Things I saw in Cuba that You Don’t See in the U.S. Anymore (if you ever did)

Like many Floridians in the first half of the 20th century, my grandparents traveled to nearby Cuba to relax and party. They were in good company. With its casinos, nightclubs, ritzy beach-side resorts and other diversions, Havana was a mecca for socialites, international travelers, mobsters, and celebrities like Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner. Ernest Hemingway was so taken with Cuba, he left Key West and bought a house outside Havana in 1940, living there for the next 20 years.

But then came the 1959 Cuban Revolution in which Fidel Castro and his followers overthrew the government, followed in 1962 by the U.S. economic embargo on Cuba. Since then, Cuba has remained a mystery to most Americans, a forbidden fruit just 100 miles from Florida. Cuba had topped my bucket list for years before my friend suggested we go there, and from what I’ve heard from friends since we got back, everyone else wants to go there, too.

Yet few Americans have made the trip, mainly because of U.S. restrictions that prohibit Americans from visiting Cuba as tourists (Cuba, on the other hand, has no restrictions on American visitors; they welcome anyone with money to spend). Note, however, that travel to Cuba is perfectly legal if it falls under one of 12 allowed categories, including a rather vague category called “support for the Cuban people,” which means putting cash directly into local hands by staying at a casa particular (a rented room in a private home), eating at a paladaré (a privately owned restaurant), and participating in tours, classes or other local activities. Doing business with any hotel, shop or entity owned by the Cuban military is also verboten (to keep abreast of changing developments, see the website of the U.S. Embassy in Cuba). Because of the hassle, some Americans find it easier to join a tour or a cruise. More intrepid travelers simply circumvent restrictions by entering Cuba through Mexico or Canada.

One of the first things I noticed, therefore, was what I didn’t see—Americans who were not part of an organized group. What I did see, however, were droves of travelers from all over the globe. And virtually all we met gave the same reason for visiting Cuba now—to see the country before it opens up to a flood of Americans. Heck, even we wanted to see it before the deluge.

Another thing immediately noticeable is tourism apartheid. There are two currencies: the Cuban peso (CUP) used by Cubans and the convertible peso (CUC) used by everyone else.

Tourists pay more than Cubans pay for food, museums, goods and services, as well they should. Virtually everyone we saw dining in a restaurant in Old Havana was a tourist. After all, the owner of one casa particular we stayed at said he made the equivalent of US$50 a month as a computer IT for an international company, which made the two rooms he rents vital in supporting his wife (who doesn’t work) and two teenage sons (rooms at a casa particular average $30 to $55 a night). Luckily, education and healthy care in Cuba are free.

And while I had seen photographs of historic Habana Vieja (Old Havana), a UNESCO World Heritage Site with grand plazas and beautifully wrought buildings, nothing prepared me for the poverty I saw. Just a few blocks from Habana Vieja

is Centro, a desperately poor neighborhood of spectacular decay that looks like it has just emerged from the other side of war, with torn-up roads and ornate, cavernous buildings now crumbling, some with missing roofs, and yet people are living in them. On our last night in Cuba, my friend and I bought beers at a paladaré and sat outside on stools. It was nearing dusk, open doors and windows revealed mostly dark rooms, and the neighborhood was full of people on the move. Couples with young children, muscular men strutting past, teenage girls drawing remarks, a few families with dogs on leashes, vendors selling wares of bread, cakes or cocoa butter, pedicabs transporting those with money for the fare. Rail-thin kittens slinked along buildings or lapped from puddles, boys played soccer in the street with sandals marking goals, and old women watched from open doorways and balconies. Every once in a while, a car would rumble past.

Other things I saw in Cuba:

• Entrepreneurs and ingenuity. Cubans with means are opening casas particulares, paladarés, shops, and businesses geared toward tourists. Craftsmen use whatever at hand to make things tourists might buy. I bought a ring and matching necklace made from cow bone and painted purple. And what can you do with an empty aluminum can? You can use the pull tabs to fashion a purse. You can smash the can to make a fake camera, complete with a lever that, when pulled, causes the “lens” to pop open and reveal a clown face. If the threads of your shower knob are bare, you can cut thin strips of the can and twist them inside the knob to create fiction. We met people on the street who, for money, who will draw your likeness, recite a poem, sing a song, and provide sex.
  

A cash society. Few stores, restaurants and even hotels accept credit cards. Americans need cash for all transactions, because U.S. credit cards don’t work in Cuba (there’s that embargo thing going on). Exchange offices are official and the exchange rate is the same everywhere (but not as good on weekends).

Women being presented with the bill at restaurants instead of their husbands.

Public telephones—and people actually using them.

Blessedly, no cell phones disrupting diners in restaurants or in the hands of distracted pedestrians. In fact, hardly any cell phones period (except see below). To use Wi-Fi, you have to buy a Wi-Fi card, either from the only telecommunications company (Etesca) or at a hotel (though some hotels sell only to their own guests).

People gathered at specific places, all checking their phones. The Wi-Fi card is good only in select places, mostly in public parks, plazas, and outside certain buildings.

Cars, mostly from the 1950s and ‘60s and lovingly restored. Chevys, Fords, Cadillacs and Russian Ladas rule the streets in Habana Vieja along with some new models. But skip the ubiquitous Chevy convertible tour around Havana unless looking like a tourist is your thing (and at 35 CUC and up an hour, it’s the most expensive thing on the road).

Instead, take:

Bici-taxis (Pedicabs) and horse-drawn carriages. It’s how locals get around (along with buses and taxis).

Hitchhikers lining roads outside cities, hoping for a ride. Otherwise, long-distance buses, including Viazul buses geared toward tourists, service only major destinations. But mostly, Cuba is:

A nation of people on foot and on horseback, especially in the countryside.

People without shoes.

People drinking rum in the morning.

 Horse-drawn carts selling pineapples, bananas and other fruit.

Roadside bananas for sale on the honor system.

Window air-conditioning units, if any at all. Although it can be scathingly hot and humid in summer, most people live without air conditioning. Even restaurants rarely have it. At the three casas particulares we stayed at, however, our room had window units, which made us feel guilty.

Women fanning themselves with folding fans and using parasols to shade themselves from the sun.

Women washing clothes by hand and washing their floors either every day or every other day.

 Clothes laid out on bushes to dry.

Almost no toilet paper, even in restaurant bathrooms. And often no running water in the sinks. Tissues are deposited into trash receptacles instead of toilets.

Friends greeting each other, a face kiss for women, a handshake or fist bump among men.

Billboards with political slogans. “Unitido, vigilante y combativo” (United, alert and combative).

Men playing dominos and chess on tables set up in the street.

Men cutting grass with a scythe.

Pristine, empty beaches, reefs, forested mountains.

Children wearing school uniforms.

Children asking for chewing gum.

Boys racing each other in the street just for the pure joy of it.

A boy caring for pigeons on his roof. When he let them out to fly around, they always came back.

Buff young men with muscular biceps, obtained mostly by working out at  neighborhood makeshift gyms.

Single beds in a casa particular. Doubles are uncommon, queens would be sinful.

Music everywhere, especially in Santiago de Cuba. Tip the musicians.

Some of the sexiest dancing I’ve ever seen.

A safe country, despite its poverty. The Cubans I met were generous to a fault.

A country that will break your heart. Steal it. And fill it with song.

For more stories on Cuba, see my other articles: Trinidad-Cuba’s Prettiest City; Baracoa-The Other Side of Cuba; and A Subjective Guide to the Best Experiences in Havana, below: