Sunset over La Habana yesterday morning. We are constantly on the go. Breakfast at 7am and rarely back to the hotel before 5. Then we have free time to go out and explore - or stay in - in the evenings.

Everywhere you go there are people waiting for transport. In the rural areas, they stand by the side of the road holding money up to show they will pay for the ride. There are a lot of imaginative "busses". I saw a horse trailer with benches to hold people, for instance. Did a double take when we were in the mountains and I saw what appeared to be a dinghy on wheels being pulled by a horse with four or five people in it. There are these centers in the city full of Soviet "truck taxis". When the truck fills up, it goes. Everywhere, people waiting to ride. In the heat. No AC on any of these. 

So, our first stop was to Santa Barbara, a catholic church in the poorest of the poor neighborhoods to visit a daycare center. The kids get 2 meals a day for five days each week. They normally have a parent in jail or just gone or parents on drugs, etc. Just like us in the U.S. Only much much much more "humble", as our guide likes to say.

The teacher talked to us about the services they provide for the children. Here is the altar at Santa Barbara.

We went around to the back of the church and the kids were waiting for us. So cute.

This little girl recited a poem about Cuba for us. They sang songs and we sang them Itsy Bitsy Spider, tears flowing.

Here is one last shot on our way out the door. We brought them gifts of school supplies and toys and I was happy to see they did not make them open them in front of us. Their neighborhood around the church was so sad. People sitting around with vacant faces. The dogs in the street just bones and sores. It is hard to even write about what I saw today.

Our next stop was Hemingway's House and what a contrast, to say the least. A beautiful home perched on the hillside, the public is not allowed inside but instead you circle the house and look in the windows.

This was his office. A real Picasso hangs on the wall. Apparently his wife wanted it back after his death and Castro refused. Lots of animal heads, of course.

The swimming pool is HUGE and deep. Must have had some great parties here. They don't keep water in it, but keep it clean. Here is a lady mopping. Must take her all day and then I imagine it starts over.

Down the hill from the house, a little bar with fresh squeezed sugar cane juice. The guide told a story about Michelle Obama coming here a few weeks ago and the Secret Service demanding the sugar cane that was to be used for her drink be tested.

Whatever, it was so delicious! Especially when the ever present Havana Club rum was added!

Here is the real Pilar, Hemingway's boat. I've been in the reproduction in the Fabulous Florida Keys many times so it was cool to see the real one.

A shot of the parking lot. It never ceases to amaze, these old American cars. There is a law in this country that these cars cannot ever leave Cuba. I think this is wise. I can imagine Americans coming over and buying up every last one of them and shipping them home.

And a note about the Obamas and Hemingway. The Cuban people LOVE Obama, think of Hemingway as a native son. They ask everywhere, where are you from? America? Obama! Obama! Friends!

typical farmer's house

We toured a small family run organic farm, once a swamp and now more than beautiful, then had lunch there. The father is Italian, the mother Cuban, beautiful kids. They put on a spread of fish or lasagne, both great. And of course, rice and beans.

some of my tour partners

Next up the Museum of the Revolution. OMG so much to say about this place but I want to go to bed, so more later.

Beautiful building, first presidential palace and
now museum. Gunshot holes in the walls inside.

ceiling- the whole place is being restored

Kind of amazing, all of the furniture and pictures and lighting, everything, is the original. Where Fidel and Che and Camilo sat and met and planned. Right there to reach out and touch.

wall of cretins: Batiste, Regan, Bush I and II

hahahahahaha!

bust of Fidel's cap

We stopped at a government run cigar shop - where you get the best of the best. Bought a Cohiba. Woohoo! Happy Birthday to me.

And to round out our day, we stopped at the Cuban Institute of Music for a performance from these lovely people. It was really wonderful. They have performed all over the world. When they sang Shenandoah in English, not a dry eye, including yours truly.

Off to bed and now I'm a day late telling you what I've been up to. I just realized I don't even know what day it is... I do know we're off to Varadero tomorrow, a new part of the country for us and a new hotel. It's going to be another long and wonderful day.

Today we headed for the hills. Oh beautiful Cuba. We left Miramar and headed up to the Pinar del Rio district and to Pinales (pronounced pinyalees). Up out of the city and into the agriculture of tobacco, fish farming, rice, sugarcane, pineapples, bananas and next to the road always, the ever present Royal Palm, the tree of Cuba. They use it for carvings, to cure their tobacco, to cover their roofs, and on and on.

Spotted this guy and his oxen at our first "comfort stop". I got a cortadito and had a little serenade from two guys with guitar and maracas, who called me princess. Love!

Our next stop was Benito's Tobacco Farm. Quite the character he was. Had us in for a "white coffee". (Means add some rum)

Drying shed in the tobacco fields

Benito

Told us about his farm and all the other crops he grew there. He gets 10% of the profits - government takes the rest. It's nice to have us there because he can keep what he sells to tourists, oops I mean "people to people ambassadors". These are not Cohibas but are made with the same tobacco leaves. Or so I'm told. 10 CUC for this sweet bundle wrapped in, what else? Royal Palm leaf. A gift for my friend, Mick.

Here is Benito rolling a cigar.

And here is the drying shed. Typical of those in this region.

And here is the inside. There are the first growth leaves drying for cigars and the second growth leaves drying for cigarettes. Next month when the humidity increases, they will soften up again and go in piles on the floor of these drying sheds, covered with royal palm fronds - what else? - and some more aging before the government tobacco people come to grade and buy. 

Next up was a visit to the Parador Finca Paraiso for lunch and a tour of the organic farm. So lovely. It is all terraced for raised beds with responsible practices and fertilizer pooped from rabbits. No, really!

