Cuba

january-february 2022

22°00′N 80°00′W

all photos tastefully tinted olive, in honour of the Maximo Lider.

prologue

“So what is the overall result of the Cuban revolution? What comes to my mind is Arthur Miller’s experience on Havana’s Malecon, where two men were sitting at a bench near him, obviously poor and in need of a shave, engaged in a vociferous discussion. A taxi then pulled up to the curb in front of them and a lovely young woman stepped out with two brown paper bags full of groceries. She was juggling the bags to get her purse open, while a tulip in one of the bags was waving dangerously close to snapping its stem. One of the men got up and took hold of one of the bags to steady it, while the other joined him to steady the other bag, and Miller wondered if they were about to grab the bags and run. Nothing like this happened – “instead, one of them gently held the tulip stem between forefinger and thumb until she could get the bags secured in her arms; she thanked them with a certain formal dignity and walked off. Miller’s comment:

I’m not quite sure why, but I thought this transaction remarkable. It was not only the gallantry of these impoverished men that was impressive, but that the woman seemed to regard it as her due and not at all extraordinary. Needless to say, she offered no tip, nor did they seem to expect any, her comparative wealth notwithstanding.

Having protested for years the government’s jailing and silencing of writers and dissidents, I wondered whether despite everything, including the system’s economic failure, a heartening species of human solidarity had been created, possibly out of the relative symmetry of poverty and the uniform futility inherent in the system from which few could raise their heads short of sailing away. (Arthur Miller, ‘A visit with Castro’, The Nation, 12-Jan-2004; link)

It is at this most elementary level that our future will be decided – what global capitalism cannot generate is precisely such ‘heartening species of human solidarity’.”

Slavoj Zizek, The Courage of Hopelessness: Chronicles of a Year of Acting Dangerously, 2017.

Cuba, for those belonging to my income bracket, is a fairly expensive destination. i’ve had to make a few compromises in order to make this trip happen. a definition of compromise is in order, and i believe this can only be understood in the context of what journeys wishes to be - a collection of essays on travelling, where little strands of objective information are brought together and shaped by personal experience. my trips are often the nightmares of tourism agents, with little in the way of itineraries and even less crowding in terms of what is typically understood as “sightseeing.” by people close to me i have been accused of not making the most of the money spent on getting to these relatively distant corners of the world, yet i honestly prefer walking away with a single coherent thought, over filling up my schedule with objectives of vague historical significance.
to travel to Cuba, my significant other and myself have had to be part of a group of tourists. certainly, the members of the group we knew thoroughly, yet it still meant satisfying the vagaries of “classical” tourism and following an uncomfortably packed itinerary, with a tour guide machine gunning information at us pretty much the entire time. the quality of whatever they were telling us aside (which i am sure was solid), i never quite found answers to the questions that typically haunt me whenever i am away visiting a dramatically different society - what are these people’s aspirations? are they happy with the circumstances? what are they really like? and the list goes on.
as such, i have drawn upon a variety of sources in elaborating this essay, but chiefly Volker Skierka’s Fidel Castro (2001), a detailed account of Maximo Lider’s life and with it, of the Cuban revolution. whenever a trip follows such a rapid pace, little time is left for reflection or follow-ups (i.e. further interviews, second visits and so on). a lot of what i have written i actually thought about months after the trip - some experiences grow in complexity as i learn more and more about what i have seen, consider deeply and sometimes even understand the perspectives of those involved, or as i deepen my own understanding of what something has meant.
as such, i hope i will be forgiven for any injustice i may be the perpetrator of as i write the stuff below.

intro

it must have been around december of 2021 when the payments for our trip to Cuba were due. the money had to somehow make it to the Chinese agency we were using and we had decided on PayPal as the option with the most reasonable conversion rate. naively, i added a reference to the payment: “cuba trip feb 2022.”

the payment did not make it across. we subsequently received a stern dressing down from PayPal - in no way were they going to encourage us to do any sort of business which involved Cuba. when an “embargo” was mentioned, i had to look into it. soon enough i found out about the Helms-Burton Act.

enacted in 1996, the Helms-Burton Act is the latest and (arguably) toughest iteration of the embargo on Cuba put in place by the United States. its key purpose is to erode the stability of the Cuban government by barring the access of international companies to Cuba. in other words, companies have to choose between the Cuban and US markets, as any company electing to trade on the former can no longer do so on the latter. as the US market is much, much larger, it makes more economic sense to write Cuba off.
the Act also involves other similarly tough measures, such as the US opposing Cuba’s membership in international financial institutions.
the Helms-Burton Act was preceded by several decades of cold US-Cuban relations; the Eisenhower administration (1953-1961) had been unfriendly (if not hostile) towards Cuba from the very beginning of Castro’s regime, with the failed Bay of Pigs invasion as its “poster” operation.
to be entirely honest, i could not confirm the result of which law our blocked payment had been. nonetheless, the Helms-Burton Act is one of the best examples of what characterises present-day relations between Cuba and the US.

the money still reached our Chinese friends - all we had to do was retry the transaction within a couple of days. oh, and never mention Cuba again.

a transatlantic flight is an excellent opportunity to get some work done. unless, of course, you would rather hold a few strangers captive (but not against their will) in conversation.

from a freshly made European acquaintance we learned that gaining Cuban citizenship was a particularly difficult, if not impossible feat. he himself was due to marry into it, one of the two accessible ways one could walk away with a Cuban passport. even so, he hinted at the difficulties of going through with that: given that visiting time in Cuba was limited and the locals were not always inclined to engage in idle chatter with visitors, the chances of bonding with a Cuban in any meaningful way were slim.

to purchase land in Cuba, one would have to be a citizen. in other words, nobody purchased land in Cuba, and definitely not for personal use. our tour guide would later tell us of a workaround - just have a Cuban friend purchase property on your behalf. naturally, that’s assuming a very high level of trust, as no national or international bit of law covered you in the event of your “friend” vanishing with the money.

to subvert my expectations, we also learned that Cuban food was (sic.) “horrible and bland.” granted, i had not researched Cuban cuisine too meticulously, but an island in the Caribbean… with bland food?

turns out he was partially right, but more on that later.

as soon as we hit Cuban soil, i caught a great big whiff of a sort of “old world” air. this isn’t to say i immediately associated Cuba with its colonial past (as you’d be easily swayed to do so upon seeing palm trees, feeling the humidity of the air, or watching people rev up the engines of their cars from the 50s) or with the communist dystopia western media makes it out to be, but there’s something about nations in warmer climates which, to my mind, shapes the human character in a particular way. i haven’t elaborated a detailed description of what defines the character of a Cuban or more broadly, a citizen of a warmer, more laid back country. but it feels to me like those living around the tropics have an exceptional ability to enjoy life and capitalise on their time on Earth in ways which i simply could not: by enjoying it, usually regardless of objective circumstances.

nonetheless, i was surprised by the marked efficiency of those manually transcribing arriving tourists’ details in the Havana airport. honestly, i was expecting resistance to our sloppily filled in documentation, yet that really wasn’t the case. uncharacteristic to a bureaucratic state, the clerks simply took whatever they needed from our documents and promptly discarded the excess of papers.

urban settings

Havana

without going into too much detail about our journey to central (or “old”) Havana, over the course of which we were driven across the famous Malecon for the very first time, we eventually got to our first temporary abode. not too far off from the Tunel de la Habana, the tiny casa particular we rented out appeared to have served many purposes over its lifetime (which would have likely been upwards of a century long) - the street-level doors had small, barred windows, with even smaller access hatches, reminiscent of a shop setup. decorated with signage and pre-revolutionary motoring and advertising paraphernalia, and boasting a garden of edibles on the roof, the house came across as personal, but also impressively frugal in terms of what was being used to raise its standard of living.

