SATURDAY morning, 8 a.m., August 6, 2016- Well, the tip about the hotel where they will change money was a good one, Thank God! I am sitting at the Melia Colba Hotel in downtown Cuba, where it is so upscale that the internet is FREE (No blasted cards!) It was almost worth the $8 CUC taxi ride here in itself, because the hotels in uptown are charging $5/hour for the internet! The quality of life is noticeably different here; no bicycle rickshaws, not as many falling down buildings, high rises. I'm having a cappuccino and a pina colada for breakfast while I type this in a bar where people are actually wearing suits- as opposed to uptown (or mid-town), which is where I'm staying.
FRIDAY NIGHT, August 5, 2016
I set out at 9 a.m. to find some eggs over easy, and wound up with a kiddie box of apple drink, a good cup of coffee, two pieces of burnt toast and two sliced hard boiled eggs. I guess there's no getting breakfast in Havana after 10, which is when I settled in a hotel, after my calls to Mom and Sam at that same unairconditioned hotel. There was no doing video calls, whether on Facebook video or Facetime. And the only people I can get texts through to are those who have Apple phones and happen to be around during the 1-2 hours a day that I can find and buy an internet card. The hotels sell them for $5/hour. Highway robbery! BECAUSE when I was staying in the ghetto they were available for $2-3 CUC. The CUC is the tourist pesos. There is another kind of pesos, which is for the nationals.....which is how I ended up spending $60 on a pizza and two beers my first night (in the ghetto). Nestor hung his head and said, "Tell me it's not so..." when I told him about my stupid snafu/getting ripped off there. Of course the pizza girl/cashier just took the money... I can only justify it by thinking "she needed it more than I." Nestor said it was a month's pay for her.
Man.
And here I am today, walking down the torn up Havana streets (they're putting in all new plumbing/sewage infrastructure) to the town square and beyond (about 2 miles) where there are strips of shops and restaurants and all the goodies I only walked by when on tour with Nestor yesterday, Today I was alone and got to SHOP!
How did my fat old man with the cigar get here?
A man from Ethiopia.
Love this pic..
Another favorite.
This guy asked me to take his pic.
Their capital building is an exact replica of ours!
Installing new pipes.
My bicycle rickshaw ride home.
"China Town"?
What did I buy, you may wonder? Shakers for my students (instruments), silver earrings for Jolynn and Jacque, two 5ths of Havana Club Rum, which Jacque had trouble finding in the Yucatan, Mexico. I'll have you know, Jacque that my left arm is aching from carrying that rum all the way home...well, almost home, because I got lost and wound up in front of the capital building, where people in slum conditions live directly in front of. So one of the rare little things around here- a blond little girl, kept staring at me when I set my rum and gifts on a park bench. So I pulled out my card with Rosa's address and asked her mom"Donde es?" (Where is?). She studied that card for a good minute before she launched into a bunch of Spanish, which was emphasized by what I discerned to be motions describing a bike ride. I just looked at her and said, "Which way?" She pointed to a giant yellow arch over the street leading into what I could only discern was "China town." I mean, it had Chinese characters on it and looked just like our archways in Chicago to Chinatown. I really just needed to find the ocean, because from there I could walk on the Malicon (causeway) running along side it, to find my street- Galiano. I gathered up my rum and packages into my aching arm and looked "that way." There was a fork in the road after the Chinatown sign. So, I hailed a bike rickshaw and showed him my card. $3 pesos. I asked him how many blocks. He said 5, but it really wound up being another mile or so. The wind was flying through my hair....as I suddenly felt the seaside breeze and saw the ocean ahead.
