Our Man in Havana – 16/09/2001

A brief stopover in Paris en route to Cuba courtesy of Air France set the scene for the trip. We flew over on the red eye from Heathrow and soon made our way into the centre of Paris, welcomed by the pissing rain. Over the next few days we toured the usual sights; the Eiffel Tower and its amazing views of Paris from its top level, L’arc d’Triomphe, Sacre Coeur, and the Champs-Elysee. Notre Dame Cathedral looming over the Ile de la Cite, images of Quasimodo giving it a gothic air and the gold shining statue of Joan d’Arc provided more photo opportunities. We took advantage of the Louvre being free entry on the first Sunday of the month and followed the hordes of hyperactive Japanese and overweight American tourists crowding around the diminutive Mona Lisa and rather more impressive Venus de Milo. I was disappointed to see the memorial to Princess Diana. I just cannot abide by the hype and canonization of somebody who was basically an attention seeking, press-hungry adulteress. She was the wrong choice as wife and despite her complaints used the press far more than they used her. And after all the mourning of a nation, pass me the sick bucket, now she is being remembered everywhere.

Jim Morrisons grave

The highlight of Paris for me was visiting the Pere Lachaise cemetery. As well as “housing” many famous French and non-French corpses it is also the last resting place (at least until his rental period expires) of Jim Morrison. Despite being massive and also very cramped, making navigation rather difficult it was easy to find James Douglas Morrison’s grave, we just followed the queue of crusty travellers, hippies and budding revolutionaries to the grave, where people had left offerings of beer, cigarettes and a few joints. I am sure the Cemetery wardens dispose of these in a responsible manner.

A visit to the Eiffel Tower by night ended our brief visit. I cannot say Paris impressed me greatly. I found it rather pretentious and slightly uninteresting. Maybe it is because every time someone wants to invade them they just roll over and play dead, leaving their cities intact and avoiding bomb damage. Compared to London which might not be quite so “pretty” or romantic as Paris but is immeasurably more interesting I found Paris to be a slight disappointment.

Eiffel Tower at Night

After two hours on the runway as the plane went technical we finally took off for Havana and nine hours or so later landed in the middle of the night. A taxi took us through the crowded streets, past Salsa clubs and rows of vintage American cars, old men on the corners smoking cigars, in short we stepped into the stereotype of Cuba. As part of the immigration formalities we had pre-booked a room at the Hotel Sevilla, still looking grandiose despite slowly crumbling after years of neglect. It is a perfect example of Spanish colonial architecture. The music played throughout the hotel was mainly Cuban jazz mixed with American 60’s and 70’s, creating a strange atmosphere. It was also one of the settings used in Greenes ‘Our man in Havana.

Havana is like walking round an open-air museum. Everything seemed to stop in the 1950’s and since then it appears hardly any work has been done anywhere. Walking around the slightly more opulent Vedado district and around the Plaza de la Revolucion showed different sides to the city. Old guys playing saxophones in the park evoked images of Buena Vista Social Club.

If there is one image of Havana that is familiar everywhere it is that of the Malecon. The sea-front promenade seems to be the centre of life in Havana, lined with fishermen, cycle-rickshaws, various street vendors and groups of children diving off the rocks into the sea, all being overlooked by the Castle on the other side of the Bahia.

In the back streets of Habana Vieja groups of old men congregate to play dominoes on old crates, younger men work on their cars and groups of women sit around discussing, well whatever the women of Havana have to discuss.

Vinales Valley

A short trip to the tobacco region of Vinales west of Havana was next on the list. We saw the rather abstract El Mural de la Prehistoria on the way to some expansive and eerie caves that snake in and out of the limestone landscape. A visit to a cigar factory dispelled the myth about virgins thighs but nevertheless was a valuable insight into how traditional this industry remains, although also of course showing that the mountains of profits that Cuban cigars make worldwide doesn’t trickle back to the workers, that of course would not be very communistic. A quick tasting session at a rum factory and we made our way back to Havana.

Cave near Pinar del Rio

Short on time on this trip we indulged in an internal flight from Havana to Santiago in the far east of Cuba and its second largest city. Santiago is more relaxed than Havana and more colonial in architecture and tradition. There are less beggars and touts in Santiago but that may just be because Havana is the capital and attracts people from all over the island. We found it easier to find food in Santiago, some people had turned their front rooms into pizza takeaways, serving out of the window, others had set up ice-cream stalls, one of which had a queue half way up the street. Nightlife in Santiago was slightly calmer than Havana, more a chance to enjoy a couple of Crystal beers and a couple Mojitos whilst watching the people of Santiago taking the evening air around the plaza.

Travelling over night by bus we arrived in Trinidad on the Caribbean coast early in the morning and watched the sun rise over the town. It is probably my favourite place in Cuba, cobbled streets and one-storey white-washed stucco buildings. Coupled with the sandy beaches at nearby Playa Ancon it is the perfect place to relax after a few days travelling. Unfortunately the events of 9/11 overshadowed our stay.

Playa Ancon (near Trinidad) at dusk

Our final stop before returning to Havana was a disappointing couple of days at Varadero. It may seem unusual for me to include a package resort as part of my trip, but we were curious. What we found was the typical hordes of European tourists, in this case mainly German, Dutch and Spanish, sitting by the pool, drinking rum and smoking cigars and declaring that they are experiencing Cuba. Bearing in mind that normal Cubans are not allowed into the town without a permit, that is not exactly accurate.

We escaped the enthusiastic events organisers trying to coax us into a game of beach volleyball and returned to Havana. Glad to be back we spent the time with more aimless wandering around this beautiful city, visiting a couple of the museums and street markets.

In the post-9/11 chaos Air France managed to lose our baggage on the way back to the UK but soon recovered it and returned it to us. It was unsurprising given the poor reputation of CDG for baggage mishandling that they completely failed at this time!