Havana 2

The plan was to spend more time in Havana Vieja (Old Havana) and visit La Cabaña, the fort we glimpsed yesterday. Havana has enough sights for at least a couple of days. Once again, I walked to the centre, this time using avenues Salvador Allende and Simón Bolivar. Along the way I saw a collection of the old US cars for which Cuba is famous. I think these were awaiting hirers.

Outside Havana Vieja I found this attractive mural with its trompe l'œil palm tree.

Havana Vieja has been lovingly restored, probably with some UNESCO money as it's a World Heritage Site. The edifices and pavements are visibly in better condition than the rest of the city. It's an architectural glimpse into the colonial period of Havana. And of course it's a drawcard for tourists. I wouldn't have minded being able to afford to stay in a hotel there.

The maritime Terminal Sierra Maestra. Note the horse drawn carriage for tourists.

The building to the left of the terminal, and the same carriage. The clock on this building is not showing the right time, most likely stopped.

This mural was in a peaceful little garden just off a street, a space of repose.

A shop with a Chinese theme and some souvenir goods, somewhat bare and neat but not very authentic for that.

The cathedral, tourists snapping away or having a snack break, and some municipal workers. Notice the performers in costume. Most tourists were in groups or in pairs, probably with a tour, with a few backpackers and intrepid travellers.

A performance in full swing.


I had a criolla lunch of a very typical Cuban dish of pork, beans and rice at the Hanoi. After that I walked to the train station to have a look, although I was not planning to take a train in Cuba due to unpredictable service. It was crowded with many people waiting.


I had a serve of probably the cheapest ice cream in the world at 1 peso (about 4 cents). A beer at a local was 6 pesos.

A tunnel under the harbour leads to the fort and points east. There was a ciclobus for this. I found the terminal and asked a bystander whom I took to be another tourist about it. He turned out to be a Cuban who gave me 20 centavos which was the fixed fare. I gave him a Belgian candy by way of thanks. The bus went full, as did the next. I gave up on that and took a taxi for $3. At the other end there was a $1 entrance fee for the fort complex. Couldn't help getting nickelled and dimed in this country. In this picture you are looking back on the harbour with the Malecón stretching west.

Seeing (and overhearing) a bosomy Italian woman walk towards another building in the fort complex, I decided to investigate. The building that is, not the woman. There seemed to be many of her compatriots visiting the fort that day. Lest you think only the tourists were amply shaped, Cuban women were also ample.

The centre of Havana is in the distance in this shot.

Looking back towards the harbourside terminals.

These hadn't been used for quite a while I would say.


I took a taxi straight back to Vedado, where my casa was, to avoid walking back from the centre and napped away the rest of the afternoon.


Dinner at the casa consisted of pork, fries, salad, rice, bread, fruits and coffee. Quite filling. Then I took off to listen to some Cuban music at El Huón Azul, an artist union centre and performance venue in the area of Calle 23, which the locals call La Rampa, a name with more character. It was not easy to find because of poor street lighting and lack of signposts. Fortunately there was enough illumination to just make out the pavement, which was fortunate because it was broken and uneven. I found the venue after asking a couple of locals. The cover charge was $5, and then I had to order a drink to nurse as long as possible.


As far as I could see, aside from a couple at the next table who looked like tourists, the rest of the audience was Cuban. It seemed there were some local artist celebrities there from the audience's response. A crooner came on, followed by a poetry reading. Then what I had been expecting, boleros. The Cuban form is not related to the Spanish form but is an unabashedly lush and romantic musical form. When performed by a singer backed by an orchestra it sweeps you in with its sentimentality. The Cuban audience seemed to know the lyrics by heart and sang along. It was like a big family gathering. In the middle of the performance, a cat hopped onto my lap and went to sleep.


The event was still going strong when I left just after midnight. There were still many people around the La Rampa crossroads. I ignored the hustlers who hissed at me or tapped on their wrist to ask the time (a typical ploy). I hated being an object of curiosity in public. That and the poor street lighting irritated me. The problem with Havana was that one was paying first world prices and getting third world atmosphere, that is, a problem of expectations. I would have to make some adjustments.