Cuba, Part 1

More than anywhere else I’ve traveled, Cuba was a trip of people. I’ve met wonderful people everywhere I’ve been, but in Cuba it felt different. People seemed much more like old friends that you were catching up with than anywhere else I’ve been. Leyanis, Yomani, Pablo, Bruno, Yovani, Higley, Darnel, Yedi. I can recall their names a month later, which might not sound that impressive, but I’m terrible with names. Especially when it comes to people who drove me somewhere or let me into a place I was staying for the night. Casas particulares and the local economy are alive and well in Cuba, and that means one person you meet introduces you to another person, and that person introduces you to another, and on and on. It was new for me but amazing.

I know a lot of U.S. folks are hesitant to travel to Cuba now, given recent policy changes and rhetoric from the current administration, but my travel partners and I didn’t have any problems. We did buy flight insurance, just in case our December 2017 trip suddenly became illegal and we had to cancel everything, but luckily the precaution was unwarranted. We also had to buy travel visas in advance ($70–85) and travel under one of 12 approved reasons (ours was “support for the Cuban people”), but other than those restrictions, there were no extra hassles. (I keep reading that one of Trump's new rules requires U.S. travelers to Cuba to use an approved tour operator, but we did not have any trouble traveling on our own. It might be that we booked our flights before he made that statement, or it might be that it hasn't been codified. Either way, I'd suggest looking into when planning a trip.)

Support for the Cuban people meant we stayed at casas (renting a room from a local resident), ate and shopped locally, took cabs with non-government drivers, and avoided government-run establishments. Michele printed the banned-businesses list from the U.S. State Department and we just steered clear of those places. Helping the Cuban people also meant engaging in cultural activities most of the trip, a caveat that is set up to keep people from going on resort-style, all-inclusive trips. Totally fine with us because that’s not what we wanted anyway.

Coming back through U.S. customs, the only questions my agent asked me were about how many cigars and how much rum I was bringing in (current limit is $100 per person for both rum and cigars). Andrew was asked a little more about how he helped the Cuban people, but his answer including casas, local bars and restaurants, and cultural activities easily satisfied the agent. We can be audited by the government for five years, so Andrew was awesome about photographing all of our receipts and keeping a journal of our activities, just in case.

The one thing I wished I did differently was learning more Spanish before the trip. Mine is pretty bad, sufficient enough to get us food, housing, and rides around the country, but not much more. And people were so interested in discussing Cuban versus U.S. culture with us, I really wish I had been able to have more meaningful conversations.

Thursday, 11/30

In our casa, looking to the living/dining area from the bedroom

Andrew and I flew into Havana via Miami and Michele was waiting for us at the airport. She arrived about an hour before us, direct from LA. We took a cab to our pre-booked casa (via AirBnb) in Habana Vieja and were greeted by Yomani and Leyanis. We were in one of the countless tiny, winding streets that run through old town, in an apartment up an old marble stairway. We had a living/dining room with a balcony overlooking the street, and Andrew and I had a bedroom and bathroom upstairs. Michele had a separate bedroom and bathroom down the hall, and behind our apartment was a block of apartments overlooking a little courtyard. Yomani and Leyanis lived in a unit back there.

First dinner

We dropped off our bags, arranged breakfast in the morning with Yomani, and set up a walking tour of Habana Vieja for the next morning with one of their neighbors just a few doors down the street. Yomani explained the weird pully system set up to open the door on the street level (he was in the middle of painting it so we couldn’t touch it), and then Michele, Andrew, and I headed out to find dinner. After some embarrassing mishaps involving said painted door, a neighbor who was standing in his doorway came over to show us what we were doing wrong, and we were off. We encountered lots of people chilling in their doorways, but in a friendly way. Cuba is an extremely safe country by pretty much any travel standard.

Floridita

I highly recommend staying in old Havana. We were able to walk everywhere from our apartment, and that night we wandered a little, checking out a few different restaurants before picking one with tables set up on a little cobblestone street and a resident cat. We had dinner and a mojito and then wandered down to Floridita, a tourist-trap bar that Hemingway famously frequented. It was exactly what I expected (overpriced and packed) but we had to do it. One daiquiri

Las Ruinas

Nightcap

and a few pictures with the Hemingway statue at the bar later, we were ready enough to leave that we walked into a downpour in search of somewhere with a little more local character. We struck gold at Las Ruinas a few blocks away. It was entirely outdoors with a couple different covered patio areas, a small bar in the back, and two bar cats of its own. After a couple drinks there, the rain had calmed down and it was getting late, so we decided to meander back to our apartment. The plan was to stop for another nightcap along the way if we found anything good, but the streets we took were deserted. We made it back to our street without seeing any other bars or restaurants still open, but when we hit our corner there was a super cute place still open, again with tables set up on a cobblestone alley. Michele got a crazy drink, I got a tiny drink, and Andrew discovered the better of the two Cuban beers available (Bucanero beats Presidente all day, every day). Then it was time to head home for our first sleep in Havana.

