Cuban Currency

In psychiatry we say all problems that are socially mediated go back to one of two things--sex and money--sometimes both. So why should money in Cuba be different from anything else in Cuba? To put it mildly, it is complicated. First and foremost, there are two monetary systems--one for Cubans and one for everyone else. So tourists get Cuban Convertables, which are know as CUC, of 'kooks' (which seems appropriate--it is a crazy system)--they are worth about 24 regular Cuban pesos. What they are worth compared to other currencies is difficult to ascertain, and fluctuates daily. What seems to be consistent is the 'penalty' imposed on American dollars--they have the worst conversion rate, whereas Loons and Euros are definitely better.
The dual currency system seems set up to make for two different societies--Cubans, and those that visit Cuba--the later are paying top dollar (or top peso) for everything, which is priced in such a way that even if they were allowed to access it, Cubans could not afford. Lunch at a tourist establishment costs literally what the average Cuban makes in a month. So it is a way to not allow tourists to really experience Cuba as Cubans do. We are kept at arms length, with what they think we want.
We had lunch one day in Havana near the Riviera Hotel. One of my traveling companions pointed to the lunch that all the women at an adjoining table were having--it was rice, black beans, fried plantains, and what looked like a deliscious squash stew. No, we were told, that is not on the menu. You cannot have that. Why not? They are having it! That is lunch for Cubans, not for you. Ok, what on the menu is comida tipica, we asked. Lobster, we were told! No way, and definitely not true. If you want to experience anything approaching what Cubans live with, a paladar is the closest it seems that we can get without putting ourselves and others in harms way.

Finca Vigía

Visiting Hemingway's Havana suburb house was something I had heard was a 'must see' part of any trip to Cuba--and while I was personally skeptical, everyone was right. THis is a remarkable spot. Often the home of a famous person is disappointing on many levels, but there was only one aspect of this house that I found offensive--all the animal trophies on the walls. I know Hemingway was a big hunter and fisherman, and that trophies were not only a thing of his time, but also of great personal satidsfaction to him. A manhood boost, perhaps--why shooting ungulates would make one feel powerful is beyond me, but I accept that I just don't get it.

Hemingway's house is otherwise simple and spectacular--it is one story, with a wonderful layout, simple furnishings that accentuate the functional design, and with thick walls and tile floors, it has a feeling of coolness in a tropical climate. The walls are lines everywhere with bookcases filled with books, and it is a home I could move into, take down all the morbid dead animals on the walls, and live happily in. The grounds are grand and spectacular as well (a gardener would be required for that, no doubt, so not my absolute dream house, but a house I would happily dream about, none-the-less).

Classic Cars in Cuba

In the interest of full disclosure, the cars in Cuba that have exteriors from the 1930's, 1940's, and 1950's are largely cars from the 1970's and 1980's under the hood. The cost of fuel in Cuba made economizing necessary--but especially in Havana, every 9th car came off the assembly line before I was born. Cars had style then. They were gorgeous, things of angular beauty in an inanimate metal vehicle kind of magnificence. And in Cuba, they retain their glory.

So the upside is that the streets of Havana are packed with gorgeous cars. And Cubans are legendary mechanics--our guide notes that Cuban with a Swiss Army knife and wire, a Cuban can fix almost any mechanical failing--it is a skill they have born of necessity. So they are the ultimate recylclers--which would be great for the environment if they had some way to clean up the gasoline engine--which they do not. The air quality on the streets of Havana is poor, reminding me of Bangkok, where the diesel fumes limit the time you can spend walking the streets. The computer-based technology that has marked car manufacturing for a decade in the first wolrd makes modern cars useless in Cuba--not only are there no replacement parts, there are no diagnostic computers, so Cubans laugh at men who try to flaunt their wealth with big expensive late model cars--they will be rendered useless before long.
Cars in Cuba reflect on the available resources on the island in a number of complex ways that makes watching classic cars even more enjoyable than it would first appear. Just be sure to come up occasionally for air.

