Category Archives: Travel to Cuba

March 10, 2016 · 9:40 am

Getting Stoned with Obama in Cuba

No, I’m not talking about smoking blunts on the Malecón (File under: Not Gonna Happen). Nor am I talking about the rock-throwing barbarity found in other latitudes – even at their most dogmatic and agitated, Cubans are more prone to throwing eggs and barbs and Santería spells than something that would directly, physically harm another human being.

Anyone who is following developments in Cuba knows to which watershed event this post refers: the Rolling Stones are going to rock Havana on March 25th; that’s what I’m talking about.

Rumors started flying about the possibility of a Stones show here even before Mick Jagger dropped in for a visit last October. But rumor-mongering and gossip – the ‘national sport’ – are rife here regardless of time or circumstance. We dared not imagine that such a huge, historic, and real rock ‘n roll concert by a band so legendary (for the record: Cubans have always preferred Zeppelin to the Stones) would actually be transformed into reality. The Stones in Cuba fell into the realm of ‘when the embargo is lifted’ – something people talk about rhetorically, dreamily (also for the record: the embargo is still 100% in effect). Until it’s actually upon us.

Soon, very soon, it will be upon us. And Cubans aren’t talking about anything else.

Oh wait. There’s a different, history-in-the-making visit which is also going to be upon us shortly: the first standing US President (I met Carter on one of his post-Oval Office trips here) since 1928 will set foot in Cuba. I’m sure you’ve heard. And some readers must be wondering how Cubans feel about it. At Cuba Libro we have the opportunity to ask hundreds of Cubans from all walks of life what they think about any given topic on a regular basis. So we’ve started asking. And listening.

First off, everyone agrees it’s a milestone, historic, maybe even a game-changer. Second, everyone here in Havana gets excited for such high-level visits, be it Pope or President, because it means streets will be paved and houses painted on the official route the dignitary will traverse – just yesterday an 88-year old Cuban granny offered this precise opinion, unprompted. Third, the Obamas are rock stars; Cubans are, on the whole, faranduléros, no matter if it’s Barack or Beyoncé, Rihanna or Raúl, they chase stars like the most ravenous paparazzi. Furthermore, the presidential couple will bring lots of press and TV crews and attention to Cuba and if there’s one thing Cubans love, it’s attention.

So as a good friend from NY said after the December 17th normalization announcement: ¡Obámanos!

Yet there’s a cost, a downside to all this attention and fanfare. Public transportation will be disrupted in a massive, isn’t-life-here-tough-enough? way; liquor sales with be suspended for at least a day, likely more in this case; cultural activities will be cancelled or re-scheduled; and the overwhelming majority of us will never catch a glimpse of the visiting luminary (though Cubans are already capitalizing on this visit with their archetypical humor: check out these magnets now for sale in Old Havana!)

But make no mistake: Obama’s trip visit is just the appetizer. The pollo of the ‘arroz con pollo’ is the free Rolling Stones concert for el pueblo cubano (as I write this, I hear the first mention of the Stones concert in Cuba on Sirius-XM radio. Cue the goosebumps). We’ve had similar giant, free concerts in the past – Audioslave, Calle 13, Rick Wakeman, Fito Paez, Air Supply (I know, I know. Believe me, I know the Cuban penchant for cheesy American pop). None of these concerts ca compare to the Glimmer Twins, Charlie and Ronnie. THE Rolling Stones!

What Cubans are most concerned with is access to the venue and the crowd-control question. Cubans are experts at state security – they’ve thwarted over 600 attempts on Fidel Castro’s life, after all – they aren’t that adept at controlling cultural crowds. I’ve seen cinema doors broken down by surging masses trying to get in to the premier of Minority Report and I was locked inside the Casa de la Música when rioting crowds tried to bust down the doors to see The Roots. I predict a shit show to enter and exit The Stones concert. Roads will be closed, security will be tight and bags will be searched. We’re not talking Altamont here (see aforementioned egg/barb-throwing observation), but leave plenty of time to arrive and leave, cógelo suave, and remember: we’re all damn lucky to be here, now.

People near and far are beyond excited for this concert. For months I’ve been fielding questions on my Facebook page, at Cuba Libro, and via email about this monumental musical event. Now that details are coming to light, most people want to know how they can avoid the lines and crowds. It’s a good question; people are coming from Miami, Mexico, Camagüey and más allá for this show and there isn’t going to be enough room at the inn (5,000 Havana hotel rooms have been requested for Obama’s visit just two days before, which means 5,000 people who think they will sleep in Havana those days will actually be whisked to Varadero, regardless of what their reservation receipt says. Official emails to this effect are making the rounds already).
The question we’re fielding, publicly to our Cuba Libro community, is: given the choice, who would you rather visit our innovative, visionary project – Keith Richards or Barack Obama? So far, the legendary guitar player is in the lead by a nose. Except if the visit is Barack and Michelle. If she’s in the mix, most Cubans vote for the Obamas. No one, it should be noted, has yet asked if a visit to Cuba Libro would be Keith and Mick.

I leave you all to ponder the greater socio-political implications of our poll’s results. Stay tuned!

8 Comments

Filed under Americans in cuba, dream destinations, Expat life, Fidel Castro, Living Abroad, Travel to Cuba, Uncategorized

Tagged as Barack Obama, Cuban state security, Estadio Latinoamericano, Keith Richards, LEd Zeppelin, Michelle Obama, Mick Jagger, Rolling Stones in Cuba

February 16, 2016 · 10:00 pm

Cuban Harlistas, Mis Amores

Life here in Cuba – and my life, por díos – has changed dramatically in the past few years. I got a bike and helped found Habana Bici Polo; I opened Cuba Libro; and was thrust into the big, raucous family of Cuban Harlistas. As a writer, sub-cultures like this one are a perennial turn on. The layers of nuance and language particular to a group, the rites of passage, the history: every aspect is a source of fascination and writing fodder. Add sexy, powerful motorcycles and the machos who ride them to the mix…and, well.

I’ve just returned from the 5th Annual International Harley Rally in Varadero and the bikes (and riders) are as sexy and powerful as ever, the nuance and language and rites continue to evolve, and my admiration and passion for this unique group of Cubans remains unflagging.

Since I’m one of the very few chicks without a steady ride and driver, every rally I cast about for singletons looking for a back seat Betty; I estimate I’ve mounted over a dozen of these classic Harleys since the first rally in 2012. This year, I rode with Raúl on Omar’s spectacularly-restored 1960 blue and white Duo Glide. We cruised straight through to Varadero under steely clouds with a nagging threat of rain that never came. The needle on the speedometer didn’t pass 80 kilometers per hour; when we arrived we learned it was busted and we’d made the entire trip doing an exultant 120 kph. We’d no idea as we fought a ferocious head wind and incoming cold front which set the sea churning and waves crashing just shy of the highway.

Among the many highlights of this year’s rally was the presentation of my book, Cuban Harleys, Mi Amor, co-written with Harlista Jens Fuge. In my opinion, this is the best book on the subject – not due to the writing necessarily (though it is fantastic), but rather thanks to the phenomenal images taken over a ten-year period by Harlista Max Cucchi. This is a distinguished book for several reasons beyond the writing and photos, however. First, it includes riders from the length and breadth of the island, not just Havana. Second, it contains the most complete history of Harley-Davidsons in Cuba. Third, all the text is in English, Spanish, and German. Last, but certainly not least: each person interviewed received a complimentary copy of the book and a full color poster. For those who have realized projects in Cuba and not done the same (whether it’s a TV series you promise to deliver on disc or memory stick; a photo shoot where you commit to providing the images to the subjects; an article or book on Cuba you say you’ll bring down once it’s published): shame on you. These people made time and dedicated energy so you could realize your project and have no way of procuring whatever you produced. Speaking from personal experience this is all too common.