*all elements (inc. the character) have been confirmed as pre-revolutionary.*

whatever was there to provide hot water malfunctioned during our first night and later on, through no fault of our own, we got locked out of our room due to an overly worn out key. somehow, i found all of this charming and i could not help but admire our host’s commitment to finding solutions or his sweeping knowledge of mending (as opposed to replacing) virtually anything around the property. an attitude born of necessity, sure; undoubtedly, however, this may just be a more productive approach to life than engaging in high velocity consumption.

*ramshackle at times, but beautiful through its ordering logic.*

with the necessary liberalisation of the Cuban market after the collapse of European communism around 1989, chiefly in order for the country’s tired economy to clutch at whatever foreign currency flows it could, some citizens received approval to run so-called casas particulares. in effect, this meant they could run tiny little hotels, often offering adjacent hospitality services such as individual catering, guided tours, or plain ol’ fixer services.
i don’t know much about the party line on what a casa particular should be. nonetheless, the two Havana casas we lived in were decent, homely, yet a little unusual in architectural design. perhaps the many conversions some of these would have gone through turned them into rather strange creatures.

early during our first morning we were brutally woken up (jet lag and all) by rabble right outside our windows. it seemed as if an angry mob had come to reclaim stolen property, but the keeper of the house eventually explained the group of people had been “queuing” up to purchase particular goods, sold by those running the casa particular themselves. he characterised it as a “side hustle” of sorts, or something along the lines of “a little bit of easy money,” yet he never clarified what it was they were selling, maybe out of concern for their safety or simply out of linguistic incapacity. we never doubted the legitimacy of the merchandise which was being peddled - likely re-sold meats or home-made foods -, but we were nonetheless surprised by the… energy the customers displayed.

for the older members of our group, this struck close to home - allegedly, this would have been a fairly common occurrence back in the days of Romanian communist scarcity, when queuing up in the wee hours just to get a pound of pork would have been the norm.

early in the day, one could spot such “queues” around street corners all around Old Havana. given the limited supply of many products, some stores would empty out quickly, but remain open. in fact, it appeared to us that the only establishments where trade still went on were bars, souvenir holes, and Havana’s specialised “soap stores” (i.e. shops stocking cleaning products).

*three, four, or six wheels - no matter what it looks like, if it works… it works.*

exploring the microcosm of Havana meant going through the motions as far as touristic objectives were concerned - driving around in a 50s junker (with more filler than metal in its body), touring a cigar factory, having a couple of drinks, a couple of meals in a couple of historically charged establishments, and witnessing the grandeur of communist landmarks contemporary and past. all pleasant so far, but covered ad infinitum in the media, up to a point where things i had never firsthand witnessed before appeared familiar.

*surprisingly welcoming: a strong sense of purpose and community pervaded this cigar factory in Havana (****click image to resize***).

what often surprised me was instrumental Cuban music, usually heard in the most unexpected circumstances, as older citizens watched over the streets and chatted with each other from the crumbling, yet charming balconies above. it was clear that the music mostly served to entertain tourists - Havana’s “touristic” areas are still inhabited by actual citizens, who appear to coexist serenely with a growing number of commercial establishments. nonetheless, music also happened elsewhere, but those expecting the Buena Vista Social Club experience outside of touristy areas may be disappointed. judging by whatever the local youth was playing on their smartphones, as well as the claims of our own tour guide, raggaeton had monopolised this branch of the entertainment market. essentially, just because Cuba’s political arena has been slow to change, this does not mean the cultural scene has too. granted, such a loss of popularity on part of “traditional” Cuban music may subvert the average tourist’s expectations, but the penetration of the internet, even in Cuban society, was bound to shape popular culture in some way or another. the first victim of the internet, herald of globalisation and cultural dissolution, as far as we were concerned, was our own fantasy of what the island nation was supposed to sound like.

headliners at the Bodeguita del Medio.

access to the internet had been, as expected, rather limited in Cuba.
it appears that the use of many of the websites we habitually visit in this part of the world (think Wikipedia) is restricted and Cuban authorities have attempted to style nationals’ access to the internet in a manner similar to China’s. in typical Cuban fashion, the result, at least to my eyes, is surprisingly wholesome - officially, access to a collection of books (mostly, but not limited to, volumes on socialist theory) was granted to everyone free of charge, along with a good chunk of the internet the rest of the world can benefit from. social media is very much present on the Cuban internet too, which is… not necessarily a plus, but it’s there nonetheless. in essence, most, if not all the positive aspects of the internet can be taken advantage of in Cuba, rendering it a great source of information for citizens and travellers alike.
to access the internet, one needs to input a set of credentials, likely assigned by a relevant government branch. this can, however, be easily circumvented - some of the casas particulares we lived in simply shared a staff member’s connection through a hotspot or a router once they had logged in. though sessions expire every two hours and users must log back in, we did not have much use for the connection beyond perhaps 15 minutes at a time.

in terms of speed, Cuban connections are nothing to write home about. in fact, in most cases, our connection cut out intermittently, making it difficult to properly assess its speed. i am not certain this was not a result of the hotspot setups we were using.

the frequent sight of armed police may have made some of the locals uncomfortable, but for those visiting from richer countries, this may have helped dispel the mental association of crumbling buildings with violence and lawlessness. we found Havana in the same state of delightful decay it appears to have always been, almost frozen in time, with its beautiful buildings trapped in a continuous, yet endless process of decay.

how is it that the buildings of Havana have always been crumbling, but have never fallen apart?

to further subvert my expectations, Havana did not display any sort of obsession with communist grandeur. it did have its share of buildings with the architectural style typically attributable to communism, but these were few and far apart.

