Tokyo – part I

Almost a week ago, we began our nine-week trip with Yann and Emilie through Japan, South Korea, North Korea, and China. After arriving in Tokyo, our first task was to navigate the train system from the airport. This turned out to be a good introduction to the city – we would learn over the next few days that although the system is huge and appears complicated, it is efficient and easy to use. This is Tokyo in a nutshell; it is big and bright and energetic, but there is order behind all of the chaos. Everything is as organized and efficient as possible, every rule seems to be followed down to the letter, and the people are very helpful and polite.

We found our hostel without any trouble and settled into our tiny room. In fact, the entire hostel was completely crammed. The owner has turned her house into a hostel by converting every available space into sleeping compartments using plywood and two-by-fours. Our room was about seven by nine feet with stacked bunks three feet wide. Between the beds was barely enough room for one person to walk; usually we would shimmy along sideways. And that was it. There wasn’t enough room above the beds to sit up straight, so doing anything besides sleeping in our room was out of the question. Unfortunately, every other public space in the hostel was just as packed, and we were constantly having to step over and bump into strangers. The three toilets, two showers and one kitchen were shared by fifty guests – one night Antonia got up at 2 am to use the washroom and had to join a line of three other people. We don’t want to complain, because we had managed to find the cheapest hostel in a very expensive city. And it wouldn’t have been too bad, except that some other guests (and staff) would converse into the wee hours right outside our room, preventing us from ever getting a decent night’s sleep (did we mention that our walls were made of plywood and only went three-quarters of the way to the ceiling?). Maybe we are just getting to be old curmudgeons, but our sadness at leaving this wonderful city was tempered by our eagerness to leave that hostel. Here’s a picture of our room taken by Yann:

Then again, maybe we are just spoiled Canadians used to having as much space as we desire. There are so many people in Tokyo – over 35 million, in fact – in a relatively small space. The trains and subways are almost always packed to capacity; the streets are constantly teeming with people. Our hostel, where every single corner was put to full use, is just a microcosm of the city. But again, the stations and streets are so clearly marked (in English as well as Japanese) that there is no disorder in the apparent madness. Tokyoites have learned to live on top of each other, and all of the rule-following seems to help. The subways are packed to the brim, but no one seemed to push. Everyone is quiet on the subway, too, especially in sections where the elderly are given priority and cell phones must be turned off. Even a group of adorable preschoolers who joined us on the train one day were totally quiet and perfectly behaved. No one jaywalks. So maybe our hostel is an example of the necessity of these well-respected rules in a very crowded environment and what happens without them.

On our first morning, we stopped at a convenience store where we could buy tickets for the popular Ghibli Museum, which features anime art, and we had a delightfully confusing experience trying to acquire them. When we inquired at the counter, the clerk did not speak much English, but understood what we needed and pointed to an automated machine in the corner while explaining, “pushpushpushpush.” We were able to select English on the machine, but after a few steps into the process, the English mysteriously vanished and we had nothing to guide us except our guess at what information they might need, and some instructional posters on the wall, also in Japanese. Our guesses sometimes turned out to be hilariously incorrect, but somehow we ended up with the tickets, and instead of being frustrated, we were only amused by the confusion.

We then headed to Asakusa, a neighbourhood home to Senso-ji, Tokyo’s oldest Buddhist temple, and a marketplace in front modelled after those that existed in front of the temple in Edo times.

After walking through some of the narrow alleyways, we caught a water taxi to the Ginza neighbourhood to see where the fanciest Tokyoites go to shop. It was interesting to stroll along one of the most famous shopping districts in the world, especially because all of the very upscale shops are housed in extremely tall, architecturally-interesting buildings. James even earned the right to brag that he has shopped in Ginza, since he had forgotten one of his two pairs of pants back in Canada, and was able to find a replacement pair at H&M (which thankfully had identical prices to the Canadian locations). We also had a fun lunch among slurping businessmen in a ramen shop, where we encountered our first restaurant vending machine. Many restaurants have these machines at the entrance for customers to select and pay for their meal before they sit down. This one was beyond our comprehension, though, so the wait staff took pity and let us order the old fashioned way.