One of the most emotional moments for me was gifting the book to Gerardo López (Papá), the elder patriarch of a family which has four – and counting – generations of Harlistas who have all obtained their motorcycle license on the same Harley. The collective confirms this is the only family in Cuba which can make this claim. When I interviewed him for the book, an impassioned Gerardo, Jr told me he would never sell the Harley, that it would stay in the family. And I believe him: unlike many Harlistas who begrudgingly sell their hogs for cars as their family grows, this one added a matching side car instead, debuted at this rally. After I presented Papá with a copy, his teary-eyed daughter-in-law took me aside, to tell me something about this soft-spoken, well-mannered man that only two other people in the world know (and he’s not one of them): doctors recently found a tumor in his lungs and this would likely be his last rally. Receiving the book means the world to him, she confided, and would provide much solace as he battles cancer. That’s when tears started filling my eyes and the hairs on my arms stood up. It happened again at the farewell lunch when Gerardo Papá told me: “next year, I’m riding a Harley to the rally. It may be a trike, but it will be a Harley-Davidson, driven by me.” I dearly hope he’s right.

Like Gerardo Papá, many of the Harlistas are… Let’s just say as a group, we, like the motorcycles themselves, skew “older.” Also like the motorcycles, some Cuban Harlistas are walking (and riding) wounded: herniated discs, busted clavicles, chronic lower back pain, bum legs, bockety knees, failing night vision. It’s a bitch kick starting these bikes in the best of health; imagine what it’s like for Francesco fighting to kick start his ’48 Panhead with a perennial bunk leg. Or Paco, who at 69 years young, is one of the most enthusiastic and dedicated riders. Every rally he arrives from Camagüey with one of his daughters on the back of his 1950 hog; you can bet he’s got a bit of a limp after that 10-hour ride. Who wouldn’t?! This rally, William (‘The Canadian’), arrived listing heavily to port aided by crutches after an on-the-road accident and a bed-ridden month.

And then there’s the Story of M (I’m not printing his full name to protect the guilty!), who drove from Havana to Varadero, his leg in a cast and who also wobbling around on crutches. He told everyone it was a work-related accident, but knowing him better than that, I flat out asked what really happened. I’ve a talent for sniffing out falsehoods: he’d fractured his leg leaping from a balcony when the husband of the woman he was shagging turned up. ‘I got away, but with a cast,’ he told me smiling foxily. With these and other various injuries, aches, and pains, I’m guessing close to 10,000mg of dipirona and half as much ibuprofen was taken over the 3-day event. This may be ‘Club Temba,’ but these folks are the very definition of endurance: they’re riding the miles, partying until dawn, and up and at ‘em and back on their bikes (or back to fixing them), a few hours later. Props, brothers.

We always travel in a caravan for the inevitable breakdowns en route. This year, our group had their share of problems: a flat that took until 3am on the eve of the rally to fix; another flat on Gerardo’s side car just beyond Santa Cruz del Norte; a gummy piston on Pelussa’s rig at 2am under a fine, post-party rain; and something with Rafael’s ’46 Indian that drew crowds to watch the master at work. But these are minor compared to some years. Leaving the rally a few years back, we had to call on the Harley family in Matanzas to babysit Julio’s busted hog overnight until we could send a trailer to collect it. No matter the rally, bike, driver, or rider, there’s always an adventure afoot with these cats.

This year’s rally was the biggest yet, with more motorcycles, more Cubans from throughout the island, many more foreign visitors (some arriving on modern Harleys thanks to La Poderosa Tours), and exciting new activities. As always, there were the coolest t-shirts available in Cuba on sale; donations collected for senior citizens and vulnerable children; a rocking concert by David Blanco; and hilarious competitions involving bottles, hot dogs (only in Cuba, right?!), and feats of balance. This year also featured martial arts and acrobatics (yes, while on a Harley), a joy ride through Cardenas where all the neighbors came out to ogle these marvelous machines, and a farewell fête at an exquisite finca owned by a fellow Harlista. Rafael had to bust out his complete set of tools and attend to his Indian yet again while we ate, drank, danced, and laughed. A gang congregated around Rafael to provide support and advice (not that he needed it!) Anywhere else in the world, a mechanical breakdown during the final hurrah of a raucous weekend would have been cause for grumbling, but not here where solidarity, friendship, and empathy abound. I admire their strength and camaraderie and am honored to be included. See you at next year’s rally!

14 Comments

Filed under Americans in cuba, Cuban customs, dream destinations, Expat life, Living Abroad, Travel to Cuba, Uncategorized

Tagged as antique motorcycles, harley davidson in cuba, harley rally varadero

January 26, 2016 · 10:39 am

Stupid Shit People Ask Me About Cuba

Judging from the number of people who walk into Cuba Libro saying: ‘Hi! I’m [insert random name here]; I sent you an email!,’ people are unclear about the volume of correspondence I receive related to my journalistic, writing, and community-building activities. Suffice to say: I receive way too many emails for me to remember each one; your missive has to be extraordinarily clever or interesting or funny if it’s going to imprint itself on my overworked brain. Nevertheless, there’s another type of correspondence that, lamentably, gets stuck in my head, rolling around like a cheesy song I just can’t shake – Jingle Bells, Frosty the Snowman, Ob-la-di Ob-la-da and the like. These requests fall under the rubric of the outrageous, misinformed, misguided, disrespectful, and just downright dumb.

Then there are the idiotic search terms people use to reach my blog. To take one of the most recent examples: ‘do Cuban men masturbate?’ I’m sure (or rather, I hope) most of my readers don’t need an explanation as to why these may be the stupidest search terms ever. Maybe if they had searched on ‘do Cuban dogs masturbate?’ I might be willing to help – especially because a friend taught her shih tzu, proudly, to jack off yesterday. True story.

_____

One of the wisest young men I know recently opined that it’s okay to name the crime, but not the criminal. I’m still mulling over the ethics of this principle. For instance, in certain cases, simply naming the crime fingers the criminal; it’s that grey area which troubles me, ethically speaking. And this post swims in those grey waters: I’m naming the crimes, not the criminals here, but some readers may recognize themselves. Accept my apologies in advance, but I do feel strongly that when you’re traveling to a foreign culture or context – regardless of whether it’s within your national borders or not, regardless of whether it’s actual or armchair travel – you have the responsibility to learn about that culture and context before you go. I’m not talking about thesis-level research here people, but rather educating yourself a bit about where you’re traveling so as not to say or ask stupid shit like:

Given all the African immigration here, do Cubans practice female genital mutilation?
This question, fielded in a group Q&A (after the group had spent a week in Cuba already), left me speechless, literally. I’m not sure if the person asking was blind – you need just look out your tour bus window at all the empowered, professional, libidinous Cuban women to realize this would be impossible in this context – or just plain stupid. With all the elegance I could muster, I explained: what you call ‘immigration’ is known as slavery. It happened hundreds of years ago. And I don’t think the slaves were cutting cane by day and clitorises by night.

Can I yarn bomb the tank in front of the Museo de la Revolución?
I’m not clear exactly what a yarn bomb is – and I didn’t care to clarify with the lovely San Franciscan vegan asking. No, sweetie, I don’t think you should try something ‘artsy’ on the tank used to defeat the USA at Playa Girón (the only ‘military defeat of Yankee imperialism in the hemisphere’), which by the way, features a 24-hour guard by Cuban soldiers – unless you want to become intimate with the inside of a Cuban jail, where things are decidedly not vegan.

