Monday, April 3, 2017

Cuba - Day 8 – No more CUCs

Our last day in Cuba.  Soy triste.  

We woke up "early" (8am) to try to get in our last few hours, maybe buy some rum and cigars and soak in the last of Cuba.  We tried to find a place to get breakfast at 9 but of course no one was open so we wandered Havana Vieja until about 9:30 when we found a place that was opening soon.  We feel comfortable everywhere now and we must look like naturals because we saw this American couple frantically looking around in the restaurant – they were worried that everything was closed because they were too late!  With a small chuckle we said, oh, you must be new here.  Let us give you a few tips and pointers…

We bought our obligatory Havana Club souvenir rum, took our last stroll around the streets where, after days of searching, Damon finally got fresh hot churros.  


We eventually headed back to our Casa, finished packing and went to meet our taxi - a 51 Ford GTI with a Fiat steering wheel.  Enjoy - this is the last picture we took in Cuba :(


From what we could understand, the car had been handed down for three generations.  Or, the car was older than our driver's grandfather.  Damon and I differ on what the driver actually said, but we agree that the word grandfather was in there somewhere.  Our Spanish has improved dramatically and the driver even complimented my linguistic prowess.  Or maybe he was making fun of us – again, we will never know. 

We had allowed three hours to get to our flight, which proved to be a smart move.  Our driver had asked what terminal we were going to and we had no idea and our itinerary didn’t say, so he confidently dropped us off at Terminal 2 – where all flights going to the US depart from (or so he thought).  We couldn’t find Jet Blue listed and quickly realized that we were supposed to be in Terminal 3.  We asked about a shuttle bus, or tram, or anything since we were told the other terminal was about a mile away.  No such luck – this is Cuba.  We were attacked by the taxi drivers offering us a ride for 10 CUC to go 1 mile.  They didn’t know who they were dealing with.  Plus, we had almost no CUCs left and really wanted to eat before getting on the plane.  I countered with 3 CUCs and the guy laughed at me but came down to 5.  I said no, 3.  He said 4.  I said no, 3 because we had plenty of time and were fine walking the mile.  I may have gotten another bad word thrown at me as we walked away intending to hoof it, but not surprisingly, he chased us down with a friend in a totally run down “car” who said he would take us for 3.  Boom.  It was a 5 minute drive – 3 CUC was definitely reasonable.  Of course in hindsight, after seeing where we would have had to walk - in a ditch on the side of a road dragging our roll-aboards, I probably would have paid 10. 

Confident with all of the time we had, we walked into the airport and then mild panic set in when we saw the check-in line and the security line.  We probably were in line for about 45 minutes to check in, but thankfully the security line was quick, so we actually had a few minutes before boarding to blow our last few CUCs.  There was exactly one food counter with a huge line and nothing approaching barely edible, so we blew off lunch and hit the cigar shop.  The cigar Damon wanted was 13.80 CUCs and we only had 13.40 CUCs (including all of our random change), and the guy was like – close enough!   No day is complete without some commentary on toilet facilities.  I will say that as I squatted over my last seat-less toilet with a tiny wad of single ply toilet paper that I paid for with a 0.10 CUC coin I found in a pocket, while inhaling clouds of cigarette smoke, and washing my hands in a sink with a water trickle, no soap and no paper towels or hand dryers, I realized how lucky I am to have been born in a place where we have the ability to just take certain things, like American public bathrooms, for granted.

Thrilled that we were leaving the country penniless, we walked to our gate to get in line.  And as the line started boarding and I went to pull out my passport, I realized I still had 20 CUCs scrunched in my wallet - about $20.  We looked at each other, probably swore, and I told Damon – go, run, get us some food from the duty free!  Another mild panic as the last few passengers entered the jet bridge, but finally I saw Damon running back to the gate pleased that he was able to score another cigar, and the saddest assortment of saltine crackers and a strange cookie packet, although he did manage to get the vendor to throw in a second cookie packet gratis.  And so, we boarded the plane (last) and waived adios to Cuba. 

For those of you who have stuck it out this long, I can say that this was truly a wonderful experience and I would encourage anyone who has the ability to roll with a LOT of unknown to go and visit.  The Cuban people we interacted with were all intelligent, warm and welcoming and they all work their butts off to try to make better lives for their families.  The kind of lives that we were lucky enough to have been born into.  If you do ever decide to go, I made it a point to ask our guides what we should tell others to bring – what did they need most?  The most common answer – anything and everything.  When pressed for details, the list was:
-        Clothes – specifically jeans and gym shoes – they can buy clothes “legally” from government stores which rarely have anything in stock.  Most of what they buy is black market and expensive.
-        Medical supplies/vitamins - we brought a well-stocked first aid kit and ended up leaving everything.
-        Anything electronic – old phones (jail broke), computers (they can fix anything).  Many people are still using flip phones as there is not a huge need for smart phones when there is no cellular internet.
-        Kid toys – they all mentioned this.  We know they love Legos!

POST SCRIPT
As I sat on the plane headed to Ft. Lauderdale, I remember that we were probably in the air fewer than 20 minutes from the time we were airborne until they announced our initial decent.  And it hit me pretty hard how geographically close Cubans are to us, but how nearly impossible it is for them to get to get out of Cuba – even though, at times, they may be able to see the lights of Miami.  It does not surprise me that people are willing to hop in a raft and try to make it to our borders.  The freedoms we have, as compared to them, are unbelievable.  Think about it - 

-        We have the right to vote.  
-        We have the right to loudly express our opinions about our President or our government or our laws on any platform we choose.  
-        We have the right to leave our country whenever we want and are welcomed into almost any country we choose to visit.  
-        We have the right to pursue any career that we choose, work any job that we choose, live in any residence that we can afford.  
-        We have the right to work hard and make as much money as we want and spend it how we choose. 

I’m still trying to figure out how to end this as it sort of took a bit of a soapbox turn… I guess I’ll leave it at, as Americans, we really won the genetic lottery.  When life smacks you in the face, I guess we should just be grateful for the freedoms that we have.  And the toilet seats.

POST POST SCRIPT
A few days after we got home, I found another 55 CUCs in my wallet.  Apparently I am not allowed to hold the money anymore.


ADVENTRUES OF MONKEYHOUSE WILL CONTINUE IN LATE MAY WHEN DAMON AND I HEAD TO SOUTH AFRICA!  STAY TUNED…

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