Cuba Diary: One Week in the Varadero Sunshine
January 12-20, 2007
Short Version:
Louise highlight: The square in Old Havana that was suddenly a piece of Europe, with fountain and outdoor café.
Naomi: Getting out of touristy Varadero and getting a glimpse of everyday life in Matanzas, school girls in their uniforms, stray dogs, and the history and excitement of Havana. It is all so colorful.
Diana: Participating in Aqua Gym - "Aqua Jeeem!!!" in the pool; dancing in the finale of the evening show when audience members are called up; group stretching on the beach.
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Long Version:
Once upon a time, on the day that David Beckham revolutionized U.S. professional soccer, another revolution was taking place.
The three Rachlis women were traveling together for the first time on a family intergenerational bonding excursion to Varadero Beach in Cuba. Each had arranged a week off work, taken cigar orders from co-workers, and done her research - Louise on the architecture of Havana and the history of the revolution; Naomi on the swim-up bar at Hotel Tuxpan, and Diana on the most flattering bikinis. All research proved useful!
As research for an upcoming Health and Beauty feature article, Louise had had a laser skin tightening treatment last week, necessitating 45 SPF sunscreen on her face and neck, and a Havana Club safari hat at the first souvenir market.
Lorne was able to ditch a Minister of Education conference call to return home and drive his women to the airport. The new hybrid is able to transport three wild women and their luggage containing besides the bikinis, dozens of old unused Ottawa running race t-shirts which apparently are “like gold” in Cuba. Similarly baggies-full of Mary Kay cosmetics from Naomi’s friend. The plan is to give out the t-shirts and the makeup if we actually manage to see any “real” Cubans.
As I said, it’s an internal journey. Go Travel All Inclusive. Zoom Airlines.
Waiting to board, after all her care to move Diana’s magnesium liquid medication out of carry-on, Naomi forgot she had a corkscrew from work in her purse, so it was confiscated.
Chatted with Marcia and Dick Zuker leaving Barrhaven for Australia for three months via London in their zip-off pants, then with Dave McPherson from the Citizen and his daughter who was running the Arizona Rock and Roll Marathon. They were leaving the airport because their flight via Chicago was cancelled because of weather and they had to go home and try again the next day. We were sooo lucky with weather, avoiding the storms here and enjoying a full week of sunshine there.
In flight, we very carefully filled out the Cuban Visa forms, because the attendant announced their price was included in our ticket price, and if we needed another form we’d have to buy it. Because we didn’t order far enough ahead, there was no gluten free meal available for Diana - choices were pasta or meat with gravy, both of which had wheat.
Anyway, she was still full from her airport Aero bar, much more tempting than the 12-vegetable bars from Rainbow Foods.
In flight, Diana read Cosmopolitan, as it seemed, did half the plane. Naomi read “How to Be A Starving Artist” and they took breaks together working on “Learn Spanish in 10 Minutes a Day.”
I was across the aisle beside a hefty man in a baseball cap who sighed the way Lorne does when he got in and out of his seat.
The free food and free wine was generous, but between the lactose intolerant, the celiac and the vegetarian, we ate less than one total meal among us.
Naomi remembered to bring her headphones, so Diana didn’t have to pay $5 for headphones to watch the Jimmy Smits prisoner with a heart of golf football movie.
Arrival
When I was 11, the last year for paying half price children’s fare, my parents flew the family from Ottawa winter to Florida in the middle of the night. My whole life I have remembered the surprise warmth and humidity getting off a plane at 4 a.m. and engulfed in tropical smells.
As we disembarked in Cuba at midnight in 22 C it felt the same, and the girls were so excited about palm trees waving in the night.
No problem changing the money or getting the shuttle bus. Note for next trip: Pain in acrylics on the luggage. So many black or red suitcases, but the black one painted with a butterfly really stood out. Did Leonardo da Vinci paint luggage with wheels? Birds of Paradise coming up.
Day 1
We walked in the sand down the beach to the town of Varadero, and stopped for lunch in a thatched roof restaurant, El Rancho. The girls wanted chicken, and the waiter said it would be 40 minutes. While waiting and sipping lemonade, we looked behind the window shade and noted the chickens wandering around the backyard. “Agh,” screamed Naomi, realizing where lunch was coming from. “I’ve just become vegetarian. Again.”
We snap like chickens at each other whenever one of us gets hot, hungry or tired, but we were able to laugh about whose turn it was to become one of the three dwarfs, “Cranky”, “Hungry” or “Moody”. Having two hotel rooms for three is good, so the one good night’s sleep can be rotated.
Had my first Mojito cocktail in Cuba at the hotel bar, sugar, lemon juice, fresh mint, soda water and rum. Mmmm.
Smoking everywhere in the hotel and in the country, cigarettes and the unpleasant famous cigars.
“Where did you three meet?” asked an Ottawa English-speaking man who became Naomi’s friend as she ended up as translator between him and the almost entirely French-speaking other Hotel Tuxpan guests.
Hotel Tuxpan is large - 211 rooms - and the lobby and eating areas are tropically spacious with high ceilings and glass, and large plants hanging down several storeys. At the bread display at the buffet, little birds swoop about inside, and hover to peck at crumbs.
The small guest rooms lean more towards summer camp, hard mattresses, skinny pillows and thin walls through which you hear every sound next door. But in this beautiful weather, who wants to be in a room anyway. A pleasant touch is that our maid, Maritza, folds the clean towels in a different shape every day, like a swan or a bird, and centers them on the bed, with pajamas or nightgown similarly shaped aesthetically.
It was a four-star hotel and still the meager toilet paper roll was empty by end of day, and the sliver of soap was used by three for a week. It’s a good idea to bring your own.