I live in (insert any town USA) and want to retire in Cuba. Can you help me?
In a word: no. For anyone harboring such a fantasy, let me just say: this is illegal with both the US and Cuban governments. Interestingly, most of these requests come from people who have been to Cuba once or only on vacation or 30 something years ago. Sorry to be a bubble-buster but 99% of you couldn’t handle Cuba. Seriously limited internet and burdensome bureaucracy, water/electricity/gas outages (I haven’t had water in my building going on two days now), shortages of whatever at any given moment (currently we’re having trouble procuring sponges, light bulbs, diapers, nail polish remover), dodgy transportation, hurricanes, and the cultural and practical requirement that you speak Spanish, are our daily reality in Cuba. Still want to retire here? Buckle up. You’re in for a wild ride…

I want to hold internet publishing workshops with Cuban youth. Can you help me?
For folks who want to help educate the poor, digitally-challenged Cubans (a fallacy, by the way), I have two words for you: Alan Gross. Remember him? He snuck in satellite and technological equipment – illegally – to do something similar and was given a 5-year stay in a Cuban jail. Even if you were to do everything completely legally, with the approval of and collaboration with local authorities, consider these two words: dial up. My millennial readers don’t even know what this is, but in a nutshell: it allows you to connect to the internet (when the phone call actually goes through and the remote computer and server are actually doing their job) at a whopping 40kbps. This translates into a 30-minute battle just to get to your inbox – not open an email mind you, but just to see what lurks therein. There’s no video or audio streaming, no up or downloading of documents larger than 300k without losing your youth, and inaccessibility to any sites full of Flash, plug-ins and the like.

We’re a widely-read/famous/well-financed publication. Would you write some original Cuba content for us? We can’t pay but…
I rarely finish reading such requests, because there are some openers for which nothing good ever comes after the “but” (think: ‘I’m not a racist/homophobe, but…’ or ‘I’m not attracted to you, but…’). And ‘we can’t pay, but…’ falls squarely within this paradigm. Typically, they offer linking to my blog for “exposure” and promise to cite me as an “expert.” You’d be surprised how many editors contact me with this vapid attempt to stroke my ego.

For those wondering about my needs for exposure, the expert moniker, or ego-stroking, let’s review: I’ve written close to 20 guidebooks for Lonely Planet, including the Cuba guide back in the day; I’ve been an accredited journalist in Havana for a dozen years, covering everything from the health system to antique Harley-Davidsons for all manner of media; I’m the only foreign journalist to have been embedded with Cuba’s Henry Reeve Medical Disaster Team, twice; I’ve been writing this Cuba-specific blog for over 6 years; I wrote the majority of the content for the Cuba Travel Network; I’ve been featured on Democracy Now, PRI’s The World, the Travel Channel, TeleSur’s From Havana and Dossier programs, and in the pages of the Wall Street Journal, Islands Magazine, Drift and others. Furthermore, my writing is included in numerous anthologies and I’m the primary author of Havana Street Style and Cuban Harleys, Mi Amor. I’ve got thousands of followers on social media. And you want me to write for free?! I’m not sure what these editors are smoking, but I’ll take a double dose.

This is just a sample of the stupid shit people have asked me recently. Stay tuned for more (for there will be more, I’m willing to bet on it) – including repeated requests by House Hunters International trolling for ‘Americans moving to Cuba and restoring their new homes to their previous grandeur.’ Díos mío. Can someone stop the ride? If things continue this way, I’m going to have to get off.

31 Comments

Filed under Americans in cuba, bureacracy, Communications, Cuban customs, Cuban economy, Cuban idiosyncracies, Cuban Revolution, Expat life, health system, Living Abroad, Travel to Cuba

Tagged as alan gross, bureaucracy, buying a house in cuba, cuban health system, harley davidsons in cuba, havana, internet, museo de la revolucion, retiring in cuba

October 18, 2015 · 7:03 pm

Want to Help Cuba? Travel Responsibly

I’ve got my knickers in a twist and if you know me, you know how ugly I can get when my ass is chapped.

Today’s topic? Ethical, responsible, and sustainable travel to Cuba.

For those who don’t know me (let alone my knickers), a bit of background: I’ve written some 20 or so guidebooks – almost entirely to Latin America and Hawai’i. That is, contexts where vulnerable communities and environments depend on critical tourist dollars. And it’s not always pretty. Importantly, I’ve also borne witness to the continuum of change in Cuba, from my first month-long volunteer stint in 1993 to right now, after nearly 14 years in residence. So I know intimately the ‘bueno, malo y regular’ that tourism can heap upon a place. I also know painfully well the challenges facing Cuba as it navigates a tumultuous domestic reform process, while facing the oncoming tourist ‘tsunami’.

When I launched Cuba Libro in 2013, I designed it as an ethically- and socially-responsible business – relevant and responsive to local communities’ needs, which would also serve as a cool, cultural space for visitors to dig below the surface of this increasingly complex society. I also wanted it to shine as an example of how the private sector can (and must if there’s any hope for the Cuba we know and love) support and strengthen the public sector.

I recently participated in a Temas panel and debate dedicated to sustainable and responsible tourism. If you’re unfamiliar with Temas, it is the intellectual publication of reference here and its Director, Rafael Hernández – regularly published and quoted in the western press – can often be found on speaking tours abroad. In short, Temas is a heavyweight when it comes to critical debate in Cuba.

So despite feeling like shit with what turned out to be the onset of dengue, I made my way with some 50 colleagues to the lovely Parque La Güira in Pinar del Río to learn about what’s happening around sustainable tourism in Cuba.

I should have stayed home. While the panelists were informed, experienced, eloquent, and educated, there was a general pall over the proceedings. Despite a formal invitation, no one from the Ministry of Tourism showed up. Nor were there any representatives from the Ministries of Health or the Environment. So much for intersectoriality. What’s more, various presentations and exchanges revealed there is no national strategy, no community voice or participation, not even a consensus on what constitutes sustainable and responsible tourism and therefore no evidence base upon which to measure progress. I wasn’t sure if it was the dengue or lack of policy/political will making me shudder, but I (and others I spoke with) came away from that panel depressed.

Why? Because responsible and ethical tourism is a two-way street. Recipient countries have rights and obligations and it’s unclear what Cuba is doing about it. The emphasis on golf course and resort development (did you know Cuba is in a crippling drought? We certainly do: it’s on the news and in the papers all the time) and cruise ship tourism (I was hoping someone on the panel would provide cost-benefit analysis on this issue. File under: Wishful Thinking), are troubling. Even more troubling is this trip report from a frequent traveler to the Oriente, and this report from the UN Committee on the Rights of the Child, which while long, lacks substance.

But individual travelers also have rights and obligations and since I can’t do much in the short term about the government’s role, I wanted to write about what you can do to help Cuba while you explore this fascinating country.

#1: Respect the laws of Cuba – If you are a reporter, blogger or freelance writer or filmmaker and enter Cuba on a tourist visa with the intention of writing about or filming here, you’re breaking the law. If you participate in sex tourism, you’re breaking the law (and if you have to pay for sex, you’re a loser). If you couch surf, you’re breaking the law. If you drive drunk or with an open container in your car, you’re breaking the law. If you put up the money for a business or house with a Cuban on the paperwork, you’re breaking the law. Do people do these things all the time? Yes, every day. But people OD on heroin every day, too – that doesn’t mean you’re going to go out and do it, right? I know, I sound like someone’s curmudgeonly mother.

#2: Reduce water usage – The drought is so dramatic it’s affecting our fresh food supply (although upwards of 70% of food is imported, none of it is of the fresh fruit or veggie variety). Plus, there are millions of Cubans, even right here in Havana, who do not have running water every day. Can you let a faucet drip or run knowing that? Would you do it at home given the same circumstances? Californians know full well what I’m talking about.

