Cuba Part 1: Havana & Viñales

Arriving from Panama at José Martí International Airport in Havana we were met before immigration by an official looking woman in uniform who ushered us through the Diplomatic Lane and then into a VIP lounge where we awaited the arrival of our luggage. Our bags were collected, and we were ushered through customs and surprisingly through a full security check then out into the arrivals area where we were met by a smiling representative of Cuba Travel Network, the travel company we arranged our itinerary through and who was responsible for the rather grand welcome. He heartily welcomed us to Cuba and handed over our goodie bag including 100 CUC (Cuban convertible currency), perfume for me, a map of Havana and an internet card. He then took us to the taxi and wished us well before we were whisked off towards Havana city.

 

On the way from the airport we passed horse drawn traps on the highway, lots of white Ladas and Muscovy’s and the first of many classic 1950’s American cars. We had stepped back in time.

 

As we entered the city the streets were lined with colourful multi-storey concrete buildings from a by-gone era, crumbling before our eyes. The streets were filled with people, many spilling out into the road waiting for public transport.

 

We were now in central Havana and the white granite dome of El Capitolio loomed in front of us. Almost a replica of the Capital Building in Washington DC, this majestic building was the home of Cuban congress until the revolution in 1959. The massive dome is encased in scaffolding as after being abandoned for decades restoration is underway again with the intention of once again housing congress in it.

 

As we approached, our silent taxi driver suddenly burst into an animated spiel, hands gesturing at the El Capitolio and towards the square in front of us lined with exquisite 19^th century buildings. He was speaking English, but we didn’t understand a word he said. From the broad smile and excited tone we assumed he was spouting the virtues of his home city and we imagine he was wishing us a wonderful stay. He pulled up outside our destination, Hotel Inglaterra, a colonial style building sitting next to the ornate 19^th century Great Theatre of Havana on the edge of the central square. It was bustling with life. A band played on the front veranda, every table was full, and the doorman was kept busy as a steady stream of people came and went. Inside we stepped back into colonial times: ornate tiled ceilings and walls, heavy wooden desks and doors and colonial cane furniture. It was beautiful. We were met by an officious woman who told us that unfortunately there had been a problem with our booking, and we would need to stay in another hotel tonight, but not to worry it was only two doors down and was much nicer. Before we had a chance to ask why, she was briskly escorting us 50 metres down the street and delivering us to the reception of the other hotel. What a difference. It was deathly quiet and had an odd faux-antiquity interior. Upstairs there was black mould on the hallway ceilings, water marks on the carpet, and our room smelt damp and musty. Oh well, it was only for one night and we were here to explore not sit in our room.

 

It was late afternoon by this stage, and we headed off down Paseo del Prado, a tree-lined mosaic-tiled promenade leading from our hotel to the sea. Shabby and colourful colonial townhouses, many housing restaurant and bars, skirted the street. Down on the water front people were fishing, playing music, and just hanging out.

 

Havana is protected from the force of tropical storms by an 8km long sea wall come esplanade called the Malecon. We were told later that the Malecon is the longest bar in the world as the people of Havana come here in droves in the evenings to dance, sing and of course drink rum. Standing at the beginning of the Malecon, at the mouth of the harbour, is a 16^th century Spanish fort. In a by-gone era it guarded the entrance along with its contemporary Castillo Morra sitting on the point across the channel. Now it welcomes cruise ships to Cuba. We sat a while, enjoying the surrounds and watching classic car after classic car cruise by filled with smiling tourists taking selfies.

 

We walked back through a park where an impressive equestrian monument pays homage to General Maximo Gomez, a Cuban hero of the 19^th century; past the Spanish Embassy where a party was in full swing on the rooftop; through another expansive tiled square with yet another monument and an enormous Cuban flag flying high; past the relics of the old city wall; stopping for a photo by the tank that Castro piloted to shoot at the US Houston during America’s failed Bay of Pigs invasion, now sitting in front of a former palace housing the Museum of the Revolution; and finally finding our way back to Parque Central.