it should come as no surprise that Cuba makes generous use of its own interpretation of communist iconography. at the end of the day, the West probably does the exact same thing, under the guise of advertising and other byproducts of our cultural environment.
based on my rather limited knowledge of the phenomenon, Romanian communist iconography had become symbolic of a failed regime - the repressive measures of a coercive state apparatus, economic mismanagement, a general disregard for the quality of life of some (if not most) citizens. as such, the sight of one of the largest buildings in Europe in Bucharest, currently housing the Romanian Parliament, possibly still elicits feelings of dread for many. equally, the grand parades put together for communist holidays likely looked wasteful in the eyes of many.
Havana’s own collection of communist architecture appeared to pander a little less to the cult of personality or the excesses of a narrow nomenklatura. likely offset by the beautiful architecture of Havana, the monuments at Plaza de la Revolucion, though visually similar to those i have criticised above, appeared much less oppressive. under the guise of tasteful artistic representation, Cuba’s revolutionary ideology inspired a sense of wonder. plus, based on Skierka’s observation, in a country with “a high degree of identification between the armed forces and the nation and its political leadership,” the perception of a class divide within a (theorically) classless society is less likely, while the cult of personality is less about the individual (i.e. Castro) and more about the phenomenon (i.e. the Revolution).

not entirely void of communist flavour, but much, much more palatable than many such artefacts of other socialist states.

as it usually is the case with well known sites, some of Havana’s attractions left me just a little disappointed. the Floridita, a bar best known for having the long-time patronage of Ernest Hemingway, failed to impress, in spite of its excellent live music and tasteful Regency style interiors. the tall ceiling and beautifully worn wooden bar did little to divert our attention from the average, conveyor belt daiquiris we were served or the queue of selfie-hungry tourists lining up to pat bronze Hemingway’s on the back. all of this had not really come as a surprise; in fact, what truly took away from the experience was the tiny amount of time we ended up spending in the Floridita, preventing us from separating the wheat from the chaff and picking out the last remaining fragments of the charm which had effectively glued Hemingway to that end of the bar, even before he’d been cast into bronze.

i’d already packed my camera when an opportunity arose for me to photograph Ernest on his own. phone photography at its finest.

it is no doubt a colourful city, speckled with music and the hallmarks of a “good life.” months later, as i type all this, i’m still struggling with this notion, yet i suppose it has a lot to do with community. while Cubans, one could argue, do not have much in the way of worldly possessions, they do hold just about enough to generate a tolerable standard of life. footwear was especially big in Havana and we were later told the city’s denizens often spent hundreds of dollars worth of Cuban pesos just to secure a reasonable pair of kicks. the shoes would travel through one of Cuba’s remaining allies (possibly Venezuela), where each intermediary would jack up the price at will. based on that, many consumer goods beyond footwear probably reached Cuba with a staggering markup, yet that remains unconfirmed by primary sources.

*after the collapse of the USSR, China became one of Cuba’s economic partners.*

while Havana did not exude the predatory energy typical to other touristic cities of the world (I’m looking at you Marakesh), we did get strung along a couple of times. the first of these encounters we wrote off as having been somewhat productive - sitting down for a cocktail with a local, we learned that Cuban life was indeed a struggle at times, particularly for the prospective bread earner of a family of three. while this perspective, broadly speaking, coincided with that of our guide, we still thought it advisable to take it with a grain of salt. to be more specific, we were told a single container of milk formula cost more than half of the gentleman’s monthly earnings, making it close to unsustainable to cover all the necessities of a newborn. naturally, the elegy came with a covert request for donations which we, as middle class Europeans, found ourselves catering to. was the gentleman being genuine or were they simply fishing for charity? nevertheless, we also made the unlikely error of allowing ourselves to be engaged in conversation by a couple, in the streets of Old Havana. conversational at first, but clearly driven by money, the two promised they’d take us to the site of a local musical event. in hindsight, that alone should have been sufficient to elicit evasive action - less than ten minutes in we realised we were basically just walking in circles. but we carried on, eventually paying the two a few dollars to be left alone.

our own experience aside, discontent in revolutionary Cuba has been, historically speaking, anything but performatory. this has usually boiled over in the form of emigration, a common phenomenon even during the early days of the revolution, in the 60s. at the time, Fidel’s plan for Cuba was popular, broadly speaking - in true communist fashion, to flatten any semblance of social stratification until an “egalitarian” society would be achieved. naturally, this did not sit too well with the middle classes, leading to a typical brain-drain scenario. between 1960 and 1962 alone, Cuba lost valuable self-employed professionals and essential experts (i.e. engineers, doctors, economists, etc.).
the trend would not stop there, as the economic situation of Cuba fluctuated. by 1980, the economy appeared to be cracking at the seams, leading some 10,000 citizens to attempt to secure asylum by effectively barricading themselves within the Peruvian embassy. in response, Castro simply allowed them to leave. targeting Florida, numerous Cubans made their way to Mariel, a port city about 40 kilometres away from Havana, and boarded vessels headed for greener capitalist pastures. the Mariel boatlift has been the subject of quite a bit of speculation - it is claimed that among those sailing for Florida were numerous… underperforming members of Cuban society, such as criminals or the metally ill. whether that is the case will likely be the subject of discussion for posterity, yet it is unquestionable whether the bulk of those eager to leave were economically motivated. there is no certainty around just how many people left; yet the number, depending on the source, fluctuates between 125,000 and as many as two million.
a similar scenario transpired in 1994, when more Cubans attempted to cross the Straits of Florida. however, this time, it was the US authorities which turned them back, despite some refugees’ success at making it across and into America.
it becomes apparent how Castro had repeatedly attempted to use emigration to Cuba’s advantage, rather than violently attempting to stymie it, as it usually is the case in authoritarian regimes. it is implied that emigration had effectively become a valve Castro used every time social unrest threatened to boil over. repeatedly repressing demonstrations could have had a knockback effect on groups loyal to the revolution - after all, Castro had been very visible throughout his political career and his apostolic image could have suffered greatly if tarnished by violence. the other angle on emigration suggests it was an excellent way of getting rid of undesirables; in other words, those who were unlikely to further the cause of revolutionary Cuba, incidentally or of their own device, would simply be allowed to leave. but the angle i find most plausible has to do with the economic aspects of the exodus: those living abroad would likely still send money to their relatives in Cuba, thus dealing (partially, at least) with the chronic drought of foreign currency which has always affected Cuba. according to Skierka, this had started working out reasonably well by the late ‘90s - an estimated $1.2 billion a year would be transferred into island’s economy, about a fifth of the total inflow of foreign currency. however, around the time of the Mariel boatlift, the author suggests, the costs to Cuba had outweighed the benefits.

Vinales

travelling westwards, our next urban destination was Vinales, a settlement with an estimated 27,000 inhabitants. it had the air of a tiny mountain town, with elements of the Wild West mixed in. focused around a central road which effectively connected the town to the rest of the country, Vinales presented us with two neat rows of colourful wooden buildings. the area’s luscious vegetation did well to bolster the flavour of the town (…city?), with tall pine trees and strangely aromatic herbs growing all around. unlike the other larger settlements we would visit, Vinales gave off the feeling of a genuinely inhabited town, without the slew of tourist traps or conversely, the out of control, yet undoubtedly charming bustle of Havana. in fact, nestled among the many vales and crevices of the mogotes (the steep hills jutting out of the landscape) were many farming settlements, all of which appeared to converge, some way or another, in Vinales. we did not spend an awful lot of time in the little town, but instead focused on the micro communities around the Pinar del Rio province (which Vinales is part of) more broadly.

interestingly, tourism-focused businesses in Vinales (i.e. eateries, small shops) displayed suspectly well put together branding, with beautifully crafted signage and new, well kept furniture. we even found that some menus presented broader choices, with European dishes and a more varied palette of base ingredients.

