We arrived Monday night and made it through security and immigration without a problem. Our first taste of Cuba was when we were waiting for our big oversized bike boxes. Our luggage made it out onto the conveyor belt fully intact, without any signs of having been rifled through. Then we waited for the dreaded boxes with baited breath. And waited. And waited. Finally, M spotted a clear plastic bag circling the conveyor belt that seemed to be filled with bike tubes, bike tools and Canadian paraphernalia… Basically, everything that was supposed to be loose in his bike box. Shit. Our boxes had “broken” open. He grabbed the bag and all we could do was laugh. Then he realized that his one prized possession was missing. A 2kg jar of peanut butter. It was gone. Allegedly taken by some hungry baggage handler. While M debated going and finding his favourite condiment from the cargo hold, we took bets on what else would be missing from our boxes. After a few more minutes, we were greeted by the most beautiful sight we could have hoped for: three intact bike boxes. It turned out that the only one that hadn’t survived the trip was M’s and the rest of ours were banged up and scratched, but none the worse for wear. We loaded up a four trolleys and headed out to exchange money and go to our new home.
After the money exchange and some negotiation for the taxis, we split into two vans, loaded our things and drove up to our big blue apartment building, across from the Estadio Latinoamericano (baseball stadium). We started unloading the vans as a little Cuban woman walked up to us and asked us if she could help. I explained that we were looking for Maria and she introduced herself. Maria! I explained who we were, which in retrospect seems pretty redundant. How many young white people with tons of luggage could she have been waiting for that evening? The two boys moved their things into their first floor apartment and the two of us ladies were helped up to our lovely fourth floor apartment by Maria and two strapping young men. We squeezed all of our things and ourselves into a tiny lift and made our way into our new home. It’s perfect. Two beds in one room, a big open concept living room/dining room/kitchen and a big balcony that overlooks the park/stadium. We also have a big tiled tub that could fit three people and several bottles of rum.
Must keep reminding ourselves that we are here to work.
That first night, we met the two key people that will help us navigate the Cuban system and will be our go to people for getting things. E and I unpacked and nested almost immediately and then passed out from exhaustion. E is like the energizer bunny mixed with a social director and I have no idea how she manages to maintain such a high level of constant energy. It’s quite the achievement. It gives me energy to be around her. I find some people exhausting to be around when they are constantly on high energy, but somehow being around wakes me up, like a shot of espresso.
Our first full day in Cuba started with Salvador cooking us a breakfast fit for Fidel; huevos, pan, jugo de guayabana, frutas y café con leche. After that, E and I headed downstairs to meet up with the boys and informed them of the plan to have Salvador show us around the city. We spent 5 hours walking around La Habana vieja and then stopped for a meter of beer at a gorgeous resto bar on the Plaza Vieja. I was having trouble absorbing the city but it reminded me a lot of Napoli, in the way that you can tell how glorious the city must have been in its day, but now has fallen into disrepair. Walking around the city, you get a sense of decayed opulence. Many of the buildings have that gorgeous colonial look to them with the huge cornices, large balconies and big entrances, but the paint has faded, chipped and peeled off, the walls are crumbling in places and the mouldings are cracked. I mentioned to our guides that I felt it was sad that something that could be so beautiful was left to fall apart. “Eso es Cuba…” was the reply.
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