Cuba

We arrived in Cuba slowly. It felt like we were just drifting on the lightest of currents rather than being tugged in (I’m sure there’s a proper nautical phrase for that).

What an AMAZING place. So beautiful, so grand, so faded. We settled on calling it a Crumbling Majesty, and I think that fits it well.

Before getting off, we were all warned to stay in the tourist areas, to not buy cigars from market stalls or street vendors (you must have a receipt to take them through customs), and that there would be a lot of people trying to get us into their shops, taxis, carriages, busses or whatever. They did not warn us strongly enough… As soon as we were through customs we were inundated by people trying to get us to part with our cash. Every step brought another offer of a ride somewhere, a tour, a deal, cigars, weed... If they thought they had a shot, they tried it. If they didn’t think they had a shot, they tried it anyway and with more feeling.

We had to brave the gauntlet of touts for a while, but couldn’t take them up on their kind offers as we had no cash – so an ATM would have to be our first port of call.

This proved to be very difficult. Apparently in the entire city of Havana there are about 4 cash machines. That’s not me exaggerating, it’s actually what we were (later) told.

Eventually we found a nice young couple of locals who worked for a collection of local hotels and were involved in tourism for the city who showed us where we could find one, and also pointed out some cool local things (a market, Castro’s house, local bars – all sorts of interesting things) They also gave us a nice idea of how life is for them, how things have relaxed a lot since Fidel exited stage left, how they would love more freedom (it is, after all, a real communist dictatorship there – which is hard to remember as my idea of such is all set in the cold Russian winter, not the beautiful sunshine of the Caribbean…

We went for a drink with them and they told us more about their lives, their little son, the 3 currencies in use (one from the government for their bare necessities, one from working which is for everything else, and then a separate one for tourists…). I mentioned that I thought I should buy some cigars while there, and the guy said he’d take me to the best place – not the main shops, but the co-operative where the locals go… Brilliant, I thought – gonna get me a bargain!

So it’s clear now that the co-op and the black market are one and the same thing. They led us upstairs to a little flat in which an annoyed looking guy had laid out a pile of humidors on his sofa. He looked a little… peeved… that we were there, but it was quickly explained that we were all amigos and Jo and I just wanted some smokes… There were so many options - Monte-Cristo’s, Cohibas and a load I’ve never heard of before, all in various shapes and sizes (well, mainly different sizes… they were pretty much all cigar shaped…)

We got a nice box of Cohiba Robustos which seemed the best deal (later I found out it was about a 3^rd of the price in the shop), and we scurried back out into the sunshine. After this we all wandered about some more, before going to lunch.

Now, we decided we’d buy them lunch before they asked – we thought it would be a nice thing to do. We asked where was good, and they took us to the Restaurant Familia, a funny little place on a roof terrace overlooking a lovely run-down bit of a run-down city. We didn’t really know what to expect, but were unpleasantly surprised by the prices (about £10 for most things on the menu…) but thought it would all be a fun part of the experience. We then all ordered and Jo and I were somewhat dumbfounded by the girl ordering the most expensive thing on the menu – the lobster.

Cheeky wench.

As it happened, the food was all delicious but Jo wasn’t feeling 100% so didn’t want to eat too much. We also noticed that while the girl was tucking into her lovely looking shellfish, the guy ate some of his rice and a little of his meat, but wasn’t taking too much. He then said he’d like to take some home for their son as he loves beef and it’s hard to get – so Jo offered the rest of hers and I gave him my last chicken leg to take back. Around then was when I really noticed just how thin he was - although the cheeky wench was just normally slim, he was stick thin. We assume he gives most of his food to his child, as rationing is pretty harsh there (they’re allowed to have as many children as they like, but they only get the rations for one either way).

After lunch we all said our goodbyes and Jo and I went back to the boat as she was still not feeling all that wonderful.

As we were heading back to the port, and the customs process within, I remembered the strict instructions we’d had to only buy cigars from the proper shops and to get a receipt.

I had done neither of these things.

Whoops…

Oh well, I guess that was a pile of cash down the toilet.

Only it wasn’t. We went through, trying not to look too nervous, and the officials did not bat an eyelid, even after x-raying my bag. Happy days!

Later that night we were booked in for the world famous Tropicana club, but decided that I wouldn’t go there without Jo – although she really didn’t want me to miss out on anything. Eventually we decided to sell back our tickets (not too late luckily) and I would go with the Manchesters to the other show that evening – Parisien Café (which was cheaper and shorter).

I left Jo doing a quiz, feeling pretty rotten about it but she did insist and it seemed daft not to see Cuba as much as possible while we’re there… So amid assurances that it was ok, I headed off with the Manchesters to go ashore, through customs and onto a waiting bus where I met Randolph, an Indian guy who works in IT on the boat who was very nice.

When we arrived at the International Hotel in which Café Parisien does lie, we walked through into an absolutely packed little concert hall. Unfortunately the seating was laid out in a way that meant I couldn’t sit with the Manchesters, but Randolph and I went down to the front and sat with an older Indian couple who are also passengers that Randolph had met earlier in the cruise. They were very nice and invited us to join them at their fancy table… And then we were all asked to move as they hadn’t actually booked the fancy table, just thought they were allowed there. Oh well!

