Havanna – Bad Cuban Experience no 3 then some good bits the next day
So wee pruned and polished put on our finest glad rags and headed out to experience what we’d been promised was very good typical Cuban food in a place ran by Cubans for Cubans. It was pretty near our hotel and the directions were clear. It was opposite a massive town hall – directly opposite. We couldn’t miss it.
We managed to miss it. Several times.
In the end we asked some guy in the street who promptly whistled and another guy appeared as if by magic, one minute there was one the next **poof** this guy. It was literally that quick. He was very amenable. Yes he knew it, yes he’d worked there for 20 years now – lovely place. In fact he was going there now, would we like to tag along. Now, reading this back it sounds obvious huh? And I must admit given the afternoons experiences I was wary. Very. Stevo though, ever wanting to give folks the benefit of the doubt thought it worth a punt. The guy seemed nice, he was in his 50’s with greying hair and a friendly smile. So we set off. And we left the area our guide said it was in. We walked a few blocks. Then we walked some more. And as the touristy area disappeared behind us replaced instead by narrow streets full of people houses (we knew they were their houses, the doors were open and we could see inside where they were sitting on couches, bizarrely knitting?!?) I got more and more worried and said as much. Not much further now said our cheery chap, not far go. This sounds stupid right? We were just about to turn around when he announced ‘we’re here’. There was no sign or anything just a set of dark stairs up. We didn’t want to go up there. There was a guy on the door and older man just sitting and I asked him the name of the place.. he said something, it wasn’t our place. By this time we were still at the door and our cheery chap was halfway up the stairs. He went mental. He started shouting in Spanish at the poor old guy on the door then at us ‘he doesn’t speak English he doesn’t understand, this is the place, come up, come up..’ he was then down and ushering us up the stairs. It could all have ended so badly!!
It didn’t. Not really. We got up the stairs and there was a restaurant, with a nice young smiley girl on the door. Again I asked the name. She said the same as the guy at the bottom of the stairs and we turned right around and walked out. The cheery chap looked so disappointed. His ruse hadn’t worked after all. I guess after all that walking most people just give in and eat in that restaurant. We never. I was just really angry. Why do they think it is okay to do this? It was the lying that got to me. That and the complete falseness of it all, the friendliness for a purpose. For their gain. It’s sad.
Eventually we ended up where we started (after a speedy walk back!) Stevo went into a proper hotel and asked about our restaurant. It was, literally 10 meters from where we were and where the guy had ‘picked us up’ initially. Up some stairs.
We found out that most restaurants are up some stairs. Despite the hot climes it’s not really like other places where the tables sprawl along the pavement and the menu boards welcome you in. It’s all very discrete. In fact you wouldn’t know they were there. There’s often not even a sign at the door (as was the case where we ate that night). Stevo thinks that’s because not many can afford it really and perhaps that they don’t want to advertise the food they have given the rationing situation? Who knows.
Anyway the restaurant was very good. It was dark, lit only by candlelight so completely romantic. There was a very good pianist in the corner playing a dazzling array of tunes, classical, contemporary, everything! The menu was in Spanish but the had, handily, one waiter (reserved for the tourists!) who translated it for us. I had a heavenly sirloin cooked to perfection accompanied by sweet potato chips and salty rice. Stevo had 2 chickens (yes really!) and a lovely wee tomato flower (they thought the chicken was for me haha!) We also sampled this homemade lemonade which was more like fresh sherbet, a fizzy, fresh lemon drink made with ice with pulpy bits in. very moreish. This place was well worth the visit!
So that was yesterday! Today we have spent mostly meandering around the market place, A haphazard series of lanes crammed with wee stalls on the periphery of the old town today. The old town itself is a maze of narrow streets and old buildings in a rainbow of pastel colours interspersed with courtyards. The building walls are wonderful, all have peeling plaster and tumble down brickwork. The old town is in a period of rehabilitation, it has finally received an injection of cash from the government and bit by tiny bit they are restoring it, this is great news as pretty as it is at the moment eventually it’d fall to bits and all of these old spanish colonial type buildings would be lost. In places there are what look like wooden brides connecting the buildings across the narrow lanes – these are in fact structures and supports to stop them falling down. Regardless people continue to stroll about happily under the most ramshackle of buildings! It’s very quaint, way prettier somehow than I think it would be if they were all restored and perfect.? There is a feeling of transition, of a journey to something better. Though, selfishly I like it better this way!
Onto the market. It sits between the town and the river in a park where it benefits from the shade afforded by the surrounding trees. The stalls sell a complete jumble of goods from the most tackiest cheap souvenirs to unusual (and enterprising) things like intricate models of the old cars which line the roads made out of the local beer cans (they are really good – we bought one!). One full row of the market is devoted to artists and the art there is really very, very good. We purchased an amazing large oil and acrylic painting which will have pride of place in our lounge at home, again it’s really different and cost a fraction of what it would do here. I’ll try to take a photo and pop it on to let you see what I mean. There are some officials who sit beside the artist’s stalls who will certify the painting there and then to let you get it through customs (although that is a bit of a palaver and we were not sure what was going on – at one point after we’d paid the lady she seemed to wander off out of sight with the painting – she came back!). It has to be said that the stall holders do hassle you a wee bit. There are two types here, the stall holders who tend to be of Spanish decent and bother you a bit (‘lady you very beautiful, you want to buy my special things’(!)) then those of African decent who hassle you A LOT. They will actually follow you around nipping your ear to buy what they’ve got – for example a tube they’ve made from cardboard for your painting – that’s not so nice but its bearable, and they do go away. Eventually.
For lunch today we chose a deserted hotel beside the wee market completely by chance. As we strolled along in search of a humble sandwich or something we heard an offer which offer sounded too good to be true – 3 courses for 5 pesos! It was instead surprisingly good. The desert was funny – half a slice of bread cut into triangles fried and drenched in syrup (Stevo got two haha!) I had a Daiquiri, Stevo a Mojito – mmmmmmmm am getting a bit too used to this rum!
We basically spend the entire day here – easy to do honest – and then headed home around 5 to get ready for dinner in the Ernest Hemming way place La Bocadita – the famous wee resturant where the wall are covered with signatures and then onto TROPICANA (do you think this is the tropicana Wham were on about in their song? Drinks are free.. well y’get a bottle of rum!) will update this later x
Some thoughts on this place….Havana is quite weird it is very much up and down, good bits and bad bits. It’s a different culture though and one we’re not used to so we are getting surprised left right and centre here! Makes for an interesting time though!
Another problematic thing about here is the ability to get money using your credit card. Just totally forget it if it’s an American card. We were assured though that VISA and MASTERCARD would work in ATMs. They don’t so you are forced to exchange money in the hotels and they will firstly change the rate to that of American dollars then to sterling. It means you get very much less. And they charge you 20% commission for the privilege. I just don’t get it. Such a rip off really.
Also we have heard today that there is a £25 ‘tax’ per person to leave the country. Hello?? What on earth is that all about….?
On the positive side although they tell you stories and stuff crime seems to be low – the fear of a Cuban jail perhaps? Dunno. Fr’example we never felt we would get mugged, even when we were lost in the residential bits. Will this stay this way?
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stevoandlel
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