Posted By: Stony <Stonyguy@yahoo.com> Monday, 24 August 1998
* OFF TO A ROCKY START (NOT A STONY ONE)
I flew to Havana from San Jose (CR), on LACSA. Arrival in Havana was over 2 hours late, as we were stuck on the tarmac in San Jose due to a torrential downpour. The flight itself was a bumpy ride. When we finally got to Havana at 10 pm local time, I made a cardinal mistake: first one off the plane and into customs. This apparently is a no-no in Cuba if you don't have a hotel voucher. Normally a devout tsmer who religiously follows the wisdom of our member sages, this first-in-line faux pas is unpardonable, I know. But in my haste to taste the wonders of Cuba (wonders that are trumpeted with such increasing regularity on this board, you'd think Cuba was Bourbon Street), I overlooked the prying eye of Cuban customs. On my tourist card, I had indicated Capri hotel as the place I was staying. No reservations though, much less a voucher. My plan had been to breeze through customs, check into the Capri for one night, and the next day phone a casa contact that I had corresponded with via e-mail. Cuban customs would have none of these plans, as I was soon to find out.
The customs agent asked to see my hotel voucher. I responded with a tsm lie suggested by some Cuba sages (obviously false gods, because the advice didn't work): "I reserved over the phone this morning; I have no voucher." I guess the customs officer had heard that line before. "Wait over there near the wall," he instructed (motioning to the area behind the customs lines), "while we phone the Capri and confirm your reservation. I'll return your passport and tourist card afterwards."
Uh-oh. I was now the miscreant student caught in a deception and castigated to the corner. Over the next half-hour, I was left to ponder my fate while the rest of the passengers seemingly breezed through customs. My mind raced with wild ideas on what was to become of me. Interrogation in a cigar-smoked room? Shackled and chained with a one-way ticket back to Costa Rica? No, that's paranoia talking -- these worst-case scenarios are virtually impossible, I thought to myself. If the sages tell us that the tourist is king in Cuba, a more likely outcome will be a friendly "Sorry, for the wait. You're free to go now. Here's a complimentary bottle of rum and box of condoms for your troubles." As it turns out, neither my worst fears nor highest hopes materialized. The outcome was somewhere in the middle. Once all the passengers had cleared customs, a different agent approached me, with passport and tourist card in hand. The ensuing conversation went something like this (in Spanish):
Customs Agent: "Do you understand Spanish?"
Me (lying again, with the fear that he would be harder on me if I admitted to being relatively fluent): "A little."
Customs Agent: "The Capri has no hotel reservation in your name. You'll have to pre-pay a hotel room at the tourist booth over there. Follow me."
(at the tourist booth)
Customs Agent: "How long are you staying in Cuba?"
Me: "Ten days, but not all in Havana." (another lie, since I didn't want him to make me pay 10 nights for a hotel)
Customs Agent: "Where are you going besides Havana?"
Me (scrambling on my feet): "Cienfuegos and Ciego de Avila."
Customs Agent: "Do you know people in Cienfuegos and Havana?"
Me (worried that he might search my carry-on bag and quiz me about the 3 boxes of condoms): "Yes, I have a girlfriend in Ciego de Avila." (partial truth -- I've exchanged letters with a girl there)
Customs Agent: "Ok, how long are you staying in Havana?"
Me: "Two or three days."
Customs Agent (to lady in the booth). "Book him into the Melia Cohiba for 3 nights."
With that, the customs agent returned my passport and tourist card, and left. Whew, my troubles are over, I thought. A couple of moments later, though, the hotel reservation woman informs me that the Melia Cohiba is $180 per night, to be paid in cash. No credit cards accepted. This left me with a dumbfounded expression on my face. "I don't have $540 in cash with me," I blurted out. "I'm just a poor, working-class Stony who travels to Cuba because it's the only country I can afford. Who do you think I am...BK Knight?" Well, ok, I didn't exactly mention the part about Stony and BKKnight, but I did plead with her to find me a cheaper hotel. Taking sympathy on my plight, she booked me into the Riviera ($90 per night), and only for two nights, not three as the customs agent had instructed. I thanked her profusely for cutting some corners for my benefit, and she sent me on my way with a friendly grin.
With my voucher in hand, I walked up to a different customs agent, who waved me through with no questions asked. Next, I retrieved my luggage (the only remaining one) and went outside to look for a taxi. After about 15 minutes, I found a turisttaxi who brought me to the Riviera for $12. Walking into the hotel, I noticed several attractive young women - dressed-to-kill as they say - heading towards the Palacio de la Salsa. Right then and there, I realized why Cuba is worth all its hassles and idiotic rules.
