Musings on Money

There are so many ways that traveling to Cuba feels like you going back in time. One of the most obvious is that it is still primarily an all cash economy, especially for visitors from the United States. American issued ATM and credit cards do not work at all. So that means traveling with quite a good deal of cash. Even though I was on a group tour, and most expenses were prepaid (with the exceptions of dinners and evening activities) it was recommended that we bring $125/day for spending money. Furthermore, the casas where I stayed didn’t have safes in the room, leading to a bit of anxiety at first, but once I was there I felt completely secure in both homes. I ended up not needing nearly as much as I brought, but when you can’t use a credit card or ATM, better safe than sorry.

Cuba has 2 distinct currencies–one primarily for locals known as the Cuban peso (CUP) or moneda nacional (MN) and one primarily for tourists, the Cuban convertible peso (CUC). The CUC is pegged to the US dollar at 1:1, minus a 13% tax and exchange fee (or slightly less on the black market) and 1 CUC=24 CUP. In my time there, I only used CUCs. The one thing that you continually hear in Cuba is that monthly salaries are approximately $20-30/month, meaning that ambitious people will do whatever they can to interact with tourists so they can get their hands on CUCs or foreign currency. I am not sure what food and basic necessities cost, but that salary certainly doesn’t allow for any luxuries. The taxi driver who took me to the airport when I left (who was unnecessarily chatty at 6:30 AM but seemed happy that I spoke Spanish) said that he makes more than his wife who is a doctor. That’s not hard to imagine, since I believe the going rate from central Havana to the airport is about 25 CUC (I didn’t pay him directly, as it was included in the price of my tour) so with a few trips back and forth to the airport the taxi driver easily surpasses his wife’s salary.

I did see some begging on the street, but less than in many other places, including New York. There was quite a bit of “Amiga, tiene un caramelo para mi hijo?” (My friend, do you have a candy for my child?) I know that many travelers to poor countries bring small gifts and candy to hand out to kids. It’s one thing if you are giving a present to a specific child that you know, but randomly tossing candy to people only perpetuates this kind of behavior. There was also some aggressive selling going on in the craft markets, both in Havana and Trinidad. Ebony and I continually remarked to each other how much more likely we were to patronize the vendors who were less pushy, and in fact when we told that to a lovely young woman who let us shop at her booth without hovering over us, we practically moved her to tears (not to mention that she made a sale from Ebony).

The day after the US and Cuba reopened their embassies, I wanted to buy the local newspaper, Granma, to see the Cuban coverage of the event. I found an elderly lady selling it in the street for 1 CUC. I figured that this was an inflated price (I later learned it actually costs 15 cents) but was willing to pay it. I only had a 3 CUC bill and gave it to the woman, waiting for my change. When it became apparent that she had no intention of giving me any, I asked for it and heard a sob story about how she needed money for food and to buy medicine for her diabetes. At that moment I decided that the equivalent of $2 would make more of a difference in her life than in mine and let it go, but did wonder about her financial situation and how well the government helps take care of people in her situation.

Every taxi ride was a negotiation. I wouldn’t get into a taxi without asking Ebony or one of the Cubans what the ride should cost. Then I would give the driver my destination and ask what the ride would cost, would invariably be quoted a price up to double what I was told it should be, and start to walk away. At that point the driver would ask me how much I wanted to pay, would say the amount I was told, the driver would say OK, and I’d finally get in the taxi. I’m sure that the prices I ended up paying were still inflated, just not as much as they could have been.

I have no doubt that as tourism increases, prices of locally made souvenirs (which are very reasonably priced) will increase, begging will increase, and taxi prices will increase. Ah, capitalism.

No Internet…What?

It’s been a very long time since I traveled somewhere without having easy internet access. I remember the days of having to go to an internet cafe but in recent years even the cheapest, most basic hostels I have stayed in all over the world have had free wifi (if not in the rooms, at a minimum in the common areas). I knew this wasn’t going to be the case in Cuba and I wasn’t sure how I would survive being so disconnected from the outside world. It ended up being challenging at times but not quite as bad as I expected.

