Steven’s Cuba Blog

Port of Casilda, Cuba - October 2006

Port of Casilda, Cuba - October 2006

GSM Cellphone roaming in Cuba finally working

I was able to use my cell phone - albeit with some difficulty, and not all the time - in Cuba last week.

Apparently there is a roaming agreement in effect now with Rogers and Fido, two major Canadian GSM operators. When I landed in Havana I saw huge billboards announcing the availability of GSM 900 service, with a photo of Vinales country in the background… I switched on my phone, and still couldn’t pick up a signal, outside Jose Marti airport a few kilometers from Havana.

However, after a few days, someone told me to set my phone’s network name to “manual” - something I never have to do when roaming elsewhere - and use CUBACEL as the access name (I have a Nokia 7610 - intructions may differ on your phone). Once I did that, I was more or less able to use my phone and send text messages - I obviously didn’t try web browsing / emailing, and I didn’t receive calls. The connection was surprisingly clear, as clear as it was from, say, Mexico the week before.

Cuba is listed as a “Zone 5″ roaming partner, meaning that incoming and back-to-Canada calls run at $4.00 a minute, local calls are $2.50 a minute, and international calls are $5.00 a minute. Not exactly cheap, but there it is.

Fido customers can check for more information on rates and details on the Fido international roaming page.

I should note that before I left, I reset my phone to “automatic” for the network name, and it picked up CUBACEL as well as two (!) more network names, one of which was CU C_COM (same exact network, I’m told) and another elaborate one with letters and digits… Maybe it was just a hiccup that it didn’t connect right away when I first landed; the infrastructure is young and still being developed evidently.

You can also rent phones and cards from Cubacel / ETECSA, though I can’t report on that. You can get more information on Cubacel’s homepage.

Incidentally, I also saw / met many more Cubans with cell phones this time around than I did last year. The service is obviously still out of reach for most Cubans (need to get a phone, pay to “activate” the line, then pay the usage costs), but the fact that it’s getting more widespread is a small step in the right direction.

Now, about that cheap broadband internet access…

Do Cubans sweat?

This title is a bit of a joke - but there’s some truth to it.

I was standing in line outside a Cadeca (Casa de Cambio - Currency Exchange) in Santa Clara the other day, with about 100 Cubans waiting to get inside to change some money. It was about 10am, and the heat was already starting to get to everyone.

I fit in perfectly with everyone else - jeans, clean running shoes, white “New Balance” tee. At first we were in the sun, but then the line snaked around under part of the building so after about 20 minutes I was in the shade.

But one thing gave me away: as we were just standing in line, not doing anything, all the Cubans looked perfectly normal, and dry as a desert, as if playing a part in some anti-perspirant TV ad. I, however, was literally dripping sweat. My shirt was drenched, and my forehead and cheeks had little streaks going down them. I didn’t have a towel handy, so every now and then I’d wipe my face with my shirt - not the best way to impress the beautiful girls standing in line with me.

After I got in and changed my money, I walked back home, took my 2nd shower in as many hours, and changed my clothes - then headed out the door again.

Cuba Chronicles, Chapter Twelve

PROCEEDS FROM PANDEMONIUM

Havana, Wednesday October 5th, 2005, 11pm

This is the last post in this series. Also, there are no photos in this post at the moment because I’m posting this directly from Cuba and I forgot my USB cable from my camera. I’ll update it with pics when I get back.

If you’re paying attention, you’ll have noticed that a lot of time has passed between the time stamps on this chronicle and the last; two weeks, to be precise. In those two weeks, I left Santiago de Cuba, retraced my steps to Trinidad, Cienfuegos, Santa Clara and Havana, and picked up some company along the way - all of which I’ll explain in this post.

On the frigid overnight bus from Santiago to Trinidad, I met two English tourists from London, Jasmin and Sarah. While we (and most everyone else) tried to sleep most of the way, we got to talking a little about our trips (they were only here for a week or two) and experiences around Cuba, which proved to be quite different from mine (as they would be for two attractive obviously foreign females). They apparently witnessed a bit more of the tougher side of Santiago than I had; they met someone who had their purse stolen. Other than that, they enjoyed the city and found it to be as lively as I did.