I'm in my room at almost midnight. My immediate plans are to take a shower, change, and stroll out to the malecon so I can get introduced to what the scene is like. I get sidetracked of all things, however, by the tv. Not what I had intended to do on a vacation in Cuba. But the sci-fi movie "Contact" (with Jodie Foster) is on, and it's engrossing. By the time it ends, it's around 2.30 a.m., I'm drifting off to sleep, and I'm regretting not having gone outside to take in the sights. Unfortunately, the real Cuba holiday will have to begin tomorrow.
Lessons Learned From Day One:
1) Bring a hotel voucher. 2) Don't be the first to present yourself to the Customs officer. 3) Keep the tv turned off. Why WATCH A MOVIE about a wonderful alien world in your Cuban hotel room, when just outside lies a wonderful,strange world, so unlike any other country, where nearly every woman is available?
Chalk these follies up to temporary insanity. In preparation for my next trip, I'll have to memorize and recite the advice of the sages on a daily basis. This will ensure that the patron saints of tsm protect me from the delays and interrogations, trials and tribulations, that sometimes get in the way.
Day 2:
* Have I Got a Casa for You!
Late morning, I make a phone call from the Riviera hotel to an Italian who rents casas (found it on the Internet). Even though I had informed him via e-mail that I would be calling today about the casa, nobody answers. Not wanting to waste any time in getting settled in a casa, I decide to venture out and see what I can find on my own. No sooner am I on the street than the touts start making their pitches: cigars, rum, casas, you name it. Undeterred, I walk towards what appears to be an apartment building, two touts tagging along uninvited. They say they know this great casa for only $20 - don't bother with the apartment building, they advise, it sucks. I ignore their advice and go inside.
A woman standing guard in the lobby tells me there's one apartment available on the 17th floor. I take the very slow elevator to check it out. The apartment is huge and clean, but no air-conditioning. Not a pleasant prospect in stifling Havana. I pass up this casa and return to the hotel where I make some additional calls. The Italian is still not answering, so I dial up some numbers provided by fellow tsmers. One of the casas sounds particularly interesting, as it's a private apartment only a few blocks away (information provided by Gringo). A couple of hours later, I've inspected the apartment, pre-paid the rent ($35) a day, and received the keys. Very nice place, big living room, big bedroom, air conditioning, terrace, telephone, tv, radio, the works. And TOTALLY private. Bonus: less than 10 minutes walk to the action on the Malecon. Though I plan to move my stuff to the casa tomorrow (with one more night in the hotel to go), I pay for tonight just in case I'll be needing it :)
* I Should Have Brought My Little Black Book
In the evening, I start out in the square located in front of the Riviera hotel, directly across from the Malecon. Available chicas are everywhere. On the curb. hitchiking on the street, sitting down, strolling through the square, waiting to be escorted into the lobby of the Riviera hotel, over by the seawall...everywhere. Ahhh, Cuba. No wonder it gets such hype. Before long, I've talked to 5 or 6 chicas, most of whom have approached me. I've also received three telephone numbers. Being in observational mode, I was in no hurry to whisk a chica back to my new-found apartment. As a result, I tell each girl that I'm moving to my casa tomorrow -- that tonight I'm just taking in the sights and sounds of Havana. Three respond by offering their phone numbers to me. Some have pen and paper handy, others know exactly where to find it when the need arises. They're very enterprising types. One girl jokingly asks me to promise her that she'll be Chica Number One to pass through my door. She'll be expecting my phone call tomorrow.
For a change of scene, I grab a private taxi parked at the far end of the square('58 Ford)and venture out to Ipanema Disco. The driver is a really nice guy. We arrange to meet tomorrow so he can transport me and my luggage to the casa. Inside Ipanema ($6 cover charge), more hordes of fresh, flirtatious chicas. All vying for the attention of what seemed to be few tourists. I'm not joking when I say I had to fight a few of them off. An ugly one in particular was always in my face. She had a missing front tooth and the look of a tomboy. She kept promising me "a night to remember for only $40." My eye was elesehwere however -- on a stunning blonde. But after speaking with the blonde, she seemed to be of the snotty type. Her fee of $80 sort of confirmed my suspicion of her haughty opinion of herself. Next,I moved on to an outstanding mulatta who was hanging out with her sister. The sister had noticed that I was looking over the mulatta. "My sister will go with you for only $70," she said in Spanish as she approached me. "Look at her marvelous mouth. It can do wonders." I was tempted for sure, but sensed urgency in the sales job. It smelled of short-time. And the price was too high, judging from the reports I had read. I decided to pass.
