Cuba, January 31-February 1, 2019
Havana
After breakfast we disembarked, split into two groups once
again, one group going to a rehearsal by the Danza Contemporaranea de Cuba and
then Colon Cemetery and a cigar factory and the other group the same itinerary
but in reverse.
We went first to the cigar factory. Our very stylish guide
explained the process as passed through the different floors. The smell of the
tobacco had permeated the wooden floors and walls so it smells like a humidor. 600
people work there, Monday through Friday, 9 to 5 with two breaks and lunch.
Some select the tobacco for the middle of the cigars, others the outer leaves,
but the main room had dozens of people sitting side by side, each at an
individual work station. At the front of the room was a small stage with a
chair and microphone. In the morning the reader reads the newspaper to the
workers, in the afternoon a few chapters of a book. Sort of a living iPod.
All cigars are rolled by hand, to the size specific to that
type. The cigar makers go through an apprentice period to learn the process.
After that each person is expected to fill a certain quota every day, depending
on the size of the cigar from 70 to over 100. Each worker receives a small
number of cigars per day for personal use. There were a few people out on the
street selling individual cigars. Hmmmm.
Finally our guide, a very attractive and flamboyant woman of
a certain age, demonstrated the proper way to light a cigar. She used a cutter
to nip off the mouth end and then a monster lighter with a flame like a blow
torch to light the thing. She wasn’t smoking some dainty little cigarillo, but
a big old see-gar a good half-inch or more in diameter. Alas we weren’t allowed
to take any photographs inside.
The Necrópolis de Colón is one of the largest cemeteries in
the world, 135 acres and 53,360 plots where some two million people have been
buried. More on those numbers in a minute. We drove through the massive arched
entrance onto the main street of the cemetery lined with tombs and crypts
decorated in every style imaginable. It reminded us of the cemetery we visited
in Buenos Aires. On the side streets are more modest burial plots marked with
simple headstones. The Capilla Central is the impressive chapel that is in the
center of the cemetery. It’s one of the few churches in the country that holds
services, in this case burial services, one after another every day.
Hearse
Now, about that math. How can two million people be buried
in 53,360 plots? The caskets of the dearly departed are stacked one upon
another in family crypts or plots. After two years, the casket is opened and
the bones put in a much smaller casket as long as the femur and reburied.
Nelson said that families attend this ceremony. I know they stack ‘em up in New
Orleans cemeteries and let gravity gradually compress everything into a smaller
space. I’m trying to decide which might be creepier. Colón is Havana’s burial ground and a very
popular tourist site.
We drove through the
immense plaza dedicated to the revolution. Five story bronze sculptures of Che
and Marti decorated a couple of the buildings, but no Fidel. In fact, finding
anything with his face on it be it Tshirt or post card was close to impossible.
In fact, he is not buried in Colón but rather in Santiago de Cuba on the
eastern end of the island, ironically very close to Gitmo. His dying command
was that his face not appear on any monument, building, clothing or souvenir.
It appears that his final wishes have been carried out.
Our last stop before lunch was to watch the dance troop. The
dancers looked to be in their early 20s if that old. We perched on rows of
folding chairs at one end of their rehearsal space and watched them perform a
“ballet” that they will be taking on the road. This was quite a dance. Lots of
pounding on the floor, slapping each other aross the face, and chanting who
knows what. The choreographer said it was his interpretation of life on the streets.
Okaaaay. The Manhattanites in our group thought it was powerful and
provocative. We ignorant citizens of the South thought it was just plain odd.
We met the other group at La Guarida, one of the best
paladors in Havana. It was a bit more sophisticated in presentation and menu
than the others. We learned from the others that they had seen a graceful
performance with bright and cheery music and choreography. No hitting, no
chatting, no floor pounding. Well, huh.
After lunch we toured the National Museum of Fine Arts with
one of the curators. We opted for the most contemporary wing. Beautiful
building, spacious, well-lit galleries but only Cuban artists and not the
greatest art I’ve ever seen. Another wing was devoted to European art of
earlier centuries but we didn’t visit it. This is the last day and we were
starting to run out of steam. The next option was a classical guitar
performance at the Ceramics Museum. Luckily for us that museum was just off the
square opposite the cruise terminal so we could go to the concert, do some
shopping or just go to the ship. We found a small cigar shop in a nearby hotel
where Jim bought some for his golf buddies and then back to the ship to pack
and spruce up for the Captain’s Farewell Cocktails and dinner.
It was the last time we would all be together. The airport
runs were to begin at 6 am the next morning. A number of us had afternoon
flights so, bless his heart, the captain let us stay aboard until 10 and then
we had a bonus tour taking the tunnel under the bay to the other side to visit
Castillo del Morro, the fortress that guards the harbor entrance. It was quite
the circus over there with bar carts selling piño colladas, food carts, buses
and taxes coming and going. Wonderful views from the fortress walls of Havana
and a shop down a tunnel and some stairs that sold coffee, cigars and rum. We
spent most of our remaining kooks on coffee, saving some for a little airport
shopping.
Taxi
We went over hill and dale through the countryside to the
Havana airport. Yunney stayed with us all the way through check in and
immigration, saying good bye as we approached the Cuban version of TSA. No TSA
Pre-check here but it didn’t take long for us to find our gate. We were once
again on a commuter jet, so we were in a cozy waiting room on the tarmac level.
There was a small café that served up a dynamite toasted Cuban ham and cheese
sandwich on that fabulous bread. It was among the best things we ate on the
entire trip.
And what a trip! I’m so glad we went. It’s an island of
beauty both natural and fading. In the
rural areas it might as well be the 1800s. Havana has modern areas but so much
of its charm comes from the isolation after the revolution. Who knows how long
it will remain a communist country and how long before the people realize that
the modern world of communication, transportation and abundant foods and
medicine is 90 miles away.
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