 

Just across from our hotel we found a quaint restaurant with a rooftop terrace and had grilled fish skewers cooked in front of us on the outdoor grill, and a rum too. Like in every restaurant and bar in Havana, a live band played.

The next morning we checked out of the mouldy hotel and walked the 50 metres back to Hotel Inglaterra where we met another representative from Cuba Travel Network who went through our itinerary with us and introduced us to our guide Anton who would take us on a 3-hour city tour, the first 2 in a classic car and the last on foot through the old town.

 

Our classic car was a 1955 Chevrolet Bel Air in tropical turquoise. It was immaculate. Andrew’s first question to our driver was; “with so many classic cars on the road how do you get the parts to keep them running?” He told us his engine had been replaced with a diesel engine otherwise he couldn’t afford to drive it.

 

Our tour took us out the central city into the suburbs. There were no new buildings and our guide told us barely any construction has happened in the last 60 years. The “new” neighbourhoods are filled with classic 1950’s bungalows and driving through in our Chevy we felt like we were on a movie set. The embassies of the world are housed in opulent early 20^th century buildings along leafy boulevards. We were surprised by how many countries have a consular presence here.

 

Driving in from the airport we had noticed the absence of advertising billboards and this didn’t change driving through the streets of Havana. There were billboards, but they featured Fidel Castro or other communist imagery and statements that were obviously communist propaganda. 2019 is a big year for Cuba as it marks 60 years since the revolution and there are many signs promoting this milestone. We stopped at Revolution Square with the 109-metre white star-shaped tower; a monument to Jose Marti, the 19^th century Cuban hero who became the symbol of Cuba’s bid for independence from the Spanish. The huge square is where political rallies take place and where the Pope held masses in 1998 and 2015. Located behind the memorial is the Palace of the Revolutions, the seat of the Cuban government and Communist Party. Opposite the memorial are the offices of the Ministries of the Interior and Communications, whose facades feature matching steel images of the two heroes of the Cuban Revolution: Che Guevara, with the quotation “Hasta la Victoria Siempre” (Until the Everlasting Victory, Always) and Camilo Cienfuegos, with the quotation “Vas bien, Fidel” (You’re doing fine, Fidel). The image of Cienfuegos is often mistaken for Castro, but we thought it looked more like Jesus and his hat a halo.

 

From here we drove to the National Hotel, an imposing 1930s building with plenty of Art Deco influence. It was built to cater for the surge of US tourists in that era, most of whom were escaping prohibition. It’s also where an infamous international Mafia conference was held in 1946 and where the head of the Mafia resided during that time. The grand garden and lawn overlook the Malecon and out across the Caribbean.

 

We exchanged some cash at the hotel exchange. In Cuba cash is king and credit cards are barely usable. We did our research before we left and found out that it’s better to carry Euros or Pounds to change rather than USD as there’s an extra tax that’s charged when exchanging American dollars. We had Euro. The other confusing thing in Cuba is the use of two currencies: the CUP (Cuban Peso) and the CUC (Cuban Convertible Peso).  The value of the CUC is pinned to the U.S. dollar so that 1 CUC will always equal 1 USD and is the only currency that tourists use. The CUP is primarily used by residents of Cuba. Most prices in restaurants and shops in tourist areas are quoted in CUC but outside of these areas CUP appears alongside CUC on price tags and menus. It sounds confusing, but its not really.

 

Our driving tour finished with a cruise along the Malecon past kids playing baseball in the park – the sport of choice in Cuba – and back to Old Havana. We said goodbye to our driver and continued on foot with our guide Anton.

 

Old Havana is just like Spain. A grid of narrow streets opening to expansive plazas overlooked by sumptuous palaces, elegant town houses and ornate churches in a mish-mash of architectural styles – Cuban Baroque, Neoclassical and plenty of Moorish influence too. Dark doorways hide cool mosaic-tiled atriums and arched courtyards, many acting as space for art galleries. There is a lot of art in Havana.