In the early morning hours, I'm back at the square in front of the Riviera hotel. I chat with a few other girls and collect another phone number. These girls seem friendlier and less busines-like than the ones I met at Ipanema. Alos comparable in looks. No big drop-oof in quality from the disco. Price-wise, they're also a better bargain, as they all quote me prices between $30 and $50. The real lookers from earlier on are gone, though. Nothing is left that strikes my fancy. I decide to call it a night. I go back to my room at the Riviera. No tsm conquests tonight. But I'm not put off. I feel I got a sense of what the possibilities are, and it definitely was fun collecting all those phone numbers. Sometimes, the research and scouting that is part of tsm is just as enjoyable as the sex. Thrill of exploration and discovery, I guess you could call it.
Day 3:
* A Brush With the Long-Arm of the Cuban Law
My (private) taxi friend from the night before helps me move to my casa. Then it's on to a tour of Havana - Miramar, Habana Vieja, the fort where you could see the entire city, chinatown, and the malecon. I'm impressed by the diversity of Havana, from tree-lined residential Miramar, to modern, hotel-dotted Vedado, to the charactersistic traditional charm of Old Havana.
On our way back from the fort, we are stopped at the entrance of a tunnel by a police officer. My driver friend steps out to discuss with the officer. A few minutes later, he returns to explain what happened: we were stopped because private cars are not allowed to carry foreigners. My friend admitted that I was a foreigner, but made up a story about being my brother-in-law. The oficer bought it, didn't issue a ticket, but warned the driver that if in the future he caught him transporting another foreigner, his license would be revoked. Conclusion: this part of town was a no-go area from now on for his taxi business. Meddling police certainly don't make it easy to be a Cuban struggling to make a living.
* Camaguey Gold
My first chica success comes in the evening, in the square in front of the Riviera hotel. It's with a gorgeous white girl, with jet black hair, I hadn't seen her the night before. She's just arrived from Camaguey. No hesitation with this one. We agree on $40 for the night. Back at he casa, she asks for a condom when we get to the blow job. I tell her it's not necessary. After some reticence, she says she'll blow me without a condom only if I give her some presents afterwards. She's glancing at a back rub ointment, some razors, and a tube of toothpaste when making this request! These are gifts I could live with. I've struck gold, after all. No big deal to give away some non-essential toiletries. To her, I suppose, the cream, razors, and toothpaste represent a sort of gold. Insignificant things to me that mean everything to her. Cuba's a crazy country. Like everyone else, I had read the reports about the importance of bringing liitle presents for the girls, but to see how much it means to them first-hand is something special. Everything truly IS relative, it would appear. Especially when juxtaposing Cuba to the outside world. One man's garbage...another man's gold.
Camaguey Gold leaves me her number before departing in the morning. She wants me to call her this afternoon, spend some time together, and then go have dinner at a paladar. While I'm entertaining the thought, I don't promise her anything. Late morning, early afternoon, I take a walk along the malecon in the hopes of picking up a "hitchiker". Nothing much is happening. I'm sitting on the seawall, soaking up the blazing sun, when I spot two black girls across the street looking for a ride. They notice me, blowing exaggerated kisses my way. If they weren't so Boca Chica-ish in their looks, I would have gone over to them. But again, I'm very picky, preferring to keep soaking up the sun, hoping that something better will come along. Nothing does, so I return to my casa and phone Camaguey Gold. She shows up a short while later. After our afternoon romp, we go for a bite to eat at El Rapido - a fast food joint a block away. I don't know any paladars and neither does she, both of us being Havana newbies. She has a pizza; I have a perro (hot dog), with a sprinkling, and I mean "sprinkling" of fries. This ain't McDonald's. She asks me if she's the type of woman I like. Of course, I say. Then she wants to know what I'm doing this evening. Ok, it looks like she wants to latch on to me for my entire stay. I tell her I'm meeting my driver friend who's going to show me around. "Can I come?" she pleads. "I'll see you later near the Riviera," I tell her. "And we can go into the hotel bar and have a drink," I quickly add, trying to ease her disappointment. I hate giving her the brush-off, but I didn't come to Cuba to make a commitment after only three days.
* Hugging the Wall at Johnny's
I never hook up with Camaguey Gold that evening. I don't see her hanging around the Riviera. I ask my driver friend to take me to Johnny's disco (also know as Rio Club). We arrive at 11.30 p.m. $5 cover charge. The place is crammed, mainly with Italian men (who seem to be everywhere you look in Havana). I spend most of the time jammed against a wall. There's no place to move. A narrow pathway has people nudging their way through now and then. It's hard to see what kind of girls are here. I do spot a cute chinese-looking girl nearby, talking with two Italians sleazeball types, or more accurately, being groped by them. Fed up with hugging the wall, I make a note to return here another day to look for her, maybe arriving earlier in order to increase my chances.
