The People (cubana cinco)

My perception of Cuban people changed dramatically over 24 hours. On my first day in Habana, I was talking to anyone who wanted to talk to me. Everywhere I went, whenever I stopped, *someone* always wanted to talk to me. You know me, I'll talk to anyone... until I got hustled a couple of times. Unfortunately, the few who took advantage of my friendliness, ruined it for everyone else. After that, I refused to talk to anyone.

I guess everyone does what has to be done to survive in a bad economy, but I hate the fact that I'm forced to doubt anyone's intention.

This is me, minding my own business, with
Hemingway's "The Old Man and the Sea" just infront of my hotel:
(Notice the white speck at the top right corner)

This is me, reading for a few minutes:

This is what I saw when I looked up:

DUHN-DUNH-DERN!!! *Egad*
Err, harro... weren't you a speck less than 10 mins ago?!?
"No, I don't want to salsa with you no matter how many times you ask" :P

Not all Cubans are after my money...
There's an ice-cream parlour called Coppelia in Habana Vedado. It's *the* place to go to for ice-cream. There are unbelievable lines into this place at multiple entrances. Groups are led in by security guards. Unfortunately, if you're a foreigner without local pesos (there are two currencies in this country), you're not allowed in. You're only allowed to order at the ice-cream counter outside. Guess who didn't have any local pesos? So after talking to the security guard in my pitiful Spanish, I ended up waiting in the foreigner line. After awhile, the security guard takes pity on me, shoves 10 local pesos into my hand, and tells me to go in with the next group into Coppelia.

What I see are stools lining a long bar, with large white freezers against the walls. Chuffed that I beat the local crowds, I take a seat at an empty stool and order fresa. Out comes a plate with five giant scoops of strawberry and something else *shrug* Hey, I got my ice-cream, I ain't complaining.

As I leave Coppelia, I find the security guard to thank him and offer him foreign pesos in return. He refuses my money and says it was his treat. That's a nice change :)

Then he starts asking me which hotel I'm staying at. Then he starts giving me knowing raised eyebrow looks. That's when I made my exit :P

Maybe not all Cubans are after my money, but my booty's a pretty high price to pay for five scoops of ice-cream!

Revolution anyone? (cubana cuatro)

(Note: If you can't see the slideshow in your reader, go to the post)
The timing of my trip to Havana was spot-on, with the 50th year of celebrating Revolution Day. Yup, Fidel has stood up to the US for 50 years. Did you know Fidel holds the record for the longest speech ever delivered at United Nations, clocking in at 4 hours and 29 mins. His longest speech on record in Cuba is 7 hours and 10 mins!! This is a man with plenty to say.

Fidel addressing the masses at Revolution Square in 1960:

With loud speakers blaring, "Viva Raul y Fidel! Viva Cuba!" over and over again, thousands of people parade through Revolution Square with slogans, flags and posters of Che and Fidel.

Revolution Square today:

Can you spot Raul Castro? :)

Here he is!

Viva Revolution! Viva Cuba Libre!

Introducing (cubana tres)

(Note: If you can't see the slideshow in your reader, go to the post)

... my bicycle!!!

A little on the heavy side, lots of gears (which I had no idea how to use), no suspension, and... my feet could barely touch the pedals :P AND, even though it made me pee blood, I still fell in love with my bicycle *grin* After cycling 60kms for approximately 4 hours, I was in pain. That wasn't the worrying part. I started to worry when I stopped feeling pain. By Day 3, I was numb downstairs. I didn't think that was a good sign. I don't understand how guys do long distance cycling at all!

Was it all worth the nerve damage?

There were times when the road wound downhill amongst an almost jungle-like backdrop. I cranked up my gears, stood up tall on my bike with the pedals positioned horizontally, squeezed the seat between my thighs in a vain attempt to stop me flying off over potholes, and I went *zoOMMM* around the whirly bends! I couldn't stop grinning the entire time :) I wanted to stop for photos, but I wanted more just to make the thrill last longer. So I kept going, and I found myself crying out loud, "AWEEESOME!" to noone but the turkey vultures circling gracefully above me.