Back home I was to Rosa's where I stay up a spiral staircase on the second floor. So far, since she let me in, I haven't seen her. And there's nothing in the fridge except a bottle of water. So I either just sit in my air conditioned room and edit photos or lollygag in the living room and watch the street life below the balcony. Cubans love, I could say, based on the two homes I've been in, to decorate their living rooms with fake flowers and corny statues of unicorns, Jesus, dancing baby doll girls and the like. They all have ashtrays out everywhere because everyone smokes around here- in homes, restaurants, and the like. So far, I haven't found the perfect big, fat, juicy cigar to buy and bring home to show my students (Tobacco is a main crop here.). Inside one cigar shop, they were selling for $35 USdollars and up each! But those were the brand Castro smokes, so they are supposed to be the best. I don't care how bad the quality of the cigar I buy is because nobody's going to be smoking it. If you want one, leave me a message, and I'll pick you up a cheap one! lol
Which brings me to money. I am running out (and the $60 pizza had something to do with it.) So, I have spent nearly $250 (the Cuban CUC is one-to-one to our US dollar). And I can't seem to find a bank. I have enough for dinner, then tomorrow I thought I'd take the 2-hour, double decker red bus tour of Havana. But first I have to find a bank....No biggie; there's got to be one somewhere. I know Jenni would be going crazy by now, having walked nearly 5 miles (I got home at 2 p.m.), gotten lost, gotten found, and been nearly busted flat in Batan Rouge....(to quote some old song which came to mind; Janis Joplin, I think: Bobby McGee.) I also want to walk to Old Town, which is supposed to be where I'll find the artists.
But, as an American, I never get tired of seeing these old '50s cars tooling around everywhere. Many are also taxis. Cubans shake their heads when I get fixated on photographing their old cars.
When I sit in the living room and look out past the balcony, there is a Mercado right across the street on the first floor. People stream in and out of it, hauling cases of water, and whatever out every second of the day. People like to tape things closed around here. Like when I bought my little Cuban mask they taped the whole thing shut so I can never get it open until I am home with scissors. There must be a tape factory around here somewhere. Juli, 3M could do a shitload of business here!
Anyway, upstairs from the mercado is a white, three-story building where people periodically push the laundry aside and come out to daydream on the balcony. Like the fat man with the cigar in yesterday's post. Another lady came out on his balcony yesterday and I found myself making up stories about the lives of the inhabitants of that white building. In the apartment next to him, a tall, blond, old gringo came out and hung a green towel. Later, a young twenties-ish girl came out in a Hard Rock Hollywood t-shirt. She just pushed the towel aside, took a quick peek out into the busy street with the Cuban music blaring out from the bar next door and popped back in.
Above them, a tall, dark-haired woman came out past a white curtain she has hanging to sweep the balcony with water. It all trickled out the little hole in the balcony and onto the heads of the people leaving the mercado. I mean she must have dumped gallons of water on that floor because the trickle turned into a mysterious stream out over mercado-leavers' heads!
It's 5:30 and I think I'll head out to find some din-din..
FRIDAY NIGHT, August 5, 2016
I set out at 9 a.m. to find some eggs over easy, and wound up with a kiddie box of apple drink, a good cup of coffee, two pieces of burnt toast and two sliced hard boiled eggs. I guess there's no getting breakfast in Havana after 10, which is when I settled in a hotel, after my calls to Mom and Sam at that same unairconditioned hotel. There was no doing video calls, whether on Facebook video or Facetime. And the only people I can get texts through to are those who have Apple phones and happen to be around during the 1-2 hours a day that I can find and buy an internet card. The hotels sell them for $5/hour. Highway robbery! BECAUSE when I was staying in the ghetto they were available for $2-3 CUC. The CUC is the tourist pesos. There is another kind of pesos, which is for the nationals.....which is how I ended up spending $60 on a pizza and two beers my first night (in the ghetto). Nestor hung his head and said, "Tell me it's not so..." when I told him about my stupid snafu/getting ripped off there. Of course the pizza girl/cashier just took the money... I can only justify it by thinking "she needed it more than I." Nestor said it was a month's pay for her.
Man.
And here I am today, walking down the torn up Havana streets (they're putting in all new plumbing/sewage infrastructure) to the town square and beyond (about 2 miles) where there are strips of shops and restaurants and all the goodies I only walked by when on tour with Nestor yesterday, Today I was alone and got to SHOP!