* Economics, Biology, and Politics
Back to the Malecon I go. Along the seawall, I strike up a conversation with an economics student from Holguin (2nd year university). She has a very pretty face; not much of a body -- a flat chested-waif. But the face is too much to resist, and she's also a sweetheart, so it's back to my casa for $40. In the room, just as she's ready to administer a bj (no condom), her sweetheart demeanour veers off into professionalism. She wants me to show her the money before she starts. I thought this kind of thing didn't happen in Cuba. Then again, maybe she's one in a million. In any event, I show her the money and she's back to being a sweetheart in no time. It's somewhat disconcerting, but really no big deal. I even joke that her studies in economics have paid off. You're a real "businesswoman", I remark.
After the economics lesson came the lesson in biology. We moved from the bj to passionate kissing, something she obviously enjoyed. I, on the other hand, was repulsed by her stinking cigarette breath. Either she smoked 6 packs a day or there's a brand in Cuba that is very strong. I later learned that there IS an ultra-stong brand called Popular; this was the brand she smoked. No more Popular girls for me.
Post-sex came the political discussion. Well, more like me listening to her perceptions. We somehow got on to the subject of the U.S. and the embargo against Cuba. Out of curiosity, to get an inkling of how Cubans see the world, I asked her what they teach in school regarding these matters. On the embargo, she learned that the US is an imperialist country that wants Cuba to be an American possession along the lines of Puerto Rico. Uncle Sam is hoping to starve Cuba into submission. On life in the United States, her view was one of: "How can a well-developed country like the US have so many homeless people and not have a public health care system?" She also claimed that American leaders are put into power by money, not by voters, and thereby lack legitimacy. In her mind, of course, Castro enjoyed the popular support of the Cuban people. Not to make too big of an issue out of this, since her views were obviously a slanted take on reality (though they could hardly be dismissed outright), but the point is that she was an intelligent girl capable of carrying on an intelligent conversation. Something that is very rare in the Dominican Republic, for example. Stimulating sex followed by stimulating conversation. What more could I ask for? If it weren't for the "where's the money? interruption and her smoke-filled mouth, this evening could have been rated a 10. As it turned out, I'd rate it an 8 on balance: good sex partner and good companion to boot. I learned tonight that Cuba is different when it comes to ease of meeting & bedding well-educated women. What the cubaholics have been saying really is true. The education advantage is an advantage that no other tsm country can seemingly lay claim to.
* Home Delivery
Feeling lazy, I decide it's time to put those phone numbers I collected to good use. Some home delivery service is in order. I call up a statuesque-looking 19 yr-old, with dirty blond hair, that I met on the malecon a few days ago. She comes over in the afternoon. Agreed upon price is $35. She's the second girl who insists on a condom for bjs. Whoa is me. Her rationale: foreigners carry disease. I spend 15 minutes talking her out of her fears, with an added incentive of some presents for her (shirts and some scented bars of soap). Seems to work like a charm every time. Her bj is teethy but enthusiastic. She seems quite inexperienced in this department. Her lovemaking skills are far better. Lots of grinding that the Cubans are famous for.
* Double Your Pleasure, Double Your Fun
On my way to the malecon in the evening, I'm stopped by a diminuitive dark-haired girl who asks me to escort her into the Riviera Hotel. It wasn't the first time I had been asked to escort a girl inside since arriving in Havana - the Riviera-wannabe girls hanging around outside are known to approach tourists to do them this "little favour", as they put it - but it WAS the first time I had acquiesced. She had a great smile, and the contrast with the statuesque blonde from the afternoon struck me as being something I wanted to pursue. I like variety -- and Cuba has variety to offer in spades.
We sit down at the Riviera bar at around 8 pm and order two cuba libres. She tells me she's a chemistry student from Camaguey, and also remarks on how a lot of the girls in the lobby are from Camaguey as well. Taking a look around, I notice a another statuesque model type with long-flowing hair seated at a nearby table. Looks similar to the girl who came by this afternoon, but not quite as tall. My diminutive chemistry student girl, noticing that I can't keep my eyes off the other girl, asks me if I'd like the girl to come over. She explains that the girl is a friend of hers from Camaguey studying agronomy, and that I have could have them together for $50 each.