Off the bus early the following morning in Trinidad de Cuba, we parted ways after exchanging contact information. I headed back to Mercedes’ casa and promptly went to bed - I had gotten little to no real sleep on the crazily air-conditioned bus. Waking up around 2pm (hey, what? I’m on vacation, right?), I walked over to the ETECSA office across the street from the Parque, and posted some of the pics and a blog entry I had written in Santiago. Later that evening, I went to the Casa de la Musica and ran into Sarah and Jasmin again. We had some nice conversation and lots of fun sitting outdoors on the steps of the casa, watching the fantastic cuban dancers move their feet around like clockwork (and the somewhat not-so-fantastic foreigners move their feet around like ducks).

We walked the streets for a while until we quite literally lost ourselves, and at night the streets of Trinidad are not as well lit as in most other towns [read: not at all]. Without too much fuss we were able to find our way back to their place (and after I asked bemused strangers “Donde esta la Calle…” 3 times, Sarah finally had enough and decided to take it upon herself to properly teach me the difference between “ser” and “estar”).

I don’t make that mistake anymore.

Their casa was interesting in that they had a whole floor to themselves and could come and go in complete privacy as they pleased, although they had no access to their host’s actual home. That could be a good thing or a bad thing depending on who you ask, but they seemed to prefer my setup, where I shared Mercedes’ home with her family.

They were leaving the next day, so we arranged to go to the beach together and get some sun before they did. It was very hot, and I had biked like a bat out of hell all the way there behind their cocotaxi to prove to myself (them) that I could keep up with it (I couldn’t), so the moment my sweaty body hit the water everything else just disappeared. I do vaguely remember discussing the theological implications of different forms of time travel (unidirectional, bidirectional, multithreaded, etc) while looking like a moron running after a beach ball that kept slipping out of my hands. Good times. I did enjoy hanging out with them and they were gracious enough to spend some time with me and walk me around part of London a month later in November as I was passing through England.

The day after they left I also left Trinidad, and Mercedes’ Casa - a surprisingly sad moment for me. Surprisingly because, after all, they are running a business, and for all I know they treat all of their “clients” as well as they treated me. Sad because I did genuinely feel that they let me into their home as part of the family, and I got the chance to get to know each and every one of them. I spent more time there than anywhere else in Cuba, and that’s a testament to how much of a great time I had.

Next, a one-day stop in Cienfuegos led me to Bertha’s Casa, where the hosts Bertha and her husband were the perfect example of professional courtesy. Because I was only staying a night I didn’t get the chance to get to know them at all, but they were friendly to a fault, very interesting, professional and Bertha is a fantastic cook. I will definitely go back. The only (admittedly very minor) drawback is that it’s a bit further out from the city center than the previous casa I stayed at, but there are still lots of great sights nearby and I had no problems walking the 15 minutes from her house to downtown. The other great thing about their place was that it was in a very quiet and peaceful suburban neighborhood. All in all, highly recommended. I did actually head to the city center that night, but for reasons unknown there was barely anyone out. The clubs were empty and I returned home pretty quick.

On the bus from Cienfuegos to Santa Clara I met a lovely young woman from Holland, with whom I’d end up spending most of my remaining days in Cuba with. We split up for a while after the bus, and met up again at night in the Plaza. After a nice time in a nice club on the boulevard, we walked back to the casa… and she felt sick, then immediately fell asleep - courtesy of Havana Club and overly loud music.

We were both due for some beach time, so we agreed to spend a couple of nights in Varadero. We had some luck finding a decent, clean, inexpensive hotel (sans hot water) and spent a couple days lounging on the beach. I’m not really much into that, but after nearly two months of biking and exploring I have to admit that it did feel nice to just do nothing, lay on the sand and swim in what are some of the world’s best beach waters.

