Havana, Cuba
“Soy escritor,” I announced to the kids who had gathered to find out who I was and why I was sitting down on the streets of Old Havana with a laptop. It was not the whole truth, but it was not a lie, either. Nonetheless, it was probably the most interesting thing they had seen all week. They are now reading over my shoulders, but I doubt their ability to read English. Maybe I’m wrong. A very European-looking tourist just asked me in broken English a much more pragmatic question. Was I using the internet? No. My new friends asked what kind of writer I was, and I said that I was a travel writer. It is not a lie. For the purposes of this religious studies trip, I certainly am a travel writer.
They are now standing around the corner, hiding as if I might not see them. I don’t care. I just want to write. This is literally the best spot to write my entry. I am in the heart of Old Havana, sitting in front of an old church, with a view of the Capitol not too far down the road. My new friends said that Cuba had a lot of history. “Cinco cien años de historia,” I offered in broken Spanish.
That is why we chose this week for our religious studies trip. Today marks the 500th Anniversary of Havana. Our religious studies is now at an end, and we will enjoy our last night in Cuba, celebrating the 500th Anniversary properly, as no one else seems to be aware of it, before we head home. My new friends have asked for money and water. Money I refused them, but I gladly offered them half of my water if they found a cup for it.
Five hundred years of history, and we have experienced evidence of culture and religion from every century and nationality that has contributed to Cuba’s immense history. It has been the trip of a lifetime, and I am glad that I took this different approach, even if it was necessitated by my government’s regulations. It has been a crazy day, and the night will be an even crazier way to end this crazy trip.
We woke up, late as always, and headed up to breakfast, late as always. The spread was quite impressive, for Cuban standards, and my friend ignored the fact that they were cooking ham omelets on the same grill they cooked the eggs he wanted to pretend were kosher. I suppose that if I was not so preoccupied with writing this entry, I would be more interested in the questions my new friends have for me. As it is, they are just a minor annoyance, and a story for my writing. After breakfast, we got ready and headed downstairs. They bulk of the day would be spent in Havana, especially Old Havana. My friend wanted to visit the oldest synagogue in Cuba, dating from 1914, about 350 years younger than the one in Barbados. I believe my new friends have been called to dinner, so I can write my entry in peace.
Other than Old Havana, which had stayed in last night, even if I was not yet prepared to Officially count it as a WHS visit, we just had one WHS left, the flag pin, and the Capitol. I would save the Capitol for last, announce “Cuba Complete,” and light up my Montecristo No. 2. Then we could visit as many synagogues as my friend wanted to see, as his religious studies were focusing on a different aspect than mine.
That last WHS was Viñales Valley, the tobacco fields. This was a region built purely around an agriculture economy, and not one of religious origin, like so many others we have seen. As we drove, I realized that Ernesto probably thought I wanted to see the town of Viñales, not the tobacco fields. I was right, but I quickly explained our destination. We got there, and it was just as beautiful as I expected. Viñales is the opposite end of the island from Baracoa, but that did not stop me from lighting up an El Credito cigar.
We then headed down to the tobacco plantation, where they had plenty of fresh cigars for sale, and they guy in the tobacco house even rolled a fresh for me in front of me. I started to light it, but he told me it needed to dry out for five days first. Oops. After we were done there, we got back in the car, and Ernesto continued down the hill. I told him I wanted to go the American Embassy in Havana. As I predicted, he thought I wanted to see the town of Viñales. We turned around and headed straight back to Havana, and it rained on and off as we drove, pouring buckets at times. At one point, I thought we’d skid off the road.
As we approached the Embassy, I suggested instead we first to lunch at the Hotel Nacional, which is right nearby and is, by far, Cuba’s most famous and iconic hotel. Such luminaries as Sean Penn, Steven Spielberg, and Pierce Brosnan have all stayed there. We opted for the restaurant with Cuban food. I got two Cuban rum drinks (a daiquiri and a Cuba Bella), an appetizer of fried Cuban specialties, rice and beans, and, of course, ropa vieja. I could not leave Cuba without eating ropa vieja. My religious studies were done at that point, so I would be able to focus on the cultural aspects of Cuba for the rest of my time. Remember, 500 years of history.
The hour or so we allotted to the Hotel Nacional and the Embassy focused on what epitomized the past 100 years, up until last week when the Embassy was reopened. While we waited for our food, I found a gift shop at the hotel. I estimated it at a one in three shot if they’d have the flag pins. They had them, but they were safety pins, not push pins. Good enough. Well, not really, but close. Worst comes to worse, it would suffice. The meal was delicious, and it was as Cuban as Cuban food gets. Afterwards, I lit up one of the new cigars and walked around the grounds, even finding an exhibit on the Cuban Missile Crisis.