In the afternoon, we headed to the Ghibli Museum, but owing to our inexperience with the metro system, we got off at the wrong station to change trains (we cannot place blame on the system for this error, since it was astonishing that this was our only hiccup during our stay). The mistake was a lucky one, though, because we got to walk through the Akihabara district toward the correct station. Akihabara is the electronics, anime, and gaming centre of Tokyo, and we were awestruck as we walked among the neon skyscrapers plastered with anime scenes. Girls dressed in anime costumes handed out flyers to the hoards of nerds and gamers passing by, inviting them to dine in a ‘maid cafe,’ where these girls wait on them and refer to them as ‘master.’

When we finally found our way to the Ghibli Museum, we enjoyed the whimsical nature of the displays and the atmosphere that encourages patrons to become lost among the art and demonstrations of animation history, despite the fact that information was only provided in Japanese. We got to see a film by the beloved Japanese anime artist Hayao Miyazaki that plays exclusively at the museum, and then watch children climb on a huge plush replica of one of the featured characters.

Afterwards, we successfully navigated our way to the Shinjuku district for some camera supply shopping. The downtown core is the site of the busiest train and metro station in the world, serving about 3.5 million people every day . Shinjuku is a main destination for nightlife, and also houses the red light district. We were delighted by the nighttime scene of more hoards of people and more neon skyscrapers, with the over-ground trains constantly pulling into the station and dropping off increasing numbers of Tokyoites going out on a Friday night . In fact, the best thing about Tokyo overall was simply people-watching in each one of the fascinating neighbourhoods – we have never seen a city like it.

Shinjuku is also famous for its small yakatori restaurants situated one after the other in tiny alleys criss-crossing the larger streets of electronics shops and arcades. Like everywhere else in Tokyo, people in these restaurants are squeezed into every possible corner; every nook and cranny is used efficiently. These eateries are most popular with the businessmen finishing a long week of work, and they were filled with men apparently blowing off some steam with several glasses of beer with a selection of the yakatori grilled skewers on the side. After being tempted by the wafts of smoke billowing out of each restaurant, we finally found one with space for four and a vegetarian option. We sat down to a fairly expensive, but delicious meal of skewers and beer, and had a great time sitting amongst the locals and watching the chefs grill right in front of us. Only Yann was brave enough to order the special, which included various unidentifiable organs from unidentified animals. We shared some of our delicious grilled tofu with ginger paste, green onions and soy sauce.

We couldn’t leave Shinjuku without a quick stroll through the red light district to spot some of the famed love hotels that we had read about (rooms are rented by the hour), as well as eerie buildings without any windows, which we soon realized were arcades. Some house traditional video-game type machines, but others are more similar to casinos with slot machines-type games. This type of gambling is apparently illegal in Japan. To get around this small inconvenience, prizes are awarded to winners instead of cash. The prizes are then  sold back for the money that would have been won.  There are no clocks or windows in these buildings, giving an odd look to many of the tall buildings downtown.

Before heading back to our tiny home away from home, we visited the 45th floor of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Towers for a view of the city at night. We were amazed to see that the intensity of the lights did not diminish between the downtown centre and the boundaries of  what we could see from the observation deck. We would have a lot to see in the next few days.

Varadero to Havana

We had planned to spend the last leg of our trip relaxing at the beach outside of Havana, as we had read that the area was frequented by more locals than tourists, and populated with more casa particulares than large resorts. However, as we began to look into accommodation from Santa Clara, we found that many places were full, or else difficult to get information on. Varadero, famous for its gorgeous beaches but also its secluded all-inclusives, began to look like the safer option. We considered making other plans: James bluffed that he wanted to spend our last five days taking a fifty-hour round-trip bus ride to the Eastern side of the country to see Santiago, forcing Antonia to grudgingly admit, “… I want to go to the beach.” Thus James believes he earned the right to blame Antonia for our extravagance, even though everyone knows that James is the one who had been campaigning to spend the whole trip at the beach while being dragged around to historical points of interest by Antonia. (Editor's note: heavy bias by the author of this part).

So here is where we sheepishly confess that, after seeing all of that revolutionary history, we proceeded to spend five days at an all-inclusive resort. We consoled ourselves with the argument that tourism is an important factor in keeping Cuba’s economy afloat in the face of the American embargo.