Cuba is Not Quite Flat

Housing may have been nationalized. Pay lowered, so as to have full employment and to eliminate the upper class--but there are still stark contrasts in the very richest and the very poorest Cuban housing. The housing pictured here is from just outside Havana, and we saw quite a bit of this sort of abodes. Corrugated metal roof and walls, not much in the way of protection from the elements, dirt floors--a house that would offer none of the coolness that the adobe and cement homes offer in terms of storing some of the night's coolness for the heat of the day. But even worse, this is hurricane country. With gale force winds and blinding rain, these houses are inadequate to protect even livestock from the elements.

I took this photo at Hotel Nacional de Cuba--a magnificent hotel in downtown Havana. We had lunch in this overblown dining room, with two waiters at our beck and call and were occasionally serenaded at the grand piano by one of our table mates. How very gentile. But the contrast is aggravating. I could see that if I was struggling to feed my family, not able to do so despite my best efforts, and I saw how other people in my very own province were living, it could make me a revolutionary. The tinder box was lit, and now everyone has almost the same amount of things--almost nothing. All is owned by the state--the land, the animals, the fruits, the vegetables--and while some are luckier and some are not, some engage in the underground economy to a greater extent and some to a lesser extent (if seems almost impossible to avoid some activity if you want to survive. Even the rice and beans are not quite enough), no Cuban dines in the Hotel Nacional on a daily basis any more.

Colonial Cuba

Trinidad is billed as the finest colonial city in the Americas. I would contend that Granada in Nicaragua is equal to Trinidad in both its beauty and it's restoration, but Trinidad is heralded as a UNESCO World heritage site, which is hard to argue with. We traveled here from Cienfuegos, which is also a beautiful Colonial spot.
Tourism officials like to say Trinidad is a museum in itself. Those visiting the 500-year-old city will find Spanish colonial architecture, underscoring a colonial ambiance that marks the tiny city one of the country’s greatest attractions. Only a few square blocks in size, historic Trinidad is famous for its lovely, cobblestone streets, pastel colored houses with elaborate wrought-iron grills, as well as majestic palaces and plazas. The city can be toured in a few hours, by foot or by horse-drawn carriage. The city is located near both the Escambray Mountains and the Caribbean beach.

So a colonialist past is evident in modern day Cuba. The Spanish began to build in earnest in the early 1500's, but by the early 1990's, many of these buildings and neighborhoods were in wretched condition. In the dark days that followed the disintegration of the Soviet Union, Castro authorized the beginnings of a plan to restore buildings of historical interest in Cuba. The plan was to use the cash garnered through the non-Cuban visitors to restore more buildings--so once it got started, the tourists funded the renovations.

One problem with the restorations is that while the families who were living in a building that is slated for restoration are moved to a new dwelling, often one with more amenities than the housing they left, the real benefit of their house in Havana Vieja was its location. It was amidst the underground economy's hub, its center. So moving means losing that resource and that income. Which is entirely illegal, and therefore what can you say to the government about it? Everyone agrees, whether they are fierce loyalists or dissidents, that the regime does not tolerate criticism well. Breaking laws in Cuba carries very high jail sentences, often without rationale. So the Colonial past seems to persist. Despite the revolution. Hasta la Victoria Siempre mutters Ché as he rolls in his adopted country's grave.

Comida en Cuba

Food, like everything else in Cuba, is complicated. I know, I have been writing about Cuba for a couple of weeks now, and thinking about it intensively for over a month, and I should be better able to describe these phenomena. But I cannot. I am just unable to. I am still am having a lot of trouble sorting through the contrasts, and remain at the level of "on the one hand there is greatness, on the other, there are significant challenges to solve'.It could be said that one does not need to leave home to say as much, and seeing Cuba first hand made the complications all the more vivid, three-dimensional, and real.

