Playing Fair and Being Kind

CUBA

Dia por dia

de diez dias.

02-08-2017 Wednesday

I arrived Cuba today from Orlando; in Havana via Jetblue. My first time flying in quite a while. During takeoff I was a little anxious. Later during the flight over the Florida Keys not so much.

The plane landed and the hustle and bustle ensued. The process of multiple checks and inspections was hectic with everyone of us passengers rushing to be first to avoid the long lines, the reverse of what occurred in Orlando. We had papers of declaration to complete prior to landing. These we presented to disinterested officials who were stationed throughout the terminal. With hardly any direction given it’s a wonder anyone gets through the health checks, customs checks, and baggage checks emotionally intact. Hell, maybe they don’t. I made it to the place of reunion in good form to find a large number of Cuban citizens searching the arrivals for their loved ones, clients, and others. There were taxi drives soliciting as well. With a large number of men (taxi drivers?) who did not know what their arrival looked like holding notebook size sheets of papers with names scrawled in large letters. None said, “George Goodwin”.

I didn’t find Ana in the group so I wandered through the mob and out into the throng of taxis waiting by the curb under the overhang. Expectant drivers there approached and offered to drive me wherever I was going. I didn’t know where I was going so with my best blank stare I passed through that crowd back into the terminal to relative safety and peace. I carefully searched the crowd of well wishers for Ana’s blond head but no luck. I was beginning to feel the slightest surge of loneliness. I needed to find a men’s room. I was lugging my luggage with me (odd that I never noticed the connection of those two words before now) therefore I was growing weary by the minute. A gentleman who looked somewhat like an airport employee was lingering near a row of State offices. I spoke to him, “Rest room? Bano? Caballeros?”. He came to attention and indicated upward, helpfully pointing to the up escalator across the lobby. I recognized the word “derecho” from him. Sure enough I found what I needed at the top of the escalator and to the right.

All the while during these encounters I am hauling my bag and briefcase and a plastic bag with a quart of Jack Daniels Kentucky mash inside; a gift for Ana’s brother. Ana’s brother is an important person to know here because he has a car and he has a house and he has many contacts. Ana and I go back nearly seven years to a national conference in the US where we both do volunteer work in prisons. Ana is from Cuba and a US citizen. She has helped me to begin this adventure in Cuba. I am here for ten days to gain knowledge of this corner of humanity. All ready I get the sense of great poverty, desperation, resignation, and futility. Not from all but from most I have met. For the most part the people who have money are happy and display tremendous ability to survive and to be patient. Many who are not working in private enterprises are downcast and smile little. They struggle with the philosophy which Fidel brought with him. They continue to produce good things but there is no payoff.

I returned to the main floor of the lobby to await the appearance of my personal welcoming committee. A shout of “George!” from behind me brought great joy and relief. Ana was standing in the doorway of the terminal with a broad smile and arms raised above her in a grand welcoming gesture. She never looked so good. We embraced and I felt my arrival in Cuba complete.

My Guide

My guide for my visit to Cuba has been arranged ahead of time. My guide is a mature individual, a life-long resident of Havana with interests in the arts, history, and philosophy. I shall call my guide “Pat”. Pat is going to be invaluable to me in this adventure. Pat speaks Spanish, of course, as well as French and English. Pat is educated in the State university system and has a PhD. Pat works at the hospital as an educator and a clinician. Pat makes $40.00 per month. In comparison waiters and taxi drives in private industry make ten times that amount.

Pat lives in a State apartment complex and has struggled with leaking walls and ceilings. Plaster is crumbling, stucco falls regularly at all hours. I had a chance to visit his apartment and I was reminded of the living quarters found in the inner city of Boston in the late 1930’s. Electrical wiring is exposed, no wall switches, water pressure is lost or is turned off frequently enough to be a regular topic of conversation. When it rains the water pours through. Pat has had to resort to making the repairs but I can see with my trained eye that the repairs are only temporary. The exterior of the complex is in need of major reconditioning and has not received any such attention in years. All this for $5.00 per month. I don’t know how Pat has kept his sanity or his good humor for all the years he has suffered such poor treatment.