 

Across from the 16^th century fortified Castle of the Royal Force is El Templete, a monument in the shape of a Greek temple marking the founding of Havana. The Spanish founded this city in 1519. Yes, another anniversary to mark this year – 500 years of Havana’s existence.

 

By now the sun was beating down. Anton had showed us his city, it was time for a siesta. We said goodbye and made our way back to the hotel.

 

Later in the day once we were revitalised and it was cooler, we walked back into the old town, stopping to listen to buskers, browsing galleries and admiring the street art, before deciding it was now a respectable hour for a cocktail. Every bar in Havana advertises happy hour and Mojitos are the cocktail of choice. We stopped at a bar where an all-girl band were playing. They pulled me up to dance much to Andrew’s delight. My salsa needs a lot of work.

 

The languid colonial experience of Hotel Inglaterra drew us back, so dinner that night was at the hotel. A violinist serenaded us.

The next day it was an early start. We were met in the foyer at 8 by our next guide, Roman, who would be taking us to the Viñales Valley for the day.

 

The Viñales Valley is just over 180km from Havana at the western end of Cuba. The first 160km of the journey was on the A4, a huge 6-lane motorway with barely any traffic on it. Our guide told us this highway was built during the golden era of communist Cuba, when the Soviet Union and the Eastern European communist block provided invaluable financial support. It has that grand gesture feel of communist structures; too big, too monumental and totally unnecessary. Part of the motorway was even designed to take fighter jets in the advent of an invasion by the US. The jet parking areas still visible on the side of the road. Most of the traffic now is tourist vehicles heading to Viñales, and the rest, beaten up old Ladas and horse-drawn carriages.

 

The countryside was mostly waste land, not cultivated nor wildlands. Roman pointed out the sugar cane plantations and mangoes. It was the start of mango season and the trees were heavy with fruit.

 

 

Half way down we stopped at a roadside tourist stop for a break and to meet another guide who was escorting two guests, an English couple who now live in France. Roman was new to guiding and they were travelling in tandem today. Roman and Ernesto had known each other since they were teenagers in the army serving abroad in the then Soviet Union. They were both helicopter pilots, but when they returned to Cuba after the Soviet Union had crumbled there were no military helicopters to fly and the pittance they were paid to remain in the army wasn’t enough, so they left and tried a few other careers before both ending up working for the tourist board. Aside from Spanish, Ernesto was fluent in English, Russian and Portuguese. Roman was fluent in Russian and Portuguese but struggled a bit with English. He was worried he couldn’t articulate clearly enough to us and having Ernesto to help with our tour made him obviously more relaxed.

 

After meeting our fellow travellers, we were persuaded by Roman to try a Pina Colada. Apparently, they are the best in Cuba. It was made with freshly pulped pineapple and coconut milk straight from the source, and although it was only 10am a generous splash of “vitamin R” was added. We only had a couple of sips.

 

Now in convoy we headed off for the final stretch to the Viñales Valley. After some very rough and windy roads, we pulled into a lookout point for our first view of the valley. The bright green of the lush fertile valley was almost iridescent against the dark mountains that encircle it. Giant limestone mounds push up from the flat valley floor, these rocky outcrops dripping in vegetation. It’s a stunning landscape.

 

Apart from the dramatic natural limestone sculptures Viñales is also renowned for its tobacco which is grown using traditional techniques. It is both the natural landscape and the cultural traditions that got the Viñales Valley listed as a World Heritage Site in 1999 and as a result is now a popular tourist destination.

 

As we descended into the valley, we passed the first of the tobacco plantations with the distinct traditional A-frame drying houses. A visit to a plantation was on the agenda, but first we were taken to a rather intriguing site further up the valley.  The Mural de la Prehistoria is a giant mural painted in 1961 by Leovigildo Gonzalez Morillo under the guidance of Frida Kahlo’s husband Diego Rivera on a rocky side a mountain. A master of neo-caveman artistry, Morillo undertook the massive project of portraying world history up until the age of humans. Almost childlike giant images of molluscs, dinosaurs and early humans spread across the cliff face in primary colours. It’s hard to know how to react. It’s ugly, but it’s also an incredible feat to have painted this on the roughest of surfaces in such a monumental scale. Understandably it has taken a massive effort to preserve this artwork as the limestone cliffs are unforgiving.