#3: Reduce plastic waste – During our team meeting at Cuba Libro yesterday, one member opined that we should sell bottled water (even though we give out gallons of purified water for free every day), because ‘tourists don’t trust boiled water.’ And he’s right – some folks don’t believe boiled water is safe for drinking. But they’re wrong: check the scientific evidence. And the plastic waste 3 million (and counting) tourists create when they drink countless plastic bottles of water during their stay is doing damage. This is an island ecology, where use is outstripping recycling and we don’t have landfill enough for all the plastic waste you leave behind once you return home. So what can you do? If you’re in a casa particular, boil or otherwise treat (drops, chlorine, iodine, filters) water and use a refillable bottle. At the very least, buy the 5 liter jugs of water and refill with that. When all else fails, switch to beer – anything to avoid the half liter bottles overfilling our landfill.

#4: Adapt – My Cuban friends make fun of me I’m so anti-pingüino. ‘The penguin’ is local slang for air conditioning. But it has been unbearably, record-breaking hot this summer, and I’ve had to resort to sleeping some nights with my Russian tank of an AC on ϹИᴧЬНО (that’s ‘high’ in Cyrillic, I think!). So, it’s hot, I get it. But the all-too-common tourist practice of leaving the AC on all day long while at the beach or out sightseeing so the hotel or casa particular room is ‘a lo pingüino’ upon return is totally irresponsible – not only does it sap the local electrical grid and damage the environment, but it contributes to global climate change as well. Besides, in AC-challenged Cuba, adapting is a much more practical survival strategy (just yesterday a US tourist said to me: ‘quite frankly, I’m used to my US comforts, like AC’). In short: suck it up and use your AC judiciously.

#5: Do not, ever, request Guantanamera, Lagrimas Negras, or Chan Chan – Already Cuban musicians and artists are dumbing down their magnificent repertoire to cater to perceived tourist tastes. Respecting the patrimony of Cuba includes letting these musicians rip on compositions they haven’t played a thousand times for a thousand tourists. Your travel memories will be richer for this expanded listening experience. And don’t forget to tip.

#6: Learn some Spanish (or even better: Cuban) phrases – No matter where you travel, having a couple of local phrases and vernacular up your sleeve opens doors, minds, and hearts. Get a phrasebook or app. Use it. Trying to communicate, even in the simplest way, in the language of your host country is a sign of respect. It’s not easy, I know this in the marrow of my bones. But it’s also not terribly hard once you start and is immeasurably rewarding. Do it!

#7: R-E-S-P-E-C-T – Speaking of which: visitors, especially from the USA (who Cubans love for cultural-historical reasons, but also for being big tippers), have to tame their egos. This doesn’t apply to everyone, obviously, but there’s a tendency for some US folks to push the “America [sic] is the greatest/most democratic country in the world” point of view, combined with a cringe-inducing perspective about “how to fix Cuba.” This happened just yesterday at Cuba Libro and got Douglas’ Irish up in a major way – and he has not a drop of the Emerald Isle in his blood. Travelers, from everywhere, frankly, should be conscious that they are visiting a highly-educated, cultured, and professional context, which is no way intellectually ‘frozen in time’ and that Cubans have spent a long time analyzing and living with their problems. No matter how erudite you are in your own life and field – and I include myself here – you don’t know as much as people living here day-to-day, who have spent a lifetime in this complex country. Can you enrich the dialog and provide perspective? Definitely. Can you solve Cuba’s problems after a ten-day or two-month trip? Definitely not. Show respect for your hosts’ intelligence, triumphs, and challenges by listening and learning. No one likes a dogmatic pontificator.

Lest I am accused of being a hypocrite, I will sign off here. If you have something to add about responsible/ethical/sustainable tourism, please write in; I’m starting to put together evidence, documents, and experiences related to what works and what doesn’t regarding this issue with an eye towards action.

Happy travels!

61 Comments

Filed under Americans in cuba, Cuban customs, Cuban economy, Cuban idiosyncracies, Cuban phrases, Cuban Revolution, dream destinations, environment, Expat life, Hawaii, Living Abroad, Travel to Cuba

Tagged as cuban slang, ethical, havana, prostitution, socially responsible travel, sustainable travel, tourism, travel to Cuba

August 20, 2015 · 11:42 am

Our Baby’s Two Years Old: Cuba Libro!

Circa January 2002: I was sitting at my sister’s dining room table – in the crappy apartment she was forced to rent after losing her home and business in 9-11 – with a friend. At the time, he was a producer for PBS and I was a struggling writer. When I told him I was moving to Cuba to live and write he said: “who would ever buy what you have to write about Cuba?” Cue incredulous, pregnant pause (haters gotta hate, right?) I’m sure he doesn’t remember this comment made so long ago, but it kicks me in the ass every time I pitch, and write, and yes, get published. Turns out some people do want to buy and read what I have to write about Cuba.

Flash forward a dozen years. A friend drives across Havana to give me a sack of books. “They’re good, but not great and I have no room for them. If you don’t want them, I’m throwing them away.” So first of all: I don’t have room in my life for good, but not great books, let alone the shelves to hold them. Second of all: I can’t bear to see books thrown out and can’t do it myself – it’s like those leftovers I swear I’ll eat tomorrow, until tomorrow turns into the next day and then next week. By that time, I can no longer distinguish the pesto from the mold but it’s food; when you grow up poor, you don’t throw away food. Third of all: when my friend made that drive across town, I was in a very dark place, in a grief so deep I couldn’t concentrate long enough to finish a page of a book, let alone an entire title.

That yellow sack of books sat for six months gathering dust as I mourned my loss and questioned my life. And then, after much loving support from my friends and family here and there, I was able to get through a page, a book, an entire day without bursting into tears. I started feeling like me again. An idea began to brew. What if Havana had an English-language bookstore and coffeehouse, a place equally comfortable for Cubans and visitors, residents and foreigners, where you could sit with a good book and coffee to make conversation and friends and memories? It could be an oasis from hot, hectic Havana where nada es fácil; it could be a place for visitors to get cultural information and for Cubans to practice their English; it could and would be an alcohol-free space, a regguetón-free zone, a place with no place for pena.

No Pena at Cuba Libro!!

But it could be so much more (obviously, I was feeling very much myself again, thinking and dreaming big). We could be ethically- and socially-responsible, basing our business philosophy on the principal that everything we do, every policy and practice, must be a win-win-win: a win for our customers, a win for our community, and a win for our staff. We could be a beacon in Cuba’s dark, uncertain times of private enterprise, where inequities are deepening, the country is experiencing double brain drain (people leaving for foreign shores; people leaving the state sector for the private), and the majority of Cubans don’t have the resources to patronize – let alone open – a private business. We would do things differently: we would be a place for everyone, our goods and services would be accessible to everyone, regardless of age, race, nationality, sexual orientation and importantly: finances. Money would not be the arbiter of who is in and who is out at our special spot. And so, Cuba Libro was born.

As two friends and I painted the space we rent from a neighbor, I honed my strategy about how to build community, support that community, and offer something completely different.

First Cuba Libro policy? You don’t have to buy anything. You can spend all day in a hammock reading National Geographic in Havana’s shadiest corner and not spend a kilo. This will bring in all the folks who don’t have the money or inclination to buy a coffee or book. It will make it a more diverse, exciting space. For people who love to read but don’t have the money or space for a book, we’ll offer library services, lending titles at 5 CUP (25 cents) for two weeks.

Humberto is a regular in the Cuba Libro hammocks

Second policy? Cuba Libro staff will earn more than anyone else in Havana doing similar work. We will commit ourselves in this way (and others), to supporting Cuban youth – to proving that young people here can learn new skills, make a dignified living, and build a future in their beloved Cuba. In addition to the robust salary, I instituted a profit-sharing program for staff and a tip jar exclusively for them. Here’s a typical end-of-day exchange with staff: “Conner. This is too much. Please take your cut of the tips.” I always decline, but then they slip some bills into my bag when I’m not looking and I slip them right back. In an effort to support young Cubans, I determined we would dedicate part of the café to emerging artists who have little opportunity to show their work in a city where six terrific artists crawl out from under any rock. We’ve shown artists who use the hallway of their building to create or have to sit on their single mattress to paint. For almost all our artists, their Cuba Libro show is their first solo show. One of my favorite parts of this 2-year adventure is when I get to call one of these artists (especially the ones earning peanuts in a state job) to say: ‘you sold something; your work is going to Canada/the United States/Chile/wherever, c’mon by so we can settle up.’

