Ay Caramba!

"So", say's our host, "can you tell me who the slowest waiter in the world is?"

        ....

"You both know him - he's a famous Cuban".

        "Would that be Fidel Castro?"
       
"Shhhhhhhhhhhh! We don't say his name! But yes, you're right, it's..." makes a stroking beard gesture.

"And do you know why?"

        ....

"Because he takes 54 years to prepare a Cuba Libre."

Blue is definitely the colour of Cuba

Asking our host Pedro later about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Pedro tells us about 2 of his friends, one who wrote a poem critical of the government in a draft copy of a newspaper, later deciding not to publish it, and another who was drunk and starting complaining about the regime to a few locals. The first got dobbed in by an insider at the newspaper, and the second happened to be in the company of a military policeman in plain clothes. Both disappeared for 7 years.

Even now, in the 54th "year of victory" since the revolution (as is proclaimed on every town billboard or shop window), people are still on edge, casting furtive glances to the window before quietly mocking "the Chinaman", another of his many nicknames.

From the moment we stepped off the plane (don't EVER fly with Air Europa by the way) and into the Havana streets, filled with 1950s classic American cars, we knew this would be like no other country. The lack of advertisement is a blessing, until you realise that even if adverts weren't banned in favour of political slogans like "Patria o muerte!" (fatherland or death!), there would be next to nothing to advertise, as goods available legally are few and far between. More than 50 years have passed since America implented their trade embargo, giving the whole country a kind of frozen-in-time feel, as most industrial and mechanical parts were supplied from the States before. Of course, the Soviet Union helped where it could, keen to have an ally right next to their old foe, but the days of cheap and plentiful Soviet machine parts have passed since the fall of the Iron Curtain.

One of many perfect Havana sunsets along the Malecon

Our arrival was one of the nicest we've had into any country - warmly welcomed by Eva and Edel into their home, the bed looking hugely inviting and we slept off the jetlag with ease. Our first morning we were invited to join them to watch their son Julian play piano at a free concert being held at the old Presidential Palace (pre-Fidel), now the Museum of the Revolution.

 Can you spot the revolutionary bullet-holes behind Beth?

The first day in Havana wouldn't really be complete without a visit to the Havana Club Rum museum, enjoying some jazz-club-smooth Havana 7 anos and sampling some street samba and several more mojitos in one of the many lively cafes... the rest of the day was something of a blur until we sobered slightly later on, enjoying some delicious fresh lobster (one of the many foodstuffs illegal to buy for personal consumption, along with beef... In India, killing a 'sacred' cow lands you 2 years in prison. In Cuba, killing a 'government' cow earns you 50 years in prison).

I'll have the usual, please

Transport around Havana is truly a pleasure - along the main drags, you hail a 'maquina' - which is always a classic Dodge, Buick or Chevrolet that roll around the capital acting as shared taxis for people who want to go to similar destinations. Riding in one though, for the princely sum of 25p to anywhere in the city, makes you feel like you're in the movies!

My movie-star gal

While we were out and about in Havana, we took advantage of the plentiful street food on offer, which mostly consists of pizzas (sold on almost every corner) and cahitas, or "box-food" - usually chicken, rice and black beans.

My 'box-food' boy...

Our host, the delightful Eva, told us a joke on the first day we arrived, which I'll translate for you...

Heaven is a place where...
- the mechanics are German,
- the lovers are Cubans,
- the chefs are French,
- the humour is British,
- and it's all organised by the Swiss.

Hell is a place where...
- the mechanics are French,
- the lovers are Swiss,
- the chefs are British,
- the humour is German,
- and it's all organised by Cubans.

Keen to prove her wrong (on the cooking front at least, as most of you know I'm about as mechanical as a blind TellyTubby), we set about planning to cook the whole family a meal. Harder than it sounds in Cuba - the largest supermarket in central Havana stocked around 20 different items, arranged across 50+ shelves, mostly consisting of spaguetti, rice, and beans. The few imported items on offer were ridiculously expensive e.g. £4 for a tin of peaches in syrup or a tube of tomato puree. We later learned from Eva that the majority of their food they have to buy from the black market, and in large quantities as things like honey, cheese or jam might only appear once in a blue moon.

We also had the pleasure of viewing Edel's latest art exposition - an impressive body of work with a black and white theme evoking strong feelings of self-analysis. The rest of our time in Havana we spent wandering about the beautiful streets lined with crumbling mansions, strolling through the Plaza de la Revolucion to get the typical photo of Che, and wandering around the underground tunnels in the Hotel Nacional gardens, Che and Fidel's hide-out during the Cuban missile crisis.

Spot the Bethany

Amongst the rebels

A 5-hour ride down to the southern coastline brought us to Trinidad, a beautiful town full of colonial history. We stayed at a "casa particular" (home-stay) run by a lovely couple Pedro and Teresa. The house is in the historic centre and is a beautifully restored colonial mansion, complete with uber high ceilings and a coach-yard to hook your horse up out back.

Beth's dream kitchen!

A pleasant 45-minute cycle took us to the famous Playa Ancon where we soaked up some much needed sun after our 2 months in the british grey. We got chatting to (another) Pedro, who was selling coconuts on the beach and was also happy to tell us his life story, right back to fighting off the American invasion in the Bay of Pigs with Che and Fidel... recounted like it was yesterday. He told us of the many family members he has lost to the Americans and anti-revolutionary bandits since, and the senseless violence of the "imperialist scum" who bombed Cuba indescriminately, killing countless children in the area. It was as if the revolution had only just ended, because it was still affecting his life so much. Truly a heart-breaking story. His parting words were "never forget the poor people in the world".

Our last few days in Trinidad were spent walking to waterfalls, cycling to the beach in the afternoon, learning how not to step on each other's toes in salsa lessons, and ambling the cobbled streets at night stopping to listen to the live acts and to watch other people who clearly know how to dance far better than we could dream of.

He thought he'd show us the way then ended up joining us for the whole day!

So with the time ticking away and our short trip to Cuba almost up, we headed back to Havana, thinking it better to really get to know a couple of places rather than rush around the country. It still managed to make a lasting impression on us that we'd love to return to one day.

The last thing on our list was to take a visit around a cigar factory (no photos allowed sadly), an amazing experience to see the various stages of cigar manufacture which hasn't changed since pre-revolution days. Leaves are sorted by colour, texture and appearance, while every single cigar is hand-rolled to strict quality control guidelines, then sorted by the exact hue to produce boxes of identical, high-quality cigars. And yes of course we have a box of the finest Cohiba cigars coming back with us!

Had to pull out the cheese!

Don Poon

Tinned meat - but just for tourists!

Beth's always making furry friends