Trinidad

with its markedly colonial air and sporting a “patrimonio de la humanidad” denominator, Trinidad revealed itself to us as we were nearing the end of our cultural experience in Cuba. in stark contrast to everything we had seen in the country, Trinidad unapologetically presented itself as a touristic town. in spite of the relative scarcity of food (which wasn’t particularly obvious in Vinales, probably due to all the farming settlements around it), there was no shortage of expensive, perhaps pretentious eating establishments. neither was there any shortage of self-proclaimed money exchange agents around street corners, ready to pounce upon passers by and offer them the best possible exchange rate. granted, the rate they propositioned was indeed significantly better than what we had gotten in Havana or from our tourism agency. but, as it is commonly known, if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

yet in spite of its beautiful aesthetic, golden sunsets, and individuality, Trinidad struggled to come across as genuine. with self-referential local names, such as “Casa de la musica,” Trinidad appeared to make a conscious effort to market itself as more imbibed with history and meaning that it really ought to. and it paled in comparison with Havana - no longer did the music tickle my sensibilities as much as it had in the capital city. deep down, i felt it had been orchestrated (pun intended) to loosen up the wallets of tourists and the methodical organisation of these manifestations did not help with convincing me otherwise. hawkish ushers relentlessly attempted to draw us into various establishments and the “currency exchange agents” waiting around street corners gave off a particularly discomforting aura in the evenings. still beautiful in appearance and sweet in smell, this was not the Cuba we had gotten to know so far, and i felt a little betrayed, a bit like finding out your health freak cousin, who is particularly vocal in his campaign against all things pleasurable, smokes cigarettes whenever nobody is around.

*phone photography at its best, pt. ii - found on the second floor, the gift shop at the* *Palacio Cantero* *was nigh invisible to visitors unwilling to make it to the top of the tower.*

i still rejoiced in the architectural beauties of the city, and the more developed local tourism industry significantly elevated the quality of accommodation. ours was, by all standards, excellent. equally, the standard of food almost mirrored that of expensive European localities, albeit at the cost of a small part of its authenticity.

still, Trinidad is a beautiful city, perhaps one of the most beautiful i have ever walked the streets of. maybe it needs to be just that - a beautiful, historical, yet inhabited city, proud of its heritage and of its place among the world’s most valuable places, but stripped of the more obvious, cliche facilities which are meant to make it profitable. i would even go as far as to say dialing down the touristy elements of Trinidad may even make it more profitable in the long run.

*nestled between hills, an UNESCO World Heritage site.*

officially, one euro converts to approximately 25 Cuban pesos, but in reality, the rate fluctuated wildly. as far as i can remember, our guide offered a significantly better rate - 50 Pesos to the euro. dark alleyway “agents” offered as much as 75 pesos to the euro, while some websites suggest 100 pesos to the euro is a perfectly reasonable rate. at the end of the day, your mileage may vary.
prior to the relative liberalisation of currency exchange, Cuba had used a peso convertibile (hilariously, its ticker was “cuc$”) between 1994 and 2021. this alternative currency was pegged to the US dollar.

for a more nuanced taste of Trinidad and its suroundings, our trip took us just outside of the more densely populated urban sprawl. fairly rural and of striking beauty, i could not tell whether more than a handful of people actually lived permanently in Manaca Iznaga, north-east of Trinidad.

*built in the first half of the 19th century,* *Torre de Manaca Iznaga* *dominates the landscape.*

the entire area appeared taken out of a depiction of the Cuban colonial period. right outside of an estate with tall ceilings, columns, and cool, shady stone interiors awaited sun soaked rolling hills, rich vegetation, a tiny village, and, more importantly, Torre de Manaca Iznaga. the stillness of the air underneath trees in bloom roused in me a well known melancholy for a past i had never experienced. in fact, i would wager nobody in the area had, perhaps with the exception of those running the sugarcane industry, all cooped up in the estates built off the backs of countless unnamed slaves.

the colonial setup of the area had been turned on its head, with the resulting touristic attraction failing to convey the weight of the topic of human exploitation or slavery. some of the machinery of the era had been left behind, in fact, but stripped of their context, they appeared as technological marvels pertaining to a bygone, perhaps slightly romanticised stage in the island nation’s development. i may have gotten a different impression had our guide chosen to speak a little more on the topic.

reaching the very top of the tower, i was taken in by the scenery. my imagination went on a trip of its own, clumsily reconstructing the face of Cuba over centuries past. drawing from my limited knowledge of history, i could almost picture the inhabitants of the great island going about their daily lives. whatever phantom had found a good horse in me quickly departed once i thought i felt the 19th century stone tower rock with the wind, which swiftly convinced me to tediously make my way back down.

Cienfuegos

Cienfuegos failed to make a lasting impression on me.

weary from all the moving about, i had become less and less observant and while i appreciated the city’s tidy streets, familiar architecture, and outstanding iconography, i struggled to take it all in. granted, we merely spent a few hours in Cienfuegos, yet those would have been of much more impact had they been invested in Havana.

*not too dissimilar from Havana, though charming in its own way.*

nonetheless, Cienfuegos was the only time when i took the opportunity to walk into one of the local stores, the photograph of, i believe, speaks volumes.

*plenty of wares: still water, empty boxes.*

it was the seaboard where we uncovered particularly striking imagery. right by the Palacio de Valle, one of the city’s most recognisable attractions, a grand hotel complex had been built. it reminded me of imagery typical to television shows set in Florida. neon signage nearby deepened that feeling, though i very well knew this was not a sight borrowed from Americana.

a fairly unspectacular meal later, we left Cienfuegos. i felt as if part of the importance of what i had seen eluded me. but i chose to give it no further thought - we had just hit the road for a much more interesting destination: the Bay of Pigs, which i will have explored in some detail later in this article.

micro communities

the visits to micro communities in Cuba had probably been meant as “novelty objectives” on our itineraries. yet, these sections of our trip made by far the strongest impression on me. granted, i am actively interested in off-grid living and self-sustainability, but i would have never imagined i’d experience one such project firsthand… in the Caribbean.

it should be noted that “closed” does not (necessarily) mean “cut out from the rest of the world”; instead, self-sufficiency seemed to be a fundamental focus of these clusters and, based on the (relatively vague) sayings of our guide, such pursuits had been by and large successful. had these initiatives resulted from widespread insufficiencies, material or of a different nature? were people effectively tribalising in a last ditch effort to maintain a decent standard of living within a slowly collapsing society? likely not.

the farms we visited in and around Vinales and Havana stood out as self-sufficient establishments. i will have discussed these extensively under a later section of this article - while these may count as micro communities, they still relied on delivering their output to broader Cuba.