Vedado and The Malecon

Pat arrives at my residence in the Vedado section of Havana. Pat is my contact for any and every thing I want and need for the next nine days of my stay. Pat is a friend of Ana’s. We decide that the first task we have is to convert US dollars to CUC-ies, pronounced “Soosies”, Cuban dollars. Pat takes me to a small bank just a few blocks away from where I live. This bank gives a better rate of exchange than the larger ones. After I convert $500.00 US for $435.37 Cuban we go to a market where I can get bottled water for much cheaper than what my landlady is charging me.

We complete these simple tasks and return to my rooming house. I am feeling the heat of the day and the excitement has made me weary. I need to sit and sip water for a while before I feel better. Pat next leads me toward the sea and cooler air. It is not far, only a few blocks to the north to a wide thoroughfare named “The Malecon”, seawall. The Malecon follows the shoreline. The sea continuously races shore-ward and beats against the natural rocks and the seawall. This is a place for people to sit and enjoy the view of the Gulf of Mexico and the breeze. Many people line the seawall on pleasant days. On days when the sea is pounding and spraying the road with water no one is around. Pat is pleasant, educated and is in love with the island and Havana. Pat has spent a great deal of time exploring and walking the territory they call home. I like that he is interested and knowledgeable. Pat also has a sense of the history of the revolution, the processes that brought Fidel to power and what transpired to stop the revolution. Pat is without resentment or rancor while talking about these issues which makes his words that much more sincere and trustworthy. Pat has lived and studied the history and can give details that are both inspiring and educational.

As we stroll along F Street we approach a restaurant which Pat says is a good place to eat. Since I am eating only breakfast where I am staying I ask to go in and peruse the menu to see if a vegan can find a meal here. This place has two names from what I can tell from the signs and names printed here and there. Motivos and Razones; Motives and Reasons. Later on I go there alone and have a good meal of white rice, black beans, fried platanos, and a side salad. More than enough food and very tasty. The service is good as usual. For now I am satisfied with what I find and we continue to The Malecon. Pat and I stop at a restaurant bar combination where we have a beer and talk over what he knows of the political climate and the deteriorating financial health of Cuba. The picture Pat paints is not good for the revolution. It seems that when Russia left during the sixties Cuba was left with no sponsor, no backing, no help in establishing a communist society. The Cuban government pushed for the free distribution of goods and services but over time the people found that they needed only to show up for the hand-outs. There was no incentive to work and through a few generations of time the work slowed to a crawl and the resources to maintain the infrastructure disappeared. Cuba was left stranded to its own devices and abilities. It couldn’t last and it didn’t.

The state of The State

The State apparently began to realize the futility of a society so far removed from like minded systems. Cuba became isolated but still maintained relations with the communist block. There are remnants of Russian cars still around and there are indications that China as well as Venezuela are an influence on the island. The State TV stations (4) broadcast controlled news, entertainment, and historical films that support the revolution still. Not all of the bad news outside of Cuba is presented to the population. For instance the terrible state of events in Venezuela is not generally known. Even though there are many painted slogans supporting the revolution throughout the city it is clear that a system of private enterprise is creeping into the fabric of Cuban society.

Restaurants, apartments, small businesses that cater to the tourist industry are cropping up everywhere. This causes a two tier system of economics unfortunately. Those who work in the private sector are gaining power to buy goods and services that those who remain dedicated, or follow the party line, to the State are denied financially. State workers are poorly paid and are watched carefully; the reason that I don’t identify Pat and keep his story fictional as well as factually representative.

I have not tried eating at a State restaurant so far. With all the bad things I’ve heard about State services and the specifics I’ve heard about their restaurants I don’t want to try one. I’m told the service is terrible and that the food is only fair. I don’t want that experience. The private eateries are all very good and I can negotiate well enough a vegan meal.