From Varadero, we arrived in Havana Vieja after a brief [rainy] stop in Matanzas, where I met the owner of the Casa my Dutch friend had stayed at previously, Ibis. Ibis’ home is very comfortable and clean, and I got along with her whole family extremely well. Every time I’ve been back in Havana since meeting her, I’ve never stayed at another Casa. It’s 2 blocks from Prado (”the main”) as well as a block away from the Malecon. Amazingly, it’s also the least expensive official Casa in Habana Vieja I’ve found. If you have any plans at all to stay in Havana, I strongly recommend staying at Ibis’ house:

/** (Plug)
Casa de Ibis
address: Genios #214 apt 2 e/ Industria y Consulado, Habana Vieja
phone: (07) 8662949
email: robertola@infomed.sld.cu
*/

Vinales was our next stop; though I unfortunately didn’t get to enjoy much of it. The day we arrived there I fell ill due to some food I ate from a street vendor (the only time this happened to me in Cuba - you can eat pretty much anything without danger, but stay away from egg, cheese and dairy when buying from a food stall that sells in Cuban pesos). I went for a brief walk with the Dutch girl, then promptly went to bed after eating very little. The next day, I felt like I had to leave. We were supposed to stay together here in Vinales a while longer, but a certain animosity came between us and we decided to part ways. I’ll spare you the details of why and how.

Back on the bus to Havana, I bought 3 latas of Tomato juice - the ultimate cure for whatever ails my stomach. Copious amounts of tomato juice, lemon juice, and a single Imodium later, I was feeling perfectly healthy again. After a couple more days in Havana, it was time to go.

I hadn’t used my bike in a couple days (for me, that’s an eternity), so I took advantage of the beautiful weather on my last day here and biked from Havana Vieja to the airport - about an hour’s worth. Even after all the time I had just spent in Cuba, I was still amazed at how safe it was to bike on the highways. The road to the airport - Rancho Boyeros - was packed with morning rush-hour traffic, but I never had to worry about them all the way to the airport. I got there fairly early, so I had plenty of time to carefully disassemble my bike and take a nap; my last in Cuba until nearly a year later.

Video of Hugo Chávez meeting with Raul and Fidel Castro

Many people thought the images of a recovering Fidel Castro were doctored. Here is a video proving otherwise. Posted apolitically of course.

Google lists Cuban newspapers in its news search results.

I was searching for some information on the Non-Aligned Movement summit (holy crap, they need a new website!), and was surprised to find that the only link to “today’s top stories” for the search term was to Granma Internacional, one of the main Cuban newspapers.

Neat.

Cuba Chronicles, Chapter Eleven

THE HAND THAT BITES

Santiago de Cuba, September 21st, 2005, 8:00am

“Be careful in Santiago…”
“Santiago is very dangerous…”
“There’s lots of crime in Santiago…”

These were the typical reactions I’d get when I’d mention to people that I was headed for Santiago de Cuba. It seemed like there was some ominous predilection that upon arriving in Santiago I would be robbed, murdered, drawn and quartered. From conversations with people who had actually visited Santiago I knew this to be far from the truth (which of course it was), but it was interesting to gauge people’s feelings and thoughts about the “Courageous City” as a haven for “antisocial elements”.

Of course, Trinidad is nearly 1000km from Santiago, with a whole bunch of interesting cities in between. So why am I writing about Santiago so soon? Well, as I left Trinidad on my bike, not 20 minutes went by that my half-assed repair job on the bicycle’s panier came undone.

I’d had it.

I limped the bike back to the casa in Trinidad, took off the panier, and told Carlos (the owner’s son) that he could use the bike (sans panier, of course) as much as he liked while I was gone. I then walked up to the Viazul bus station just in time to get on the early bus to Ciego de Avila (I skipped Santi Spiritus; it will be for next time).

Because I had spent so much time in Trinidad, I didn’t have as much time to spend in the other cities as I would’ve liked. I only ended up spending a couple nights in Ciego de Avila and Camaguey, so that I could get at least a week in Santiago de Cuba. A week is of course not enough for such a bustling city as Santiago, but it was definitely a week well spent.

I arrived at the Santiago de Cuba bus station at night, and the owner of the casa where I was staying, Paco, was already waiting for me in his nice Peugeot 206 hatchback with his father. Their spanish was a bit different, more continental then the rest of the spanish I’d heard on the island. It was very smooth and pleasant and just sounded real cool to hear, even from the vocals of a 70-something great-grandfather who’s been smoking his whole life.

Similar to the casa in Cienfuegos, this one had a modest entrance that led to the living room with a modern, sprawling estate behind it, with 3 floors including the rooftop, an open-air corridor through the house, and several small rooms scattered about. The streets are also in somewhat worse condition here than in Havana (which is saying something). I witnessed several potholes along main streets that would swallow a big part of an automobile, chewing it alive with its concrete teeth.