Varadero was very relaxing, and we finally realized how some people achieve the ‘vacation’ part of travel. Getting there, though, was anything but relaxing, since we were still approaching the situation as backpackers. Most of the time, we simply arrive at a destination and walk around until we find a good guesthouse. Apparently, that is not how things are done in Varadero. We got off the bus from Santa Clara and began walking down the main strip of resorts. We went into a few that we had read about online, and the staff seemed shocked to see two dusty, travel-stained backpackers with hiking sandals and no reservation. They informed us that it was impossible to book a room in person – we could tell that there were rooms available on their website, but they hardly knew how to process people who just washed up into their lobby in the flesh. We began wandering between resorts and making inquiries, but the long distance between the huge resorts made this a more exhausting task than usual. As resorts got larger and further away from the central area of town, we were the only pedestrians trudging along an ugly highway of taxis and tour buses. Finally we found a place that would give us a room for a decent price, and we flopped down at the Playa del Oro resort.

There is not too much to write about our time at the resort, because our days became a pleasant blur of sitting on the beach, swimming in the ocean, swimming in the pool, napping before dinner, and sunsets back on the beach, all washed down with limitless piña coladas. Or, if we wanted a mojito, the bartender would pick some fresh mint growing by the pool. Yep, it was pretty nice.

Finally, it was time to leave our beachy bubble and head back to Havana before our flight home a couple of days later. This time we decided to stay in the heart of Old Havana among our beloved plazas. We found a casa particulare in the most beautiful colonial mansion we had seen so far, with ceilings twice as high as the rooms were wide. The rooms were fitted with marble columns, beautiful wooden doors that reached the ceilings, stained glass and crystal chandeliers. We had dinner at the brewery in Plaza Vieja, and this time we got to enjoy the nighttime atmosphere, the fountain and buildings all lit up.

We continued down to El Floridita, Ernest Hemingway’s favourite bar. It was very elegant, and with the statue of Hemingway at the bar, It is a staple of the tourist circuit in Havana. It is also very expensive. After one six-dollar grapefruit daiquiri each, we tipped the band and headed down the street to the more down-to-earth Monserrate bar, where we enjoyed delicious piña coladas and Cuba libres (rum and coke with lime) for half the price, entertained by another great band.

The next day we headed down to a great art gallery that we had visited before. The space not only displays artwork, but has a studio where we could watch artists at work, and a store where we could peruse their pieces. We picked up some art as souvenirs, and we were able to meet the artist of one of the prints we bought. Another print that we acquired was by Rafael Zarza Gonzalez, whose work we had seen at an exhibition at the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes.

We had a lunch of rice, beans, and plantain chips in the Plazas de Armas. Here, James tries a Bucanero beer, which he declares is far superior to the other national brand, Cristal.

After lunch we hired an English-speaking guide to lead us through the Museo de la Ciudad to learn about Havana’s history. It is housed in a former mansion for Spanish governors and Cuban presidents, before the revolutionary government declared it a public space. Among the most interesting sights were the oldest portrait of Columbus and the first Cuban flag. I asked the guide which year Cubans regard as the beginning of independence. He explained that Cuba has been independent since 1959, because although Cuba won independence from Spain in 1902, every President before the revolution was only a puppet of the United States, and thus Cuba was not truly independent.

It was then off to another cultural institution, the Museo del Chocolate – less a museum and more a chocolate-lover’s dream cafe, with every kind of chocolate served, hot and cold, liquid and solid (to be fair, there are also artefacts from the history of cocoa production on display). On the way, we passed a man selling freshly-made churros on the street, and we had to stop. We took our still-warm churros into the chocolate museum and dipped them into our rich chocolate drinks.

After waiting out the rain in our casa, we ventured out for one last drink at Antonia’s favourite place, the restaurant at Plaza de la Catedral that is “possibly one of the most romantic spots on earth.”

During our taxi ride to the airport the next morning, we tried to soak up the Cuban atmosphere one last time. We appreciated the old cars and the lack of billboards, except for political ones (this was one of our favourite things about Cuba, actually – no advertisements and no billboards obstructing the landscape. We really noticed the intrusive billboards in Montreal upon our return in a way that we wouldn’t have before). We passed a taxi station and noticed that it had a large sign in front. Where in Canada this would have advertised special rates or promotions, this one listed the five political ideologies of the company, each one in defense of socialism and the revolution. We love Cuba.