Hemingway

The man and legend Hemingway is powerful in Cuba. Perhaps it is the remembrance of the good times in that world. The author and his life style were loved by his following here in Cuba. He did many good thing for his servants and for the people who lived near him. He was a hero to them. I wonder what it was that Fidel liked about Hemingway and vice versa. There are photos plastering the walls of bars, restaurants, and other public places that celebrate their friendship. The smiling pair seem truly enamored of each other. The information supplied with this photo of them states that this was the first and only time the pair met. It took place at a fishing tournament in what is now known as Marina Hemingway. I need to learn more by asking my guide and others who I’ve met who are well traveled here.

We took a ride to the west of Havana to spend a few hours at Marina Hemingway. The ride along 5^th Avenue took about a twenty minutes. It is a lovely ride near the ocean and through nice neighborhoods. After a spending a few minutes cruising the boat slips to examine the various countries’ flags displayed on the boats we retired to the restaurant. “Papa’s” is a nice place with the typical inside and outside seating. I always opt for outside. The food is Chinese. I had a delicious vegetable dish. The three of us ate well and enjoyed a round of Bucanero as well.

I have been fascinated by Hemingway’s influence as well. He is one of my favorite authors. I’m not a fan of his life style and personality but his writing is pure and simple and captivating. I have learned a lot from it. The short sentence with an economy of adverb and adjective works for me. His pure adventuresome life resonates as well. It runs all through his descriptive and direct prose.

I have been to several bars where Papa drank his favorite drinks. At La Bodeguita he drank Mojitos and at Floridita he had Daiquiris. Each made for him without the sugar ingredient. I drank a Mojito ala Hemingway at the Hotel Ambos Mundos down on Calle Obispo. The hotel is where Papa would retire after an evening of drinking where he could not drive home to the eastern part of the island. He stayed in room 511. Luckily there is an elevator in that place. If I get a chance I will try to get to both bars and actually meet the man. There is a saying: “Say hello to Hemingway” at these bars. I’ve been inside but the mob was so intense I couldn’t stay. That was on a weekend. Perhaps a weekday will be less hectic.

Oddly, after drinking the Mojito I became a better writer for a few hours.

Internet and Telephone

I have been without telephone service and internet connection for seven days and I believe this will continue until I return to Florida in three days more. There is a system of telephone cards for tourists and for the general population who need to use cell phone or connect to the internet. The card is for a few hours use for either system as far as I can tell. A few dollars for a few hours. I say ‘as far as I can tell’ because I have not been able to purchase one of these cards yet. My guide has not been able to fine one available. Usually the hotels sell them. I desperately need to contact the airline to check the flight schedule. Since I have all of my information stored in my phone system I am stranded and without the data to confidently schedule my departure or to call my friends in Florida to arrange pick-up time. Oy! Yesterday was my granddaughter’s birthday and I had to forego the annual greeting because I have no way to contact her. The luxury of telephone and internet are hitting close to home.

In order to call Pat I need to have my landlady use her landline. The I can arrange for my guide to meet me at this residence so we can plan our day. This lifestyle is difficult to adjust to because of the basic differences and also the chance that there will be a shift in services which will necessitate another requirement to re-group. Double Oy!

Getting Around

On my second day here Pat took me on a tour of Habana Vieja, Old Havana. My eyes were wide the whole time. Just the process of transportation is quite involved. One needs an experienced guided to hire a taxi of some sort and there are many ways to get around. Three wheeled motor scooters with enclosed seating, yellow taxis, private cars with placards place inside the windshield that announce, “Taxi”, private cars that are not licensed, and buses; huge monster double tandem beasts. A note here; the public transportation offered by buses is not complete enough to satisfy the great need for the population. Therefore the demand for taxis is great and the drivers can pick and choose where they will take you, or not.