Third policy? We will do everything within our power to help attack inequities, educate, contribute to the health and well-being of our customers/staff/neighbors, broaden our collective support network, and build community. We will start donation programs, hold classes and workshops, plant trees, refill water bottles (as tourists numbers soar, plastic bottle waste is becoming a huge problem for this island ecology), give out free condoms (my public health commitment and also a way to diversify our community even more), make our stellar bathroom available to everyone, whether they buy something or know us or not, and actively curate titles, authors and genres requested by our community. When friends started an organic, collective farm, we offered to make their wonderfully delicious and affordable produce available to our community – at no profit to us. We pledge to be relevant and positive and pro-active.

Fourth policy? Cuba Libro will institute a collective decision-making model – any policy change or decision which affects our staff and/or community, requires consultation with them. This is completely new for many Cubans and we’ve had several opportunities to put the model to the test: do we want to appear in the Lonely Planet guidebook? Do we want to be on Travel Channel? This is a no-brainer for folks blind to everything except the bottom-line, but as I always say: ‘Cuba Libro is less about peddling coffee and books and more about being a resource for the surrounding community’ and once you get massive international exposure from media giants like LP and Travel Channel, the scales tip towards more foreigners, fewer locals in your establishment. Our collective debate revealed that none of us wanted this. But the debate also revealed alternatives, which ended up winning out. When I suggested raising our prices after more than a year in operation, staff pushed back, argued why we shouldn’t, and we didn’t; our prices, payable in either CUC or CUP, (another policy designed to make Cuba Libro as accessible as possible to as many as possible), have remained the same since opening: from a 60 cent espresso to a $1.50 frappuccino (both of which kick ass, according to customers). The latest debate is a rager: should we habilitate WiFi when it becomes a possibility? Feel free to weigh in, we’re currently collecting opinions.

Meanwhile, Cuban friends and family doubted my crazy bookstore/café idea when I unveiled it in 2013:

“You can’t give away stuff for free.”

“You have to sell liquor or you won’t survive. At least beer!”

“What’s the point of an English bookstore in a Spanish-speaking country?”

“You can’t lend books, they’ll never come back.”

Well, two years on, we’ve proven them wrong. Now what we’re hearing:

“Cuba Libro literally changed my life” (Susan, who met her future husband here)

“This is the best job I’ve ever had. It has changed my life” (Douglas! Fabulous Douglas, author of our original motto: ‘Life is peachy at Cuba Libro’);

“This is the coolest place in Havana” (Richard, early adopter and mainstay of the Cuba Libro family);

“I wouldn’t have survived medical school without Cuba Libro” (Dr Vero, another early adopter who was also the first – but not the last – to say: “I’m not telling anyone about this place. It’s MY oasis; I don’t want anyone to know about it”);

“I wish I had discovered this place when I first got to Havana” (Molly, a regular-in-the-making);

“This is my favorite place” (Humberto, who has cashed in more buy-10-get-1-free cards than anyone);

“I swear this is best iced coffee I’ve ever had” (Marcia, documentary filmmaker);

“Who are these new people? This is OUR hangout and they’re in MY hammock! (Maria Carla, Cuba Libro regular and future famous playwright).

We were one of (if not THE) first business with a loyalty reward program

I speak for the collective when I say: we’re extremely proud of what we’ve achieved at Cuba Libro, very much a labor of love, very much a success – as defined by us. Although there are days we lose money, when the bureaucracy and inspections and blackouts and difficulties seem too much, there are days like last week when I looked around the garden, full of Cubans and a smattering of foreigners laughing, playing Scrabble and the guitar, reading Rolling Stone, and sipping 100% Cuban coffee and realized we’re not only creating community, we’re creating meaning in our lives and the lives of others. Douglas caught me smiling and read my mind: “this is what you dreamed of, right?” Yes, Dudu, this was the dream, the dream we’re making a reality in our shady little corner of Vedado, every day.

Last day before August vacation; they look happy, but these regulars (Cuban all, except me) grumbled!

This post is dedicated to all our supporters from around the corner and around the globe, who have helped us survive and thrive over the past two years, proving the improbable is possible and that you can live your dreams. Thanks to you, we’ve found the motivation, positive energy, solidarity, and resources to do all of this in two short years:

– Over 5200 condoms distributed, free!
– Over 1600 book donations to Cuba Libro from around the world
– Dozens of bilingual dictionaries donated to the local elementary school
– One dozen bilingual dictionaries donated to a private English teacher
– Several large donations to family doctors and administrators
– One large donation of coloring books, crayons and age-appropriate games to Centro Habana Pediatric hospital
– 12 art shows of emerging Cuban artists + rocking parties to inaugurate each (free to public!)
– One live music event with musicians from USA & Cuba (free to public!)
– 6 cine debates (Cuban documentaries presented by the filmmakers followed by debate; free to public!)
– 3 book launches (free to public!)
– 121 official people-to-people groups received from the United States
– One semester-long conversational English class, taught by a certified, native English-speaker
– Visitors from more than 3 dozen countries
– One marriage
– Providing study space and caffeine for half a dozen medical students, now doctors
– Innumerable friends made (including those with benefits!)
– One baby on the way (due Oct 24th; congrats Gaby & Raudel!)
– One stray street dog adopted
– 132 frequent client cards filled (buy ten coffees or other drink, receive your next drink free)
– Planted 6 trees
– Launched organic farm share with Finca Tungasuk, reaching dozens of local families

Rescued, November 2014!! Senor Tobias, resident CL pet.

It has been one hell of a ride and we’re steeling ourselves for Fall 2015, when we’ll be expanding the organic farm share, hosting a week-long American Sign Language workshop (taught by a Cuban), hosting two art openings and one cine debate and launching a book about Pope Francis (while he’s in Havana!) and my new book Cuban Harleys, Mi Amor. Our work regularly exhausts us but always motivates us to do more and better. Thank you Cuba Libro community for making our work meaningful. Here’s to the next two years!!

48 Comments

Filed under Americans in cuba, bureacracy, Cuban customs, Cuban economy, Cuban phrases, Cuban Revolution, environment, Expat life, Living Abroad, Travel to Cuba

Tagged as brain drain, condoms, cuba, cuba libro, cuban art, cuban documentary filmmakers, cuban environment, cuban harleys, ELAM, emerging artists, english in cuba, havana, health in cuba, inequities, live music, medical school in Cuba, organic farming, pope francis, pregnant in cuba, socially responsible business, stray dogs, tipping in cuba

August 3, 2015 · 7:52 am

Cubans are Cockroaches

Cuba – Cubans – defy odds. The longest, harshest embargo in modern history. Back-to-back-to-back hurricanes. The Special Period (very special as the joke goes here). The dearth of feminine products. Their tenacity and resiliency make them the cockroaches of the human race: they will out-survive us all.

I’ve had the privilege of living among this tenacity and resiliency for over 13 years. It’s an ‘I can do this, this can be done’ perspective, as opposed to a defeatist, ‘can’t be done’ perspective. The former is superior. Even if it leads to failure at least you’ve tried (fuck you, Yoda).

And then there are times when ‘this can be done’ leads to legacy. From the 16 staffed and equipped field hospitals Cuba sent to post-quake Pakistan to the biker who smuggled six vintage Harleys to Miami piece by piece. There’s the Fabrica de Arte. La Farola. Cuban drag queens.

