Musings from a visit to Cuba, by Gia Mendoza

Gia Mendoza takes us on a trip to Cuba and gives us a vivid description of life there. Let us listen to what Gia has to say.

Fidel Castro resting place

One of the best deals of having worked at  UNICEF is belonging to an ex-UNICEF staff group once the glory days of saving the world are over (yes, there is life beyond UNICEF work) where one could meet again as old friends and colleagues,  now maybe slower,  but gentler, perhaps more equal, more humble with new realities. 

The group meets and travels through many exotic places, without necessarily having to produce a report, but just enjoying visits .

Cuba was one of those places, which seemed always attractive, and exotic  to many, including myself.  It was an end-loaded UNICEF-organized trip after picturesque Mexico.

What I knew about Cuba was really not much, except that my Philippine country was part of a package deal, along with Puerto Rico and Guam, as the spoils of the Spanish-American war. 

Before that, my earliest associations of Cuba were a few songs, like Guantanamera, and a dish called Arroz a la Cubana which my mother served at our dinner table when I was young.  

I finally got a chance to visit this land of my Cuban rice.

This was 2017, and there was some slight uneasiness about travel to this place. There were recent warnings about strange sonic attacks against American personnel, and tourists. Moreover, there were carefully crafted policies to be aware of to get into Cuba: tourism could not be an objective, but rather learning about people, and spreading the faith for an ideal democratic life: Travel must be with a group, organized in America, and clearly, at your own risk.

Earlier, my friend Sonsoles, who lived in Cuba as representative of a UN agency there for about five years, did not give too much credence to mysterious events maiming our senses.  She had assured us it was safe and that what we should worry about would be dengue fever and hurricanes.  So, off we went, armed with Off and mosquito repellants and rain jackets and umbrellas, more to guard against the beating sun rather than the rains.

The airport was bright and clean and we had to change to convertible pesos at the airport to start our journey to this exotic land of Fidel Castro and Che Guevara.  Euros were the preferred currency for exchange, although the rate was similar if you changed from Euros to USD.  When we were there, one euro was equivalent to 113 CUCs which was the rate of euro to USD.  However, USD to CUCs was much less.

Our tour guide welcomed us, and forewarned us at the outset:  Do not compare what you see and experience here in Cuba with what you know elsewhere.

Havana

In Havana, we were lodged at Hemingway’s former haunts, the hotel called Ambos Mundos.  Decorated with mainly Hemingway memorabilia, it was glorious, but old, in terms of maintenance.  Pictures of Hemingway, his used stuff like typewriters, fishing rod and reel, adorned the dark walls, and his favorite room in the hotel was opened from 10 to 5 pm, free to guests, but 5 CUCs to visitors.

 

The first room assigned to us was on the third floor near the whirring air conditioners which made a weird noise that made me think of insidious plots for sonic attacks, and we eventually asked to change to another room which did not have those background noises. 

The architecture was a combination of Spanish, and tall Russian buildings and new modern ones.
We saw the usual scene stops in Havana, including the cigar-making factory where no photos were allowed.  Many men and women smoked the Cuban stogie, and a colleague asked about cancer rates.  Taking some offense to an oft repeated concern from outsiders, the manager tour-guide said that smoking or chewing tobacco relieved stress, and on the other hand, life and work in the outside world caused more stress and lowered resistance and increased mortality rates.  We learned that Fidel only smoked the best cohibas and Monte Cristos.  We were led to the only official boutique to buy genuine Cuban cigars, and I am not sure who among us took advantage of the offer.  However, many unofficial hawkers in the street offered similar wares, claiming that their sisters, or wives worked in the factories and could spirit a roll or two of the special cigars which was now being sold at a lower price for those interested.  No photos were allowed, but it dawned on the observant ones that the cigar workers were really housed in sweat shops which were frowned upon.

We visited a ballet school where many young ballet dancers eventually aimed to be the next Lizt Alfonso or Alicia Alonso, famous dance artists, important to Cuban art and national pride.  Troupes travel worldwide and with some talent and hard work, the future could be bright enough for true artists and a chance to have another life, even to escape to a fantasy world outside.

Festive Havana

In the evening, we were taken to La Floridita which was one of Hemingway’s favorite restaurants. Where there was food, there was music, and this was an essence of the Cuban well-being and innate spirit.

There were many old cars, out in the streets of Havana, beautifully kept, well maintained on the outside and often used as taxis.  They offered 40 CUCs an hour ride, but we did not bother to ride them.  Conversations with the drivers or owners revealed that three of what we had seen at the time were original motors, slightly re-adapted to current conditions, and the rest of them had been retrofitted with Japanese and Korean motors.  

