In 2018, there was a little paragraph in our local paper, saying there were a few spots left in an upcoming trip to Havana, run by a local woman who is passionate about Cuba, wants to see it break free of communist rule. What? Havana? cheap? leaving in a few weeks?
We stay at the Hotel Sevilla in old Havana. Old world elegance. Food, drink, fancy breakfasts that no locals ever taste. It’s all beautiful, but the contrast sits heavy in the stomach…the sadness of a slightly out of tune grand piano in the fancy rooftop restaurant, a reflection of the beauty and sadness of Cuba, a land of such heart and hardship.
Nelson, our guide, is part (mostly) historian, part comedian, part impresario. He was born in Cuba and unless something happens, will die in Cuba. Went to LA to speak with somebody about a reality show set in Cuba. He said it could never work. The economy is underground. No one would speak openly about their business, their home. When asked about Díaz-Canel, the new president, he says new dog, same necklace. What is needed is Revolución. His wife teaches at U of Havana, daughter is an architect. Straight out of college (economics), he sold cookies (his grandmother’s secret recipe). A young woman showed up who was selling ice cream. Great combo, he thought, except she was stealing the ice cream. He got into trouble too. The cops said, “You have a college degree. You’ve got to stop this. You do it again, you get arrested, then you can’t get a job.”
Nelson is smart as a whip, speaks several languages. He identified himself as a hairless Cuban (at least, I think that’s what he said). His parents were from the Canary Islands. His mother had green eyes, his father, sky blue.
He gives us the definition of communism. Tell me the things you want and I will tell you what you can live without.
I wandered around town, watching, taking pictures. I was told not to take any pictures of the police. Sneak that I am, I did seize the opportunity to take their reflection in the window of a beauty parlor.
At one point, I wandered onto the Prado in Old Havana. Artists, vendors. I bought two pieces of art from Maytego, a lovely woman, who described how she smuggles ink and makes her own paper out of scraps. Her paintings are hanging in our dining room. She told me she was the national curator of art in Cuba. Send me your paintings. I’ll give you a show here in Cuba next year.
Cathedrals, Hemingway’s home, La Finca Vigía, just as he left it, John Lennon’s statue, the farmers’ market. Locals receive limited monthly vouchers for food.
Music and dance is everywhere. Countless mojitos, performances, from classical to flamenco. We watch a rehearsal of the national dance company. The talented kids are steered towards dance, music. It’s their chance to see a world large than Cuba. A gorgeous clarinet, bassoon, oboe trio plays to anyone who’ll listen in the lobby of our hotel. I ask if they know Astor Piazzola. No. And besides, they can’t get music anywhere. I sent them a copy when I got home. Not sure if they ever got it.
Yamil, the doorman at breakfast has the most beautiful laugh and the kindest face. Vicki pours the café.
We visit Santería - a place of Afro-Cuban worship, earthly relief from Judeo-Christian, but punitive in its own way. You are supposed to choose a saint to emulate. If you don’t follow through, you will be in the soup. Maybe all organized religions arrive at soup eventually.Last stop: Fusterland. José Fuster is considered the Gaudi of Cuba. He started in his backyard, just kept going. All the neighbors were thrilled to have José spread his joy around the hood.
I leave you with a video I made of sights and sounds of Havana. And as for you, my dear reader, travel if you can. Be curious about others’ stories. Take photos of course, but your writings and sketches will be an even greater treasure. I promise.
Fabulous description go your visit. As with many poorer countries, the people are beautiful, even when the governments and economies are terrible. We just visited St. Martin in the Caribbean and saw much of the same -- governmental indifference and sloth in the face of a people struggling to get by in an economy distorted by casinos and resorts.
What adventures you’ve had, Kate! Envy you this one particularly! Great fun to read about it.