While in Cuba I relayed my experience back to the Northwest Arkansas Times. I corresponded once every two weeks for a total of six entries. My writings were published on the Opinions Page. Below is a sample of the journal entries.
I’ve been here for only two weeks, yet it feels more like a month. The first week was somewhat of a daze as I was trying to adjust to my new surroundings and at the same time soak up all of the details. My early explorations have confirmed what I came expecting, the thick accent, the sociable people, the 1950 Chevys, the incredible architecture and the ever present hint of music in the air, but they have also left me searching. It’s been challenging trying to figure out the dual economy, the food, and especially the transportation. Since arriving here on August 23, among other things, I’ve had the opportunity to cruise the Malecón, play a game of dominos by streetlight on the cobblestone streets of Trinidad, attempt to figure out the dual economy, and most interesting of all, use the Cuban bus system.
The first thing I wanted to experience in Havana was the Malecón. On the first night here I headed down to the famous evening hangout to see for myself what the draw is. Just seeing all of the couples taking an evening stroll or gathering along the wall was an experience in itself. As I sat there with the waves crashing at my back occasionally cooling me off with a salty mist, musicians wandered up and down the avenue playing songs for interested bystanders. On this occasion, a young Cuban man with a guitar spotted my tourist attire, shorts and sandals (most Cubans wear pants) and played me a song.
I’ve thought about trying to disguise my being a foreigner and fit in, but, as if my fair skin and blue eyes aren’t enough, I can’t brave the heat and wear the pants. My tourist status has come in handy at times, specifically while taking a weekend excursion to the white sand beaches of Colonial Trinidad on the south central coast. On the first night there a friend and I were wandering around when we came upon some men playing dominos. The locals heard our spoken English and invited us to sit down and play. The man who seemed to be in charge of the table tried to explain the rules to us, but his rapid-fire words and lack of pronunciation of the "s" left us puzzled as to how to play. We did, however, do our best to copy their playing style and slam the playing pieces down whenever it was our turn. After the game was over and we had lost, the table master looked to my friend and praised his ability, but also said that I needed to practice.
The most difficult thing for me has been adjusting to using three currencies. There’s the U.S. dollar, which everyone wants to get their hands on, the peso convertibles, which is the change given when using dollars, and the Cuban peso. Some stores only accept dollars, some only take pesos, and others will take whatever you have. The key to being thrifty is to use Cuban pesos; otherwise, Cuba can be a very expensive place. For example, a sandwich at a dollar store costs anywhere from three to five dollars. Meanwhile, at a peso store, a sandwich, despite being considerably more basic, but nonetheless filling, goes for less than a dollar. Another time I was headed to a barbershop for a haircut. At the counter, the cashier told me the cost would be one-twenty. I was pulling two dollars out of my wallet when the lady stopped me and told me to pay in moneda nacional, or pesos. I was thrilled to be able to get a hair cut for $1.20, but by paying in Cuban pesos, the cut cost roughly five cents.
The confusing use of multiple currencies is also apparent in the act of transporting myself around the city. As with food stores, there are dollar taxis, peso taxis, and taxis that will take whatever. A dollar taxi is the best bet if you are in a hurry, but not the most economical. The peso taxis, which are1950s Chevrolets, charge a flat rate of 10 pesos, less than 50 cents, but follow a roughly defined route. Often times they are already full or aren’t headed in your direction.
In a matter of just a couple of weeks, I’ve grown to love the Cuban streets. Even in the country’s capital, people take their time. They take care of themselves before they worry about serving others. While not the most efficient system, work gets done and the people are happy.