Once, flying down Boyeros from the airport, I saw a handicapped dude in an electric wheelchair giving a rope tow to his buddy – also in an electric wheelchair. If that’s not the epitome of a can-do attitude, I don’t know what is. Although, as I write this, I remember another graphic example of that same attitude: one night I walked in to my friend’s kitchen to find Noche, the cat, mounting Lola, the dog. I’ve seen gay canine sex in Cuba. I’ve seen furry threesomes. But interspecies? Cuban pets can (and do!) do it! Then there was the time Dina – the dog up the street – was in heat. She’s epileptic, so her owner had to keep her sequestered behind a fence; were she to screw, she’d likely die. This didn’t stop Toby from licking her red, swollen privates through the fence everyday. ¡si, se puede!

Seduce and woo a foreigner for a couple, three years to get a fiancé visa and then split upon arriving abroad? It can be (and has been) done. Throw a 105mph fastball? Aroldis Chapman can do it! There are those old cars (and more “modern” Ladas, too) converted to run on propane tanks – the same kind of little tank you have hooked to your BBQ in the backyard. Tucked away in the trunk, drivers can switch, with the flick of a switch on the steering column, between propane and actual gas. There’s the literacy campaign which taught the entire country to read and write. There are bike brakes held together with string. No brakes? No problem! When you hit a downhill, just brake with the heel of your tenis (this has happened to me).

There’s the mojito. I always empathize with the poor bartender staring down that 10 mojito ticket, crushing mint until their wrists hurt. I know at that moment when they’re swishing around yet another sprig, they’re thinking: ‘couldn’t we have a less labor-intensive national drink?!’ (Pro tip: get on your barman’s good side by ordering a Cuba Libre). But they do it – crank out a dozen mojitos at a time (and look damned good while doing it).

And the best part of the ‘I can do it perspective?’ It rubs off.

There’s a dark side to this, too (isn’t there always?). From people taking to dangerous seas in unworthy vessels to reusing disposable diapers. Unfortunately, in too many cases, it’s the chronic scarcity here that obligates Cubans to this tenacity, resiliency, and ingenuity. But that’s a different discussion and besides – I think Cuba’s recent history with all the scarcity and want, and importantly, the humanity there sown, bodes well for what lies ahead. This back story puts Cuba – and Cubans – in an advantageous position to figure out the economic piece of their present story, in a sane way.

Have doubts? We all do. The question is: Are you a cockroach?

Comments Off on Cubans are Cockroaches

Filed under Americans in cuba, Cuban customs, Cuban economy, Cuban idiosyncracies, Expat life, Living Abroad, Relationships, Travel to Cuba

Tagged as ardolis chapman, drag queens, fabrica de arte cubano, feminie products in Cuba, henry reeve brigade, ingenuity, interspecies sex, inventions in cuba, la farola, literacy campaign, maestra the film, pets in havana, resolviendo, travel to Cuba

July 18, 2015 · 8:37 am

The Cuba No One’s Writing About

Early adopters of my blog may remember my post (many moons ago) where I listed the reasons why I love Cuba. Considering I’ve opted to make this crazy place my home for the past 13+ years, this is a question I get fairly often. For several reasons – the superficial fluff being published about Cuba with frightening frequency, the tsunami of clueless tourists, the stress Cuba’s new economy is generating – I think it’s time to revisit why Cuba rocks. This is the Cuba no one is writing about – the deep, below-the-surface substance that makes this place so special. Let’s dive in:

Our diet is largely chemical- and preservative-free. Sure, you can spend $5 on a can of Pringles or $3 on a can of Red Bull, but when you can whip up fresh plantain chips for mere cents and buy fresh-pressed guarapo for pennies, aside from the novelty, why would you?

The country is popping with wonderful eye/soul candy. Human, architectural, artistic, natural – this place is a visual and spiritual feast.

There is music everywhere. Literally (and whether you like it or not).

Havana’s tactile nights. Once you catch that savory-sweet wind laced with gardenias, plumeria and sea salt, moonlight glancing off the waves crashing into the Malecón? No tiene nombre as we say here.

Solidarity. Foreigners ask me pretty often if Cubans’ willingness to share, lend a hand, empathize, and the like is real. It is. I think this is one of those things – if we can retain it (dare I say strengthen?) – will go a good way toward saving what’s really admirable about this society whatever the next few years may bring.

Abortion, free and on demand. Ever wonder why it’s so hard to find an orphanage in Cuba? This is it: almost 100% of children born in Cuba is a wanted child.

Cubans are shame-free when it comes to bodily functions. Got diarrhea? Your period? Hemorrhoids? Feel free to share (over-sharing and TMI are concepts which don’t translate here); seek advice and resources; vent. Interestingly, this is one of the few areas of discussion and interface which is completely free from gender considerations. Just today I was talking with a Cubano friend about finger probing prostate exams, while another guy lent a kind ear to a friend waxing cathartic about her crippling hot flashes.

Embracing bodily (mis)functions is something I came to appreciate very early on: one of my earliest memories after moving here occurred at a family barbeque at Playa Larga. A couple of hours after meeting everybody, one of the teen girls emerged from the ocean and appealed to men and women alike: ‘does anyone have a maxipad? I just got my period.’ (Yes: there was blood running down her leg. Did I mention that TMI doesn’t apply here?!). And she felt no shame because of it. Why would she? She got her period unexpectedly – one of the most natural things in the world (and what keeps the human race going, incidentally) – and it was entirely not her fault. It’s like how Cubans view disabilities: it’s not that person’s fault, so it’s just downright cruel to shun or otherwise judge someone for a condition or circumstance which is completely out of their control.

But I digress.

Back to how Cubans view bodily functions and how this perspective implicitly rejects Puritanism and gender paradigms. I’ve been in conversations with friends – male and female – about: being a man-whore; circumcision; boob jobs (for both aesthetic and medical reasons); to what size the cervix must dilate to pass a baby; bowel movements – lots and lots of shit talk (frequency, consistency, color, remedies for, causes of); hemorrhoid operations; and penis operations (thankfully not related and not on the same person).

And then there was this recent exchange between some (platonic) friends as we headed out one night:
Her: Shit. I don’t have another Tampax (pronounced in Cuban: Tampac).
Him: I’ll go get one from my sister.
Me: =)

Cuba: it makes you laugh. It makes you cry. But it never leaves anyone indifferent. And this is the #1 reason I love this crazy place: it arouses passion.

18 Comments

Filed under Americans in cuba, Cuban customs, Cuban idiosyncracies, Cuban phrases, Cuban Revolution, dream destinations, Expat life, health system, Living Abroad, Travel to Cuba

Tagged as abortions, cuban dichos, disabilities, feminine products in Cuba, malecon, orphanages in cuba, solidarity, Tampax

June 6, 2015 · 8:02 pm

Getting Screwed in Cuba’s New Economy

It will take a bit for me to create the physical time and psychic space to write a long form piece on private businesses here – but trust, me: I’ve got plenty to say on the subject. In the meantime, I’ll channel my cathartic necessities through the relating of my washing machine saga, AKA “The Yoyi Affair.”

_____

I am extraordinarily fortunate to own a washing machine. Anyone who has hand washed a queen-sized sheet, scrubbed towels on a washboard (common to Cuban laundry sinks), or tried to wring out a pair of skinny jeans (and pray for sun because otherwise those clothes are going to smell funkier than a frat boy’s laundry bag) knows what I’m talking about. I lived years here drowning in that routine and now I can’t glimpse a clothesline heavy with recently-scrubbed laundry without wanting to knock on the door and offer the lady of the house a glass of something cool and a rocking chair. It’s terrifically hard work keeping a Cuban household running (forget about smoothly); as you may imagine, laundry is a sticky bitch in the equation.

