Out and About in Old Havana

Overcast skies threatened our plan for the day, which was to explore Old Havana and be squired around in 50s-vintage cars. First stop was Fusterlandia, in Jaimanitas, a quiet neighborhood in the western part of the city.

Reminiscent of Parc Guell in Barcelona, with a nod to Picasso, seemingly every surface is covered with mosaics. The artist José Fuster began the project some twenty years ago, festooning his own house with fanciful tiled designs in kaleidoscopic colors. His whimsical creations spilled out into the surrounding neighborhood, creating a visual feast that defies description.

Unfortunately, you’ll have to wait for the dozens of images I captured, as I came without the critical dongle that allows me to download the photos from my camera to my iPad (and I left my laptop at home as well). So unless my new friend Jane’s dongle works, all the images for the next few days will be from my phone.

Later in the afternoon we piled into two bright and shiny 1950s-era taxi convertibles, clearly the pride of their owners, but the ride was cut short by a torrential downpour.

Angry waves crashed against the Malecón, the sea wall stretching eight kilometers along Havana Harbor. More dramatic images to follow.

A bit about my group. Our leader, Colby, looks to be in his forties and lives with his wife and son in the Poconos when he isn’t jaunting around the world running photography tours. Melanie, a fairly recent widow about my age and an ex-pat from South Africa, lives in Hollywood, Florida; and Jane, a bit younger, is from San Francisco and is third generation Japanese. They’ve both been on multiple trips with Colby and have traveled extensively beyond that.

We have a charming guide, Sady, born and bred in Cuba and mother to a six year-old daughter. She has never been off the island! Her husband emigrated to the US for work shortly after their daughter was born, and lives in Houston. She went through the arduous process to emigrate herself, but was denied when the US government contended she was a communist. Not true, said Sady — she never even flirted with the idea. It’s very sad that the family has to live apart, though her husband is able to visit on occasion. She’s been sharing valuable insights into the everyday lives of the Cuban people.

Conditions here aren’t good, but the situation on the ground is not nearly as bad as the hysterical accounts in the US press declare them to be. We’re staying in a comfortable casa, with good WIFI and reliable electricity, thanks to a generator. The power failed for a short while this afternoon, but it didn’t inconvenience us.

There’s a real contrast between what you see on the streets — crumbling buildings, pavement mostly potholes — and some of the elegant government buildings and villas that survived the revolution or have been restored. Despite everything, the Cuban people love Americans (except for one) and are unfailingly warm and welcoming. It’s just a shame that in their 1959 revolution they traded one corrupt and repressive regime for what would turn out to be another. Still, graffiti proclaiming Siempre Fidel is everywhere.