Las Terrazas is a tiny settlement less than 80 kilometres away from Havana. in line with one of the overarching contradictions which have governed the entirety of our trip, our visit felt rushed, yet simultaneously slow. to access Las Terrazas, we first spent some time around a “reception” of sorts, an area adjacent to the valley where the community is. a hut-like structure overlooking an emerald-coloured lake afforded us the opportunity to down some coffee before we boarded our Chinese-built four-wheeler, this time in the company of yet another local guide. by that time, i was already sold - the area was quiet, serene, otherworldly almost.

to enter the valley, we had to cross a bridge, the gates of which had been left open.

Las Terrazas likely represented the epitome of the commune lifestyle. shielded within a perimeter closed by mountains, valleys, and artificially planted tropical forests, the tiny settlement presented visitors with all the aspects of living in a (mostly) closed community. this veritable slice of Eden struck a delicate balance between interpersonal closeness and private space, thanks to the u-shaped complex of residential blocks built around the features of the terrain. overlooking a lush, yet carefully cared for valley, the blocks of flats had gradually become the hosts of various social spaces, along with at least one tiny cafe. inhabited by people of all ages, the community did not come across as a retirement home for those unable or unwilling to cope with the outside world; instead, we bore witness to a varied palette of interactions, within a diverse community. we were later told that everything from a school to a tiny hospital could be found within the valley, making it an idealist’s shangri-la.

watching fresh laundry rocking in the warm afternoon wind as men and women chatted away underneath shady canopies made for a slice of life belonging to what i envision as belongoing to the daily life of the ideal community. it wasn’t that time had stopped or that the locals had somehow achieved something i’d always secretly wished for - i do so openly -, but i wholeheartedly understand why they would feel protected in their natural fortress. they seemed to have everything - even self-built utility vehicles.

self-sufficiency aside, the entire establishment drew sustenance from tourism, which had clearly taken a hit during the pandemic. but that’s old news. the area’s standout (and only) hotel, perched higher up on one of the nearby hills, had been built around the vegetation, meaning that the trunks of massive trees bolted through purpose-cut openings in the building. to complement this arrangement, the hotel mirrored the design of the buildings below - had it previously been one of the residential structures?

“yeah, i’d love to spend a few nights here,” i found myself telling one of the hotel staff. it had been a convenient lie, told during a round of small talk. i knew a second trip to Las Terrazas would have me settle there for good.

landscapes, natural habitats

travelling across Cuba, it is easy to forget it is still in the Caribbean. i’d think most people associate the tropical archipelago with lush beaches, palm trees and potentially, colourful cocktails, but the natural diversity of the larger islands (i.e. Cuba, Jamaica, Haiti) can easily be underestimated.

for Cuba, the landscape often led me to visualise vast South American expanses, with temperate rainforests and fertile plains. having left Havana, we were faced with overgrowth, rough and sandless coral beaches, eventually, mountains and mogotes. unfortunately, we never made it to Sierra Maestra, a thickly forested mountain and the mythical birthplace of the Revolution.

having been in exile in Mexico, Castro, along with a group of 81 revolutionaries, boarded the Granma, a beat up motorised yacht, in november 1956. they crossed the seas and made it to Playa Las Coloradas, southern Cuba, though not exactly under auspicious circumstances - the Granma virtually crashed ashore. walking through marshlands and mangrove shallows, Castro and some of his men eventually made it to the Sierra Maestra, the mountainous range which would shield them from Fulgencio Batista’s troops, the leader of Cuba at the time.
what followed was a steady consolidation of the revolutionary group: Castro and his men would go on to recruit dissidents, set up local supply lines, and bolster their numbers within the mountain post, while also putting in place the preliminary structures of what would eventually be the revolutionary state.
the Revolution triumphed in january 1959.

a quick Google search reveals that the Bay of Pigs, our first significant non-urban checkpoint, is a location for “snorkeling and diving in a former war site.” something within me tingles whenever i see such commodification, at least in name, of historical sites of some importance, but this isn’t really the point.

once Castro’s Revolution officially succeeded, officials in Washington feared this would send shockwaves across Latin America, galvanising other revolutionaries into action and catalysing the birth of other undesirable states. the Eisenhower administration had already started looking for Florida-based groups which opposed Castro’s project, which in turn kept in touch with Cuban dissidents in the field, with a view to stirring them into acting out a coup d’etat in Cuba.
long story short, an invasion of Cuba was put together and the Bay of Pigs was chosen as the best location for the plan to be set in motion. coincidentally, Castro knew the area well, as he had scouted it for the purpose of converting it into rice fields. in Skierka’s words, “Castro knew this lonely and deserted region better than almost any other on the 2,500 miles of Cuba’s coastline.”
before the actual landing could happen, “softening-up” operations were carried out on Cuban air bases, using aircraft marked with Cuban national symbols to make it seem like it had been an internal military revolt. the deceptive tactic was quickly debunked by a journalist with expert knowledge on the matter, who pointed out that Cuban b-26 bombers had a particular physical feature the attacking ones did not.
around 1,350 men landed in the Bay of Pigs. having monitored the situation closely, Castro in turn deployed artillery and armoured units, along with an initial 870-strong elite militia battalion. he also ordered the destruction of the ships which the invaders had used; though unsuccessful in sinking all of the ships, the Cuban air force successfully drove the remaining ones off, leaving the invading troops to fend for themselves on Cuban soil.
seeing that their operation was not going according to plan, the invaders requested airborne support from the US directly. around 20 more bombers were thus deployed, at least two of which were subsequently shot down. whatever was left of the pilots was, according to Skierka, used by Castro to prove the involvement of the US in the operation.
the fighting was over in less than three days. though the Cuban side had sustained heavy losses - the 870 militias initially deployed had been complemented by a much larger number of Cuban troops-, the invasion had thus been foiled. Cuba took around 1,200 prisoners, who were eventually exchanged for US medical supplies worth around 53 million dollars.

Playa Larga, one of the epicentres of the events triggered by the Bay of Pigs invasion, is nothing but a sleepy fishing village now, with several eateries, casas partriculares, slow-dancing palm trees, and boats painted blue.

*Playa Larga - previously, the site of historical events; currently, a quiet fishing community and the home of* *Hostal Don Pepe*.

having craved a lush Caribbean beach, we were quite disappointed with how unspectacular Playa Larga’s waterfront turned out to be. verily, the area had not been transformed to satisfy wanton tourists, yet it still showcased a charm of its own.

