During our first full day in Havana, Cuba, the weather was sunny and favorably warm. Michelle and I walked to the Plaza de la Revolucion and learned more about Jose de Marti, Che Guevara, and Fidel Castro. Might I insert here that Che Guevara was an entire SNACK in his younger years? (He’s on the right in the photo above). I probably would have elbowed chicks out of the way to join the revolution back in his day, like "Si! Viva Cuba Libre indeed!"
After the Plaza, we headed over to Sofia restaurant on Avenida 23 for a delicious and quite generous lunch. I had a salad, ropa vieja (traditionally prepared thin-sliced Cuban steak) with rice and beans, and a small dessert and bottle of water for…drumroll, please: 10CUC. We sat on their veranda and enjoyed people-watching, as one of the things that I loved most about Havana was the diversity. Cubanos and tourists of varying hues, styles, and vibes passed by, and we garnered a few friendly smiles along the way.
That evening, we wandered along the Malecon and gazed at the ocean, discussing how long it might take us to swim from there to Florida. Later on, we ambulated from the Malecon all the way back to our AirBNB in Vedado, which, in hindsight, was not the best idea for a couple of reasons. One, we both wore sandals and had zero arch support. The distance that we covered on foot that day overall was several miles, so by that point, our dogs were tired. We weren’t travel newbies and knew that we should have packed sneakers, but…who wants to wear sneakers while attempting to style and profile as Las Cubanas for a week? Two, our late-night stroll took us through some “interesting” neighborhoods. “Interesting” as in, I’m almost certain that we stuck out like sore thumbs and garnered stares from unfamiliar faces as we traversed through back alleys while my spankin’ new iPhone was on display so that we could find our way home (I use the Triposo app faithfully because of its downloadable maps of cities that can be accessed offline. The GPS worked in Cuba even though I didn’t have Internet or cellular service). We made it and got plenty of rest, thankfully.
Day 2 began with an awkward predicament. I’m still not completely sure of how I missed the memo in my exhaustive anxious Type A research before our vacation, but apparently, YOU CAN NOT FLUSH TOILET PAPER DOWN THE TOILET IN CUBA. Like anywhere. Like the only things going into the toilet and septic system are the items that you disposed of from your own body. I am trying to spare you the gross details, but let it suffice to share that I had to go Numero Dos and I was grossed out at the thought of placing my paper goods into the trash bin next to me. Fortunately, I always pack extra gallon-sized Ziploc bags with me for items such as wet bars of soap, soaked swimwear, and the like. I whipped out one of the baggies and practically ran it to the outdoor dumpster after doing the do. What a way to start my morning!
I joined Michelle in the dining room of our private casa particular for a fresh smoothie and breakfast prepared by our housekeeper/cook, Maria. For 5CUC per day, we had a wholesome entree of eggs, ham, Cuban toast, butter, pineapple, guava, mango, and cheese waiting for us after we primped and prepped every morning. The Cuban bread was so warm, thick, and toasted to crunchy yet soft perfection; I long for it sometimes when I am having eggs with toast back here at home. *insert heart-eye emoji here*
We walked into town and had a patio lunch at Bar Monseratte near El Parque Central. We initially planned on El Floridita restaurant and bar, but it was closed due to the national mourning protocol since Fidel Castro passed away the week before we visited. I had a shrimp and rice entree for lunch, but was dismayed that 1.) alcohol was not being served and 2.), my first choice of lobster was unavailable to order because “we are in mourning.” I was polite and avoided the Ugly American stereotype by replying, "I'm so sorry for your loss." But internally? Internally?!! My inner dialogue was like, "Well *I'm* not in mourning, so run me that lobster and mojito footage, sir!"
Later on, we had dinner at a smaller establishment near our casa particular. Through my Spanglish and quite rapid Spanish from a few of the restaurant staffers, we learned that Cubans ALSO think that 45 is…muy loco. And honey, let me tell you, these folks have reportedly lived through “muy loco” leadership (read: dictatorship). They know loco when they see it, even if it’s via state-controlled media outlets. It was comforting to be able to speak on behalf of many Americans to reassure them that “nosotros no todos juntos Trump!” Which was my very grammatically incorrect way of saying, “We are not altogether with Trump.” They understood me on a spiritual level, despite my butchering of their language.
By this point in our journey, Michelle and I were looking forward to an old-fashioned girls night in, complete with ladylike beverages and waxing philosophic about love, life, and learning. Except all the liquor stores were still closed! Alas…we took a walk about two blocks from our casa that night and happened upon *inserts angelic choir singing here* A HOOD CHICKEN SHACK! Not only did this shack sell pieces of rounded lumps that were marketed as chicken, but they also sold super duper cheap wine by the bottle. I’m talking 4CUC for the finest 750mL of aged grape juice that the ‘hood had to offer. I won’t bother sharing wine recommendations here because a.) that stuff was bitter and b.) I don’t remember the name or vineyard (if it came from a vineyard…). We also scored ten chicken nuggets for 1CUC, so to say that we were balling on our boughie travel budgets would be an understatement. We ended Night 2 by sipping and chatting on the balcony during a beautiful night in Havana.
On Dia Numero Tres, the weather was still sunny and hot. We slayed in colorful sundresses and took pictures along the water. As fate would have it, I found a bright green classic convertible parked not too far from our taxi stop. When the owner appeared, he had on a faded green Philadelphia Eagles baseball cap (it’s still a baseball cap even though it represents a football team, right?). He didn’t say much but that didn’t matter because I’m from Philly and all I could think was “Yes! Go Eagles!” Michelle was the best photographer/hypewoman ever. This picture was taken by her; #talented:
Then, we discovered la playa (the beach). The T3 Transistur bus departed across the street from the Hotel Inglaterra roughly every half hour, and for a 5CUC trip, we made it to the beach at Tropicoco Resort within another 30 minutes. I don’t know why I assumed that the beach would have lockers and changing areas like they do along the East Coast beaches. I was wrong, and ended up shimmying into my bikini under my clothes in a very contortionistic yet attractive (lol, nah) way. We soaked up some sun and I indulged in a cheap rum and coconut concoction.
At the beach, Eric and Rafael approached us and attempted to shoot their best respective shots. Okay, actually, Eric swooped in on Michelle because she is drop-dead gorgeous, and Rafael was a good wingman and slithered on over to me after their chat started. We agreed that I would practice my Spanish while he practiced his English. He eventually asked how old I was, and when I told him “31,” he gave me thee most uncomfortable machismo up-and-down while slowly stating, “You don’t have the body of a 31-year-old. You look great.”
Whoa! Hold on a dang minute, you young whippersnapper (Rafael was 21)! 31 is not old. 31 is not old! He said it like I should have all kinds of battle scars all over my person. I silently did the awkward turtle to myself, and kindly but abruptly ceased conversation. He took the hint, and Michelle and I gathered our belongings and got ready to head out. As we walked back to the bus, E and R started following us a little too closely and asked if we wanted to get a taxi with them instead and go party. And we were like, “NO!” and started power walking to safety. The menfolk regrouped and likely prepared to approach yet another pair of lovely ladies.
Stay tuned for more about Day 3 in the next post, as well as stories from our final two days in Cuba and takeaway advice for planning your trip there!