Many cars were new Chinese (Geely) used as cabs.  There were a few Russian Lada and Moskvich cars from the 70s, and old but renovated  trucks used as transport buses (known as wawas or guaguas) from the American 40s as well. We did agree it was a safe place, and no one bothered you even if you walked alone at midnight (except, sometimes,  for the persistent offer of a taxi ride during late evenings. 

After four days in Havana we then flew to Holguin, visited the shrine of Our Lady of Charity, the patroness of Cuba in El Cobre, on the way to Santiago de Cuba.  The faithful offered garlands and bouquets of sunflowers, and valuable possessions in gratitude to the Virgin, for fulfilled requests. 

The Catholic religion was practiced by the majority of Cubans, although of a syncretic kind since Christianity could only have been imposed by the colonizers by blending indigenous beliefs with the Christian religion, and giving counterparts for indigenous gods to the Christian deities.  Hence the Virgin Mary is made equivalent to Ochun, the Yoruba god.  To be a government official meant complete fidelity to the political beliefs of Marxism and Leninism which was contrary to the tenets of Catholicism.  

Next sites were road trips to Santiago de Cuba, Camaguey, Trinidad and Cienfuegos. 

Santiago de Cuba was the birthplace of significant figures in the remaking of Cuba.  Fidel Castro was buried here, near Jose Marti, the national hero of Cuba.  We had to see the resting place of the significant figures involved in the remaking of Cuba.

Although I was born and grew up in tropical climes, this heat seemed almost unbearable under the hot Cuban sun, and when we were touring the Ifigenia cemetery which housed the heroes that made a difference in Cuba, the sweat just poured out and flowed through eyes and nostrils and stung through crevices of our faces.  

I did catch a cold and I had to see the mound of Fidel’s resting place from afar, near Marti’s burial ground.   True to his request and desire not to build monuments in his name and nor develop a cult of personality around him, Fidel was buried in a place near the national heroes but almost privately without noise and adulation.   

  

Fidel’s image was less imposing than the grand monuments of Jose Marti, the national hero, or Antonio Maceo, immortalized in the form of 120 tons of bronze on a horse behind 23 spears or machetes hurled at him, killed in combat during the second war of independence.

Only Che Guevara, who was born Argentinian but associated with the Cuban revolution, became a true icon, his face plastered all over Cuba t-shirts, post cards, monuments.  He was interred in Santa Clara after his assassination in Bolivia.  After the liberation of Cuba, he carried on his revolution beyond Latin America and Africa.  

Next visit was to Camaguey (pronounced “cama-way” by Cubans), designated as a UNESCO world heritage site with its mazes and squares was the home of famous soldier heros, artists and sports players.  We stayed at the Gran Hotel which seemed better than most of the hotels we had stayed in.  Many heroes’ names and monuments in parks which were difficult to remember if one did not write them down.  Cuban artists like Martha Jimenez have their headquarters in Camaguey and the sculptures adorn the streets of the city, giving it an air of cultural respectability and attractiveness, other than the statues of soldier heroes like Ignacio Agramonte.

During our trip we had seen many parks and statues, churches and museums that are difficult to remember if one did not take careful notes.  We had stayed at hotels that were evidenced by decaying glory, but nevertheless, were not razed to make way for new buildings. The old Spanish colonial architecture were well preserved but mostly only in appearance, since it would cost more to preserve them as before.

The same old American cars were there in all the provinces, some well  taken care of and display worthy in a museum or rich stables, there were also the green options of taking horse driven calesa type rides, or tricycles (bici(cleta)taxis) hireable for 10 CUCs an hour  This was the typical provincial street scene.

I must say that streets were clean on the whole as there were sweepers who regularly broomed the pathways.

Musicians were ever present at many restaurants where we had meals, but it was normal to pass a hat for tips.  Guantanamera was always part of the repertoire.  It did bother me that tipping was routine which one never included in one’s budget.  Add to that all toilets had tip baskets and that the least one can expect is toilet paper in exchange.  Water is low and slow but there is a limited maintenance from women who guard the toilets.

One cannot escape the revolutionary fervor and history that made Cuba, although the majority seemed leveled to equality by the revolution, with  free health care, education, no hunger.  In the street landscape, however, there were still a few who were slightly more equal than others, more enterprising for material extras, and the hunger for more was present in many instances.  There were beggars, or people (jineteros) who offer services that one might not need, or, children who asked for candy or money to buy some or women who asked for ‘soap’, or offered special services, so I heard.  Although there were no bony-looking, starving kids, but certainly, as UNICEF had mentioned during a visit to the office, obesity was creeping in, indicative of other problems like poor nutrition education on the part of the parents, and lack of proper care and tough love.  I was told that the country took care of the disabled, the young, the old, the gay and the straights, and equality was a given.  My friends who had stayed there long enough, say, however, that equality was a goal, but not a given.  There were still differences in upward mobility depending on shades of color.  I was not there long enough to test the premise.