Santa Clara

We set off from Trinidad on a three-hour bus ride toward Santa Clara, armed with our newest casa particulare referral.  Santa Clara was the site of the decisive battle of the Cuban Revolution, and is now home to Che Guevara’s mausoleum and a museum dedicated to his life, so we didn’t want to miss it.

We settled into our new casa, which was across the street from the city’s oldest church, Iglesia Carmen, built in 1748.

Our host recommended that we go to Casa Ronaldo for dinner, and assured us that the chef could make us something delicious and vegetarian. When we arrived, the staff didn’t speak any English, but somehow we communicated our dietary needs, and they confirmed that they could meet them without a problem. Without menus, though, confusion reigned when we tried to order. Finally, we were led into the kitchen, where they opened the fridge and offered James various kinds of fish to choose from. It looked like it would be pizza once again. For the remainder of our time in Santa Clara, we reluctantly ate at Dino’s Pizza, the same chain that had caused us so many stomach problems during the previous week in Havana. We prayed that our stomachs were stronger now, because otherwise we would be facing a very hungry couple of days.

After dinner, we took a stroll through nearby Parque Vidal, a common meeting place in the centre of the city. The park was lovely, especially against the sunset, and the atmosphere was friendly and communal. Cubans of all ages filled the benches and spent a lazy evening chatting and watching the life of the city go by. This is the view of the sunset from the park:

 

The next morning we checked the news at an internet cafe to find out that the Canucks had lost the Stanley Cup to the Bruins. We were very disappointed, but tried not to let it put a damper on the rest of the day, because we were planning a tour of a large cigar factory. This had been on our B-list of sites to see because generally we don’t like doing activities with groups of other tourists, but we were very glad we did it. We had never been in that kind of factory environment before – with employees turning out cigars as fast as possible in a kind of assembly line. We learned that the tobacco leaves are first stuffed and rolled, then the strength of the tobacco in each cigar is tested. The top leaf is then added, and the cigars are taken to a different room to be sorted by colour. Tobacco leaves come in different shades of brown, and while different colours do not produce different tastes, manufacturers like the cigars to be a uniform colour when a box is opened. This was a fun process to watch, as a table full of cigars that all appeared ‘brown’ to us was quickly grouped by subtle shade differences. They are then labeled and put into boxes, ready to be shipped out. By the way, Cohibas are the best cigars because their leaves are fermented for at least three years. Unfortunately no photography was allowed in the factory. 

Afterwards, we walked to the Monumento de la Tren Blindado, where Che led the revolutionary army to derail a train carrying soldiers and supplies toward Batista. Che then captured Santa Clara, prompting Batista to flee the country, and ushering in the revolutionary government. The monument is comprised of commemorative statues and the train car that was stopped in its tracks, full of old military gear. 

We then continued the historical afternoon with a visit to the Monumento de Ernesto Che Guevara – a large complex including a museum and a mausoleum containing his remains and those of the others who were executed with him by the CIA-backed Bolivian government. 

The grounds also include a cemetery for revolutionary fighters, some plots still empty for surviving soldiers.

At one point, while we were the only visitors inside the sombre mausoleum, the power suddenly went out, leaving only the light from the eternal flame to illuminate the plaque marking Che’s remains.

The next day we ventured to the Museo Provincial, which is housed in the former military barracks where Batista’s soldiers surrendered in the Battle of Santa Clara. There were very interesting artefacts from throughout Cuban history, including a special display about the Cuban Literacy Campaign of 1961. After coming to power, one of Castro’s first aims was to abolish illiteracy, and he sent educators out to the countryside in the form of “literacy brigades” to construct schools and train educators. Remarkably, the literacy rate in Cuba jumped 30 points to 96% within the year 1961 alone.

Our last view of Santa Clara was of the neighbourhood surrounding the bus station as we prepared to depart. There is an entire block of these imaginative anti-US, pro-peace murals – here are some of our favourites:

Trinidad

Before catching our bus to the city of Trinidad on the southern coast, we spent one more Havana night at the casa of Carlos and Catalina. They hadn't had a chance to refill the toilet paper in our bathroom while we were gone, so Catalina found us some Christmas-themed paper napkins. She pointed at James and made the charade of wiping herself while saying, "You see James, Merry Christmas! It will make you very happy!" 