Luckily, a few savvy Havana entrepreneurs have pinned their cuenta propista hopes on privately-operated Laundromats, where dirty duds are returned to you clean as a whistle, for just a couple of CUCs a kilo. I hear the one in Miramar is making bank, but their folding lacks attention to detail. There are (dark, uninviting) state places too, with cute names like Little Laundry or no name at all. You just have to know they exist and where they are. These are cheaper than the private outfits, but with unreliable hours and workers who filch your soap. I’ve been down that road and while it’s a more sane solution than trying to wring out your Levis by hand, taking my place in line at 6am for a service which takes two days is not my idea of a good time. So when my mom bought her blushing-bride-of-a-daughter a fully automatic LG washing machine as a wedding gift, it was pure euphoria.

That was almost a dozen years and what seems a lifetime ago, but it has worked beautifully and without complaint since. Ah! To wash sheets at the touch of a button! To have jeans nearly extracted dry! I loved that machine even after it developed a high-pitched squeal like a Christmas pig having its throat cut. It was so loud and piercing, callers often asked: ‘what’s that sound in the background? Are you keeping pigs?!’ ‘No, just the rinse cycle,’ I’d explain. I could live with the squeal – after all, I didn’t have the time, energy or inclination to fix it. I had bigger problems – like deadlines and ant infestations and inspectors. And I was tired: we’re working 60 hours a week, easy, at Cuba Libro, where we go through a dozen individual hand towels a day. And more than the pile of dirty laundry, these towels are the sticky bitch in my equation. ‘Whatcha doing tonight, boss? Washing little towels?! Heh, heh, heh,’ is a common conversation starter among our staff. (Note to self: dock pay for every snarky Saturday night towel comment. Just kidding!) It’s sad, but true however: I spend many an evening listening to my querida machine squeal little towels around as I wait for the dial-up internet to hop to. It only makes me weep on occasion.

One of those occasions was when the machine ceased, definitively, to have a spin cycle. Of course, it happened during an insanely busy week: long-time, well-loved staff departing for foreign latitudes; training newbies; hosting groups; friends’ birthdays; multiple deadlines; and my trip to New York. Have you ever traveled with a suitcase of soiled clothes? Not pretty, but a nice little ‘gotcha!’ for the folks rifling through luggage on this side of the Straits and Homeland Security on that one. For reasons more important than this, however, my immediate priority was Getting My Washing Machine Fixed.

I put it off, but the second time I was forced to look into that towel and soap soup, and rinse and wring out each toallita individually, I knew procrastination was no longer advisable. True, I was drowning in work, bureaucratic bullshit and administrative tedium. In short: I didn’t have one atom of extra energy to confront the jodedera of getting a major appliance fixed in today’s Havana. And then I met Yoyi. He was an affable guy with gold teeth, cafe au lait skin, and an efficient, confident air. His workshop is in a garage a couple of blocks from Cuba Libro, the driveway choked with washing machines in various stages of decay, disrepair and death. When I explained to him the problem, he boiled it down to one of three parts. ‘Let’s go to your house. I’ll assess the problem and if you agree, I’ll bring the machine here to the workshop, fix it and you’ll have it back in 24 hours.’ Transport, parts, labor and a one-year guarantee included. Efficient, professional and good looking private enterprise? Hell yeah, bring it on!

Flash forward to my apartment where two strange men are shimmying the machine away from the wall and peering into its nether regions. “It’s the clutch,” Yoyi tells me. Of course it’s the clutch, the most expensive part, for which Yoyi quoted me $150CUC. This is a total rip off, I’m fully aware. Yoyi was showing me what’s known in Cuba as ‘cara dura’. I was getting the Screw-The-Yuma price (and female to boot! Cha ching!) and I knew it, but I needed that machine in working order like, yesterday. I’m used to Cubans fucking me for my non-Cuban status in terms of pricing, but fucking me up the ass in terms of pricing? This is something else. ‘$150 CUC. That’s rough. You can come down a bit, surely,’ I told Yoyi with a smile.

We settled on $130CUC and away he went with my machine. The next day I went to his garage storefront at the appointed hour where I, along with his employees (who couldn’t reach him on his cell), waited until it grew dark. Yoyi finally rattled up in an old Lada, wedged the machine in the trunk and off we set for my apartment. After he and his pierced, tattooed helper lugged it up to the third floor, they plugged the old girl in and ran it through the spin cycle. Success! There were smiles, handshakes and goodbye kisses all around. I was impressed: within 24 hours, I had a working washing machine installed in my house, plus a one-year guarantee from Yoyi and his guys.

_____

The next day, I loaded up the machine, turned on the water, added detergent and pushed the magic button. I was answering yet another email from a clueless journalist here on assignment with no Spanish, no contacts, no guidebook or map even, and only a vague idea of what to write about when the machine started beeping. This wasn’t the steady ‘wash is done!’ beep but the frenetic ‘spin cycle won’t kick in!’ beep – the exact same annoying beep that drove me to Yoyi in the first place. Beads of frustration sweat popped to my brow as I went to inspect. It had worked yesterday. Why not today? I tried to restart it, trick it into going through different cycles, and taking out some clothes to lighten the load. Nada. When I looked closely, I noticed Yoyi had switched out my drum for a smaller, inferior one. De pinga.

I returned to his appliance workshop one, two, three days in a row. The place was shut tighter than the doors of the US-Cuba negotiations. Yoyi and crew were gozando with my $130 CUC no doubt. My mind went to a dark, destructive place: I was ready to open a can of NYC whup ass on the dude. On Day 4, I went with a gaggle of Cuban friends to back me up (what a motley bunch of muscle we made: a fellow so skinny his nickname is Periodo Especial; a too-good looking gay friend hitting on the too-good looking mulatto friend, a quiet pacifist, a philosopher…). When we rolled up on Yoyi, he admitted to not having tested the spin cycle with actual water. Duh. And he fessed up to switching out the drum. He promised to return to my house, retrieve the machine and fix it properly. I was peeved, but encouraged – his one-year guarantee had some validity, it seemed.

Then I went to NY. My mighty Cuban muscle paid several visits to Yoyi, but he was as scarce as butter and cheese in Havana circa 2015. That is to say: nowhere to be found. Then Havana got flooded. The pictures were frightening from where I was sitting stateside, but I knew the reality was much more horrifying: collapsing buildings; ruined keepsakes, furniture, electronics; stranded seniors. And I doubted there was hope for returning to a working washing machine.

Two days before arriving back in Havana, I got word: Yoyi fixed the machine, it was back at my house and ready to roll. I sent silent (none have email, alas) thanks and praise to my Cuban muscle and didn’t bother wasting my precious family and friend time in NY washing clothes; I’d do that in Havana and serve up another gotcha! to all airport personnel who deigned to inspect the contents of my luggage.

You see where this is going?

I got home, hugged the dog, and unpacked a small – teeny, really, so as not to overwhelm her – load of dirty laundry into the machine. As it did its thing, I began extracting from my luggage all the teas, spices, shoes, small electronics, feminine products, vitamins and the rest of the pacotilla with which I always travel: every trip Cuban friends and family give me a list of things they need but can’t get here (currently I’m procuring: baby bottles; children’s NyQuil; a lint brush; a motherboard; lubricant and coin wrappers). And guess what?! The machine worked! No frantic beeps! A proper rinse cycle! It was extraordinarily satisfying – $130 CUC satisfying, I’d say.

Fast forward two days. Another night spent alone washing little towels. As I was counting my blessings, the evil beeps started. The rinse cycle didn’t. I was peering again into little towel-soap soup. My knees and resolve to work with this guy weakened: I just don’t have the energy to interface with Yoyi again – in spite of the year guarantee. But when I do, I’m not going to bring him my machine for a third time. Instead, I’m going to bring all my NY Irish to bear and open that can-of-whup-ass all over him and his private sector business. Stay tuned.