*locals’ back yards sometimes extended onto the beach.*

for us, Playa Larga was the most advantageous base of operations for our exploration of the area, squeezed between the Cienaga de Zapata, a protected natural park, and the only road heading eastward. the former is a pristine marshland covered mostly in shallow salty waters and mangroves, making for a perfect habitat for alligators and the ideal point of respite for flamingos.

to explore Cienaga de Zapata, visitors must follow a dirt road, walled on both sides by tall mangroves. deeper into the protected area, the mangroves become shorter and spread further apart, revealing unbridled natural beauty. a weather-beaten wooden vantage point provided an excellent panorama of a landscape which seemed almost extraterrestrial, with its slow moving waters, pink birds, and salty, humid, yet unusually warm breeze.

the natural conditions, however, should not be underestimated: one likely to dehydrate on account of the heat and sun rays bouncing off the surface of the surrounding water. the highly saline air doesn’t help either. i will admit i was almost brought to my knees, metaphorically speaking, by this leg of the journey. but as i had learned over the course of previous tropical adventures, this is usually the cost to witnessing the peaks of natural beauty.

following the road eastwards, we breezed past a few of the usual attractions - Cueva de los peces, a cenote not too dissimilar to the ones found in the Yucatan; a snorkelling site around the Playa Maceo, not too far from Playa Giron, another site of relative historical importance; a group of cenotes much deeper into the forests of the Matanzas province.

the former two failed to impress. though informative and perhaps unusual for the eyes of the European, both were overrun by visitors, even with the sluggishness of pandemic tourism. not only that, both had the energy of sites where amateur conservationists had gone to great lengths to preserve natural integrity, but had instead achieved the exact opposite. sliding across a concrete deck, i found myself submerged into the cold water of the cenote at Cueva de los peces. i promptly understood that the nearby school of fish, fairly impressive in its size, had recoiled from the food leftovers floating in the water just as promptly as they had been drawn to them. indeed, the realisation that i had been sharing a still body of water with food waste was conducive to a momentary bout of unhappiness. i did see, however, the good will behind the act: to offer visiting divers the experience they had essentially paid for, the operators of a nearby restaurant intended to stimulate the interest of fish. similarly, the nearby coral “beach” had the air of a site which had been used a little bit beyond its warranty, having already evolved from a pristine natural site to a streamlined touristic attraction.

*amenities at the Playa Cueva de los Peces.*

where this chain of locations truly shone was the group of cenotes at Giron. hot and a bit of a sweaty mess, with a sore back, i dragged my customary camera-laden backpack out of the back of our minivan. it must have already gotten relatively late in the day (i.e. 15-15:30) and i did not feel too motivated to follow yet another guide around the jungle. my internal complaints were echoed by my significant other, whom i could tell no longer displayed the enthusiasm she had earlier in the day. nonetheless, we trudged on and found ourselves gradually captivated by the tales told by the portly ranger (who, ironically, appeared at ease in the heat, humidity, and otherwise unfriendly coral terrain) who had joined us. speaking Spanish, he explained the geological history of the region, pointing out the entire ecosystem had effectively grown out of coral. well, it’s not as simple as that - layers upon layers of organic matter had rotted away and deposited atop what had been an entire reef, which in turn had surfaced due to significant geological changes. the outcome of this unfathomably long natural process was an almost alien ecosystem, with coral caves and rich vegetation. though relatively safe and free of deadly predators or poisonous plants, it all looked eerily wild, as if all the roots of the peculiar trees, on account of the sheer effort of keeping alive on such inhospitable land, asked for reverence. reminiscent of an Indiana Jones sort of film, our guided journey took us to the cenotes.

*one of those pinterest type photos, eh? (****click image to resize***)

what i believe made the Bay of Pigs region memorable was the very same air of abandonment i had experienced in Havana (or perhaps Cuba in general), but in a context outside of the city. the obvious decay of many man made structures, the sparse population, and the encroaching vegetation gave the impression we had witnessed mother nature at work, engrossed in the slow, yet effective process of reclaiming lost land. not only that, but the rather short distances between all of these locations simply cannot be covered by car effectively - given the state of the infrastructure, any speed above maybe 30 mph would spell a death sentence for any average automobile. travelling the wastes around the Bay of Pigs also reveals numerous touristic facilities, mostly empty at the time of our visit; in fact, these had seen such small numbers of tourists that attempting to purchase a bottle of water would be met with a stern refusal or at times, a ridiculous price. outside of these deserted facilities, travellers encounter villages, logistics nodes, and sun-scorched revolutionary monuments, making for an eerie microcosm.

eating

revolutionary Cuba’s agricultural history is built, broadly speaking, upon a single crop: sugar cane. even before Castro’s socialist project, the favourable Cuban climate had piqued the interest of European colonial powers, yet it should be noted that the large Caribbean island had always had a diverse agriculture (compared to other isles in the West Indies region, which mostly hosted sugar cane plantations). revolutionary Cuba bet quite a lot on its sugar producing capacities in order to prop up the economy. this meant exporting sugar to other communist states, practically exchanging it for various other commodities. going hand in hand with a necessity for mass industrialisation, Cuba’s production of sugar saw several unique projects, such as the ten million tonnes, industrialisation at breakneck speeds, or leveraging the sweet substance as more than just an exchange commodity in the international arena, all of which ended up being partial successes.

possibly in an attempt to find a tangible metric by which to measure the progress of the economy, Castro looked at the output of Cuba’s sugarcane monoculture. sugarcane was profitable indeed, but through Fidel’s efforts, it also acquired ideological importance - the leader had made it a national objective to harvest a total of ten million tonnes of the stuff in 1970. the harvests of previous years had not quite reached that figure, with 1969 yielding approximately half of what the Maximo Lider aimed to achieve the following year. moreover, common sense suggests agricultural yields are as much subject to the vagaries of nature as they are to the sweat of farmers’ brows. but Castro understood the value of sugar as a rather desirable commodity on the international market, and endeavoured to mobilise members of most sectors of the population to aid in the cane-cutting efforts. not only that, arable land from other sectors of agriculture had been sowed with sugarcane and it is reputed that Castro himself put in four hours of cane cutting a day. yet, the harvest of 1970 fell short of the ten million tonnes. this, to Castro, was a significant defeat. adding insult to injury, it is estimated that the general mobilisation had also shrunk the economy anywhere between 20% and 40%.
nevertheless, sugar kept its position as a staple of Cuban exports for the remainder of the island nation’s collaboration with other Comecon countries.
sold at preferential prices to other socialist states, Cuban sugar became an essential bargaining chip in the country’s dealings with its trade partners. Castro would leverage the importance of sugar at numerous stages in the history of the country, up to a point where Cuba sold the sweetener at international market prices. while this all came to a halt after 1989, Maximo Lider’s handling of the matter was nothing short of impressive.

however, with the decline of European communism, Cuba had to effectively fend for itself in the world of the ‘90s. on account of a partial failure at implementing appropriate monetary policy, the island nation’s foreign currency reserves had never increased to levels where trading with states other than the Comecon would be feasible. to illustrate, by 1986, just a few short years before the Berlin Wall fell, imports from Western countries had all but ceased.

today, much of the Cuban economy still rests on the shoulders of agriculture: rolled tobacco made up for approximately 23% of all Cuban exports in 2020, while raw sugar, for about 17%. crustaceans and hard liquor (likely rum) together constituted another 12%. in other words, more than half of all Cuban exports are (or are derived from) agricultural products.

paradoxically, in spite of all the agricultural goods going out, an astonishing amount is also coming in, primarily in the form of food. as of 2020, Cuba imported around $1.21 billion worth of food, to cover around 70% of the necessities of approximately 11 million inhabitants.

therein lies the paradox: a nation with a history of sustaining diverse agriculture, a track record of exporting agricultural goods, as well as an advanced biogenetics research programme, currently covers over two thirds of the food requirements of its population through imports.

