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After a long few months struggling to find a real job while working possibly the worst job in London as a charity fundraiser in a call centre, I finally struck gold when I was accepted for a job as a travel consultant. When I heard the words "congratulations you got the job" I was jumping for joy. I found out on my break during what would be my last shift at the call centre. At that moment I wanted to pull a Jerry Maguire and throw papers in the air, yank out my headset announcing "I quit". Wisely, I decided to finish my shift and leave gracefully. Although I was ready to begin work immediately, I was told that I would have to wait six weeks until my training would begin. I had already decided I could not work another shift at the call centre and began looking for bar work to tide me over.
After a series of interviews for a bartending role at a nearby chain restaurant, I got the job. However by this point, two weeks had already gone when the bar asked me to start my training the week after. In the past I had always simply walked into the bar, told them I'm English, live locally and have bar experience. At which point a trial shift is offered and I start working at the weekend. This has worked without fail four times. Thus, by this point after 2 weeks of online testing and 3 interviews only to be told I have to wait another week to start, I was obviously annoyed and as I was going to be leaving anyway I realised it would be pointless to start this job.
I had already begun to realise the fact that once I start this new job I would tied down to a company in a contract and not be able to up and go when I wanted. Therefore, these last few weeks of freedom needed to be enjoyed. I had a couple grand in savings I was planning to add to when I started working, but then I thought screw that, what's the point in savings when your working too hard to spend them! Since Cuba was first on my list of next holiday destinations, I began looking at flights. Within a day I booked up the cheapest flight I could find at £600 return and started researching accommodation and Spanish and dance schools. The following Monday I was sat in Gatwick with contacts for Spanish teachers, dance teachers and a host family lined up.
As soon as I boarded my flight from Madrid, I felt like I was in Cuba. Three women and an elderly man sat around me chatting with great animation. I thought they were a family travelling together but later found out they were all independent. Other couples and women joined in the conversation during the 11 hour flight which felt more like a busy beauty salon than a flight. Also when each of the women left for the toilet, the others would gossip about that woman, not realising they were all gossiping about each other! It seemed I had my first crash course in Cuban culture from the plane journey. For one, I had my first introduction the culture of sharing as the women wanted to share everything with me, from the plane food to the coke in their plastic cups, despite me having exactly the same food and drinks served as them. In a country of austerity, people share whatever they have with their families, friends and neighbours. They also nabbed everything that was given to them from blankets to plastic bowls that the meals were served in and one lady asked me for my Ribena bottle to give to her niece because it was colourful. As I soon learnt, material items of any sort are limited and very expensive in Cuba.
I have never got so close to a stranger on flight before. Maritza, my newly adopted Mom, who was sat next to me, stroked my head in endearment and even insisted on tightening my bra straps which kept falling down. When we arrived in Havana the women were so worried about me being on my own. I assured the bossiest and most protective of them, Maritza, I had been travelling to more dangerous countries but they insisted on making sure I was accompanied every step of the way to the arrivals hall! I got a taxi with probably less hassle then it would have taken at Gatwick and arrived at the door of my new apartment block. A young woman around 30 (I later found she was nearly 40 and looks amazing!) greeted me who turned out to be Licet, my host mom. After meeting her husband, Pepe, I realised it wasn't going to be so much of a host family but more of a flat share, which I was pleased about.
The other room in the flat was rented by an Australian couple from Melbourne who are spending two months in Havana. Although they are in their fifties, they have the energy of teenagers and are here to learn Cuban music and dance. Marina and Craig are music teachers back in Australia and have travelled all over Africa and Latin America on dance and music holidays. Aside from having similar interests, it's great to relax with them, switch off and speak English.
I think I really lucked out with my house. Since the government relaxed the laws permitting small businesses, many more Cubans now rent out their spare rooms to tourists. A house that does this is known as a Casa Particular. Kind of like of B&B. Since the couple renting the other room are music teachers and the owner's husband is a composer, there is a jam session in the living room all day long. The apartment is more comfortable than my flat back in London. The living room is spacious with lots of potted plants, there's a little balcony and a nice kitchen which I can use whenever I want. My room is bigger than mine in London and I have a sea view, the bathroom has hot water, which is a first for me in Latin America and Licet keeps the house spotless! Again a far cry from my flat in Brick Lane where at the moment, 8 people share one bathroom! So far I am really happy with my accommodation choice.
