Cuba Day One

As a lover of history I've always wanted to visit Cuba. The idea of a place that has not completely progressed past 1959 is intriguing. Many Americans are rushing to Cuba since the U.S. cuban embargo has been lifted for fears that Cuba will quickly Americanize and change. To Cubans, this notion is laughable. Cuba does not change quickly. However, with a new Cretin in American office, it seemed important to me to check out this special place before relations regress, which seems probable.

The newest Cretino is missing.

For all the hype about drama between Cuba and America, on our first day not one person seemed to give a crap that two American hermanas were visiting the island nation. One of these hermanas had a passport expiring in less than six months and no craps were given about this either. I read a book about Cuba on the plane ride over which hyped the sexiness of Havana airport security's outfits. This hype was completely founded. The women looked like they were wearing the "sexy army girl" for Halloween outfits complete with intricate fishnet stockings. The security men also had very tight fitting outfits. The airport security lines were short and few questions were asked of us. Our airbnb host had arranged for a cab to pick up up and we were glad to be picked up by a nice woman named Julie who spoke great English. The Cuban cab hustlers were a bit intimidating and we were happy to avoid haggling for their services. On the ride to our host house I asked Julie one million questions. I asked about what revolutionary signs on the side of the road meant and about the cost of attending University- it's free for Cubans. Julie seemed a little wary of my questions until I asked about Mango season. She lit up on this subject despite the fact that Mangoes are not currently in season and will not ripen until the Cuban drought lifts. Julie safely delivered us to our host Murachi's apartment building. Maruchi's apartment building did not immediately stir feelings of "wow, what a nice place". It was a six story cement block building across from a bay. The hallways contained exposed wires, but the floors looked to be made of pretty stone. Beautiful wooden plantation shutters adorned the hallway windows, but they were in poor repair. Thus began the endless contradiction that is Cuba. 

The hallway

Unlike Julie, Maruchi spoke close to zero English. Maruchi is a beautiful charasmatic Afro Cuban woman who we failed to take a picture of. By the end of the stay she referred to us as her children and kept tabs on where we were. Maruchi is the shit. Her apartment was renovated and a full of windows and ocean breezes. It had a very chic mid century feel to it. Maruchi's fourth floor apartment overlooked the bay and on the day we arrived it was quite windy. As a result the wind produced an eery sound almost exactly how I remember the sound of the tornado was the beginning of the Wizard of Oz. Maruchi and Julie chatted like the old friends they are while we acclimated to our room. Quite hungry from our travels Julie offered to drop us off at a restaurant her children favored. "La Fortuna Joe" was a spectacle of a restaurant. The dining room contained a horse carriage converted into seating for four. A toilet and tub provided seating in another corner. The waiter attempted to seat us at an old Singer sewing machine but we opted for a table on the patio. 

This is the front page of the menu. Yes all the waiters are dressed as sailors. No, they are not strippers. 

Toilet seating

Carriage seating

Patio seating. The sun is hot.

While trying to ascertain if the "tortillas" on the menu were corn or flour we met our first stumbling block. It turned out that in Cuba a "tortilla" is actually an omelet. So asking if the omelets were corn was a bit confusing to our Spanish speaking waiters. Note: There is no mexican food in cuba and any Mexican food lingo you know will only hurt you. Nina ordered an "insalata fria" expecting a cold vegetable salad and was a bit thrown off when she received a cold macaroni salad. Julie explained the next day that all insalata frias are cold macaroni salads which are traditionally served at children's birthdays. The cortados (espresso with milk and condensed milk) were what we would call a Cuban at our local coffee shop but at one fifth the price. As we dined we noticed a dog on the ledge of a four story building next to us. We feared he would fall off but no one shared our concern. Another observation during our dine is that people were talking to each other with very little concern for looking at their phones. In Cuba cell phones cost 35 cents per minute to use, even for Cubans. Apparently this limits their use. Score one for the Cubans. We strolled home taking in the sights. It was Friday night and we came upon a densely populated theater named "Karl Marx". Communism is for real in Cuba. 

We also attempted to enter a very pretty government building but were denied access by the guard. Throughout our stay we noticed that government employees work nights and weekends and even saw a trash pickup on a Saturday evening.  As is the case in all Caribbean and Latin American countries I have visited we made friends with stray dogs on our way home and remembered to pack all leftovers from meals for our furry friends. Wifi was also hard to come by so we concluded our night by working together on the largest crossword in the world. Smart phones would be on hold for the rest of our trip.