Santiago is known by many as the most African, the most musical and the most passionate Cuban city, and I’m tempted to agree. From my waking hours until I’d fall asleep at night, I’d have the sounds of congo or salsa ringing in my ears (in a pleasant way) most of the day. There is a tangibly larger black population here, and most non-blacks have at least slight mulatto tendencies.

I actually found Santiago to be “livelier” than Havana - again, that’s saying something - in that the main streets were also burgeoning with activity, but much more densely and at all times. Aguilera and Heredia streets were pedestrian only when I was there (though I think they always are), and they were full of people - most locals - shopping in the small boutiques (for everything except electronics, of course… a small CD player costs upwards of $180), eating snacks and treats (the tasty 50 cent pork burgers followed by insanely addictive 10 cent ice cream cones - you can have it in any flavor you like, as long as it’s strawberry - became my staple lunch in Santiago), and just people watching, sitting on a bench in one of the numerous parks along the downtown core.

The city was designated “Cradle of the Revolution” by Fidel Castro, and I arrived at the perfect time to see why; a week from now would be a country-wide festival celebrating the 45 year anniversary of the “Comités de la Defensa de la Revolución” (I soooooo spelled that wrong, somebody correct me please). These neighborhood watch programs were instituted to provide a sort of peer-to-peer policing service both for civil and criminal security for citizens, and to suppress counter-revolutionary activities. Giving a large berth to the political and social implications of these committees, they also serve as a reason for people to get together in the neighborhood and build stronger ties with one another. One lady I spoke about this to joked “If a criminal ever tries to steal my purse and a few neighbors are around to catch him, then he better pray that the police get there quick”.

In preparation for this anniversary, decorations and signs were being put up, impromptu barbecues with full pigs were being set up (just imagine picking what is basically bacon off a pork as it roasts), and kids were rehearsing their parades and dances. It was a good time to be in Santiago (though probably miniscule compared to what it must be like during the Carnival, which is one of the most famous in the world).

I got to use a gruesomely slow internet line from a small school nearby (though later in the week I bit the bullet and walked the 45 minutes to the hotel Melía Santiago), where I got a much better connection) to check my email and see how some of my projects are going. Speaking of walking, Santiago is a great walking city. I do wish I had my bike with me though - the uphills and downhills and extreme slopes and staircases along the streets are quite conducive to some awesome city riding. I could totally picture myself getting some serious air off some of these hills (and with my luck, landing on the back of a parked Peugeot).

One oddity I’ve noticed in Santiago is the disproportionate amount of photo studios here. On Heredia or Aguilera, every fifth or sixth street shop seems to be some sort of photo lab or studio. I only found one or two in Havana. Is there any reason why Santiago loves photos so much?

I visited Céspedes Park, Santiago’s main square. There are several museums and beautiful sites of interests here (asides from the immaculately golden-tanned, long-legged, fake-prada-sunglasses wearing gorgeous university students lounging in the shade reading their books…), namely the moorish-influenced home of Diego Velázquez, the 15th century conquistador. Renovated in 1965, it is now a nice, quiet little museum (with a $2 entrance fee). Here you can also find the city hall (where Fidel Castro gave his first speech to the Cuban people, January 1st 1959), and the Hotel Casa Grande, painted as a spy’s meeting haven in Graham Greene’s suspense novel, “Our man in Havana”.

I also visited the impressive Basílica del Cobre, the holiest shrine in Cuba and home of the Virgén del Cobre, Cuba’s holiest artifact. Legend has it that three slaves returning by boat from working in the El Cobre copper mines hit rough weather, capsized, and were about to drown when they saw the image of the Virgin Mary floating above the water, and it guided them to dry land. The image was actually this small statue of Virgin Mary. Soon after, the idol was being worshipped throughout Cuba, and people have continued to visit El Cobre ever since to ask for the “miraculous favors” that they attribute to the effigy. Hemingway left his Nobel Prize for Literature as an offering here, and several artifacts from revolutionary fighters (surprisingly, even Castro himself left personal objects here) in thanks to the Virgén for helping them.