The first day was spent coming to grips with life here and an introduction to basic survival in Cuba. My first port of call was a supermarket to stock up on some basic things to get me through the month. As I walked down the street I was confronted with colourful buildings, cars, and people. Such a change from dreary London. I came to my first obstacle: buying milk. I walked into a supermarket which was totally bare. I was directed to another supermarket which had about 20 people queuing outside. I was relieved to find the shelves stocked with at least a few items but no bread or cereal. I found long life milk though.
I was directed again to another supermarket and on my way a couple stopped to "help me". They said they were showing me the way but showed me to restaurant they recommended. Before I knew it we were sat at a table drinking mojitos! Which, I inevitably had to pay for. I made a quick exit and found the supermarket where they did sell Chinese imported oatmeal and a few more items. It was more of a conglomeration of shops split into food types. One store selling ham and cheese and other selling rice and beans, another just selling soap and not really much else! I changed up a load of money which is another hassle as ATMs are non existent and don't accept debit cards and then made my way back to my house.
After realising it will take a few days to adjust to this way of life (Africa seems more familiar than here!) I decided to head into Havana Vieja, the old town. I had made a few contacts on couchsurfing.com and had a few people who wanted to show me around. One guy volunteered to meet me at my place and take me around the old town. Yosmel is 24, looks like Jimi Hendrix and studying languages at university. He showed me around the town and helped me buy a sim card which is difficult to obtain for a non-Cuban. We sat in plazas, walked the cobbled passages, and finished our tour walking down the Malecon at sunset. The melacon is an 8km long seaside boulevard where Habaneros (people of Havana) drink rum and play music. Random people with their own instruments congregate and take part in spontaneous jam sessions. When the sun sets and the city is bathed in an orange hue, the malecon is a magical to be.
I took Yosmel out to dinner in the old town, a luxury for Cubans whose average wage is £6 a month so spending £30 on a meal is unheard of. It was expensive for me but it was really good. As I was in the tourist mode we went for daiquiris in El Floradita, the bar made famous by Hemingway and also as the birthplace of the daiquiri. After a few daiquiris, he got me home to my casa in a shared taxi. Little did I know the ubiquitous old Buicks, Plymouths, Impalas and Cadillac's are shared taxis! So for 25p you get to ride all around the city in one of these amazing old cars shared with 5 other Cubanos. The only thing you need to know is to treat the car door like it's made of glass. Slamming the doors will result in abuse hurled at you. No wonder the cars are in good shape.
The second day, I ventured out to find eggs. I found a can of tuna which I was pleased about and I found two shops selling eggs. However, tourists can't buy eggs apparently. They are shops for the Libreta, a ration book. Cubans are entitled to 8 eggs per month, which is singed off in their books. So, alas no eggs for me. Yosmel picked me up again and took me to a dance school. After warming up, I had a nice lesson in a beautiful dance studio on Obispo street, Havana's version of Oxford Street. The dance studio had high ceilings, blue tiled floors and gorgeous contemporary art on the walls. It was what I would dream of having salsa lessons in Havana, but at £10 an hour, it was out of my price range. The teachers were good and we had a lot of mutual salsa friends in common in London but I didn't like the lessons enough to pay that much. They said the price was so high because of the high taxes to rent spaces anywhere in Havana which is why there are next to no dance or language schools anywhere in Havana, normally lessons are held at either yours or your teacher's home.
I slowly made my way back to my place where I had organised another dance lesson with a friend of Marina's dance teacher. As soon as Jopi arrived I immediately liked him. He was full of energy and seemed like a great guy. We danced like crazies for an hour straight in the living room. It was the most I've sweated in a long, long time; by the end I was exhausted but exhilarated at the same time. Although I know how to dance salsa, I know he could teach me better technique and a lot more styling, we got along great and I will definitely have lessons with him again. After a much needed shower, I went out to dinner in the old town with Marina and Craig. They knew of a great restaurant which was hidden at the back and three stories up in what looked like a dilapidated building. It was amazing. The restaurant was buzzing with atmosphere and a meal of three courses and wine only cost £10 each. I would have never had found the place though! When we were walking back through the old town we passed the most peculiar scene of a gathering of about 20-30 transsexuals hanging out comparing outfits and chatting about shoes! Although homosexuality in technically illegal, I was told that the police turn a blind eye at these meeting points.