Neither of the casa particulares I stayed had an internet connection. The vast majority of Cubans don’t have internet access in their homes, and from what I’ve read, those that do have very slow dial-up service. Certain parks and areas of the country have recently become wifi hotspots, but access requires the purchase of an hourly card (recently reduced in price from 4.50 CUC/hour to 2.25 CUC or from approximately $5 to $2.50).  Some fancy hotels also offer paid wifi in their lobbies, primarily for guests although others can use it as well.

For the first 5 days in Havana, I didn’t go online at all. Once Ebony and I got to Trinidad, and she mentioned that she needed to go online, I grabbed my Samsung Galaxy and decided to join her. First we tried the lobby of the only 5 star hotel in town, the Iberostar Grand, where one must buy an overpriced drink for them to sell you the card. Neither Ebony nor I had any luck getting connected there.  She was successful in a nearby park, and I was able to use a desktop computer that the hotel provided in their lobby. I had bought an hour of access but after about 45 minutes, I left to give someone else a chance to use the computer. I then found Ebony in the park, thinking I’d be able to connect there with my phone but it didn’t work there for me either. I later read on TripAdvisor that Samsung phones don’t seem to work in Cuba. So I had 45 minutes of being connected in 9 days. Not bad for this self-declared social media addict!

It was kind of surreal yet nice to be in a place where everybody isn’t walking around looking at their cell phones. People in Cuba actually talk to each other, in person and on both cell phones and from land lines. But as the country becomes more wired, clearly this will change. The wifi hot spots were pretty bustling. And this is while it is still quite expensive, especially for Cubans. It seems like every article I read enthusiastically describes how quickly Cuba is changing. While many of these changes will undoubtably be positive, I am sure that there will be some negatives as well.

Mariposa Blanca

The second half of my trip to Cuba was just me and the tour leader Ebony. After everyone else left to go home, she and I set off for Trinidad, a four hour drive from Havana. We had private transportation, but Ebony asked me if I minded if we shared the car with Urania, the proprietier of our casa particular in Trinidad, and her daughter Amaya. I’m not always the biggest fan of young children but once I ascertained that I wasn’t going to be with a crying infant, I said it would be fine. Ebony and I sat in the back of the taxi with the adorable almost 6 year old Amaya in between us. This was the cutest, smartest, funniest kid! I had the best time being in the car with her. She and Ebony already knew each other and Amaya was quick to start chatting with her, and shortly thereafter with me. As is typical of many native Spanish speakers, Amaya had trouble pronouncing my name. I suggested she give me a Cuban name, and I proposed a few alternatives that were somewhat close to Jill. How about Juliana, I asked? No. Juanita? No to that as well. So then I told Amaya that she should choose a name for me. She took this task very seriously and thought hard about it before she came up with Mariposa Blanca (White Butterfly). I have no idea why that popped into her head but I loved it. Her mom took to calling me Mariposa as well…as I said, Jill can be tough for Spanish speakers to say. I even pulled it out again when I had a salsa lesson in Havana and the teacher had a hard time with my name. Just call me Mariposa, I said.

Dance, Dance, Dance

A trip to Cuba is a must for anyone interested in the arts. I was thrilled with the amount of dance–both performance and participatory–that I got to experience. The only disappointment was that the National Ballet of Cuba wasn’t performing while I was there. But I was lucky enough to see them once in New York and I guess now I also have a good reason to return soon.

The first dance experience that our group had was with the Santa Amalia Dancers. This is a wonderful, warm and welcoming group of senior citizens that meet monthly to dance to jazz and big band music. They have been doing this since the 1940’s and provide living proof that dancing keeps you young. Following some short performances, the dancers got the members of our group up to join them. I didn’t need to be persuaded! I found this article from 2009, if anyone would like more information about their history. http://www.cubaabsolutely.com/Vintage/article_tropicana.php?id=Timeless-cool-with-the-dancers-of-Santa-Amalia

The next dance experience took place the next day when we got to see a children’s salsa group perform for us as we were eating lunch. These kids were between 10 and 12 years old and had so much charisma and stage presence. And once again, following the performance was the audience participation segment. And once again I think I was the most enthusiastic of our group. An added highlight for me was getting to dance with their teacher/choreographer. (I owe a big thank you to Mario, our tour leader in training for asking the guy if he would dance with me.)

