of the museum, and then headed up the narrow spiral stone stair case to the top of the fort, where we were afforded wonderful views of the bay, the channel, and the sea.
The fort is considered the third most important fort in Cuba, which is good to know if you are ever on Jeopardy, and you are asked about it. We've been to the most important fort (el Morro in Havana) but not to the second most important fort (it's in Santiago de Cuba). Our goal is only to go to the top odd-numbered forts in the country.
I would give you more of the history of the fort, but you really don’t care, so why put you to sleep, my dear reader? And so it was back over the ferry, and then in the cab to Cienfuegos.
Photos from the Botanical Gardens, Rancho Luna Beach, and Jagua Fort
Bamboo
Light filtering through the bamboo.
Brazil nut cases the size of soccer balls.
It's a Charlie Brown Christmas!
Charlie, Lucy, and Carol
inside the eucalyptus trees.
Life's a beach.
Puntas de Los Colorados
lighthouse. It's 82 feet tall.
Apparently there is no "U" in Unidos.
Jagua Fort and the ferry.
Your faithful blogger
Carol and her personal guide. Carol says she
understood about 80% of what the guide was saying.
The fort's bell and tower.
Carol closing and opening the drawbridge.
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