To reach El Cobre - 20 km west of Santiago de Cuba - a family member, Enrique, let me use his ‘57 Pontiac, which he built himself. He works in construction and claims he isn’t a mechanic, but just likes to “tinker” a little. In this case, “tinkering” means installing a turbodiesel engine from a delivery truck, a Toyota Tercel steering system and a 5-speed transmission from a Toyota 4×4, in addition to 4 disk brakes from a late-model Skoda. The thing looks harmless enough, but turn the key and it rumbles and shakes like a soviet tank. It sips less fuel than his father’s Hyundai Accent, and diesel is way cheaper than gasoline here. He’s been running it this way for 10 years now with no problems, but would like to fix up the body a little.

As everywhere in Cuba, physical beauty is omnipresent here. Most girls go to great lengths to get noticed - if I have so much trouble finding a friggin’ pack of razors and maybe some shaving cream here, I am completely unable to fathom how the girls manage to keep their legs so smooth, their hair so shiny, and their skin so clear. Of course, there is some prostitution here, as in any big city in the world. It’s just much more nebulous and difficult to define in this case. As I was walking back to the casa to meet a friend, I noticed this stunningly attractive young schoolgirl walking on the sidewalk towards me, staring right at me and smiling. I’m a little shy, so I smiled back from behind my shades but looked away afterwards. Thing is, as we walked past each other, she bumped into me a little and dropped a few of her books. Being the clichéd chivalrous gentleman that I am, I stopped to help her and so we started talking a little. Like all Cuban females, she knows exactly how to talk to a guy, raising her eyebrows at the right moments, brushing against your arm just so, smiling and laughing and correcting your mistakes in spanish, tilting her head to feign interest in what you’re saying… but I was honestly in a rush to meet my friend, and couldn’t really stay to chat. As I tried explaining this to her (and practically begging her for her number / if I can meet her again sometime) her enthusiasm and friendliness quickly turned to impatience and frustration, and she just wished me a good day and turned away.

I was a bit taken aback by the whole episode, but went on to meet up with my friend and tell him what had happened. His guess was that she was a jinetera; a prostitute. I couldn’t believe what he was saying - how could such a gorgeous, innocent-looking early-twenties student here in Cuba be a prostitute? I didn’t want to hear what he was saying.

Then the next day, as I was leaving back to the bus stop (taking a different route), I saw another beautiful girl - this one a little older - smiling and walking towards me. I gave her a wide berth to walk past me, but then - lo and behold! - she nearly went out of her way to bump into me and drop her books. I was amazed. I apologized, but this time, I also kept walking… and could feel her eyes burning a hole in the back of my head.

Cuba Chronicles, Chapter Ten

A MAGNILOQUENT MADNESS

Trinidad de Cuba, September 14th, 2005, 6:30pm



Founded in 1514 by Diego Velazquez, Trinidad runs on a different clock that anywhere else I’ve been. Actually, it runs on no clock; time feels to have stood still for eons here. A UNESCO world heritage city, it is nearly impossible to walk down a street or turn a corner without stopping to admire the detail in every little window sill, the workings of the streets cobbled with riverstones, or the sounds and smells of the salesmen traveling to and fro, selling their limes, eggs, fresh bread (really fresh and soft!) or what have you.

I quickly became friends with the family living in the splendid house. The maid / granddaughter of Mercedes, Yani, was incredibly gracious and accompanied me to the beach, the Casa de la Musica, and all around town.

/** (Plug)
Casa Mercedes
Mercedes Albalat Milord
Calle Josè Martì no.330 e/ Simòn Bolìvar y Francisco Javier Zerquera
Trinidad
Tel: phone and fax: 0419/3350
email: ico974 (at)lycos.it
*/

The town square is called Plaza Mayor. Because it’s a relatively small city, most of the action is within walking distance. Convenient to the Plaza, you’ve got the gorgeous XIXth century Iglesia Parroquial de la Santisima Trinidad (where a youth rock band plays in lieu of a choir) which is very, very full on Sundays, the Iglesia y Convento San Francisco, from whose tower you can grab some splendid shots of the town, the Canchanchara cocktail lounge (cradle of the drink with the same name), and the famous Casa de la Musica. Or - in my case - infamous.

