Tales of a Commie (Part 2) - Havana round 1

I fell asleep on the plane but woke up just in time to see us approaching Cuba from the Gulf of Mexico. I saw a small bit of shoreline before it was completely engulfed by costal fog. It reminded me of Santa Cruz. As we were coming in for the landing I felt less safe than I normally feel on airplanes. As far as I can guess this comes from my understanding of Cuba up to this point as a 3rd world country whose technology is not as good as in my country. The way the air-conditioning on the plane spewed out steam didn’t help with my lack of faith in the Cubana airplane. I realized that I was going to need to drop my previous notions of Cuba in order to fully experience it – that I couldn’t learn with whatever blinders I may have had on prior to this.
We landed in Havana sometime in the late morning. At this point I’m thoroughly excited because this is where my learning begins not to mention the fact that after all the sleepless nights and work we’ve done, the thought of getting to step foot on Cuban soil (officially breaking the blockade) was finally becoming a reality. I’m a staying at a church in a working class neighborhood of Havana with people from our group that are mostly in their upper 40’s or older. There are only two other guys that are close to my age. The reason I chose this place is because I figured I could observe downtown Havana any time I wanted by taking a cab there, so staying in the place close to downtown didn’t make much sense. A neighborhood like this I could only observe if I was staying in it…it’s definitely not one of the tourist areas.
On the way in to Havana from the airport I was expecting conditions to be like most of what I’ve seen in Mexico. Nothing was as I expected it. The scenery was amazing…I had never seen a tropical place before. But there was so much more. All around I see power lines and power sub-stations nearly identical to the ones we have in the US. This place isn’t traditional 3rd world. It’s developed (from a physical standpoint) to the best of its ability, which isn’t far off from most of the US. One major difference is the buildings. All of the buildings are old looking. Most of them look pretty dilapidated but in that, they aren’t gross like the housing projects in US inner cities. They maintain a certain respectability that I can’t really explain with words. I think it’s because they weren’t dumps…instead of being run-down they were just quaint. From the condition of everything, it made me wonder what it would be like if they were able to have enough money to keep everything fixed up. Is that one of their values or would they prefer to spend their time doing more meaningful things as long as the basic purpose of the buildings (waterproof shelter) was being fulfilled?
After dinner at Luyano (the church I’m staying at) I had a chance to look around the neighborhood before we left for our first cultural event. On almost every doorstep family members were hanging out with each other and their neighbors. In the middle of the streets groups of kids were playing soccer or rolling down the hills on makeshift skateboards. The older people mostly just hang out in their doorways, but the younger people, both kids and adults, will wave or say something in Spanish that sounds like a kind greeting. On the way to the William Carey Baptist Church for our first ‘cultural event’ I noticed that the whole city was full of people just hanging out and playing. The only hostility I sense is in the drivers – there’s a lot of honking, which I would later find out is how they drive courteously…they honk when passing people or entering certain types of intersections to let people know they’re there…that way they don’t wreck. All over the place there were people on bicycles. Most of them had more than one person though. On one, there was a mom with a kid in her lap who was sitting in front of the dad who was peddling.
The William Carey Center is another one of the churches that people from our group are staying at. It’s only two blocks from the main downtown tourist area. In their courtyard they had chairs and a stage set up that they pulled from their indoor sanctuary. The first act was some musical things – nothing all that great. The best part was the dancing. They are part of the best dance group in Cuba. They consisted of boys and girls anywhere from 10 to 18 who have obviously put a great deal of time practicing their dances to the point where they were perfect. The dancers were all perfectly in sync with each other. Just when we thought it was done every single one of the dancers came back out. They were all up and down the aisles and filling the stage. At first it was a very high-energy planned dance. Eventually it turned into more of an improv dance. Their body language and enthusiasm for the stuff they were doing is how I came to the conclusion that it was improv. There was a designated leader and what that person did the others followed…and they followed very well. When they finally left stage to their dressing room you could hear, over our rowdy applause, their own applause and excitement. The whole atmosphere was enough to make even a cynic like me damn near cry. This is the first time that it occurs to me that their culture transcends the material problems the people face. Their culture is so rich that the poverty they experience, in comparison to the wealth of Americans and other wealthy nations, is of very little importance. This is one of the first things to know in understanding Cuba. And here’s another thing…the training that these kids got in dance is free because their government wants to support the cultural arts.
The following morning is our tour of La Habana Vieja (Old Havana). This is one of the few areas of Havana that is in the process of restoring their old buildings for a prettier look. One thing that should be noted here is that when the buildings are restored the families who have lived in them still get to live there. It’s not like typical gentrification you see in the US. The tour guide gives us a brief history of the old garrisons that still occupy some of the city and history of the struggle from colonial times that the people of Cuba have come through to get to where they are today. There is a lot to see in Habana Vieja. Along every street there are locals who make themselves into photo-ops. Old women smoking cigars and dressed in extravagant clothing will let you take their picture for a few pesos. The people of the community still hang out and don’t seem to mind all of the tourists.
Later in the day we make a visit to the ‘120 year old club’. This is a group started by doctors who figured out a life style which they believe has the potential to keep them alive and healthy to at least 120 years of age. I personally wouldn’t want to live that long, but more power to ‘em for trying.
Instead of going back to Luyano I decide to stay in downtown Havana. For hours I walk around looking at the shops and people. It is weird not being able to communicate with people. Even though there are hundreds of people around me there’s a weird sense of loneliness in it. At one point a Cuban from one store spoke English to me. That catches me off guard so I buy ice-cream from him.
A group of us decide to walk to a hotel where there is a restaurant and bar on the roof with live music. It’s about a 5k walk through very urban feeling neighborhoods. It was a change of scenery to see real Havana locals hanging out in their own bars, not the tourist ones. On one corner there is a group of men surrounding a table in the middle of the street where they’re playing dominoes under a streetlamp. When we get to the hotel there is a guy making sure that no Cubans are coming in…it’s a law that unless working at tourist hotels, Cubans aren’t allowed in. My first reaction is that it isn’t all that nice that the people don’t get to go into the nicer places in their neighborhoods, but then again, I don’t go to hotels in my town. Later on I ask someone about that law. When tourism was pretty new to Cuba men from foreign countries would come over to Cuba and bring young Cubans up to their rooms to have their way with them. The Cuban government began pressing charges against these tourists, which didn’t go over too well with those folks countries of origin. Eventually this law was passed as a protective measure for the Cuban people. This is another thing to understand about Cuban society… most of the laws they pass are protective…not like the US where we need to pass a law for every little thing all the way down to how tinted your windows on your car can be.
On the way back to Luyano, Dan (one of the IFCO staff people my age) and I shared a cab. Dan speaks pretty fluent Spanish but since Luyano isn’t in Havana proper the driver doesn’t know where it is. He takes us a long way around before he gets close and stops to ask for directions. At this point I think that the place we’re staying is pretty run down. But then he drives us through a part of town that is really poor looking. All of the roads off of the main street didn’t have streetlamps. They didn’t even looked like they were paved all that well. Even without that though the people were still hanging out with each other. It’s about 11 at night and kids are still playing hopscotch and the adults are all playing dominoes or talking. At about midnight and a half I’m still sitting outside with some of the folks I’m staying with. All over you hear loud music and entire families still awake, just hanging out. Now I’m wondering why the kids don’t have bedtimes and why no one seems to work during the day.