There are government stores in Cuba and there are private markets--the picture to the right is from a government store, the one above from a private market. A study in contrasts. Each Cuban has a local government store, which records the rations that each Cuban is entitled to at a subsidized rate--the foods pictured here are what is available in the store--LOTS of extra shelf space in the store for more products, to say the least. My husband's comment was that he would never have to call home from this store to clarify what was on the shopping list. No brand choices and almost no food. One thing that I read about Cuba was that there was a 'sameness' about the food, which people who adopt Cuba as home describe getting used to. We found that to be true in our very brief visit. More on food, food avaialbility, and food shortages, despite living in a fertile tropical environment in a future post--this is a key problem for the future of Cuba.

Ché

Hasta La Victoria Siempre. Portrait of a revolutionary as a young man--that is what it is like to talk about Ché in Cuba. He is frozen forever in youth by his early death. He is the John F. Kennedy of Cuba, a man lionized as a hero and unscathed by a legacy as an older man. Castro may have sent him out of Cuba, but on some level he must envy the uncomplicated admiration he enjoys. In Cuba, Ché is more the man of The Motorcycle Diaries, the young idealist, rather than what American youth have made him out as, an icon of the counterculture, or a motivator for change--which carries the rallying cry of: Ché, Suburban White Kids Unite. The Cuban Ché is the idealism of shared property and a shared destiny.

As depicted in The Motorcycle Diaries, Ché traveled throughout rural Latin America and his world view was transformed by the endemic poverty he witnessed. And throughout the lands he traveled through, not much has changed for many people. His experiences and observations during these trips led him to conclude that the region's ingrained economic inequalities were an intrinsic result of capitalism, monopolies, neo-colonialism, and imperialism--while not exactly true, he was definitely onto something. He saw the only remedy being revolution by the people, who would take over and run the place in lieu of the evicted capitalists. This belief prompted his involvement in Guatemala's social reforms under President Jacobo Arbenz, whose eventual CIA-assisted overthrow solidified Ché's radical ideology.

Later, while living in Mexico City, he met Raúl and Fidel Castro, joined their 26th of July Movement. He traveled to Cuba aboard the yacht, Granma, with the intention of overthrowing U.S.-backed Cuban dictator Fulgencio Batista. Cuba under Batista was a government that was available to the highest bidder, and in the late 1950's, that role belonged to the American mob. They brought gambling, wanton behavior, and live sex shows--not the best part of what America has to offer, and not popular with the locals. Guevara soon rose to prominence among the insurgents, was promoted to second-in-command, and played a pivotal role in the successful two year guerrilla campaign that deposed the Batista regime.
There are postcards all over Cuba depicting the icons of the revolution--the Castro brothers, Ché, and Camilo Cienfuegos. They are all young and optimistic. They look fantastic. Unfortunately there was not a nation builder amongst them. One joke I heard about how Ché became the head of the Ministry of Finance was that when Fidel asked if any one was a good economist, Ché volunteered, only to learn later that when he heard 'good communist' and raised his hand, he was getting into unknown territory. And no one who was better suited to the job appeared.

Paladares as a Paradigm

Paladar (plural: paladares) is the popular name given to a small, family-run, private-owned restaurant in Cuba--the name comes from Portuguese, for flavor, and for a better sense of what Cuban cooking is like, a meal in a paladar is mandatory. The Cuban government allows families to start and keep control of these small businesses in exchange for very high taxes. Paladares are limited to 12 seats only (although they usually have more than that--the one pictured here is in someones small private home--you went through their bedroom to get to the bathroom--but many are quite large). They must serve local food, such as rice and bean, pork and seafood. Cubans do not heavily spice their food, but there is a liberal use of lime and garlic that is quite delicious in the hands of a paladar cook.
The paladares are known for the simplicity and authenticity of their food and for having very good prices compared to the good quality of the food. They don't have particular names or even plates at their doors to inform passers-by that they exist. Being owned by poor families, they also have little to no advertisement--in Havana it was easier to find them through our guide, but in smaller towns it was word-of-mouth.
The paladar pictured above had wonderful food, but truthfully I would have paid the 8 CUC for the experience itself. The women had seen us dancing in the town square in a very norteamericano fashion and did a wonderful job of trying to teach us how to swing our hips in a bona fide Latin style. I haven't laughed so hard, and the hug the woman gave me as we left, I am sure to say that despite my lack of hip action, she wished me well, was genuine and memorable. The dance lesson was followed by a serenade of Cuban music that was spectacular in it's quality and it's passion. The depth of musical talent in Cuba is remarkable. This is what Cuba can be. I hope that the paladar represents what Cuba becomes--entrepreneurial, fun, successful, friendly, a mixed culture that celebrates where it has come from and where it is going.

