Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, February 20, 1994 TAG: 9402200120
SECTION: HORIZON PAGE: F-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: DAN WARD
DATELINE: HAVANA LENGTH: Long
First of all, it's illegal for an American to travel and spend money in Cuba unless he was born there, is a working journalist, is a diplomat or is doing some sort of qualified research in the country. Others may apply for a license from the U.S. Treasury Department, but don't count on getting one.
Second, the country is in a depressing state of decay and undergoing a monetary upheaval.
Third, Cuba remains committed to its brand of socialism, with all the repression, restrictions on movement, poor service and indifference to market forces that go with it.
Why would someone not in his right mind go? It's an adventure. It's history unfolding in your face. It's a tropical paradise in the rough, a bare 90 miles off the U.S. shore.
Actually, planeloads of Europeans, Canadians and Latin Americans have been playing in Cuba for years, lured by beautiful beaches and relatively inexpensive resorts operated by the government in Varadero and other Caribbean towns. The United States stands alone in its embargo of Cuba, and the rest of the world has exploited that.
The resorts, much like those elsewhere in the Caribbean, are compounds intended to let the tourists frolic in peace while keeping out any natives who aren't employed in the hotels. Tourists who want to see how Cubans live can jump on an air-conditioned tour bus to visit selected sites. It's possible to have a sun-soaked vacation in Varadero or Cayo Largo without ever confronting the unpleasant visage of a revolution gone sour.
In Havana, there's no escaping the revolution and its consequences. Majestic colonial buildings crumble into heaps of rubble that are never removed. Cubans wait in one block-long line after another for the bus, for food, even for the four-page newspapers that contain only Fidel Castro's speeches. Because of an oil shortage in effect since Soviet trade fell off three years ago, the lines have only gotten longer and with fewer goods at the end. When black market trade in goods and foreign currency grew as a result, Castro went after the hard currency himself and legalized ownership of U.S. dollars in July.
Cuba has instituted an economic apartheid that has become more pronounced with legalization of the dollar. Tourists may buy anything they need in dollar-only stores, restaurants and hotels while Cubans line up with ration books and pesos for scarce items.
Havana is a beautiful and fascinating place despite the backdrop of a frayed society. Old Havana, the earliest section near the port and 16th century Morro Castle, is virtually a city-sized museum featuring several forts, churches, museums, parks and statues of every national hero since Christopher Columbus. The area faces the sea across the Malecon, a wide pedestrian walkway with a view of Havana's skyline and men fishing from inner tubes.
Old Havana's streets are narrow in the European tradition, with centuries-old three- and four-story apartment buildings rising on each side. Years of neglect and pollution can't disguise the New Orleans-style beauty dormant in these facades. At street level, the view is one of vacant, or nearly vacant, storefront after another. The few stores used for something other than a government agency or union headquarters tend to have a few items on display in the window but nothing on the shelves. When an item comes in, a line forms out the door and down the block.
The streets are always full of pedestrians and cyclists. Few ever seem to be working, perhaps because the oil shortage has curtailed deliveries, made commuting difficult and created power blackouts that bring automated work to a standstill.
Habaneros often stop tourists to ask where they are from. Though most end up trying to sell bootleg cigars or some other contraband, they are genuinely friendly to foreigners, including Americans. A surprising number share their disgust with Castro and his policies. Despite the poverty and desperation I encountered, I always felt safe.
Travel is much easier for tourists than Cubans, but hardly at the freewheeling level one might enjoy in the States or Europe. Taxis tend to be 1950s American classics held together with wire and tape, or cramped late-model Soviet Ladas and Fiats.
Getting around by taxi can be expensive. For a long trip, the driver will need a day or so to acquire gasoline. A 120-mile round trip into the countryside cost me $65 plus $5 tip, and required a day of planning. I was concerned that the '55 Chevy Bel-Air, belching fumes and flashing an oil pressure light the entire way, might not make the distance. It did - at 35 mph.
A government tourism representative had suggested that I stick to bus tours provided by the government. That would certainly be more reliable, but not nearly as interesting.
Dining in Havana is a misnomer. It's difficult to enjoy food when the people around you are hungry. It's even more difficult when the food isn't very good. Plus, at $10 for a typical lunch, it gets expensive.
The two best restaurant meals I had in my four days in Havana were a fresh fish steak - tuna, I suspect - at the hotel and a shrimp pizza at a restaurant that was open one night, then closed the next three.
Competition and service are basically unknown concepts in Cuba, and because the government runs the hotels and restaurants there is no reason for workers to put in extra effort. My water came in a dirty glass, the food was cold, poured from can to plate without heating. Bread was always stale. The only menu items that were good, cheap and plentiful were beer and rum, so I ordered plenty of each. Even the famous Cuban coffee is hard to come by.
The meals I enjoyed most were at a black market restaurant in a family's home. I agreed to go when I was approached by a man on the Prado, a wide pedestrian boulevard that separates Old Havana from new. I went to hear his political views as much as I did to eat.
The home style meals were pleasant, though grander, I'm sure, than what the family would make for themselves. One day I had scrambled eggs, rice, red beans and pork cutlets. The next I had chicken, rice and beans, all with plenty of the heavy German-style Cuban beer that comes in unmarked bottles. I was told that Cubans rarely eat meat these days. Beer is rationed, but available for dollars on the black market.
Within an hour of returning to the States, I gorged on pizza with seven toppings.
What shortcomings Cuba has in cuisine are made up for in food for thought. Seeing how Cubans endure makes me question how I would cope with privation and repression.
If one's purpose in traveling is to be pampered and tanned, I would suggest going somewhere like Cancun, Mexico; if it's to see exotic sights without rubbing elbows with the dirty and desperate, try Epcot. Visiting Havana now requires a numbing compassion or utter aloofness.
Nobody with good sense would go.
by CNB