Initially I had planned to stay in Cuba for 2 months but I decided to cut that short to just under 5 weeks. There are a number of reasons why I'm making an early exit, but they can all more or less be summarized by this: Cuba is exhausting. First, let me be clear that I have really enjoyed my time here. Salsa dancing, live music, mojitos, fresh cigars, interesting politics, and some of nicest people I have met have all contributed to this awesome to experience. But here are some reasons why Cuba has exhausted me:
Lets get the most embarrassing one out of the way... it is difficult and expensive to use the internet. It is pathetic to admit, but I miss having easy access to inexpensive, unrestricted internet. It goes beyond connecting with friends or reading what is going on in the world, although that is admittedly a primary concern. But in addition, without internet you lose the ability to look up a restaurant, book a hostel, check directions, and many other travel related activites that you normally just take for granted. Fortunately gmail works, but almost every American website is blocked in Cuba. To use the internet here you must buy 30 minute or 1 hour scratch cards that include a code to type into your computer or internet capable device (wifi is only in Havana). These average to about $8 an hour, which isn't eggregious but certainly adds up.
And woe if you have to make an international call. Normally this doesn't come up for me, but because American sites aren't too stoked about making flight arrangements to Cuba I booked my flight via a European version of Kayak. For some moronic reason they required a phone confirmation to change my flight. 15 minutes and $67.50 later I was the proud owner of a new ticket. Granted it was written in the 1990s, but I distinctly remember Into Thin Air describing the Everest satelite phone costing $5.00/min... I suppose I should thank Fidel for at least being $0.50/min cheaper!
Next, Cuban Spanish is not easy. I was feeling pretty good about my progress in Bolivia and Mexico, and that came to an abrupt halt when I got off the plane to Havana. Cubans are alergic to the letter S (much like the people of Boston and the letter R) and that extra split second you need to realize what was just said makes a world of difference. Further compounding the issue: the speed is unreal. What is the rush? I tried speaking in English at that speed and was exhausted after a minute. I suppose it was good practice and I started to get the hang of it by the time I left, but every conversation required much more energy than in Mexico or Bolivia.
Next, there is a significant derth of stores that sell basic amenities such as bottled water, snacks, soap, deodorant, toothpaste, and most surprisingly, lighters/matches (how can Cuba of all places not have something to light their cigars with??) Of that list really bottled water is the most inconvenient since I would go through at least a few bottles a day, but in every place we stayed we had to hunt for the water supply. I never did find deodorant, but fortunately my stick made it to the finish line.
Cuba is an expensive place. The cheapest lodging you are looking at is $25/night, and since there are no supermarkets you are pretty much going to be going out every meal. If you stick to just the Moneda Nacional places you of course can get by, but eating pizza and ham and cheese sandwiches all isn't the most pleasant of existences. But more importantly, access to money is an issue for Americans since ATMs do not accept American bank cards. Before the globalization of ATMs I suppose this is the way people used to travel, but I don't enjoy keeping a big stash of cash on me at all times and constantly monitoring my supply. In an emergency I could have money wired to me via Western Union, but that isn't something I want to rely upon.
But all of those reasons pale in comparison to this: Here, more than anywhere else in Latin America, I have felt the most significant separation between foreigner and local. Look, as a tourist you are going to get hassled to some extent no matter where you go. If I flipped out every time someone asked me to buy something I would have had a colossal meltdown long ago. But Cuba is unrelentless: every corner someone shouts at you to take their taxi. Every restaurant has someone outside waving their menu at you. People will follow you for a block explaining that the Buena Vista Social Club is playing at their bar tonight and it is just around the corner if you will just walk this way, amigo. This is of course more worse in Havana than in the smaller cities, and especially bad in any area where there are likely to be large groups of tourists (the Old Havana part of town, near any hotel, etc.). But it really was everywhere that I visited on the island.
There were times of incredible kindness: one time an old man stopped me on the sidewalk just to shake my hand and wish me a happy New Year. Everyone loved that I was from the US and even the hustlers had kind things to say about American people. My last night in Cuba I ended up sharing a cigar and a bottle of rum with a doctor on his porch where we talked for hours about politics, women, and the similarities between our two cultures.
But those were the rare exceptions. Unfortunately by the end of my stay my default reaction was to ignore or say no to any local that tried to talk to me. And that is an absolutely terrible default position to take. Connecting with the locals is my favorite part of traveling, and after 5 weeks I stopped making eye contact. An encounter on my last week really drove home how far I had devolved:
I walk past a man holding a flyer who asks me to stop and go to a restaurant around the corner on another street. I politely say no thank you and continue to walk. Like countless other encounters he follows and asks me where I am from and how long I have been in Cuba. As long as I keep walking I don't mind these conversations, and even though they are more or less always the same it is still good Spanish practice. We reach a busy intersection and stop at a red light, whereupon he brings up the restaurant again -- it's just around the corner and serves great food at a good price, my friend. I explain that I prefer to eat in places where the prices are in Moneda Nacional for lunch. Moneda Nacional is the ultimate trump card: people understand they can't compete with something that is a fraction of what they are selling, and once they hear that the tourist knows about these places you are immediately left alone. This has the desired effect and we shake hands, wish each other a nice day, and I go on my way.
The next day I am walking in a different part of the neighborhood after just finishing 2 hours of salsa class. I'm hungry and walking quickly, the $0.50 ham and cheese sandwich tantalizingly within reach. I am about to turn a corner when I hear "Oye, amigo! (hey, friend!)" I look up and there is Mr. Restaurant from the day before. I wave and continue walking but he motions for me to stop and come towards him. I'm not too happy about this, I really just want my sandwich, but I grumpily stop, and mutter to myself "que quieres? (what do you want). Looking back I'm actually a little pleased that my instinctive reaction was to talk to myself in Spanish, that's progress! I didn't really intend for him to hear my grumpy question but he certainly noticed, and he angrily comes towards me, points to his head, and asks why I am taking his presence negatively. You should have a positive perspective when someone waves to you, he exclaims, why did you immediately assume that I wanted something from you? I am a little taken aback by the abrupt change in mood and pause for a few seconds to register this angry Cuban who is now very close to my face. I attempt to explain my perspective and how my experiences over the past 5 weeks have made me weary of these kind of encounters, which isn't the easiest Spanish to convey. I think for a few more seconds, but as I am slowly trying to state my case he loses patience and storms away. This time I manage to keep my mouth shut and only silently tell him to fuck off (in Spanish, of course).
The thing is, he was absolutely right to be upset. You can't complain about not being able to converse with locals and then react with hostility when someone tries to talk to you. He was probably working the day before, and unfortunately restaurant promoting involves pestering tourists. Since this interaction took place in a different area he probably did just want to talk. But the sins of the other Cuban hustlers are destined to revisit future generations; I had long reached my breaking point, and he himself had been guilty of steering me towards somewhere I did not want to go just the day before. And I wanted my damn sandwich.
It certainly has been an interesting 5 weeks but I am happy to begin my backpacker rehabilitation program. The first time I walked past someone sitting on a stoop in Cartagena I cringed, but there was no hassle, simply an "hola." Already feeling better.
No comments:
Post a Comment