The next morning we were up early to get on the six-hour bus ride to Trinidad. Trinidad was one of the first Spanish settlements on the island, and the 500-year-old architecture is very well preserved. The entire town is a UNESCO World Heritage site, and nothing new has been built since 1850. Trinidad is very charming, with cobble-stoned streets lined with brightly-painted, very old buildings. An unfortunate result of all of this charm, for us, was that Trinidad is filled with tourists - but they were there for a reason, and Trinidad was well worth a look. With the tourists come the touts, and we were besieged by them when stepping of the bus from Havana. As often happens in an informal, reciprocal system of referrals in the world of casa particulares, Catalina had called ahead to reserve a casa for us, and when we told this to the dozens of touts blocking our way with pictures of their rooms, one of them tried to make us believe that she was the one we were looking for: "What's your name? Yes, Antonia. My sister called to make a reservation for you." "Really? What's your sister's name?" "Sorry, I don't speak much English." 

When we finally found the right casa, we couldn't have been happier. Our welcoming hosts had a beautiful home, although it seemed like it was nothing out of the ordinary in Trinidad. Most homes have open courtyards in the centre, as well as rooms that open up into the courtyard, so that the entire house seems half-indoors and half-outdoors - a very nice effect that is unfortunately unthinkable in Canada. Our host, Marledy, was also a great chef who specialized in vegetarian food (jackpot!) and we would eat our delicious dinners each evening in the open-air dining room. She always made us way too much food, but it was easy to indulge in the bean soup, veggies, rice, cheese omelettes, and fried plantains with loads of garlic. 

We spent our first day in Trinidad wandering the town and admiring the architecture while perusing the outdoor markets. We just had to stop for homemade ice cream to escape the heat, which was much more intense than up north near Havana. In the evening, we headed to a club to see some live music. Musicians and dancers all put on a great show, and unfortunately (being the dorky-looking tourists that we are) dragged us up on stage for some awkward attempts at dancing. 

The next day we headed to the Museo Historico Municipal to learn about Trinidad's history in a colonial mansion formerly owned by a sugar-farming slave owner. Trinidad was primarily the centre of sugar and tobacco plantations when it was first established, with Europeans coming over to annex the fertile land and make slaves out of the native residents. The museum was filled with old artefacts and information on the slave trade - we think. Almost no information was given in English, but what we gleaned from the displays was interesting. We smiled at the stereotypical "fat cat" look of the symbolic slave owner in this cartoon from the time:

...until we saw this photograph of the actual owner of the mansion, who murdered the former owner of the sugar plantation, married his window and took it over, and then murdered his new bride. All around a class act.

The best part of the museum was the view of the city from its bell tower. After climbing many very steep and winding stairs, we got to a landing with an amazing view and started taking pictures. An employee saw us and kindly informed us that we weren't yet at the top. Oh! There were more steep and winding stairs, and an even more rewarding view awaiting us. We could see the ocean on one side of the city, a mountainous jungle on the other, and the whole of city life in between. 

After a stop at an interesting Santeria temple dedicated to Yemalla, the goddess of the sea, we pressed on in the heat and walked across the town to the Taller Alfredo ceramics factory. It was nice to see some less-touristy parts of the city on our way. We came across this cute kitten that some people posed on a bicycle for our picture (many bicycles here are fitted with this wooden seat for an extra passenger):

We also spotted this lonely horse having a snack: 

At the factory, we got to watch an adorable old man make three different items on his wheel. He worked very quickly and we were mesmerized by the creations coming to life within minutes. We shopped for a souvenir and finally chose a small vase to bring back. That evening, Marledy informed us that it was her 35th birthday, and we decided to give it to her. 

The next day we decided to take the bus out to Playa Ancon, a beautiful white-sand beach nearby, to have a beach day. The beach was postcard-perfect, with clear, green, warm water, and thatched umbrellas all the way down the beach.