What did I buy, you may wonder? Shakers for my students (instruments), silver earrings for Jolynn and Jacque, two 5ths of Havana Club Rum, which Jacque had trouble finding in the Yucatan, Mexico. I'll have you know, Jacque that my left arm is aching from carrying that rum all the way home...well, almost home, because I got lost and wound up in front of the capital building, where people in slum conditions live directly in front of. So one of the rare little things around here- a blond little girl, kept staring at me when I set my rum and gifts on a park bench. So I pulled out my card with Rosa's address and asked her mom"Donde es?" (Where is?). She studied that card for a good minute before she launched into a bunch of Spanish, which was emphasized by what I discerned to be motions describing a bike ride. I just looked at her and said, "Which way?" She pointed to a giant yellow arch over the street leading into what I could only discern was "China town." I mean, it had Chinese characters on it and looked just like our archways in Chicago to Chinatown. I really just needed to find the ocean, because from there I could walk on the Malicon (causeway) running along side it, to find my street- Galiano. I gathered up my rum and packages into my aching arm and looked "that way." There was a fork in the road after the Chinatown sign. So, I hailed a bike rickshaw and showed him my card. $3 pesos. I asked him how many blocks. He said 5, but it really wound up being another mile or so. The wind was flying through my hair....as I suddenly felt the seaside breeze and saw the ocean ahead.
Back home I was to Rosa's where I stay up a spiral staircase on the second floor. So far, since she let me in, I haven't seen her. And there's nothing in the fridge except a bottle of water. So I either just sit in my air conditioned room and edit photos or lollygag in the living room and watch the street life below the balcony. Cubans love, I could say, based on the two homes I've been in, to decorate their living rooms with fake flowers and corny statues of unicorns, Jesus, dancing baby doll girls and the like. They all have ashtrays out everywhere because everyone smokes around here- in homes, restaurants, and the like. So far, I haven't found the perfect big, fat, juicy cigar to buy and bring home to show my students (Tobacco is a main crop here.). Inside one cigar shop, they were selling for $35 USdollars and up each! But those were the brand Castro smokes, so they are supposed to be the best. I don't care how bad the quality of the cigar I buy is because nobody's going to be smoking it. If you want one, leave me a message, and I'll pick you up a cheap one! lol
Which brings me to money. I am running out (and the $60 pizza had something to do with it.) So, I have spent nearly $250 (the Cuban CUC is one-to-one to our US dollar). And I can't seem to find a bank. I have enough for dinner, then tomorrow I thought I'd take the 2-hour, double decker red bus tour of Havana. But first I have to find a bank....No biggie; there's got to be one somewhere. I know Jenni would be going crazy by now, having walked nearly 5 miles (I got home at 2 p.m.), gotten lost, gotten found, and been nearly busted flat in Batan Rouge....(to quote some old song which came to mind; Janis Joplin, I think: Bobby McGee.) I also want to walk to Old Town, which is supposed to be where I'll find the artists.
But, as an American, I never get tired of seeing these old '50s cars tooling around everywhere. Many are also taxis. Cubans shake their heads when I get fixated on photographing their old cars.
When I sit in the living room and look out past the balcony, there is a Mercado right across the street on the first floor. People stream in and out of it, hauling cases of water, and whatever out every second of the day. People like to tape things closed around here. Like when I bought my little Cuban mask they taped the whole thing shut so I can never get it open until I am home with scissors. There must be a tape factory around here somewhere. Juli, 3M could do a shitload of business here!
Anyway, upstairs from the mercado is a white, three-story building where people periodically push the laundry aside and come out to daydream on the balcony. Like the fat man with the cigar in yesterday's post. Another lady came out on his balcony yesterday and I found myself making up stories about the lives of the inhabitants of that white building. In the apartment next to him, a tall, blond, old gringo came out and hung a green towel. Later, a young twenties-ish girl came out in a Hard Rock Hollywood t-shirt. She just pushed the towel aside, took a quick peek out into the busy street with the Cuban music blaring out from the bar next door and popped back in.
Above them, a tall, dark-haired woman came out past a white curtain she has hanging to sweep the balcony with water. It all trickled out the little hole in the balcony and onto the heads of the people leaving the mercado. I mean she must have dumped gallons of water on that floor because the trickle turned into a mysterious stream out over mercado-leavers' heads!
It's 5:30 and I think I'll head out to find some din-din..
The cars are a stitch and glad you found some $$$! Tape. Got it. Glad you are safe and loving living vicariously. I'm thinking a picture of one of those amazing scenes beats a cigar! Love you!
ReplyDeleteWhat an adventure! You are right, I'd be going nuts. Glad you are having fun, seeing cool things, fed and watered and safe. :-)
ReplyDeleteI came home with $20 worth of cigars in a box and, honestly, could find no one to take them! Wish I had one to give you. :( After regaling my insurance agent with the no-take cigars story, she offered to take them. They are now in her possession.
ReplyDelete