Cuba: Day 2

I didn’t know what to expect on a tour, even if I’ve led some (the largest was five people).  But National Geographic has an “in” with a lot of places and experts I wouldn’t be able to access, and they know the terrain, which I don’t.  The trip will be much more enriching with them at the helm than me trying to go it alone.
       So here I am - Day 2 - sitting on a rooftop overlooking old Havana and the Caribbean, sipping a courtesy daiquiri, my camera already filling up with great images and memories.

Today has been a whirlwind.  At our smorgasbord breakfast (“buffet” is not adequate to cover the cornucopia of food available), I learn that Cuba is famous for coffee; it is not known for its tea... and there’s a reason for that.
       After breakfast comes a fascinating discussion by a renowned Cuban architect and urban planner, Miguel Coyula.  With amazing humor, he sketches out and fleshes in Havana’s past, present and future.  The question is:  rebuild or preserve?  Many buildings in Old Havana are past saving and restoring - it’s said three crash to the ground each day, on average.  I ask if it’s possible to do what Paris does:  build new buildings but that fit in aesthetically (with some glaring exceptions).  Coyula says he hopes so, and gives me his card.  I plan to stay in touch.


     Then we pile onto the bus, driver Ismaël smiling warmly, his gold tooth shining.  He skillfully navigates us along the waterfront, past the Morro lighthouse and the Fort of San Carlos on the opposite shore, to a spot along the Malecon where we de-bus and enter Old Havana.  Across from the Royal Fort Castle is a small plaza where people make a living selling books or posing for photos in folkloric dress.  There are a few artists, as there are on the Place du Tertre back in Montmartre, and one of them (wearing a baseball cap with Paris emblazoned on it) attaches himself to me, sketch pad in hand, pencil already in action.  He asks me where I’m from and I reply “Estados-Unidos... y Paris”.  He seems more interested in the Paris part and we natter on about art and artists until he attaches himself to someone more sketchable.

Antonio Gades

       Our group wanders over to the Plaza de la Catedral, past a street mural half a block long.  The plaza is still relatively unbusy at this hour, but hawkers are already out, under the watchful eye of a statue of Antonio Gades, the masterful flamenco dancer and loyal supporter of the Cuban Revolution, albeit Spanish by nationality.

       Off the plaza is a sort of trade school for the graphic arts, Taller Experimental Grafica.  We’re given free rein to walk around, take photos, talk to the artists and ask any questions we want.  The equipment is classic - probably ancient - but artistic talent and creativity are rampant, as they will prove to be throughout Cuba.
       After that comes a quick visit to a bodega, selling mostly staples - rationed - to the locals.  As this is probably a position of patriotic merit, small Cuban flags, slogans and multiple photos of Che Guevara provide colorful decoration to the fairly bare shelves.  A large board in the corner indicates the price, in Cuban pesos, not the CUC (convertible peso) currency of tourists.  Prices are ridiculously low, but inventory is also low.
       Our lunch today is at another paladar:  Los Mercaderes on the street of the same name.  As with the previous one, it’s upstairs - seeing as all these places were once people’s apartments.  The stairs are strewn with rose petals.  Also like all the other paladares, there is live music, with Besame Mucho and Quizas the perennial fare for tourists, I guess.  The walls are decorated with graphic arts rather than paintings (maybe from the nearby printer’s we just visited?) and the furniture is reminiscent of the splendor of 19th century Cuban homes.  There are even a few tables on the narrow balcony, in addition to the three rooms of the ex-apartment.

     On our way to our next people-to-people appointment, we wander around the Plaza de San Francisco.  And what a lot of fun that is.  There’s a traveling international exhibit here called United Buddy Bears.  The principle is simple: one bear for each country, decorated by that country.  The U.S. predictably has its bear totted out like the Statue of Liberty, and Cuba’s - also predictably - is smoking a cigar.  In each successive country, the bears are arranged in alphabetical order in the language of the host country, which means that the bears aren’t always next to the same ones, and that often makes for interesting pairings.  The large plaza is alive with children having their photos taken with The Bear of Their Choice... along with some parents and even some non-child-accompanied adults.

Casa de Africa dancers

       Next stop:  Casa de Africa, where we learn about the African influence in Cuba, and peripherally a bit about santeria, the blend of the slaves’ native West African religious customs and the Roman Catholicism imposed on them.  After an explanation of the various African gods and goddesses, it all ends up - as it so often does in Cuba - with music and dancing, all of us Yankees invited in, except for those of us too busy immortalizing the moment on film.

After a well-deserved rest at the hotel, it’s down to the meeting room for a presentation of Cuba’s idiosyncrasies by our photo-expert-cum-guide, Christopher Baker.  A complete slide show of his most excellent photos, with his knowledgeable commentary.
       Then off to dinner at La Moneda Cubana back in Old Havana, yet another old home that has been turned into a paladar under the new, relaxed private enterprise exception to Cuba’s state economy.  The antiques are gorgeous and Mona Lisa thrones over our tables as course after course is served.  My meal choice?  Silly question.  I go for the lobster.
       But the night isn’t over yet.  For those of us who feel intrepid, it's off with Chris and Cindy to hear some Buena Vista Social Club type music at Café Taberna a few minutes away by foot.  After some muscle-flexing to get the tables that had been promised, we settle in to enjoy the music. The tables are end to end, three lines of them stretching the entire length and width of the room.  Chris goes to sit at the bar and Cindy watches over her brood like the beneficient yet spritely mother hen she is.  One singer follows the other, and one of them, an older man - dark, silver hair and mustache, sporting a stingy-brimmed hat - looks suspiciously like one of the group from The Bar at Buena Vista show who performed in Paris in December.  At the table abutting mine is a strange group of tourist men and Cuban women (of the night, I think), drinking heavily, the men ogling the women, the women singing along with the music and moving rhythmically.  When it finally escalates into a conga line, most everyone at the front of the room joins in, led by the young dance couple who have been performing for us off and on throughout the show.
       Partially deafened by the music and loud crowd, we are all ready to walk home in the relative silence of the still animated Havana streets.  And more than ready to fall into our beds.  Tomorrow’s dance card will be full.  Again.

Parque Central