 

We discovered this interesting old pier while walking down the beach: 

Back in Trinidad that night we headed to Casa de Musica, an outdoor venue on the beautiful old steps beside the oldest church in the centre of town. While we walked from our casa, we noticed that the streets were strangely empty. Absolutely everyone was inside their houses, glued to the same television program. We wondered if there was an important sports game happening, or maybe some political event. When we asked Marledy the next day, we found out that this was simply a normal Tuesday night when everyone's favourite telenovela comes on. 

Las Terrazas

In Havana, vegetarian food was difficult to come by. As a result, we found ourselves eating a lot of pizza, a very popular fast-food in Cuba. The pizza was a little bit different than what we were used to- the crust was more like a piece of soft, white bread and the cheese was very strong. It wasn’t our favourite, and after dinner on our last night in Havana, our stomachs didn’t like it either. We were excited to travel the next day to Las Terrazas, a small ecologically-minded village and nature reserve nestled in a mountain range a couple of hours outside of Havana. But after a near-sleepless night and still feeling nauseated, we weren’t sure if we would survive the bus ride. We decided to hope for the best and head out anyway, and we were so glad we did because Las Terrazas was the perfect place to recuperate. It was our favourite region in Cuba, and we highly recommend it to anyone planning a trip to the country.

We had planned to stay only one night in the small town and splurge on a very nice, eco-friendly hotel that we had read about. When we arrived, we learned that there was an off-season discount in effect and we decided to spend two nights there, leaving us plenty of time to rest and feel better on the first day.

Hotel Moka is one of the most beautiful hotels we have ever stayed at. The common areas are open-air, with trees growing through them. It all resembles a very fancy treehouse with breathtaking views of the jungle hillsides surrounding the town. This was the view from the hotel lobby:

Our room was lovely, too. Our balcony put us right underneath the jungle canopy, and we had a picture window over the tub overlooking the same landscape. For most of the first day, we napped, did laundry, watched CNN, and started to feel much better.

The next day we were feeling more adventurous, and, after a breakfast of pancakes with more delicious fruity syrup, we set out to try the zip-line that runs above the village. We were a little nervous to zip down the three very elevated lines, but after the first one, any hesitation we had suffered was gone. It was so delightful to fly above the gorgeous scenery that we were tempted to go right up again when we were finished. Our instructors were so impressed with our performance that we even got official certificates testifying to our new zip-line expertise.  Here, James proudly displays his certificate of achievement. We’re sure they don’t give these to just anyone.

Afterward we stopped for what our guidebook described as the best coffee in Cuba at the Cafe de Maria, and sat overlooking the coffee plants that had supplied the very brew we were drinking.

The great day was capped off by eating dinner at El Ramero, the best vegetarian restaurant in Cuba. We can confirm rumours of a general lack of culinary culture in Cuba, or at least one that we could appreciate. We read that this is due to the more prominent culture of rum-drinking and cigar-smoking – who needs a big dinner when you’ve been doing that all afternoon? And with all of the wonderful things about Cuba, the lack of delicious food is easily worth overlooking. However, El Ramero broke that reputation. We enjoyed delicious tempura, seitan steak, bean pancakes, stuffed peppers, homemade ice cream and juice infusions.

Before we left Las Terrazas the next day, we set off to find the Baños de San Juan, which should have been an hour’s trek away. But, of course, we got turned around a few times before finding the right path. Once we did, though, we had a grand adventure walking on a hilly paved road in the palm-treed jungle, encountering lots of geckos, cows, goats and oxen. Charming farm houses dotted the road, sometimes with apiaries.

Finally, we reached the idyllic natural pools of the Baños. They were like a paradise of cool water surrounded by trees and flowers, with bamboo huts scattered throughout serving as restaurants, bars, and shelters for family picnics. It was a great example of the government’s long-standing commitment to providing accessible leisure time to families in natural settings. However, we did not join the frolicking families in the water – it was just a little too stagnant and fish-filled for us wimpy tourists. Also, it had begun to rain, and we ran for one of the bamboo shelters as the skies opened up and we were caught in an intense thunderstorm. After trying to wait it out, there was no sign of reprieve, and we made a break for the park entrance where some very kind employees welcomed us and a few others trying to wait for a break in the rain. The staff called a taxi for us, and offered us mangoes while we waited. We watched a little boy play with his pet gecko; he had fashioned a leash for it from a long blade of grass. When the taxi arrived, we had it take us to El Romero for a repeat of our favourite meal from the day before, and we savoured it as the best food we knew we would have for the next couple of weeks.