To make a long story short, six hours and 8 condoms later (at around 2 a.m.), the girls and I are watching a subtitled American western, and poor working-class Stony is feeling like the prince of a harem. In a word, the experience was fantastic. No reticence about bjs without condoms (following my previous problems, I asked the duo beforehand just to make sure), no hurried-up attitude, no jealous rivalry between them, a balanced sharing of the workload, and all fun and frolic. Yup, after a slow, rocky start in Cuba (tsm-related activity), things have taken a turn for the better.
* Doing the Tourist Thing
I take a taxi to Plaza de la Catedral. From there, I check out (on foot) El Patio, Bodeguita del Medio, and the narrow streets of Old Havana. Lots of Boca Chica-ish hookers plying their trade. Even a goldmine like Havana has its share of uglies. Eventually, I make my way to the Parque Central. I'm sitting on a bench in the shade, taking refuge from the blazing sun, when one of those Boca Chica types comes up to me. After a while, she senses my disinterest and moves on to search out her meal ticket for the day, because it's not going to be me. What she gets instead is an interrogation by a police officer, who guides her to the back seat of his car. Presumably, she's in trouble for having talked with me. The girls don't have it easy in Havana.
I move on to La Rampa Area. Fascinating spectacle here is the incredibly long line-up of Cubans waiting for some ice cream at Coppelia, where pesos are accepted. Walking back home along the Malecon, I take a picture of the propaganda billboard which depicts a growling Uncle Sam trying to scare a young smiling Cuban soldier. Roughly translated, it reads: "Mr. Imperialist, we have absolutely no fear of you." In terms of girls, no interesting prospects are sighted. Just those Boca Chica types, who seem to be pervasive during the day. The real gems come out at night to play.
* Disco Vampires
My driver friend/guide and I hit the town tonight. Comodoro and Rio (Johnny's). I find the girls in these discos to be too predatory/money-hungry for my tastes. The most blatant example is the following conversation which took place at Comodoro.
Vampire Girl: "Where are you from?" (I answer) Vampire Girl: "What's your name?" (I answer) Vampire Girl (hand on stomach): "I'm hungry. Will you give me $5 so I can buy a chicken?"
In the space of a few moments from meeting me, then, the scam is attempted. There is of course no chicken at comodoro. The girl just wants to pocket the money and move on to the next juicy target. It can be quite a lucrative business on a good night, my friend explains. My response to the girl was "no puedo" (no can do). She followed-up by asking for a pack of cigarettes. Go figure. I guess if she couldn't get the chicken, the alternative was to smoke in order to suppress her ravenous appetite :) I did buy her the cigarettes for $1, and she did smoke them.
Other examples of Comodoro vampirism include expensive drinks and the payment system. When you enter (cover charge $10), you receive a consumption card that is punched whenever you order a drink at the bar. The problem is you don't know how much you're paying until you leave the premises. The card tells the cashier at the door how much your tab is. The other annoying aspect of this system is that you pay $50 if you happen to lose the card. Comodoro-goer, beware!
In general, the girls' attitudes and set-up at Comodoro turned me off. Sure there were some stunners, but the vibes were wrong. Rio girls were somewhat better in their attitude on this night, but asking price was still considerably higher than the Malecon. Everyone wants at least $60. Some go as high as $80. The one that most interested me, the Chinese girl I mentioned in an earlier installment, demands $100!...Albeit in a very playful way, telling me that she's 18 and very exotic looking. She's quite the teaser and saleswoman,, but I'm not prepared to pay $100 in Cuba. At closing time outside (away from the crush of people inside Johnny's), she comes to see me with an offer of $70, having been unable to find anyone for $100. I accept the deal because it's late and I don't want to go home alone. What really cinches it, though, is when she whispers in my ear that's she a swallower.
At the casa, the chinese girl delivers. Looking back, she proves to be the most all-around skilled and willing girl that I meet on my trip. Not the sweetest by any measure, but definitely a pure sex machine. In retrospect, the $70 was worth it. This is one vampire who didn't exactly suck the blood out of me, - money and other bodily fluids yes - but blood no :)
Having now sampled chicas from the malecon and a chica from a disco, I get the feeling that the elusive "monster fuck" that everyone is looking for can be more easily found in the disco. However, if you're in quest of the sweeter, more innocent, and more affordable type, the disco environment is the wrong place to look. For the non-pros, typically girls from outside Havana, the Malecon rules. A monster fuck is good once in a while, but if it comes with that professional attitude that prevails in disco girls, I'd rather take my chance with the non-pro types. All in all, I'm more of a Malecon type of guy.
Day 7:
* A Day at the Beach (****warning**** for "Devil's Advo-Crap" -- READ NO FURTHER! This segment contains no pussy and sex. Go fuel your fantasies with Penthouse Forum)
At my request, the family renting out my apartment drives me to Guanabo in a Nissan borrowed from friends. I pay the owner of the car $20. My regular taxi driver/guide can't take me because the tunnel area outside Havana is off-limits to him after his run-in with the police a few days ago (for illegally transporting me).
