The first day in La Habana

I wake up to one of those hot sunny tropical mornings, it feels great, the thin sheet being just enough to keep me warm as the fan blasts air at me. Lucas has already vanished, I assume exploring, which is standard for any morning, but especially when we arrive somewhere new. I already know that he will return dripping in sweat with the makings for breakfast, wide-eyed at how cool this new country is. I have another cold shower and stroll around the house looking at all the trinkets. Just when my hunger is starting to get the better of my mood Lucas appears – dripping in sweat, with the makings for breakfast, wide-eyed about how cool this new country is, and with a box of Cuban cigars….

I am told about the dual currency system and what the apparent cost of living is (not as cheap as we first thought – it seems) while we make a fried ham and bread breakfast with a fruit salad. Then Ramiro arrives. He is a well dressed middle aged professor. He teaches English (and possibly something else) at the University. He then starts to tell us most of what anyone visiting Cuba will ever need to know. There are 24 cubanos (Cuban pesos) per convertible (convertible peso). An exchange rate that makes Lucas realise that he was a fraction hasty in changing some of our convertibles, and also that the cost of living, when buying in cubanos is extremely low.

Lucas has already figured out a vague idea of where the city centre is so we put our hats on and step into the blazing sun, a heat I haven’t felt since Townsville. The Cuban strategy is to pull your t-shirt up under your armpits (also exposing everyone’s chiselled abs). The first impressions as we walk is that Havana (La Habana) was once one of the most beautiful cities in the world but is now in disrepair. Again I am in awe of the colonial architecture that has survived purely because there has been no need to demolish and replace with safer and more modern buildings for doing business in. I am also struck by the beauty of Cuban women, the afro-latino mix that is a feature of Brazil also seems common here. After three hours of walking (and having fallen in love at least 6 times) and finding ‘café’ after ‘café’ to be empty and not serving anything except rum, we finally find a place that sells (cold!) cola (for mixing with the rum if you are soft). We knock back a two litre bottle between us while we cower under a tree for some shade, we are already sun burnt and feeling a bit sunstruck. On our walk home we stop in at a bar on one of the main intersections – cold beer for 6 cubanos (25c) a pint. We sit down in the shade feeling relieved and bite the end off our first Cuban cigar.

I’m sure smokers who have their first cigar don’t find it a very pleasant experience, so for a non-smoker like me it was akin to eating shoe polish. I did manage to suck down half a cigar while we chatted to a couple of Cuban men over some beers (on of them a vet and the other a young guy who wasn’t really doing anything). When my eye was caught by yet another Cuban girl walking past, the younger man laughs “el sabe, el sabe” (he knows, he knows). The four of us then head off to get some lunch at a place suggested by the older man. The place charged in convertibles, which is always a giveaway that it is for tourists or wealthier Cubans. But we amiably had a Bolognese with them (while I went and threw up in the toilets – the cigar combined with beer having given me such a headspin). Only when they suggested that they accompany us back to our house with the intention of a rendez-vous later in the evening to show us La Casa de la Musica (the music house), did we decide it was time to cut the friendship short. We made our excuses and headed home, for another cold shower and an afternoon nap. That evening we sat on the balcony at sunset with our guitars, finishing our cigars over a rum (and some coconut Lucas had procured) and reflecting to each other and in our diaries our first impressions of Cuba.