It was clear this was the upscale, tourist resort hotel. I had considered staying here, and it would have been a very different experience than staying down the hall from Ernest Hemmingway’s old room. I’m glad with the choice I made. We then went to the Embassy. This was the one place where I could openly flash an American passport and not have to worry about it. This was my country’s building. I could take as many pictures as I wanted. The passport did not, in the end, get me through security, as it’s not opened to visitors, even American citizens.
We then headed to Old Havana, to the Capitol, which was where everything we wanted was. The inscription photo was there, the souvenir shops, and, of course, the Capitol. I took my ceremonial picture for Old Havana before ditching the cigar. We then walked around the souvenir shops, finding a smaller upscale marketplace where I got most of my souvenirs. We then found a huge souvenir market with much cheaper prices. We were watching our pesos at that point, but we finished our souvenir shopping there. It was immense, possibly unlike anything I had ever seen.
By the time they started to close, we were ready to leave, and I was very thirsty, in much need of a diet cola, which is very hard to find in Cuba. We walked back to Ernesto, and I asked to join us for a photo. It had started to rain at this point, the rain getting steadily worse, threatening to ruin my picture. Wouldn’t that be ironic? Five days of intense travel and “Cuba Complete” ruined by a little fall of rain. We hurried to take the photo, and I lit up the Montecristo. “Cuba completo.” Ernesto could not believe we saw the whole island in four days. It had to be a record, he said. I could not have done it without him. We found the diet cola and took some more ceremonial pictures, including the inscription photo, which was directly across the street from the Capitol.
We then got in the car in search of the old Synagogue. As we drove, I confessed to my friend that I couldn’t believe we were successful in our mission. I was sure something was going to go wrong. In fact, I put it at two to one odds we’d fail. We got to the block where the synagogue was supposed to be, but no one had heard of it. We couldn’t find it. We asked everyone. We kept driving and soon found the Orthodox synagogue. We took some ceremonial pictures and looked around inside. It turned that there are only 120 Jewish families in all of Cuba. We joked that we increased the Jewish population of Havana by 10% by the two of us visiting. We both blew the shofar, Rosh Hashanah coming up within the month. We also took a group picture with the congregation.
We then made our way to the hotel, stopping along the waterfront for some pictures of the fortifications, before heading to the hotel. Ernesto dropped us off by the hotel, agreeing to meet back at 7 AM. We calculated how much I owed him, and I went back to the hotel with my friend. When we got to the hotel, we added up all of our money, dollars and pesos, and calculated we had just enough to pay, have dinner tonight, and some rum and coffee at duty-free, with just a tiny bit leftover, just in case.
Once we get to MIA, I can use my cards again or go to an ATM. We then planned the rest of our evening and headed out. I lit up my Partagas, and we found this perfect spot, where I proceeded to write this entry, while my friend went in search of a final souvenir. I have recounted the experiences of what happened as I wrote, so I will now close so that we can get on with our evening. I have decided I will give them the lucky banknote I keep in my wallet.
They are now standing around the corner, hiding as if I might not see them. I don’t care. I just want to write. This is literally the best spot to write my entry. I am in the heart of Old Havana, sitting in front of an old church, with a view of the Capitol not too far down the road. My new friends said that Cuba had a lot of history. “Cinco cien años de historia,” I offered in broken Spanish.
That is why we chose this week for our religious studies trip. Today marks the 500th Anniversary of Havana. Our religious studies is now at an end, and we will enjoy our last night in Cuba, celebrating the 500th Anniversary properly, as no one else seems to be aware of it, before we head home. My new friends have asked for money and water. Money I refused them, but I gladly offered them half of my water if they found a cup for it.
Five hundred years of history, and we have experienced evidence of culture and religion from every century and nationality that has contributed to Cuba’s immense history. It has been the trip of a lifetime, and I am glad that I took this different approach, even if it was necessitated by my government’s regulations. It has been a crazy day, and the night will be an even crazier way to end this crazy trip.
Other than Old Havana, which had stayed in last night, even if I was not yet prepared to Officially count it as a WHS visit, we just had one WHS left, the flag pin, and the Capitol. I would save the Capitol for last, announce “Cuba Complete,” and light up my Montecristo No. 2. Then we could visit as many synagogues as my friend wanted to see, as his religious studies were focusing on a different aspect than mine.
Once we get to MIA, I can use my cards again or go to an ATM. We then planned the rest of our evening and headed out. I lit up my Partagas, and we found this perfect spot, where I proceeded to write this entry, while my friend went in search of a final souvenir. I have recounted the experiences of what happened as I wrote, so I will now close so that we can get on with our evening. I have decided I will give them the lucky banknote I keep in my wallet.
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