 

We also were able to see the Sunday afternoon rumba at the Callejon de Hamel in Havana. This is a weekly event with live drumming and folkloric dance. It was very hot and crowded there but this was the real deal and very interesting to see, if only for a short time.

Before my trip, I had asked Shabi, the owner of Cultural Island Travel if I could have some private dance classes. I was so impressed with her willingness to customize the trip and respond to my specific requests. It worked out well because the rest of the group only stayed in Cuba for 5 days and I was there for 9, so the second half of the trip was easily able to be personalized.

My first private dance class was with Javier in Trinidad, on the rooftop terrace of the casa particular where I stayed. I believe that Javier was the cousin of Urania, who was our host in the casa. He had studied and performed folkloric dance, although my interest was casino (salsa). We ended up doing a combination of salsa and son, with the emphasis on the movement of my hips and torso. It was hot up there on the roof and I don’t think I ever sweated so much in my life!

My next dance class was the next day, back in Havana at a dance studio called La Casa del Son. When Ebony, the tour leader, called to reserve the class, she requested one particular teacher that she liked but he wasn’t available. She said that she hoped I didn’t get “the intimidating one.” Of course, I got the intimidating one. I don’t remember his name, but I really enjoyed the class. His approach was different. He just started dancing with me, taught me some complicated turn patterns and then worked on correcting specific mistakes that I made. (Like getting ahead of the music when I get nervous and the placement of my hand on the guy’s shoulder.) The two classes couldn’t have been more different but both were a lot of fun and I think both improved my dancing. And if I thought that I sweated more than I ever had in my life on the roof, it may have been surpassed in the following class. Cuban dance studios do not have air conditioning!

It would have been fun to have gone out dancing at night more–I didn’t go out at all in Havana because the clubs opened so late and we had such a full schedule of activities during the day that it never happened, despite my intention to do so. In Trinidad, Ebony and I went to the Casa de la Trova once, and that was fun although I only danced once. But still, I’m not complaining and if anything, the experiences I did have only make me more determined to return to this magical dance filled island.

 

Jewish Cuba

Before I left for Cuba, I received an email from Cultural Island Travel asking if I wanted to visit a synagogue. Other members of the group were interested in doing so. I replied “sure,” thinking that it could be an interesting experience. There was no mention of a synagogue visit on the itinerary and I forgot all about it. But then on Friday afternoon, our second day in Cuba, two of the women in the group, Judy and Collete, had this conversation right in front of me: “Should we invite Jill?’ “Of course.” Um, I can hear you. “Invite me where?” And if you haven’t seen where this is going by now, the answer was to synagogue. Out of a group of 8, 4 of us were Jewish and the other 3 all decided to go to Friday night services. To be honest, that is the last thing I expected to be doing in Havana. It’s something that I rarely do in New York and if the others hadn’t already planned it out, I never would have gone on my own. But it was the type of cultural opportunity that I couldn’t imagine passing up. Ironically, a friend had lent me a book before the trip called “An Island Called Home: Returning to Jewish Cuba” by Ruth Behar, which I only read after I returned but I highly recommend. I had also come across this article prior to my visit, further piquing my interest in the Jewish community in Cuba: http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-life-and-religion/190898/seeking-the-jews-of-cuba

So on Friday night, Judy, Collete, Ronnie and I took a taxi to El Patronato, the conservative synagogue in the Vedado neighborhood of Havana. It was a beautiful service and much better attended than I had expected. I was surprised to find out that the synagogue does not have a rabbi; instead services are lead by members of the congregation. The weekend we were there, two families were going to be moving to Israel, resulting in an emotional tone to the evening. I also learned that many members of the community were converts to Judiasm, due to either marrying into the religion or coming from mixed backgrounds with minimal Jewish heritage.

Following the service, Ronnie and I elected to stay for the community dinner. I have to say that it was by far the worst meal that I ate in Cuba but it quite lovely to be so warmly welcomed. There was a man from the congregation, Isaac, who was clearly tasked with looking out for us and I felt like we got the VIP treatment (including bottled water when everybody else was drinking water from pitchers on the table).