We moved back to a table in the middle and settled in along with another couple we’ve met on board, John and Jen (every other male passenger is apparently called John!) with our complementary glass of Mojito (except for the Indian couple and Jen who had lemonade as they do not drink).

The curtain came up and my first reaction was that it would be like some sort of ambitious but a bit rubbish school production.

I was disabused of this notion when the very first scene included a simulated rape.

But then, once that was out of the way… Wow. What. A. Show.

The whole thing is, of course, in Spanish – which I feared might make it hard work for those of us that are confined to one boring language – but again I was wrong. It was masterful. The costumes were amazing (and the number of costume changes was remarkable), the singing was excellent, the dancing was electric and many of them played instruments on and off throughout the show. They were incredible.

I have a video that I want to upload, but so far it keeps failing... In the mean time you'll have to make do with these pictures:

The show was actually more of a mosaic of different productions – very few of them seemed to link in, and I’m not even certain there was one theme between them all, but each time one five minute piece was over and the curtain came down, we all thought that was it… And then BAM! Something else started up again. Each one was more impressive than the last, and they just kept coming. In the end, they probably could have cut a few out – it’s hard being so enthralled for so long, repeatedly thinking it’s over, then being enthralled one more time… But yes. Well worth seeing.

Just like Havana really. A hodge podge of amazing sights and sounds (and smells) that leave you breathless and amazed. Go to Cuba. Just… just go there.

A locals market we wandered through - all manner of interesting fruits and veg to be seen, I think all of which is bought with the Cuban Peso...)

And this is the Family home of the Castros' - we only poked our heads in here, and to be honest we couldn't see that much of interest, but we were being rushed through... It's probably far more interesting than we thought...!

The next day, Jo felt a bit better so we went back into town. We had a nice mooch about, taking some pictures and soaking up the atmosphere. Again I was staggered by the place. As Jo put – someone clearly spend a vast amount of money making it all, then just left it to almost fade away.

We were amazed by how many people didn’t like the place. Yes, it’s smelly. Yes, they give you the hard sell everywhere. Yes, there are parts that are a bit scary… but it’s beautiful. It’s so vivid and lively and fun and exciting and wonderful. Go to Cuba. Be careful, but go.

We found it interesting that despite everyone being told it is the country with the lowest crime rate in the Western hemisphere, most passengers were not willing to leave the ship other than on an official excursion... And some wouldn't even think of going ashore even then, for fear of being mugged/pick pocketed/communisted/attacked/lost/taken advantage of... We wandered the back streets like proper tourists – backpack on, camera out, barely looking where we were going as we’re too busy pointing out amazing things to one another… nobody did worse than smile at us (aside from get us to buy them a bloody lobster!)*

Before going back to the ship, we went for a last Cuban Mojito in a bar near the boat. The prices here were about a quarter of what we’d paid at lunch the day before, but never mind! 2 mojitos cost us about £2 in total, and they were delicious. Unfortunately Jo still wasn’t feeling 100%, so I had to have both. Hard times.

Back on board we watched the harbour slip away as we ate our lunch, then headed to the cabin to snooze for 20 minutes or so.

3 hours later we groggily got up and went to see what was happening – we did a quiz, entered a rope coites game (but had to leave to do another quiz), met up with the Mancs for our main quiz (we didn’t win) and then Jo got signed up for another game show – this one about where you’re from** (Battle of the Nations)…

They had Jo, a Welsh woman, a Scottish guy and an English bloke, each of whom had to answer questions on their country. Jo started well, although not in the lead - largely due to the questions being read wrong:

-        Who is the female patron saint of Ireland?

Bridget?

-        No, it’s Patrick.

-        How do you spell Poteen?

Well, the Irish spelling is Poitin

-        No, it’s Poteen.

They realised their mistakes when it was all over, but it was too late by then… But never mind! Because at the last hurdle, Jo stormed into the lead! Winning yet another tote bag…

At the start, we’d said to Mark of the Entertainment Team that all we really wanted was a Thomson Cruises Parker Pen (we’ve won everything else, but this prize kept eluding us) – he’d promised us one the last time Jo entered a game show (but hadn’t delivered… booo….!) but this time he was on it. We now have about 5 bags (although we’ve given most away), 3 bottles of plonk (another was in this bag), 3 polo shirts and THE PEN! WOOOOOO!

After the game show we went to the Broadway Lounge (the theatre on board) and saw Maurice Grumbleweed do his show – very very funny.

Then back to the Medussa lounge (the main generic venue where we have the game shows, most quizzes, bingo and lots of music all happen) for a couple more drinks, this time with Mark and a girl from the show team who recently broke her ankle (along with another member of the entertainment team… Both of them are often seen hobbling around the place on crutches)

Then off to bed as its Mexico in the morning and we’re going Kayaking!

*Although it seems that a few people, all crew I think, did get into trouble... There may have been a fight in a bar, and there may have been someone relieved of his belongings (including his passport)... but from what I've seen of those involved, this is no surprise...

**This was the first time they'd had an Irish person represent Ireland - in fact it was the first time an Irish had played at all.