Friday, 12/1

Walking tour

We woke up the next morning for our 8:30 breakfast (Yomani looked scandalized the night before when we suggested breakfast at 8; I didn’t realize how early that is in Cuba), and Yomani came in with eggs, ham, bread, fruit, coffee, and juice. There was too much food for us to eat, and it was really good for $5. After we ate, Yomani walked us down the street to Pablo’s house, who was going to be our tour guide for the day.

Happy Andrew

Street food with Pablo

Marti's house

Our walking tour was supposed to be two hours but it turned to five and a half. Pablo was amazing. He’s an artist, married to another artist/professor, and they have two adult sons. He grew up in the neighborhood we were staying in (Santa Angel) and loves his home. It was great to be led around by a local who was so passionate about the area. He took us to four squares, pointed out the best spots for food and shopping, and had us stop in one of the squares at a local brewery for a tower of beer. Then he took us out of old Havana to Centro Havana for some street food and to see Jose Marti’s house (Marti is the national hero; an intellectual who was the soul of the revolution but got crap for not fighting in the rebellion. He came home to fight and immediately died in his first battle. He’s beloved and statues of him are everywhere). Then Pablo took us to a giant market full of kitschy souvenirs, and I got my obligatory shopping done. We walked back along the Malecon (the seawall) until we hit our street again. It was exhausting and honestly I was getting a little cranky because I didn’t know how long the tour was going to last, but it was so worthwhile. We learned so much about Cuban history in general and our little pocket of Havana in particular. But I was still happy to get back to our apartment and wash my feet (we got stuck in another downpour during the tour).

 

We didn’t rest for long, though. Andrew had made a date with Pablo and his friend Jimmy to smoke cigars and drink rum and coffee (apparently girls weren’t allowed), so Michele and I had drinks at Farmacia (the same bar we ended at the night before) while Andrew disappeared for a few hours. When he finally reemerged (adorably rum buzzed), we walked up to what we called the “blue place” for dinner. It was a Pablo recommendation, and much livelier than our dinner spot the first night.

Fabrica de arte

After dinner, we grabbed a cab and headed outside old Havana to Fabrica de Arte, an art gallery/exhibition space/bar/super cool cultural spot. It has multiple levels with gallery displays all around, a dance club, an outdoor space with a few sculptures, and a big open space where a local ballet company was having a public practice session. I really wanted to see the ballet in Havana, but there were no shows during our trip so it was a lovely treat to get to see dancers in such an intimate space.

At one point we were looking at some fantastic portraits when someone came up and told us the artist was actually there that night, doing a shoot for his next project. He was taking photos of people onsite, and we were invited to pose for him. What?!?! (Okay, everyone there was welcome to pose for him, but still). We went upstairs; filled out a form; and waited our turns to stand on a X, point at our chests, and look serious. I’m sure none of us will make the final project, but a girl can dream.

Saturday, 12/2

Revolutionary museum

Sunset from our casa

On Saturday we had breakfast at our casa again before heading a few blocks away to the Cuban Revolutionary Museum. It was a fascinating couple of hours spent walking through the old Batista palace turned museum of the revolution. Then we had lunch in old town before snagging a classic car tour of Havana. We drove through old Havana, through Centro Havana and Chinatown to Vedado, to the Plaza de la Revolucion, and over to John Lennon park. We drove along the Malecon to get back to Habana Vieja and the end of our car tour. We went back to our apartment and got ready for a fancy dinner at Habana 61 for my (early) birthday. Afterward we mixed rum and fresh pineapple juice leftover from breakfast in water bottles and walked down the Malecon. Tons of people were walking along the water and hanging out in groups, and we picked a spot right on the water to relax. We met a lovely guy who was very chatty about Cuban culture (I was trying so hard to be translator for Mish and Andrew but did a terrible job) but he got a little too pushy about us going to a club. We eventually begged off to hit up a rooftop bar near our place with live music.

Stay tuned for part 2, where we travel to Vinales to ride horses and salsa the night away!

Preview of things to come