As we were finishing up dinner, a woman came up to me and asked if she heard us speaking English. It turned out that she was Canadian and her husband Israeli, and they were on vacation in Cuba with their two children. The husband and Ronnie started talking in Hebrew and they invited us to walk with them back to their hotel to continue the conversation. Ronnie and I were staying in the same apartment building and we had planned to take a taxi back together, so I agreed to join them. Their hotel turned out to be the Habana Libre, which used to be known as the Habana Hilton and was Castro’s headquarters for 3 months in 1959. Here is some history of the hotel: http://www.hotelhabanalibre.com/en/history.html

While Ronnie and his new friends were busy chatting, I set off to explore the lobby of this historic hotel. I eventually made my way to the live music I heard at the lobby bar, sat myself down and had a piña colada. When Ronnie was ready to go back, he found me but before we left, the Israeli/Canadian couple had a favor to ask me. As observant Jews, they could ride the elevator but not push the button, nor could they use their key cards on Shabbat. Since I spoke the most Spanish of all of us, could I explain this to the hotel staff? Sure, happy to oblige, although when the Cuban guys I explained this to looked at me like I had 3 heads, I really wanted to say, yeah it doesn’t make much sense to me either. But that’s a whole different topic.

 

Welcome to Cuba

Since there are now quite a few direct flights to Cuba from the United States it should be a piece of cake to get there, right? Not so fast. First of all, there are still very limited options to fly from New York, so the easiest way is to go through Miami. I really didn’t want to stay overnight in Miami so I chose a 2:15 PM departure from MIA to Havana. My ticket from MIA-HAV on Havana Air (operated by Eastern Airlines–remember them?) said to be at the Miami airport at 10 AM. What? But I do what I’m told (usually) so I chose a 6:59 AM flight on American Airlines from LaGuardia that was due to arrive in Miami at 10:05. I set my alarm for 4:30 AM and had a car service pick me up at 5:15 AM. The flight left a bit late but we landed in Miami around 10:30 and it was a short wait for my luggage. So far, so good. Then I had to make my way from Concourse D to Concourse G. MIA is a fairly large airport but everything was clearly marked and I started the trek to find Havana Air. As I was walking through the airport it felt like I was going back in time. The terminal got shabbier and older looking until I arrived at the correct area from where charter flights to Cuba and Venezuela departed.

I found the ticket counter for Havana Air and got on line. And waited. And waited. No automated check in kiosks. Just a really long line with people with a whole lot of luggage mostly wrapped in that blue plastic stuff that hermetically seals your bags. Everyone I saw appeared to be Cuban-Americans who were on their way to visit relatives and they were bearing many gifts. Finally I got to the front of the line. I had to weigh my suitcase, as expected. I knew that it was going to be $20 per checked bag, plus $2/pound extra above 40 pounds. I knew my bag was under 40 pounds. What I didn’t know was that they would also weigh my carry-on. So I had to pay $33–$20 for my checked bag, $10 for being over weight and some unspecified $3 fee (gringo tax, perhaps?). Also a $25 departure tax which I had expected to pay upon departure from Cuba not the US. So that was $58 total. Cash only. Bienvenidos a Cuba.

So after checking in, paying the tax, and getting my paper ticket (remember those days?) I went to the gate for the long wait for my flight. But now I understood why the instructions were to arrive 4 hours early. Things move slowly in the not very automated world of Concourse G. And then the announcements started, mostly in Spanish and difficult to understand. Something about a delay…the flight would leave at 3:15.  First I thought they said it was weather related but then I learned that the actual reason for the delay was that the computer system in Havana was down which meant that passengers on the flight that was leaving from there had to be checked in manually. Since we were waiting for the plane to arrive from Havana, we weren’t going anywhere for a while. After all, Havana Air charters airplanes from Eastern Airlines. I guess there aren’t any extras of their jets hanging around the airport for just these situations.