Along for the ride is the husband, wife, and their 10 year-old son. At the last minute, the wife had asked if she and her son could can come too because, incredibly, they had never been to the beach. NEVER. The beach is only 30 kilometres away. What a dismal life many Cubans have...the wife and son are so happy to finally get a chance to spend a day at the beach.
There are several female hitchikers lining the highway outside Havana. Mainly black girls. This is also the case in Guanabo. Again, they look like the kinds you find in Boca Chica. Nothing too interesting. I spend the day lazing on the beach, eager to return to the variety-filled selection that Havana's nightlife has to offer.
* Vetoed by a Chulo
At around 10 pm, my driver friend and I are drinking some beers at an outside bar in front of a disco called Las Bulerias, right across from the Habana Libre. I notice a beautiful, full-lipped tall girl with curly brown hair standing alone on the sidewalk. We make eye contact and she walks over to our table. After some initial small talk, we eventually agree on a price of $60. Suddenly, she says she has to go speak to a friend and that she'll be right back. For about 10 minutes, she can be seen discussing with a young male on the sidewalk. He looks Italian, though I can't be sure. When she returns to my table, she informs me that she can't go with me because she has a debt to pay with another tourist. Some bs about her owing him money, she doesn't have any, so she has to repay him by spending the night with him. "Come see me tomorrow," she tells me as she's leaving. "I'll be here." My Cuban friend later explains to me that the guy she was talking to was no Italian tourist. He was her Cuban chulo (pimp). She was consulting with him on whether she should go with me or not. For whatever reason, the chulo vetoed me. He probably thought she could get more $$$ from someone else. The experience left me feeling annoyed at the idea of losing her after getting psyched up; and even moreso disturbed by the control that this guy exerted over her. She clearly wanted to go with me, based on her friendly attitude. The warmth she exuded prior to consulting with her chulo turned to ice when she returned to announce that our date was off. I had no intention of going back to see her the next day.
Oh well, there's always the malecon near the Riviera, my favourite hunting grounds. That's where I ended up on this night. Three girls that I had been with previously were there: the economics student with the cigarette breath, the chemistry student who was part of the threesome I had, and Camaguey Gold, the one who wanted to spend the entire trip with me. Most of the girls are sitting on the seawall tonight. It seems that the increased police presence around the square has pushed them into being more discrete instead of standing around on the street corners or loitering in front of the hotels.
My choice for the evening is Camaguey Gold. When she sees me, she gently berates me for not having called her in the last three days. The she offers to spend the night for $30. It's an offer I can't refuse.
Day 8
I wake up suffering from stomach cramps and diarrhea. I suspect it had something to do with a gigantic ham and cheese sandwich I had bought the night before from some guy illicitly selling them in the square. They only cost $1.
Camaguey Gold spends a good portion of the day with me, watching tv. She leaves at 3 pm for a dentist's appointment. I sleep until 11 pm, feeling much better when I get up. Not 100%, but not wanting to waste the night either, I search out my driver friend near the Riviera. Together, we go out to the Marina Hemingway disco, a 20-25 minute drive. The cover charge is $5 per person. The place is buzzing with girls and tourists. It has a great atmosphere, with the added advantage of being right on the water. Lots of places to sit down too. Not like the other discos. Even a fashion show for added enjoyment (See Bogey's pics) Marina Hemingway is definitely the best overall disco I've seen, much better than Comodoro.
The girl I leave with is a slim 19 year old who speaks excellent Italian, conversational English, and some Russian. The price: $60. She plans on studying to be an interpreter. Very bright girl. Others have said it before, but it bears repeating nonetheless ---- If you're looking for girls who can hold a conversation beyond the "me love you long time" shtick, Cuba is for you. Oh, one more thing I need to mention about my night with this girl, lest the D.A. holds it against me....I fucked her good, REAL good.
The last two days were more of the same....same remarkable Cuba - "Only in Cuba" should be the motto of Cuba-lovers. On my second last night, I met a 28 year-old schoolteacher on the malecon. On my last night, it was a stunningly beatiful 19 yr-old from Cienfuegos (again on the malecon). This one must have been one of those "babes" that eluded Bogey's camera lens. As satisfying as the experiences with both these women turned out to be, the longest-lasting memory from my final two days will probably be a conversation I had with my driver friend over dinner at a paladar on the last night.