Havana

About a year ago, we took a trip to Cuba to celebrate our tenth anniversary. We are now preparing to leave on our next big trip in only a few short days, and we realized we finally need to document our time in Cuba before our minds are filled new adventures. So here we go!

One of the first important decisions that we made in planning our Cuba trip was which airline to take. Air Canada could take us, or we could go with Air Cubana – a much cheaper choice. We also read that It has one of the lowest safety ratings in the world, and still flies Soviet-era clunkers. Naturally we decided to roll the dice and save some pesos. When we arrived at Trudeau airport, we were confronted by extremely long lines and frantic summer travellers, and we worried that we might miss our boarding time – until we spied the counter for Air Cubana. It was eerily empty, the staff waiting patiently for a potential customer while thousands of people crowded around every other counter. Was this a bad sign? We shrugged and provided the Air Cubana guy with some business. The flight was fine and our gamble worthwhile.

We landed at night, and when we awoke in Havana the next morning, we were glued to our hotel room window watching all of the fantastic old cars go by. We took an embarrassing amount of pictures, somehow not realizing that old cars would dot all of our pictures for the next three weeks. After enjoying the hotel’s buffet breakfast (by the way, pancakes don’t come with maple syrup here – obvious, maybe, but a bit surprising at first –, instead their syrup is fruity! Antonia liked it better. James accused her of being a traitorous Quebecker), our first task was to find a casa particulare – a private home authorized to take in guests. We loved the casa particulares we stayed in – they are much cheaper than hotels with the added benefit of being able to get to know a Cuban family and see a tiny part of their real lives. Most Havana houses are also old colonial buildings, and we stayed in some beautiful homes that could have been chic hotels beyond our means in any other setting. Communicating was a little difficult as we are not Spanish speakers, but through the use of charades and with a background in French to provide us with clues, we were always understood. It was fun to learn a few phrases, and the Spanish environment provided another advantage: Antonia was pleased that, for once in her life, no one had any trouble learning her name, but had  difficulty with James’.

Once we were settled into what would be our home for the next few days, we ventured toward the centre of town along the Malecon, which is a long sea-side street and a favourite place for locals to stroll and gaze at the ocean.

It was a great introduction to the city – landmark buildings on one side and blue-green ocean waters crashing into the sea wall on the other. We were still taken with the novelty of the old cars, as well as with the children jumping from the wall into the ocean waves. 

After awhile we turned onto the Paseo del Prado, another beloved esplanade. The del Prado was paved in the 18th century with a wide walkway in the centre of the street lined with trees and marble benches. Surrounded by the most important buildings in the city, it became the heart of a vibrant downtown that includes plenty of greenery and pedestrian traffic. We proceeded to follow an architectural walking tour suggested by our guidebook, and saw some gorgeous old hotels and theatres. 

We also saw the Capitolio Nacional- the seat of the pre-revolutionary government, now home to the Cuban Academy of Sciences. If it looks familiar, it was modeled after the White House.

We found a restaurant for lunch in touristy Chinatown among bicycle-taxi drivers always trying to give us a ride. They would pick out those who looked most touristy and therefore most likely to accept a reprieve from walking in the heat, and call out “Taxi! Taxi!” As we exited the restaurant, we must have looked especially touristy. A particularly enthusiastic driver took one look at us and exclaimed, “Oh my God! Taxi!” as if we were the most dorky-looking tourists, and easiest marks, he had ever seen. But the joke was on him, because we are dorky and too cheap to take a taxi.

The next day we set out to visit Old Havana but Antonia got turned around a few times, prompting James to snatch the map away with a huff that we will assume was exaggerated for comedic effect. The confusion was all worth it, though, when we finally got there. The area is a Unesco World Heritage site, centred around four public squares that were established by the Spanish in 1519, and it is very beautiful. Antonia’s favourite plaza was Plaza de la Catedral, with the oldest cathedral in the Americas and a restaurant described in our guidebook as “possibly the most romantic setting on Earth.” James’ favourite was the oldest and largest Plaza Veija, with brightly painted colonial buildings surrounding a large fountain, and Havana’s best beer served at a brewery on one corner. We spent a lovely afternoon there watching life in the square and sampling the brew. We spent the rest of the day wandering the Mercaderes and other similarly-charming, narrow,  cobbled streets with parks on every corner.