While I was waiting, I was texting Shabi, the owner of Cultural Island Travel, my tour operator, to alert her of our arrival time so she could then notify our tour leader, Ebony in Havana so she would know when to pick us up. That was the next clue that things operate differently in Cuba. There is no other way for Ebony to get updates in real-time of when we would be arriving. As I was texting Shabi, I asked her if anyone else from the tour was on my flight. It turned out that there were 4 of us (out of a total group of 8) and with a bit of detective work I found and met Kim. (It wasn’t very difficult. Just about everyone else was speaking Spanish.) Meeting someone new helped to make the time pass more quickly but our flight didn’t end up leaving until about 6 PM so it was starting to feel like a verrrrry long day. The most interesting thing for me was observing the behavior of the Cubans who were also waiting. They were all very relaxed and unfazed about the delay. Even the little kids were well-behaved. Welcome to Cuba, they told us. Clearly this wasn’t out of the ordinary.

As we were boarding the plane, Kim and I met Corine and Keith, who were also on our tour. The flight itself was short and uneventful, although on a plane that looked like it hadn’t been touched since the 1970s. They even served beverages and fried plantain chips on the 45 minute journey.

Shortly before 7 PM, we touched down at Jose Marti Airport in Havana, waited on line for immigration and entered the terminal to wait for our luggage. It is a tiny airport with only 2 luggage carousels, but with many people milling around and no way to know on which carousel our luggage would arrive. This is the translation of a conversation I had in Spanish with a uniformed airport employee:

Me: Excuse me Miss, which carousel will have the luggage from the flight from New York?

Employee: I don’t know.

Me: But don’t you work here?

Employee: Yes, but I am in the same boat as you. They don’t tell us anything.

Welcome to Cuba. And once again, we waited and waited. It took about 2 hours for the luggage to arrive. And again all of the Cubans seemed to be relatively calm while the 4 of us were tired, hungry and anxious. After all, what happens if you suitcase doesn’t show up in Cuba? Can you buy clothes? Shampoo? Suntan lotion? What would I do? My bag was the first out from our group and I immediately went outside to find Ebony and let her know that the other 3 were still waiting and should be join us shortly. It actually took quite a while longer for everyone else to get their bags but as I was waiting with Ebony outside the terminal I was quite moved watching the numerous reunions that I witnessed between families divided by a small stretch of ocean and decades of politics. I didn’t even care that I had been traveling for 16 hours. I was in Cuba!

 

 

Cuba, sí!

I had wanted to go to Cuba for over 10 years before I finally made it there in July 2015. The main thing keeping me away for so long was the price. I knew it would be possible to travel cheaply through a third country but I am a terrible liar and was filled with fear at the thought of having to lie to an immigration officer. Now that it has become easier (although not much cheaper) to go with a licensed “people to people” tour, I decided to bite the bullet. If I am going to be completely honest, not only the price kept me away. I also have an intense dislike of organized tours so the prospect of that type of travel contributed to my reluctance. I shouldn’t have been so afraid. Everything was fabulous and traveling with a group provided opportunities and experiences that I never could have had on my own. If anyone reading this is thinking about going, I can recommend without reservation Cultural Island Travel (www.culturalislandtravel.com). Say that Jill sent you (seriously). The groups are small and the emphasis is on visual and performing arts, although itineraries can be customized. I’ll write more about the details of my trip in future posts.

I was afraid that after wanting to visit Cuba for so long and having built it up to mythic proportions in my mind I would be disappointed. After all, can anything live up to your fantasy of that thing? Here was another case of needless worry. Even though some sites looked familiar from having seen them in photos and movies, it still felt special and new. The energy and vibrancy of Cuba can’t completely be felt without being there.

This was the perfect time to go to Cuba. It was like able to see the past, present and future all at the same time. And being there on the day that the US and Cuban Embassies reopened after decades was the icing on the cake. Never before have I experienced people so welcoming and excited when I told them I was from the United States. Of course for many Cubans, improved relations between the two countries and increased tourism means increased economic opportunities for them but I hope the exuberance I saw goes beyond that. Havana was like one big construction zone. There are old buildings that have beautifully restored, buildings that are shells of what they were and everything in between. From what I heard and read, a lot of this restoration and growth has occurred since Raul Castro became president in 2008. There is increased private ownership of restaurants (paladares) and an explosion of Cubans renting out rooms in their homes (casas particulares). I can’t wait to return in a few years to see what future holds. I am not so naive to believe that all changes, especially as more tourist dollars flow in, will be positive but hopefully Cuba can hold onto it’s beauty and personality as economic opportunities increase for its people. Only time will tell. But go see for yourself!

More to come soon…