The next day I met with Yosmel and we went to a matinee show at the Casa de la Musica, Cuba's premier music venue. It started from 5pm to 9pm and I thought it would be like a theatre performance. When I arrived it was like being transported back to the 1950s, neon lights lit up a big stage and Cuban groups of friends sat on tables each with a bottle of rum and coke. I realised the band were not performing for another two hours and basically a DJ plays the latest songs while their music videos beam on big screens either side of the stage. What I thought was a show was basically a day time club, people started dancing salsa and it wasn't long till everyone filled the dance floor. This matinee show went on until 9pm and is more popular with Cubans while the later show is dominated by tourists who are able to pay the hefty entrance prices. We started drinking early at 5 and after 4 hours of dancing our buts off by the time we left it felt like 3am, the usual time when one would stumble out of night club!
Yosmel took me to a really cool bar where the bartenders wore black aprons, the walls were covered in antique propaganda posters and graffiti and the drinks were uber cheap. Most of the people drinking seemed to be students and the bar wouldn't have looked out of place in Shoreditch, although obviously it was a lot cooler without the clinical, manufactured cool atmosphere! The meals were served on terracotta plates and were a mixture of chicken stir fry, lots of vegetables and French bread, at £3 for a big plate they were a bargain. We ventured off to some other bars in the old town until each one closed and then called it a night. Yosmel is really good with talking me back home, even though it's pretty safe he insists on taking me straight to my door. I think I've been pretty lucky with people I've met so far, when Yosmel can pay in Pesos (the Cuban national money as apposed to Convertibles, used by tourists) he pays for himself, which for a Cuban man or women to go out with a tourist, friend or otherwise, is very rare.
I tried to read up on the Cuban history and by the end of my month here I want to grasp the basics, as at present I know very little. I took a trip to Museo de la Revolucion, Revolution Museum. The main displays documented from the 1940s to 1970s and included bloodied military uniforms, many Che Guevara relics and a lot of propaganda. The last display was of ugly caricatures of US presidents, the display was entitled "Cretinos", cretins! Each president had his own plaque satirically being thanked for helping to secure the revolution, especially George Bush, who tightened the trade embargo, which most think has strengthened the Cuban Government. I was hurried out of the museum 20 minutes before it was closing. The ladies had their bags in their hands, looking at their watches, turning the lights off in each room as an encouragement for the tourists to leave.
Free market logic dictates that in a centralised government system when most of the population are guaranteed a job in the government, the individual will always have a job, so he will put the minimal amount of effort in because the job is secured. There is no incentive to work harder, they will be paid at the end of each month whether they work hard or not, thus why should one exceed the minimal effort? The absence of customer service is noticed in bars, restaurants and here in the museums. The ladies in the museum ready at the door with their handbags twenty minutes before closing. When I was in the supermarket, a mariachi band started playing outside. The supermarket workers rushed outside to watch, leaving the shop empty. Women in the department stores stand at their counters filing their nails, waiting for the time to pass. There is a saying here in Cuba, "We pretend to work, while the government pretends to pay us". However, as much as you can find examples of this rule, I think that Cuba has done amazingly well to provide all citizens free education to university level, free healthcare and jobs. Yes the system has flaws but there's a lot less absolute poverty here than in any other Latin American country I've visited. So what's more important, freedom to vote or freedom from absolute poverty? Yosmel hates Cuba and would prefer to live in America or Europe. I asked him what other Latin American country would he like to live, he said Mexico or Brazil. I didn't want to tell him but I know for sure if he was born in either, he would probably only have a few years of schooling and be living in a favela, experiencing much more racism than he does here. Everyone will always think the grass is always greener.
I had my second dance lesson with Jopi. I had arranged it in the evening and when I got home expecting to have a class in the living room, I opened the door to find 10 musicians having a jam session which had probably started in the early afternoon. Maritza was on the tres, Craig on the drums, Pepe on the cello and a bunch of other random people on bongos, congas, and some other instruments I didn't even recognise! Luckily my room has enough space to dance and also a large mirror on one wall so it made a perfect dance studio. Jopi taught me about 4 new moves, which I'm going to have to practice but the hour goes by so fast. After, we chilled out and chatted and chatted and chatted about everything! Three hours passed and we didn't stop talking. His English is superb and so far he's my favourite dance teacher I've ever had.
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