Here is where we had lunch. Que una buena vista! A little sampling of - wait! cancel that! - A HUGE sampling of about a zillion different veg AND dishes of fish, lamb, chicken and pork. Oy vey not eating dinner tonight.

 The terraces of veg.

This is Eduardo who is in charge of the organic farm - about 8 acres - that serves this palador. An enthusiastic man who loves his garden, his horse and brags about his cow who gives quite a bit of milk every day if I understood correctly. They give 10% of what they grow to nursing homes, day care centers, etc. We all LOVED Eduardo and Finca Paraiso!

 And here are a few random shots of a wonderful and very long day  . . .

new kittens at Benito's casita

All of the dogs in Cuba appear to be related. You can tell by the ears. I had the pleasure of getting my doggie fix by feeding five little potcakes (as we used to call them in the Bahamas) with the ginormous amount of leftovers on our table at lunch.

It felt so good to get back to our hotel today. Look at my beautiful room. There is not just a little guilt associated with what I see in Cuba. Not only as a privileged white middle class woman who lives in America but also from taking some responsibility for the American government who is responsible for an embargo that has contributed to the poverty we see all around us every day in every way. Not completely responsible of course, but contributing to it. 

Some of the people on this tour want to argue about American politics. Makes me yell (really, I have yelled) NO POLITICS. Honestly, can we have a holiday from all that crap while we're over here?

But I have realized we certainly can't escape a discussion of politics here in communist Cuba where the people say to me: Americana? America and Cuba: Amigos!!  Or just, Obama! In love with America and the opportunities that will come. And yes there will be much economic improvement. But I fear for the environment and their culture. It seems that is the general concensus for taking this tour now. To see it before America ruins this beautiful island. Sad. 

At least from yours truly, a truly privileged point of view.  -_-

My 60th birthday gift to myself.

So. Yesterday I drove up to Miami and spent the night at the Marriott, well most of it anyway. Had a briefing that lasted 'til 9pm and then had to get up at 3:30 to catch a shuttle to the airport for my charter flight to Cuba. Yes, that's right people. Cuba!!! And I can't believe I've only been here one day. It was a long and full day and I just got back to my hotel. To my surprise and delight, I was put on the VIP floor and given a username and password for free internet after being told it was doubtful we'd have it at all. Yes!

The flight was a bit bumpy but with Enya blasting in my noise canceling headphones and a dose of Xanax, along with the lack of sleep, it was relatively painless. We hit the ground running at the Jose Marti International Airport and were off to Revolution Square. I should mention here that I am traveling with a dozen or so people mostly from Maine and the Cape and a few snowbirds like myself. We all came along with Paul Parent who hosts the Garden Club Show in Maine on Sunday mornings and I think I've referred to him in previous posts.

Being in Cuba is like stepping back in time, seriously a time warp. The cars are 1950's American in luscious colors, weird little Soviet Ladas and the busses are Chinese. There are still horses and burros and buggies. Teeny cabs, ancient motorcycles and bicycles with all kinds of contraptions to transport stuff.

The buildings are colonial and in various states of disrepair. The Malecon which is 7 metres along the Atlantic Ocean, is lined with old decaying granite buildings with beautiful old lines and scrolls and fancywork. There are also tall apartment houses and hotels that look like a stiff breeze would dash them to the ground. Scary.

The people? Lovely. Friendly and happy to talk. Not a lot of English spoken here. We have a bus driver named Tony, an American guide named Daniel and a Cuban guide named Iban. They are all fabu and funny and instructive and I like them very much. Our schedule is intense because, you see, we are not tourists. No we are on a people to people educational exchange tour and our time is scripted.

So, after Revolution Square, we made a stop at the Hotel Nacional, had a mojito at the same bar that such stars as Frank Sinatra, Greta Garbo, Errol Flynn, Rita Hayworth, the gangster Meyer Lansky and countless others, including presidents and pop stars frequented back in the day. Their pictures surround you as you sip your drink and you can hear peacocks out on the grounds (God they are loud) and the waves slapping the sea wall just outside.

We went next to the Colon Cemetery, an amazingly beautiful place of marble, limestone and granite carvings and crypts. My fave was a tribute to the firefighters and I  loved seeing Hemmingway's bartender's crypt. V. cool.

Above and below are details of the firefighter's monument, 75 feet tall, commemorating their loss in the great fire of May 1890. Incredible.

Hemingway's Bartender

And one more that piqued my interest was Amelia's memorial. She was buried together with her baby and the story is the baby was put at her feet in the coffin but when they opened the coffin for whatever reason - I forget, the baby was in her arms. I watched the local women perform a ritual wherein they ring a bell, touch the baby's feet, give a donation or leave flowers and back away on the other side. All very quiet and solemn. There is more to it than that and if you are interested, try The Google.

Lunch at the Paladar Mediterraneo was next. Palador is the name for a restaurant owned by a foreign investor or private citizen and run by private citizens and not the government. These are far superior to the government run restaurants because the party who owns the restaurant wants it to succeed, to insure it gets it's 49% profit (the government takes 51%.) Not sure how clear I made that sound but we sure had some good food today. And lots of it.

After a walking tour of Old Havana with an architect as guide, we got to our hotel - really surprisingly nice - at about 4:30. Just enough time for a quick nap and dressing for dinner. My car was a 1951 Pontiac convertible, bright tulip yellow. So much fun. Our classic cars took us to another Palador, La California. Fabulous ropa vieja, lobster, snapper and guava along with cuba libras. I've decided I don't really like cuba libras or mojitos so I'll try a local beer tomorrow maybe.

In the back seat are Peg and Les from
Rhode Island, also on the tour

The Palador La California

Now I'm back in the hotel exhausted and we start again at 7am tomorrow, off to Tabaco Benito Tabacco Farm and lunch at an organic farm.

Salut!