*grain, left out to dry literally on the tarmac. yes, vehicles simply ran the entire thing over.*

all of the above, however, may seem too far removed from day to day reality. instead, it became clear to me just how paradoxical the situation Cuba was as we visited several farming sites around the country.

propped up by the favourable climate, the biodiversity of these farms never failed to impress. yet another local guide was assigned to us and they spoke of crop rotation, sustainable exploitation, as well as organic farming more broadly. granted, it did match the picture - beautiful rows of greens and healthy-looking farm animals.

so far I have touched upon Cuba’s track record of sustainable habits. i could not really comment on individual perceptions of these practices - did they merely stem from necessity, not genuine willingness? -, yet the societal impact is nothing short of impressive. once again, i will try to steer clear of any generalisation - i know better than to trust a curated tour in a communist country -, but our (fragmented) tour of Cuban farms added up to an overwhelmingly positive impression. at first it seemed rather strange to me that our tour included several farming facilities, more so when we left behind the streets of Havana to visit…

… Finca Vista Hermosa

found right outside Havana, the large facility clearly had commercially-minded people at its helm. it grew a generous selection of crops and tended to livestock too, mostly pigs. it also featured a well furnished restaurant, which overlooked the nearby fields and greenhouses. equally, the primary access way had been well tended to, and seeing a 70s Lada cruise slowly through the lilac flowers was nothing short of a ravishing, deeply memorable sight. based on our guide’s claims, the farm produced as well as it looked, yet it showed clear signs of industrial-like specialisation.

*an unlikely wedding: Zhiguli (in mint condition) in a tropical environment. huh.*

Vinales - Finca Agroecológica El Paraiso

things really took a turn when we reached the farms around Vinales, of which our itinerary included a couple. visiting the first of the two relatively early in the morning, i immediately felt charmed by the blue wooden farmhouse atop a tiny hill. it was surrounded by neatly laid out parcels of crops, in turn set apart by a variety of recycled materials: little bits of stone, wood, or metal. the mogotes made for a perfect background and all the farm hands donning linen overalls and straw hats contributed to the surreal quality of the sight. we were deep into ultra-sustainable farming territory and the healthy green of the crops reassured me of their quality.

the farm stood out as a perfect example of equitable and sustainable agriculture. seeing the locals work in the early rays of the sun, tending to their crops and contending with the stubbornness of their livestock, resonated beautifully with the relaxed silence atop the hill or the echoes making their way among the rocks and valleys. we had arrived at the best possible time of the day: early in the morning, when the humidity and temperature were still palatable.

*whether you like your greens or not, those crops would have made your mouth water.*

Vinales - the tobacco farm

visiting a (relatively speaking) nearby tobacco farm meant hiking through several kilometres of stunning landscapes, peppered with farms and isolated tiny housing. i have failed to pinpoint its location on G-Maps - likely a private establishment, the farmers’ house did not appear touristic in the widest understood way. there we met a particularly representative looking farmer, who kindly offered to explain the processes pertaining to his farm’s upkeep.

we were offered an aniseed-based hot drink, which, naturally, helped spike my bodily temperature up to unbearable levels. in an effort to cool down, i went on a short walk around the farm’s habitable perimeter - the farmer’s extended family lived in and around the farm, mostly in the white and blue farmhouses which, in my mind, solidified the area’s charm.

*can you believe even the chickens followed along?! (****click image to resize***)

having demonstrated how artisanal cigars are rolled, he proceeded to walk us through the process of growing and curing tobacco, going into such detail it opened a whole new horizon of narcotics knowledge to me.

an air of orderly self sufficiency dominated the farmstead. i found it intoxicating.

… goes a Cuban folk song, made world famous by its rendition by the Buena Vista Social Club. to me, it spoke in ways i never thought it would, as i watched the farmers go about their lives among the fields of tobacco.

while it is not unique to Cuba, tobacco accounted for an estimated 23% of the country’s exports in 2020. for tourists, it is significant perhaps as a result of being advertised ad infinitum by tourism agencies and other interested entities. this is typically done through photographs of older Cubans, particularly women (i am sorry if this comes across a cherry picking), casually smoking cigars while walking the streets of Old Havana or idling around, sometimes dressed rather festively. Cuban reality does not quite look like that, but to some extent, it is understandable why the Caribbean nation would play to its strengths: the quality of its tobacco is outstanding. the Maximo Lider himself is almost always portrayed smoking, and rumour has it JFK made sure to order several whole boxes of the stuff in the wake of the Cuban embargo, fearing access would be lost indefinitely. nevertheless, watching workers roll fat ones in a cigar factory we visited in Havana shed some light on the process. in fact, we may even say we observed the production process of cigars end to end, from seedling to fattie.

nevertheless, i could not comment upon how happy the inhabitants were. the farmer who kindly relinquished some of his time to speak to us seemed unhappy with the government policy of effectively bleeding him dry of profit - taxes on his earnings were upwards of 90%, generating plenty of incentive for the emergence of a black market. the latter we ourselves partook in, as we bought unlabeled cigars on the spot. these could not officially be treated as taxable merchandise by customs, as they had not been stamped. nonetheless, the farmer appeared content with the overall state of affairs and the closeness to his familial unit.

*each leaf serves a particular purpose as part of a roll. (****click image to resize***)

Memorial de Soplillar (Finca La Esperanza)

when it all but peaked was when we arrived in Soplillar, within the Bay of Pigs area. inhabited by a farmer (who happened to be an impressively skilled carpenter) and his extended family, the modest homestead where we stopped to have possibly my favourite meal of the trip was nothing but the tip of the iceberg.

as far as i could understand, the land available to the family of farmers was nothing short of massive. we crossed it on horseback, as its relative wilderness made its size even more challenging to explore on foot. it is here where the livestock roamed free, thus defining the ultimate sustainable farming philosophy. plump looking pigs scuttled about and cows ruminated undisturbed as we rode by, and we even witnessed the tail end of the birth of a calf. in a way, there was little else we could have done to top that off.