There were times when I felt the Cuban sun burning my back. When I looked up ahead, and saw the road shimmering like liquid. I was averaging about 1.5L of water each day, yet never felt the need to pee as the Cuban sun sweated it all out of me from the moment I got on the bike. Times when I thought I'd choke to death on fumes spewed out by lorries filled with people waving to me as they passed by. There were a couple of times, when I just toppled off my bike *sheepish grin* To be fair, both times happened while I was trying to change gears going uphill. Do you know how hard it is to get back on a bike on a hill?!?



I wanted a challenge, and that's what I got every time I hopped onto that bicycle. Everyday, I saw something new. So yeah, throw in Fidel's choice of Cohiba and I'd say it was worth it all :)

(PS: If someone could explain to me how to change gears on a bike without my feet flying off, I'd really appreciate it!)

The streets of Habana Vieja (cubana dos)

(Note: If you can't see the slideshow in your reader, go to the post)
... ring aloud with cries of, "Chee-na! Chee-na-Chee-na! Cheeee-na!!!!"

*sigh*

Each cry gets louder with each step I take, as each guy (only once from a girl) assumes I'm deaf for ignoring him. As I wander through the poorly lit streets of Old Habana back to my casa particular, Cuban guys whisper seedy nothings to me as they pass by. Seriously, you'd think a city with a Chinatown would be more used to the sight of an oriental? (-_-) I'm even impressed they could tell I'm oriental with my giant sunnies on *grin*

The funny thing about Habana is, my life couldn't be safer here. Violent crime is low and everyone is just curious. They're just curious in the wrong way. Mixed with bad street lighting, an almost slum-like atmosphere (2.7 houses collapse every few days), blatant stares and kissy kissy sounds, I can't help but clutch onto my bag for dear life.

I thought Cuba would transport me back to a frozen time. It's true what you hear about Cubans driving around in huge American Chevys and Buicks. Also Soviet Ladas *grin* What I didn't expect were the regular Japanese cars too. Hyundai, Toyota, Kia, Mitsubishi, Mercs and Audis, all here. It's an odd mix.

The more days I spent in Habana, the more I felt confused about whether what I was seeing was real...

Cuban wildlife (cubana una)

I'm back! With a weird tan, but a tan nonetheless. An impressive tan for Rondon anyway ;) Here's a taster of what's to come in the Cubana series. Believe me, I had plenty time to jot away on my wuvvy iPhone.

One of the best things in Rondon is that roaches don't really exist. Giant rabid rats yes, roaches no. So I almost screamed when I walked into the bathroom of my casa particular and saw this:

It was freaking HUUUGE. It made me soo paranoid, I kept poking my head out of the shower to check out where it was in the bathroom. Normally I'm not squeamish, but I just couldn't get the courage to do the Old-Wrap-In-Toilet-Paper-And-Flush-It trick with this guy. Especially since toilet paper doesn't really flush in Cuban toilets. Nothing creepier than sitting on the bowl and having a roach crawl up your buttocks *shudder* So I locked it into the bathroom for the night :P

Next up, we have the Cuban delicacy - Frito Fly *grin*

I uncovered the fly riiiight at the bottom of my pile of patatas fritas. I guess it's no worse than having my food handscooped when I was in Bolivia :)

Cuban food has been hit and miss. Lots of very ordinary rice and beans with chicken. Some extraordinary beef (ropa vieja), and even a sumptuous feast prepared on a farm by a 60 year old grandma who looked like she could wrestle a 300 pound sow.

All I can say is, I was shocked my tummy survived unscathed! I've even been regular like clockwork, which didn't happen to me in Morocco or Japan. Must be M-San jinxing me both those times ;)