15 Comments

Filed under Americans in cuba, bureacracy, Cuban customs, Cuban idiosyncracies, Cuban phrases, Cuban Revolution, Expat life, Living Abroad, Travel to Cuba

Tagged as cuba, cuba libro, cuban slang, cuenta propismo, laundry in havana, life in cuba 2015, private enterprise, scams, travel, USA and Cuba normalize relations

March 6, 2015 · 9:32 am

Rock ‘n Roll Resurrection: Dead Daisies in Havana

I knew it was going to be a different kind of night when the heavy at the door started scrutinizing my press pass. It was from last year, true, but I’ve been accredited here for a decade plus and I didn’t have my new credential through no fault of my own.

‘This is you?’ he asked, in a not-too-friendly rumble.

I kept silent as he took a closer look. Here we go, I thought.

‘This isn’t you,’ he stated with some authority. ‘This is a mulata.’

I had to laugh. I don’t know what kind of caramel-colored glasses he was wearing or what hooch he was swilling, but I wanted some: a mulata? Me? These are words I never imagined applied to this white-like-leche, be-freckled chick. Luckily, our discussion was truncated by a group of kids sauntering up brandishing CUCs. He palmed the bills and waved us in to one of my all-time favorite Havana venues: El Salon Rosado de la Tropical.

—–

I have very few natural talents, but arriving precisely as the party starts to heat up and sensing when the pendulum is about to swing the other way – my signal to kiss and split – are probably my most utilized and useful. So it was for The Dead Daisies, the historic concert held this past weekend. I walked through the doors just as opening act David Blanco (who I’ve seen plenty) was finishing his set. I took a short cut to the dance floor, ran into friends, then some more, then more still. We danced ourselves as close to the stage as safety permitted, but the place was packed – frikis had begun arriving as early as 11am, from as far away as Camagüey, to hear members of their favorite bands (The Stones; Guns N Roses; Ozzy Osbourne; Motley Crüe) rock the Cuban capital.

Already the Salon Rosado was puddled with vomit (not mine, don’t let the photo fool you).

Nothing new or novel there: knowing your ingestion limit, when and how to mix what, how to pace yourself – this is a tricky equation which many Cuban rockers have yet to get. I’m talking about the younger crowd mostly, but we had to scurry out of the way as security physically restrained and removed a middle-aged dude, fairly drooling, with eyes bulging rabidly. Vomit, condom ‘balloons’ batted airborne with verve, and bottles produced from backpacks – these are de riguer at whatever big Cuban concert and were in abundant evidence this Saturday night.

What set this concert and this group apart was the sheer power, pedigree and talent of the band, combined with the setting: the Salon Rosado is that rare combination of big enough to pack in a few thousand high-energy fans, while retaining the intimacy of a much smaller gig. It’s also a multi-tiered, open-air venue with major space given over to the floor, which means lots of room to dance and mosh and good bird’s eye views, for voyeur rock and rollers. As for The Dead Daisies: we’ve had some big bands blow through Havana during my tenure, including Audioslave, Sepultura, Kool and the Gang and Calle 13; but these concerts are always held in the ‘Protestódromo’ – the seaside, make-shift area designed for massive protests and rallies (it was built during the Elián trauma) and adapted for concerts more recently. I’ve had tons of fun at these shows, but as you may imagine: the audio is shitty. Crashing surf and whipping wind are not conducive to music appreciation. It’s also worth keeping in mind that the last big concert like this was in 2010.

So we were due.

I hate to admit it, but I didn’t recognize the names of any of the musicians (though I reserve the right to invoke the ‘stuck in Cuba’ defense). I had never heard of the band either and was skeptical – what kind of name was Dead Daisies anyway? Flowers, dead or alive, don’t evoke screaming, pulsating, orgasmic rock n roll, not in my mind and body anyway (no disrespect to Guns N Roses and especially Slash, who rocks it real, but Axl’s whiny voice has always rubbed me in all the wrong ways).

But damn, did The Dead Daisies come through. I’m a guitar-loving kinda gal and when I read that Richard Fortus (Guns N Roses) counted John McLaughlin, Jeff Beck, and Robert Fripp among his preferred players, I knew things would be just fine. Just how fine I didn’t realize until the first notes rung out from Fortus’ drop-dead gorgeous Gibson over the sea of banging heads. There is perhaps nothing more glorious than a Cuban crowd united by the joy, energy and electricity of music well made, played from the heart. And so it was.

Meanwhile, any band with Dead in its name evokes that other, more (in)famous band synonymous with long sets peppered with covers and standards, enthusiastic mind-altering substance use, and drum solos; I was pretty shocked to experience similarities at the Salon Rosado. My olfactory sense alerted me to someone nearby enjoying the mighty herb and the pierced, tattooed guy on all fours puking violently while simultaneously smoking a cigarette argued for abuse rather than just use (though it was an impressive example of multi-tasking). But when Brian Tichy (from Ozzy’s band) ripped a 15-minute drum solo, the entire crowd was transported to an alternate reality. Holy shit. This guy is a monster. I’m not much for tricks with sticks, but he got admirable air between trills and when he started beating the skins with his hands? We went wild. Well done man, well done.

An indisputable highlight was The Dead Daisies’ version of Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door (yet another example that anyone covering a Dylan tune does it better than Bob), where the crowd of 3000-plus needed no encouragement to sing the chorus long and hard. It was just after this when I realized I was in the no-woman’s-land between two increasingly large and frenetic mosh pits – dangerous territory for anyone not looking for a random fist in the face or elbow to the ribs. I danced away from the mosh sandwich towards my friends, marvelling at how music unites people and ignites the collective soul.

The Dead Daisies gave us the gift of uplift – and boy we could use more of it.

10 Comments

Filed under Americans in cuba, dream destinations, Expat life, Living Abroad, Travel to Cuba

Tagged as cuba, dead daisies, frikis, music in havana, rock n roll, Salon Rosado, travel

February 20, 2015 · 9:39 am

Guaguas, Blackouts, and Ham Sandwiches: Making Music in Havana

After all these years here, I never tire of the constant education. Meeting new people, learning, creating, connecting – Cuba es así. These past 10 days were a potent distillation: immersed in an international ajiaco (thanks Roy Hargrove/Crisol) of musicians and artists, brains and beauties, I learned many things and shined new light.

I learned that no matter where you are in the world or what type of music you play (in this case Renaissance and Baroque), you’re leaving the gig with 14 people and a half a dozen big instruments crammed into a mini van.

I learned that whether in Hialeah or Havana, the band may have to leave the gig running for the bus. And dinner was the cheapest, quickest thing around – in our case, the ubiquitous ham sandwich.

I learned – or re-learned – that magical things can happen when you combine musicians and blackouts (get your mind out of the gutter: I’m talking musically).

I heard a baroque guitar in a small ensemble for the first time and man, is that a hot little instrument. I know everyone’s gaga for the ukulele, but I tell ya…

I learned more viscerally that bass and tenor viola da gamba are powerful, communicative instruments. The treble? It still makes my ears twitch like an adorable terrier hearing above our range.

I had affirmed – once again – that music and movement, creativity and goodwill can transcend all language and cultural barriers.

I understood the profound human capacity for better communication, better conflict resolution, more fluid ways of being and wider ways of thinking.

I learned that the recorder sounds pretty damn good when not in the hands of a 3rd grader.

I learned that a cheese grater and a knife make a mean percussion instrument in the hands of a Cuban.

I realized that no matter how green the Yuma or how little traveled, how poorly they speak Spanish or how deeply-seeded the disinformation about Cuba, with an open mind and open heart, Cubans will touch both, ignite both, profoundly.