It was an opportunity to get a brutally honest glimpse of Cuban life as seen through his eyes. It served as a stark reminder that Cuba is paradise for us mainly because it's a living hell for most Cubans. Among his observations and experiences that struck me:
- how he quit his job as a government economist making $10 a month in favour of the "lucrative" private taxi business.
- how the best and brightest in Cuba are reduced to scraping for a living by means of odd jobs. Example, an illicit nighttime sandwich-vendor in front of the Riviera turns out to be a philosophy professor by day.
- how he personally knows married men who prostitute their wives to tourists in order to get by.
- how he envies the endless options available to foreigners.
Example, when it comes to vacation time, they have the luxury of deciding which country they'll be visiting next. Cuba, Brazil, Spain, the Riviera etc. My Cuban friend remarks with a wry grin that HIS vacation consists largely of sitting home and deciding which of two state channels he'll be watching on his run-down black and white tv. What shall we watch tonight, honey: Castro's latest 7-hour speech about the big bad imperialists or those crop reports on "Agriculture Tonight"?
- how Italian tourists sometimes rip him off for what to them are measly sums.
Example: Italian enters the car, they agree on a price of $2 to go to location x; when they pass a hotel, the Italian says "stop here one moment, I'll be right back", makes his way into the hotel, only never to return. When my friend tries to go after him, he is stopped by the doorman - "No Cubans Allowed"
- how fines for transporting foreigners can take weeks or months to pay off. In short, it's a dreary picture of a truly screwed-up country, one which you're glad you didn't have the misfortune of being born into. Imagine never being able to travel, spending years of your life pursuing an education that leads nowhere in terms of a well-paying career, and seeing foreigners treat your country like a playground while you're relegated to being second-class citizens in your very own backyard? That's the flip side of the TSM paradise.
At the airport, I leave my friend/driver with a bottle of after-shave and $75 in cash as a parting gift. Small tokens of appreciation for his companionship and guidance. Small tokens to ME. To him, it's Christmas in August. He seems genuinely taken aback by the amount of the money. Sincere gratitude and sad goodbyes mark the moment (is this what a hallmark moment is like)?!?!? In any event, as cliched as it may sound, it's little moments like these that make trips memorable, moments that live on in your consciesness long after the meories of depraved whoremongering fade into the distance.
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Here's an article I came across today, about the upside-down world of Cuban society ... Tourism boom turns Cuban society upside-down Copyright © 1998 Nando.net Copyright © 1998 Reuters News Service VARADERO, Cuba (August 31, 1998 11:07 a.m. EDT http://www.nandotimes.com) - Nobody looks down at a hotel doorman in Cuba. Chances are he is picking up in daily tips what a top brain surgeon or university professor earn in a month. The same is true for a growing army of car-park attendants, waiters, hotel workers, trinket-sellers, guides and others lucky enough to work in Cuba's booming tourist industry. They are the Communist-run island's "nouveaux riches," a privileged elite with access to dollars that makes their compatriots' peso salaries look paltry. In the recent words of President Fidel Castro, they are also part of an emerging class of home-grown "millionaires" who are endangering the egalitarian values of nearly four decades of Communist rule since his 1959 revolution. Cuba's rapidly expanding tourism industry -- 1.2 million visitors and $1.5 billion in revenues in 1997 -- may be rescuing a needy economy still reeling from the collapse of its lifeline to the Soviet Union at the start of this decade. But the Castro government's opening of the sector since the late 1980s has also ushered in deep social changes and divisions that are irrevocably marking the island and its people. 'Social pyramid turned upside-down' The trickle-down effect of the once-illegal dollar is perhaps the most notorious influence, creating wealth distortions and anomalies that now abound across the island. A woman in downtown Havana will braid a tourist's hair for $8, more than half an average monthly salary in the state sector that employs the majority of Cuba's workforce. A man in the town of Trinidad rents rooms to tourists at $20 per night, ensuring that his family, unlike others on his street, can get soap, shampoo and electronic goods from dollar-only shops. A cleaning lady at a hotel in Cuba's most famous beach resort, Varadero, says her tips bring in more than the combined salaries of her four adult children and her husband, who are all university-trained professionals. "The social pyramid has been turned upside-down. The most skilled and highly trained people are not the ones making the money," said economist Omar Everleny at the state-run Center for Studies of the Cuban Economy. "The solution would be to raise wages in other sectors, but if they are sectors which do not generate foreign currency it is hard for the state to do that," he said. While government salaries remain comparatively low and the dollar continues to rule, such income distortions are an inevitable by-product of the tourism boom. But the