Although some private enterprise had increased in the last decade which fired up somewhat the materialistic desires in some people, in general, the more noble goals of the revolution seemed not enough.  For many national enterprises  there seemed none of the fire or fervor of capitalistic greed that motivated people to do more than the minimum.

Every meal had mojitos as starters for those who would want some.  The best brand was aged rum called Matusalem, and it was smooth and so refreshing with lime ade and mint leaves.  In Trinidad, two competing signs in separate shops read, “The best mojito in Cuba,” and beside it, “The best mojito in the world”.  Had no chance to try either, but I did have good mojitos in Havana.

Madison Ave techniques come to Trinidad 

We looked forward to coming to Trinidad, since it was the birthplace of our tour guide, Eddy, and he had promised us that you could find everything you were looking for in Trinidad, especially souvenirs for the shoppers, the beach and all sort of places significant in Cuban history.  We were housed in a resort hotel which was nice except that the night music was a bit loud, the flies and mosquitoes took over at dusk and even daylight and the place was a bit too crowded, even for Cuba.  Trinidad used to produce sugar, but cane plantations are now idle, and tourism as money earner has now taken over. 

Next was Cienfuegos, which was more a resort town.  We had lunch at the yacht club, comparable to many upscale yacht clubs outside the country.  The clear difference was music played by Cuban musicians who as usual, played Guantanamera.  Earlier during our trip I had asked the musicians to play, Cuando Sali de Cuba (When I left Cuba), but since no one knew about the song, it dawned on me that I was practicing political incorrectness when I asked them to play this particular piece.

Back in Havana

The best mojito I (remember) had tasted was in a restaurant called “La Guarida” in a beat-up old building which opened up to a chic boho restaurant on the third floor, which had excellently prepared menu.  There we tasted a special lechon de leche called “cochinillo” with reduced orange marmalade sauce.  The room was dark but we could see the shiny skin and delicious, tender meat and for sure, the fat that made our arteries clickety clack with goodness.

There were two kinds of beer, the Cristal and the Bucanero, differentiated from each other by 1% of alcohol.  

The last evening in Havana, we attended the Buena Vista Social Club with two remnants of the original band players,  still wonderful sounding.  Many people danced and drank and sang but we did not stay that long.  This is where I heard ‘Chan Chan’ and ever since wormed its way into my brain.

What were Cubans were mixtures of Spanish, other Europeans, and Africans, but hardly any apparent mixtures of indigenous peoples (Tainos); we were told they had disappeared through disease, or even deliberately exterminated.  The process and policy of encouraged assimilation was deliberate in order to ensure less xenophobic tendencies.  The people are of many colors, but not underscored by any racism prevalent in other countries.  Eventually glued together by the revolution.

The Americans who came later seemed to promote democratic values, but again, were eclipsed by economic interests which were contrary to the Cuban values.

We would have wanted to stay in a casa particular, a private house which was being rented out to foreigners, so we could have some genuine Cuban experience, but on the other hand, for convenience sake we had to stay with our little group to go around Cuba, as we had really so little time.  We did go to many paladars, i.e. privately owned restaurants which served genuine Cuban food, many carefully cooked for tourists. 

During our ten-day trip, we were given a lot of information, a lot of justification on the rightness of the Cuba that is now, and at the end it was difficult to digest so much information on Cuban history and events, including the most important political figures, what made them tick and put a country together,  the poets and writers and music that coexist with any goals and define the people. 

There was little mention and monumental evidence of women who participated in the revolution, except for some acknowledgment, say of Celia Sanchez who actually helped organize significant battles, who fed, fought and cared for men and their families, from speeches of the greats like Fidel Castro and Che Guevara.  Or of the wife and mother of significant soldiers. 

At the end of our trip, I know I have made some judgments, as it is impossible not to compare, except that one could be fair about the negatives, using proper context. 

In 2019, Raul Castro allowed a general election which did not include him for a third term in the general leadership of Cuba. 

We did not stay long enough to be with people, nor know them, nor know life with them, but imagine they must have the same fears and desires as other men, especially for more material comforts.  They do have common basic social services and although equality is still a goal, they have certainly reached those goals better than most others, but the cost depends on who is doing the accounting. 

I leave Cuba, and I can still hear the old songs, but also new, old songs like BuenaVista’s Chan Chan playing in my head.

Gia Mendoza (Opinions all mine.)