Our visit to the Museo de la Revolucion the next morning was definitely a highlight. The expansive and ornate former presidential palace is full of history, covering the wars of independence, the revolution, and current relations with the United States. The history is not only in the form of displays, but actual damage done to the building from bullets shot during an attempted assassination of President Batista. There is also a delightful amount of hilarious anti-US propaganda.

The same afternoon we visited small but pretty Parque John Lennon. Interestingly, Castro banned Beatles music as capitalist excess until John Lennon denounced the Vietnam War and became known as a peace activist. In a complete reversal of policy, Castro not only allowed Beatles music to flood the country, but dedicated a park to Lennon, with a plaque that reads, in Spanish, “You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m no the only one,” and later including a statue. The life-sized statue is seated on a park bench complete with wire-rimmed glasses. Since they are not attached to the statue, the glasses have been stolen several times. Now they are not displayed, unless the sweet 90-year-old guard notices you getting ready to take a picture, when he will rush over to pull them out of his pocket and place them gently on John’s face.  This is him with the statue he spends all day defending:

From there we headed for a walk in the lush gardens of the historic Hotel Nacional. Built in 1930, it was a top destination for American celebrities such as Frank Sinatra, Ava Gardner, and Marlon Brando before the embargo, and the setting of a mafia conference in 1946. Its gardens are open to non-guests, and are perched above the Malecon with a view over the Florida Strait. There are two outdoor bars and peacocks roaming amongst the tables and chairs. We found a table in the shade but close to the water, and stayed for a long time sipping the best mojitos we have had, mesmerized by the ocean. It was so refreshing and relaxing. When we travel, we always feel the need to see and do as much as possible in each new location. It can be exhausting, but we hope that we will learn a lot and have wonderful experiences, if not quite a vacation. But on this afternoon, we resolved to allow more down time in our usually busy sight-seeing schedule. 

We stayed only a block away from the University of Havana, and one morning we decided to visit the campus. It put every Canadian university to shame. Beautiful marble columns surrounded courtyards of tropical trees. We wandered into the math department , with its open-air hallways and trailing vines, and Antonia led James away before he could set his heart on staying forever. We continued to the Museo Nacional des Belles Artes to view the collection of Cuban art spanning the centuries. We then proceeded to the Plaza de la Revolucion, an enormous public square used for political rallies and site of most of the government ministries. We got there just in time to go up the impressive Jose Marti memorial tower, dedicated to the writer and philosopher who rallied Cubans against Spanish colonialism and American expansionism. The highest point in Havana, the top of the tower affords a great view of the city and the ocean. We got an English-speaking guide to walk us through the Marti museum in the base of the tower and learned a lot about his life and the history of the Cuban independence movement.

Most evenings, we would sit on the lovely little balcony of our room and enjoy the cooler air while we wrote in our journal or chatted/charaded with our hosts, Carlos and Catalina. Catalina would make breakfast for us every morning, always a variety of tropical fruits with bread and coffee served in a porcelain serving set. However, the coffee was served in the small jug that usually holds the milk in Canada, and the large pitcher was full of warm milk. We learned that we were meant to drink a tiny cup of coffee and then a tall glass of hot milk, which was one local custom that we just couldn’t get behind on a muggy morning.

One of our favourite things about Havana was the music. There are live bands and buskers everywhere, and they are all very talented. Antonia’s dad, being a seasoned Cuba traveller, had given us guitar strings to give out to the musicians because apparently they have trouble acquiring them. It was wonderful to give them away- the musicians would light up at the sight of them and were so appreciative. We met the man below on the Malecon our first morning and we didn’t have the strings with us. We promised to come back the next day but we couldn’t quite communicate that it would be with guitar strings. When he saw us again the next morning he was pleased, but he was ecstatic when we pulled out the strings. We sat for awhile listening to him play and he introduced us as his friends to all of the other passersby.