Cuba: Day 9 - Good-bye, for now

Havana from the air

An innovation this morning.  When I order my omelet con queso y jamon I remember the word for mushrooms, largely thanks to my French.  It’s champignons in French which reminds me that it’s champinones in Spanish (the first “n” with a tilde, which I cannot find on my keyboard).  The Omelet Lady smiles at me, whether because of my increased vocabulary or my will to branch out, food-wise, I will never know.

       Although we fly out of Cuba at noon, National Geographic isn’t done with us yet.  We have one last people-to-people on the way to the airport.  No opportunity wasted.
       Ismaël’s bus pulls up in front of a nondescript building in one of the rattier parts of Greater Havana.  The bland setting belies the colorful decoration inside, and the dedication of the staff.  Habana Compas is a dance-and-drum company, a bare-bones program without even a microphone and amp to help the performers in their presentation, but it’s blessed with a lot of talent.  After some interpretive dancing by the young man with the spiky-gelled hairdo who did the introduction, women drummers dance flamenco while they drum. Equally talented for both, it’s hard to know whether they’re drummers who learned to dance or dancers who learned to drum.  I’m very glad my two young grandsons aren’t here because their parents and I already have a hard time stopping them from drumming on any hard surface they encounter.  If they ever saw this...  well, there’d be no stopping them.  Why?  Because five of the dancers straddle chairs turned back to front and beat out rhythms on every part of the chair.  When the show is over, the leader fields questions, one of which is “where did you get those chairs?”  The answer:  they had them made out of exotic hardwood and specially-tanned cowhides.  Maybe by the same artisan who made the long-life chairs for the cigar factory?

Then it’s on to the airport.  The parking lot is again checkered with classic cars, which I’ll miss back home.
       Cindy has been warning us throughout the tour to set aside 25 CUCs, our ransom for leaving Cuba.  I don’t know what happens if you don’t have them to pay the exit fee, because there aren’t any ATM machines and U.S. credit cards won’t work here.  For this trip, we’ve had to think ahead and bring with us all the hard cash we expected to spend from Day 1.  But if we can’t cough up the 25 CUCs now, do they keep us?  I’ll never know because we’ve all listened to Cindy and we all make it through the rat maze that is an international airport these days, no matter where you are.  Customs takes back the remaining half of my visa, so I don’t have it for a souvenir.  But they’ve stamped my passport both coming and going, which I don’t think they used to do before Obama made his overture.  Things are changing between the U.S. and Cuba.

On the plane, I’m seated next to someone who was in Cuba on a different sort of people-to-people, perhaps one that’s more doctrinary:  Witness for Peace.  They’ve had a very different agenda than we did evidently because they actually had a meeting at the American Interests Section (AIS)* - aka the simili-embassy.  And with the second in charge, no less.  This passenger painted a very different picture of Cuba than the one we’ve experienced.  Evidently American businesses are highly interested in Cuba, but as an outlet for their goods and a provider of raw materials, not so much as a business partner.  The AIS revealed interest is highest in banking, finance, pharmaceuticals, and one other sector which I can’t remember.  If that’s what America hopes for, I think they’ll be sorely disappointed because Cuba is firmly decided to retain 51% of all joint ventures.  Will that be enough to interest American companies?  Will they settle for 49%?  Tune in again, maybe over the summer.
       Me?  I’m just leafing through my photos and enjoying my memories.
       Would I go back?  In a heartbeat!  Among other things, I’d see the tourist places we didn’t see because we were too busy meeting amazing, fascinating people.  I’d drink that daiquiri at El Floridita’s bar, beside the bronze statue of Hemingway.  I’d tour the Morro Castle and the fort.  I’d travel farther to the east and west than we had time for.
       And hopefully I’d get a chance to sit down over some ropa vieja and plantains - and maybe a Habana Especial - with Alicia and Ismaël, who have become my Cuban family.

* Now once again the U.S. Embassy in Cuba, as of summer 2015.

P.S.  I was a bit worried about re-entry, given all the ex-Cubans who still have hard feelings about their homeland.  
       My grilling by Miami Airport immigration can be resumed as follows:
"You were in Cuba.  Why did you go?"
"I went on a people-to-people trip with National Geographic, out of curiosity."
"Welcome home."
U.S. Customs didn't even bother asking any questions at all.

To get an idea of what I was trying to describe about Habana Compas, 

take a look at this short video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_PpP5zkFRR4

Cuba: Day 8 - Part 2

Downtown Havana, with the Capitol in the background

Back at the hotel, we have a fascinating guest waiting for us:  American author Marc Frank, who now resides in Cuba.  He wrote the book Cuban Revelations, which National Geographic sent us to prepare for this trip. (Mine has been passed on to the Ann Arbor District Library, and they were thrilled to have it.)  He not only talks about Cuba’s history but also its culture.  One point he makes, comically, is how important family is here.  Comically because he says his Cuban wife, who is from a large family that’s always visiting, is away right now and he finally has the house to himself.  He fields questions, including The Big One:  what will happen to Cuba once the embargo is lifted.  Like most Cubans, he is cautiously optimistic.  Many people here don’t see the downside, but we Americans are more pessimistic.  I hope we’re wrong and they’re right.

       Then it’s time for us to prepare our suitcases.  I have little to pack and our farewell reception isn’t until 6 so I take my camera out for one last paseo through the streets of Havana.  To try a different route than the one we’ve taken several times, I head down a street that’s being dug up for a new sewer system.  As the old one probably dates from the mid-Fifties - or even before! - it’s sorely needed.  Also it would be a good idea before the expected influx of American tourists that Cubans feel is right around the corner, now that Obama has started the process.
       This is not the tourist trail and different from what I’ve seen so far. The streets have their share of memorable people.  There’s the lady in the flesh-colored leggings that reveal... well, pretty much everything, including her thong line, but who attracts little notice except from me.  There’s the toddler in her mother’s arms, a pacifier in her mouth but wearing a very fashionable red and black smocked dress with a matching red poppy headband, and gold sandals to boot.  There are the five pre-teen boys playing street soccer, with a girl as goalie - and she’s very, very good... maybe even the best of them all.  There’s the man trying to paint a wall while two others tell him how he’s doing it all wrong.  There’s the young man crouched in the gutter, repairing his pedicab, flipped on its end.  There’s the bearded man intently reading his novel on a park bench, impervious to the noisy, busy world around him.  And the white-haired lady embroidering on another bench.  And the lady on yet another bench who wants me to take a photo of her little dog Princess.  The people of Cuba.  I’ll miss them.  But it’s time to get back to the hotel and change.

       After the reception, a huge surprise.  We come out the hotel door and... there are five classic cars waiting, including a red Edsel.  Taxis to take us to our last supper.  What a wonderful thought.  The perfect touch!  We pull up in front of El Litoral on the Malecón along the Atlantic.  This restaurant is decorated à la Fifties, like the cars.  It all fits together.  What wonderful memories the National Geographic team has woven for us!