We booked the Sunday bus to Havana because the city would be quieter, with more regular people out. Our guide, Ismya, wore long corn row braids, and spoke French, English and Spanish. Havana is 234 k along Via Blanca from Varadero. We had asked for a wakeup call, which was done in Spanish, and we continued to get unasked for wakeup calls for the rest of the week.
As became the norm, chicken for lunch, omelette for the vegetarian, and a band playing once again Guantonamera.
As we walked around Plaza de la Cathedral, Naomi took photos of all the skinny stray dogs sleeping on the pavement in the sun. A stilt dancing little parade played Guantonamera, and women in multi-colored flower headdresses kissed tourist men for photos.
After lunch, among the sites was Necropolis Cristobal Colon which has one million graves, many with a story, and the world’s largest cemetery. After three years, bones have to be exhumed, because there’s no room in the cemetery, and no cremation permitted in Cuba. There was a large empty space in the “people’s” area of the cemetery, which our guide said is rumoured to be reserved for Fidel.
Gave our first bunch of t-shirts to Ismya, who was very excited about them and said she’d give them to people herself rather than have us accosted. However, later on we found it was a pleasure to give out the shirts individually, and there was never any problem.
Back at the hotel, we attended the free evening show at the Tropicale, outdoor stage near the pool. It’s very loud and directly under our windows - so it’s attend on the ground or “attend” in the room incapable of sleep. My fault, I think, for requesting an “ocean view.”
That night it was a musical quiz with audience members running up if they thought they knew the answer. Each right answer got you a ticket and most tickets at the end got you a bottle of rum. It was like reality television to see the people who had been drinking and smoking 24 hours a day since they got off the plane, hopping around vying for the spotlight, and the rum bottle, in French, English and Italian.
The pool area is uncrowded and beautiful, likewise the turquoise beach, with thatched huts, coconut palms and soft breezes.
The buffet is bland as predicted, and frequently quirky. For instance, there are devilled eggs, yolks dyed bright green, and flat beige cake with the coco puff style cereal from breakfast sprinkled into the pink icing. Dessert is always what we dubbed “Cuban Baklava” - it’s flaky pastry like baklava, but there’s nothing in it, just sugar sprinkled on top.
The 9:30 p.m. free show is different every night, usually dancing from different countries, and at the end, audience members are invited onstage to join in and learn the moves. Diana did that every night, and did a great job, thanks to her aerobics experience. She also took part in the pool “gymnastica” aquafit in the morning, and went for pre-breakfast run with me along the sidewalk, not the beach, past the bushes laden with red, pink and purple blossoms, to the statue of Don Quixote.
Naomi watched CNN in the room every night, and came running in one night to announce that CNN says Fidel hasn’t been seen since July 31st and is near death. Funny, our guide in Havana told us he’s getting better, but no one knows where he is. The guide said Castro would regularly give four to five hour speeches to one million Cubans assembled in the July heat in the small empty plaza where we were standing.
There are no foreign or local newspapers around, and nothing of news elsewhere except occasionally the state paper Granma which has a French, English and German edition that was free in our hotel.
While we debated the merits of bus trips to other Cuban cities, the days in Varadero are so beautiful that we couldn’t give it up for four hours each way on the bus for a few hours in Santa Clara or Trinidad. Another time.
We walked into the town via the beach most days, spending time in old Parque Josone where there are ostriches, a camel, and wandering chickens. We gave t-shirts to the friendly park security guard who chatted with us, the old man on a bicycle who chops coconuts with his machete for drinks, and the female driver of our coco-taxi or Coquitos or Huevitos who drove us around.
William, the bartender at the swim up bar, told us about his friend in Toronto, and charmed all the women, and sold cigars under the table as a sideline.
There is Cuban music everywhere, a band every night at dinner - same guys, different colored shirts, every day - at the hotel, in restaurants, and the loud, colorful singing and dancing on the outdoor stage.
A bus loaded with staff returning home stopped and offered us a ride when we were walking at the side of the road. A horse and wagon did the same another day, offering to take us back to the hotel for one pesos.
Diana added “group stretching on the beach” to her participation activities. I painted a half dozen watercolors.
On the beach, the safety flags - red, yellow and green - have rarely been green. We really enjoyed the green day when the waves weren’t as choppy and we could swim along parallel to the shore without getting swamped by waves. On green days, rental boats and hang gliders are allowed in the water, making it more picturesque.
On the last day, we had to check out at noon despite a 2:30 a.m. departure flight. We stored our luggage and took a bus to Matanzas, and the 2,500 m. long Bellamar Caves discovered in 1861.
Lonely Planet Cuba says of Matanzas: “Straddled with humdrum ration shops, a painfully dismal restaurant scene, and a decrepit and scruffy central park that is crying out for an architectural version of the ‘extreme makeover’ , the local buzz in Matanzas’ dilapidated streets is as downbeat as it is elusive. If it’s five star comforts you’re after, hop on a Viazul bus straight back to Planet Varadero ... Otherwise, welcome to the real Cuba.” Exactly!
The caves were worth seeing, but our reason for going was to spend time in dusty, crumbly Matanzas, and it was just as we had hoped. Our guide who looked like Mr. Bean was named Castro, and besides giving us a walking tour of Matanzas, he told us about his daughter and her husband, who had moved out of his house, and his son and grandson who live there still, but the son is now building an extra room. You can get government permission to add a room, but you can’t sell your house or buy another.
It is quite a country, and despite the ever present rules, the Cuban people we met were friendly and proud of their country. (More so than the drunk tourists running on the stage in their underwear and jumping in the closed pool in the dark. (No, that wasn’t us! But Diana now loves pina colada with cinnamon, and Louise and Naomi are hooked on mojitos.)
Until next year!
Love from
Louise, Diana and Naomi