*farming and palm trees don’t quite add up in my eastern European mind, but there we are.*

Christmas Eve, 1959, the very same year of the victory of the Revolution. Soplillar, then a tiny settlement, hosted a very particular event which involved the Maximo Lider himself. the Memorial de Soplillar serves to commemorate the occasion, and includes the original wooden huts which hosted the celebrations, along with a more recently built communal library.
it was nothing but a traditional Christmas dinner, put together by the area’s inhabits, most of whom made a living by producing charcoal. an extensive visual archive of the event exists: Fidel and his entourage had kicked off a tour of the region, as part of a broader initiative to assess the living conditions and the infrastructure available to locals.
ironically, Fidel would ban Christmas between 1969 and 1998.

on a more personal note, the site of Memorial de Soplillar had more to offer than just its historical relevance. among the well worn covers of books in a nearby community library lay hidden a blue iMac G3. the custodian explained it had been abandoned by a delegation of researchers and had served the library for many years before succumbing to a deep slumber. yet to awake from his quiescence, the boy likely still awaits his fateful day of reawakening at the hands of an overzealous enthusiast like myself.
a photograph of the boy is available in the gallery below.

in essence, the land covered all the prerequisites for keeping a nation fed. however, outside of the sites we were graced with visiting, quite a bit of (seemingly) arable land appeared overgrown. i am no economist and i do not claim to understand agriculture either, yet you would expect for a self-isolating island nation to make the most of every inch of soil, no? the failure to do so, based on whatever little tangible criticism our guide levied against the state, along with various scattered opinions from local producers, boils down to one thing: red tape.

the potential for a richer, effectively, better fed society likely exists in Cuba. experts may differ in opinion, yet the inefficiency facing many aspects of Cuban society probably stems from a history of concentration of power, a back and forth between market liberalisation and closedness, and perhaps a small dose of learned helplessness. according to Skierka, private farmers’ markets were still taboo as late as 1991 (which, should be noted, is no longer the case today). faced with significant food shortages and potentially, unrest among the populace due to poor access to Cuba’s national dish (i.e. pork, rice and beans), Castro “declared a general amnesty for pigs.” what followed was, simply put, sublime:

“Within days, private households bought up 15,000 pigs from state cooperatives or the surviving private farms, and soon many a piglet was seen prospering on balconies, in backyards, small gardens or bathtubs.”

this is by no means definitive evidence for the existence of a so-called “Cuban entrepreneurial spirit,” but it certainly suggests people would be more than willing to compromise on some aspects of their lives just to bolster nutrition.

internally, Cuba’s policy steered towards urban and individual farming, off the back of widespread food shortages after the collapse of European communism. part of this has been urban agriculture, in which, allegedly, a growing proportion of citizens partake. but more significantly, Cuba has been known to be a leader in advancing the discipline of biogenetics. thus, it should come as no surprise that the early 2000s saw Cuba develop bean strains with better yields. in other words, in putting its scientific muscles to work, the Caribbean nation could, at least marginally, improve its nutrition and shake off some of its food imports.

the existence of a “shadow market” is irrefutable - all of the casas particulares we lived in appeared well stocked and any missing ingredient would swiftly be covered by a quick run to an undisclosed location. similarly, we were rarely met with refusals from restaurants. from a tourist's perspective, then, Cuba is almost as plentiful as any other country.

this says little, however, about the quality of the food. while casas particulares and most restaurants in larger, more populous areas did a great job of capitalising on whatever ingredients they could secure, i simply could not say the same about smaller, more isolated venues. i was surprised to see how restaurants of hotels outside of Havana sometimes served portions of crisps and roast pork, usually wedded with a side of rice and beans. granted, our unlikely European acquaintance had warned us of the perils of Cuban eating (even as tourists), but I had simply written it off as the rant of an overly demanding customer. he had been partially right, though i would hardly characterise Cuban food as “horrible.” underwhelming, perhaps, in the context of Cuba’s potential, as i still can’t wrap my head around why the Caribbean country did not burst with the colourful dishes many island nations boast.

perhaps the main culprits were indeed the practices ingrained by years of rationing and scarcity. or perhaps there is little overlap between Western and Cuban worldviews, where the notion of “plenty” simply means something dramatically different, and the pleasures of life are derived from sources incomprehensible for the fattened (metaphorically speaking) Western thinking.

in hindsight, visiting farms, factories, and ideologically charged monuments was as tourism-under-communism as it could be, but that in and of itself made for a strange, yet unique experience.

ending notes

a mere two weeks exploring Cuba was never going to shed light on its true nature. a lot of literature on the topic circulates in the West, yet i simply haven’t gathered sufficient evidence to neither prove nor disprove their pessimistic view. a recent Financial Times piece exudes the very same negativity, as if Cuba’s economy hung by a thread - the slowing down of the flow of tourists from Russia, coupled with the anaemic tourist numbers on account of the pandemic are bound to hamstring the island nation’s economy even further. it is difficult to avoid painting a mental image of Cuba as absolute hell on earth, with embarrassingly low wages, ageing public services and infrastructure, or a tacitly violent repression apparatus which malignantly keeps eleven million people under one gigantic boot. based on the metrics we measure the strength of our economies by, those we employ to estimate happiness, along with those we use to measure success, that may actually be the case: slow, unproductive, perhaps mismanaged, the Cuban economy is unlikely to crack open the floodgates to the sort of consumption (and consequently, to many aspects of western ideology) that grips the rest of the world. perhaps, then, the forces which keep Cuban society moving, its historical conditions notwithstanding, should be understood in terms of an economy of preservation, reuse, and social capital.

*reuse, repurpose: a makeshift planter on the roof of a casa particular.*

am i going to point out the imminent collapse of the Cuban regime? definitely not - many have done so before. in the wake of every pessimistic prediction, the Revolution has so far kept afloat. even with the collapse of the USSR and the island nation’s break with its former Eastern European allies, when Cuba’s economic lifeline was practically severed, the Revolution lived on. based on Skierka’s observations, one of Castro’s most significant achievements was to keep things running with little outside support. as such, the Maximo Lider’s ultimate achievement was to provide the people of Cuba with an opportunity to lead their lives with dignity, even in the shadow of one of one of the strongest economic blockades in the history of mankind. sure, Cuba’s infrastructure appears worryingly worn out, even ineffective at times, impasses which could more easily be overcome in a free market economy, but so what? based on what we had the chance to witness, curated or not, i humbly doubt the economic circumstances are the real threat to the island nation’s socialist project.

instead, Skierka observes, the Revolution’s biggest foe is the “exhaustion of ideology” - one mustn’t forget that Castro’s stakeout in the Sierra Maestra only happened some seventy years ago. those ready to stoically bear the weight of the Revolution would have still been alive in the ‘80s, ‘90s, perhaps early ‘00s. a couple of decades down the line, few members of that generation are still alive and politically active. what remains is a young generation with little attachment, intellectual or otherwise, to the Revolution, which was echoed, time after time, by those we interacted with over the course of our trip. to reiterate - this is merely a risk factor, not the last nail in the coffin of one of history’s most beautiful, and arguably, most successful socialist projects.

*a mural in Havana: i’m certain that apple is a socialist symbol.*

but for now, where Cuba truly shines is the successful societal steering in a direction the West has been trying hard to go into. and as the West edges on a tectonic shift in culture, Cuba appears to have reinvented an arguably dysfunctional societal model into what a positive historical outcome could be for all of us: a culture of sharing, reusing, making the most of resources without overexploitation.

however, frighteningly so, this gargantuan realisation of the error of our ways may as well miss us, akin to all the celestial objects which have set a course for planet Earth, but have so far narrowly missed our rock.