Housing the Cuban Way

Housing in Cuba is a great way to think about what is powerful about the revolution for Cubans, as well as what is challenging about the future of Cuba. What you have is what you get--and it is pretty hard to get more. One solution is pictured below--take the sweeping second story of a sugar baron's home, and divide it into two floors--instead of one 20' ceiling make two stories of 10' each. Voila! Add a new level, add a new family member. The entry way pictured on the right is yet another grand home that has been bisected for multiple family dwellings. Each meter represents a household--the safety codes are apparently non-existent, because a mess of wires protrudes from very house in old Havana--this is the rule, not the exception.

Since Fidel Castro's 1959 revolution nationalized most Cuban property, what Cubans can do, even with the house they live in, is tightly controlled.
Regulations regarding the use of property is spelled out in Cuban Law 65. According to Havana-Guide.com, interpretation and application of the law rests on the whims of the Ministry of Housing team of inspectors. It doesn't matter what the homeowner reads into Cuban Law 65 but rather how the inspector reads it. Essentially, Cubans aren't allowed to sell the homes they live in but can only trade with another citizen. This house "swap" is the only chance Cubans have to relocate. The bottom line is that no money can change hands during the process. As long as private property is owned or controlled by the government, the prospects of citizens or foreigners being allowed to own private property is fanciful.

The Ministry of Housing dictates that house trades must be of equal value, which means no trades of a mansion for a shack are permitted. The website Se Permuta says that trades such as two apartments for one house or vice versa are allowed. The inspector must be convinced that the properties are of equal value before the transaction will be approved.
All of this contrasts sharply with what we as tourists are exposed to--pictured here, the lobby of the Parque Central is the very essence of capitalist luxury (apart from the unbelievably tiny elevators that are too few to service a hotel this size). Housing is only one of the major challenges facing Cuba as they move forward as a nation entering the 21st century, after exiting the 20th century midway through.

The Artist is a Cuban

José Rodríguez Fuster is a painter, a ceramicist, a sculptor, a poet, a chronicler of the spirit of his people and his time, a folk artist of enormous proportions, but most importantly, he is a transformative artist. His work will stay with you, amuse you, cause you to think, make you sit up and take notice. It is not small in scope. His palate is large, and his work expands to fill the space.

Driving into his neighborhood, you know you are somewhere special. Havana abounds with impressive architecture, but nothing on the order of the creativity that surrounds the blocks approaching his home and studio. Fuster has made a major contribution over 10 years of work of rebuilding and decorating the fishing town of Jaimanitas in the outskirts of Havana, where he lives. Jaimanitas is now a unique work of public art where Fuster has decorated over 80 houses with ornate murals, sculptures, tiles, and domes to suit the personality of his neighbors, he has built a chess park with giant boards and tables, The Artists’ Wall composed of a quilt of dozens of tiles signed and donated by other Cuban artists, a theater and public swimming pools. Stunning, and not to be missed.

In a country where people have struggles on a daily basis, it is remarkable how well supported the arts are. Many places would put food ahead of creative expression, yet such a place has nurtured this man, who has a playful and joyful style that exudes from everything around him. He asked for a consultation and while being examined, he created line drawings spontaneously. Every painting in his studio has a story. the story might change tomorrow, I do not know, but it is very fun to be with him.

This painting is the history of Cuba. It includes the church, colonialism, music, money, some of it tainted. It involves love, passion, hard work, adherence to values. It is colorful and it is optimistic. As Cuba sits today, on the brink of yet another change in it's checkered history as a nation, I am most hopeful when I see something like this, someone who sees so much promise and takes such pride in his country's heritage.