The yellow taxis are modern and comfortable but are expensive. The private collection of cars are all of a vintage that takes me back to my teen years, forties and fifties, with Elvis, Annette, and Bobby Darin. They are more reasonable and can be negotiated with by a guide. The small scooters are no bargain and I felt vulnerable in fast traffic.

I spent most of my travel time in the private older cars. The drivers of these antique historical conveyances are proud and macho male owners. They drive aggressively with their finger on the horn more than their foot on the brake. I recognized the driving style as my own when I was a youngster. No fear. The drivers use their horn for many reasons; as a warning to pedestrians, other drivers, and as a way to get the attention of pretty young ladies walking the sidewalks. The international code of communication is at work as well. The glance, the glare, the jiggle of eyebrow translate into specific, situation-ally related phrases and messages. A guide is a must for transportation.

Just a final word about getting around. Do not use the bus system unless you have a secure place for your valuables. Money, jewelry, anything of value is fair game for the pick-pocket. The people are poor and some are desperate. I lost a large amount of money from my front pocket of my shorts. I could not believe it. I never felt a thing and I was bummed for a few days after. People are needy, as I said.

Here is what I wrote soon afterward to express my displeasure of being a victim of a pick-pocket.

CABRON

Hijo de puta! – you bastard!

You took all of it – you are a pig,

A dog – A hijo de puta,

All that money belongs to la gente

De Cuba, you greedy bastard.

I would have spent it all in Cuba.

Why did you need to take it?

I brought it here to share with

Cubanos – now you have it.

I know you need it – I know you

Are desperate to steal, to live,

I do not excuse your greed!

You are as greedy as a capitalist

Pig! You are worse – much worse.

Cabron! Pendejo!

Learning to speak Spanish

Just by accident I have discovered my preferred way of learning to speak Spanish. For the past few days I have thought that I bit off more than I can chew with this ten day excursion to Cuba. I’ve felt lonely, alone, abandoned, with no rudder. My adventures usually have a sense of direction and purpose but this trip has been totally different. I have no friends nearby. I only go to eat for the company of the wait-person. Well, actually that is not true. I go to eat for the delightful way beans and rice are prepared and served. I love beans and rice. My point is that I have no one to be with even though that is not my reason for living. The lack of language is difficult. But a recent episode has given me a new way of looking at this.

The other afternoon, Sunday I think, Daysi was watching TV. I joined her. She was watching an old movie that was in English with Spanish sub-titles. I was captured by the story line as well as the process of watching the sub-titles with the spoken words accompanying. She left to go do housework. I continued to watch the movie and then another one came on right after the first one ended. It too was in English with Spanish sub-titles. Golden! What a great system; entertaining as well as educational! After the movies were over I spent some time reflecting on what I was doing on a daily basis. I never caught on that I was experiencing the process of immersion education. Of course!

Now I am aware that even though I am not able to understand the language that goes on around me I am in fact picking up the words that I know in the cadence and rhythm that is surrounding me. I am learning to listen more quickly. The process is working wonderfully. I am not so overwhelmed with the language anymore. The first step has been overcome for me. To feel more comfortable with the language in real time. Poco a poco se va lejo.

Eating with Daysi and Family

Almuerzo with Daysi Valdez. Almuerzo is lunch. I’ve been asked to join the family for lunch the past few days and it is a treat beyond belief. Let me explain.

I have eaten four or five meals with this family. Daysi and Euginio along with their sisters, Carmen and Magalys eat lunch and I am invited. Arturo who is helping Eugenio with building projects is there as well. There is no chance to refuse. I am glad of that. The experience is beyond wealth beyond life itself.

Rice and beans with carrots and sweet potato. A huge side salad of shredded cabbage, lettuce, and tomato topped with salt, oil, vinegar. Each time  I have been moved to tears. I don’t know why. Their kind hearts have captured mine. They cannot understand me nor I them yet we enjoy this event immensely – all of us. I am left alone and they do not insist on my conversational participation. This makes me comfortable and happy. But – what is it that moves me to tears?

G. M. Goodwin

18 February 2017