government is seeking to control the situation, and members of the small self-employed sector, including those offering food and rooms to tourists in their homes, are now paying taxes, a relatively new phenomenon in Cuba. Social distortions 'repulse' Castro Castro himself, frustrated at having to introduce some capitalism, leads the official finger-wagging at the emerging moneyed class. "This excess money which a lot of people have is causing us a lot of damage. ... The more contact we have with capitalism, and the more we perceive what happens, the more repulsion I feel," he said in a recent speech. Castro, 72, who is set to celebrate the 40th anniversary of his revolution in January, defiantly rejects calls to reform his one-party political system and the economy remains largely in state hands. But some analysts say tourism has become a silent agent of change on the island. "The tourism phenomenon is revolutionizing Cuban society, bottom up, in some ways for good and in some ways for bad," one Caribbean diplomat in Havana told Reuters. "It's helping spread wealth, it's encouraging capitalist practices, it's giving Cubans unprecedented contact with foreigners, it's a magnet for foreign capital, and it's allowing the outside world to get a good look at Cuba and vice-versa. They are all new trends for Cuba." Despite the social implications, especially the more unsavory aspects such as the startling rise of prostitution that is an unwelcome throwback to Cuba's pre-revolutionary reputation as "the bordello of the Caribbean," Havana is in no doubt that future economic survival depends on tourism. "Tourism has become the engine of the country," top tourist sector official Eulogio Rodriguez said at a recent conference in Havana. Buoyant tourism officials project an annual 2 million visitors by 2000, up from an anticipated 1.4 million this year and a mere 300,000 at the end of the 1980s. They also foresee revenues rising to $3 billion by 2000, 15 times more than in 1989, and a jump in hotel capacity from 28,000 rooms now to 49,000 at the turn of the century. Although the net gain from tourism is still only about a third of revenues, it already rivals sugar and nickel profits, and the state aims to increase efficiency in coming years. Canada, whose government opposes the U.S. economic embargo on Cuba and maintains an official policy of "constructive engagement," is the largest source of tourists at the moment -- followed by Italy, Germany, Spain and France. Joint ventures, mainly involving operation contracts, have drawn big-name hotel chains from Spain's Sol Melia and France's Accor to Jamaica's SuperClubs and Sandals. Americans drawn by 'forbidden fruit' And all this with the U.S. embargo in place, blocking what would certainly be Cuba's biggest tourism market. Prior to Castro's revolution, Americans accounted for 90 percent of Vice-Minister Alfonso Casanova estimated that without the embargo the influx of U.S. visitors would enable Cuba to pay off its roughly $11 billion foreign debt in 10 years. The importance of tourism to the economy has never been clearer than this year when a disastrous sugar harvest, low prices for Cuba's nickel exports and a severe drought in the east have turned the screw on a tight financial situation. Most come to Cuba to enjoy its enviable white-sand beaches and warm Caribbean waters, to buy its famous rum and cigars, to enjoy its rich music and dance traditions and to explore the impressive architecture of Havana and other towns. But there is also an element of political tourism and "cache" in visiting one of the world's last remaining Communist outposts. For Americans, who come in their tens of thousands each year despite Washington's official ban on spending money in Cuba, there is also a sense of "forbidden fruit" in visiting a country off-limits and vilified for so long. "It's incredible. Coming here and seeing the old U.S. cars in the streets, the revolutionary slogans, the deteriorated architecture in Havana is like walking straight into a piece of history," said Dick, a Texas banker who asked that his family name not be used. "I would give anything to meet Fidel Castro too, but I suppose I'll just have to make do with seeing him on television every night." Cubans' enthusiasm over the growing tourism trade is tempered by resentment at being barred from using hotels reserved for foreigners. Nowhere is this division more starkly evident than crossing the spectacular 11-mile causeway from mainland Cuba to the tourist island of Cayo Coco. Behind lies a world familiar to most Cubans: sugar fields where workers earn $15 a month, the gritty provincial town of Ciego de Avila with its gray buildings and spartan homes and roads where bicycles and horses vie with aging vehicles. Ahead is a world still off-limits to most locals: a tourist mecca where brand-new jeeps whiz foreign guests between luxury hotels and the white-sand beaches and where a few drinks by the pool cost more than the average Cuban's monthly salary. If the contrast is not stark enough, a police checkpoint on the causeway -- to keep "undesirables" off the island -- underlines the point. On one of Cayo Coco's finest beaches, Cuban hotel worker and Ciego de Avila resident Lazaro Junco meditates on his daily two-hour bus journey between these two worlds: "It's difficult, it's strange ... I'm one of the privileged ones because I work here, but it's still hard for me to see all this. Why should foreigners be able to enjoy this and Cubans not?" By ANDREW CAWTHORNE, |