I don’t dance. I also don’t smoke cigars. I do drink the rum, though. So one outta three ain’t so bad. But sitting down on those steps, words can’t describe how it felt, watching the perfectly coordinated dancers move as if their bodies were all connected by some complex gear mechanism. Cuban men regularly would prowl the staircase for foreign girls, eager to show off that their hips, also, do not lie. I was more than a bit jealous, daydreaming a little about getting on that dance floor and sweeping the crowd off their feet as I effortlessly twirl some beautiful cubanita around and around with a picture-perfect smile on my face. More likely, however, would be me falling flat on my face after somehow tripping over my own leg.

I need to take dancing lessons.

The general mood in Trinidad is very content, even festive. As everywhere else, the economy is slow, and most people you talk to here cite that as the main problem they’re facing. Compared to elsewhere in Cuba, there seems to be less discussion about ideology, politics and such. Conversations seem to turn more towards the pragmatic, the real problems people are facing today and the tangible solutions that they are taking to overcome them. I didn’t meet many pessimists in Trinidad.

The historical center is comprised of some unbelievable colonial homes, like the one I stayed at. Most have only a single floor, and they usually form around a single plaza within the block.

Staying nearby to where I was were two delightful young French sisters, who were only here for a couple more days. We quickly became friends, and along with a friend of the Casa owner’s son, we spent the next day horseback riding, hiking and swimming through Topes de Collante, the majestic virgin natural reserve north of Trinidad. The horses were a bit uppity, but I survived.

The hike to the waterfall was pretty trivial considering that I had done Mount Washington a couple times recently with my sister’s friends in addition to Mount Mansfield a couple years ago with some old acquaintances, so within less than an hour we were bathing in a clear, cold little lake, fishes trying to tickle us and all. Sounds kinda lame now that I read it, but it was awesome. It was also the first time I walked through so many conglomerations of butterflies, flapping all about and brushing up against me as if I wasn’t even there.

Like I said, I was only supposed to stay here for a few days, but I just couldn’t bring myself to leave. Besides, my bike’s panier was still in disrepair, so that was a convenient excuse to hit the beaches with Yani, stay up late talking to the French girls, and just generally wander around, trying to discover every nook and cranny of the place.

Eventually, I went to the tiny town of Casilda, a few kilometers away, and met Yani’s family who were all very very cool. Their house was recently struck by a hurricane, so the living room literally had a ceiling beam and debris instead of furniture.

I left early again sometime at the end of the week, though my bike’s condition left a lot to be desired - in fact, I’d soon have to discover the beauty of the Cuban ViAzul tourist bus system…

Call to Cuban bloggers, writers and students

I’ve started building an arts and culture web aggregator specifically related to Cuban arts, culture and social life. We’re looking for a few good women and men living in Cuba to write posts about cultural events, parties, concerts, expositions and other happenings in and around all of Cuba.

You’d be expected to write, on average, one article per week - it could be anything from a paragraph mentioning some upcoming concert in a town near you, to a lengthy review of some cultural event you attended. It is important to note that this site will remain completely non-political and non-commercial. There will be no advertising or promotion on the site, and it is funded independently.

Even if you don’t know the first thing about writing, don’t worry - your entries don’t need to be perfect, and they will be corrected for grammar and spelling. You can post in english or spanish; we will take care of translating for you. Don’t have access to the web, but have an email address? No worries - we’re going to be set up to that you can post your entries via email as well.

We’ve already got a surprising number of Cuban writers and bloggers on board, but we’d like to reach more people, especially in the smaller cities across Cuba. This is a volunteer position at first, though we are working out the idea of eventually contracting the most proficient and prolific writers, and supplying media equipment such as digital cameras, computers, and audio equipment.

If you or anyone you know might be interested, please email me at steven [at] ahoracuba.com.

Request for donations from the Cuba Aids Project:

A $2 REQUEST FROM YOU: We have a special project that needs funding.

ALL HIV/AIDS patients are equally important to us, but we have 2 that need special attention. Both are woman who were infected through no fault of their own under special circumstances. One has three young children who need clothes, updated household amenities and other special needs. The other is a very young woman whose family also has very similar needs.

We’d like to target $3,000 to help both of these families but we just don’t have the money. We have 1,600 people who are receiving this email. If everyone can donate just a couple of bucks, we can see this project through very quickly. 100% of it will go to purchasing the necessary items for them.

Please, if you can, find a way to help. If you can donate, here’s where you can find the info to do so >> http://www.cubaaidsproject.com/donate.php. We will keep a running tab on our website.