 

It was time for lunch. We were taken to a restaurant in an open sided lean-to nestled in a tobacco plantation. Two plates piled high with beans and rice were brought out first followed by plates of beetroot, tomato, hot cassava root, and chicken which was guaranteed free-range, as at the same time a mother hen and her brood of chicks were under the table pecking between our feet. Ernesto was a great conversationalist and we were enjoying his stories over lunch. Dessert was plates of fresh fruit, mangoes, papaya and watermelon and strong Cuban coffee. Ernesto told us that mangoes are treasured in Cuba and considered a thing of great beauty, so much so that good looking women and men are referred to as mangoes. If you get call a mango in Cuba, it’s a good thing.

 

After lunch we drove through the small village of Viñales, where every house is now a B&B to cope with the growing tourism to the area, to another tobacco plantation. Macondo is a family farm where tobacco has been grown for generations using the same traditional techniques. We were shown around by a very charming member of the family – round-faced, dimple cheeked, sun-kissed complexion, fedora-wearing Nelson – who told us everyone who works on the farm smokes cigars daily, no one is addicted and it does them no harm because the nicotine levels are so low in the organically grown plants. Ok.

 

The drying house was filled to the roof with racks of leaves slowly turning a rich coffee brown. There are different leaves for specific layers in a rolled cigar and Nelson said they know exactly which is which on the racks, without any need for labelling.

 

The Cuban government takes 90% of all farmers’ produce and pay a set price for it, which is far below market value. It is the government owned cigar factories that then turn the farmers’ produce into the famous cigar brands known around the world – Cohiba, Montecristo, Romeo Y Julieta, Bolivar etc.  The 10% the farmers keep is for their own use or for sale from their farm gate. They are not allowed to sell it off the farm. Nelson assured us the quality of their farm-made cigars is much higher than those from the factories and they contain a lot less nicotine and definitely no chemicals or additives. He implied the nicotine levels in factory-made cigars is higher to guarantee repeat customers. Nelson then showed us how a cigar is rolled, and with what looked like very little effort and in a very short time a few brown leaves were turned into a perfectly packed cylindrical shaped coffee-coloured cigar. Wow, he must roll a few. He then lit one up and demonstrated the correct way to smoke one to truly appreciate the flavours before offering it around the table. I was the first to try and wearing Nelson’s fedora and with a Che Guevara flag behind me I sucked in the flavours of the Viñales Valley. Two puffs were enough. It might have been organic and hand-made, but it tasted like the smell of the 90’s. Andrew says he’s never smoked in his life and he wasn’t going to try now. Our English-French companions were regular cigar smokers, so they had the technique down pat and happily parted with $70 USD for a bunch of Nelson’s hand-rolled masterpieces to take home. We made some excuse about NZ customs being strict on that sort of thing.

 

Our last stop for the day was to visit a limestone cave. We were taken through a small entrance in the cliff face and into a beautifully cool cave filled with pearly-coloured stalactites and stalagmites. We were led along a narrow path between damp rock walls to an underground river where we joined the queue to get on a boat for the rest of the cave excursion. After a short wait we boarded the boat and were taken further through the cave with various rock formations pointed out to us before we burst from between the vegetation into a sunlit pool. It was a bit touristy and the use of motor boats didn’t allow for a peaceful cave experience but it was fun all the same, although we’ve seen a lot of caves in our time.

 

After a refreshment break it was time to head back to Havana. I wasn’t feeling great and had to ask to Roman to pull over as I thought I was going to be sick. It was a very long 2 ½ hours. Back at the hotel I felt worse and went straight to bed. I don’t get stomach upsets, so this was a new experience, and not a nice one. It was a long night. We have no idea what I ate but by morning I was well again. Thankfully, as today we were picking up our rental car and heading off for the next part of our Cuban adventure. First stop Cienfuegos.