Parties, Cadillacs, potatoes, Valentines ……and blogging

Yesterday was Valentines day.  They call it the day of love here for anybody or anything.  You can even say I love my cow.  I actually prefer this to the sloppy fake romantic rubbish that has been marketed to us for years in Europe.  Everybody gave me best wishes of love all day yesterday but my wonderful husband let me stay asleep in bed, made breakfast for all the children, washed up all the dishes, pans, glasses from a hastily put together slightly drunken dinner with friends the night before …….. and then he had to go off to work whilst I stayed at home, even Saskia stayed quietly watching Nemo for another 20 minutes before she came and woke me up.  How romantic is that?

In the last 3 weeks …….. I have had 2 parties in my house, done a Cadillac tour around Havana, celebrated potatoes returning on the scene, watched a few good films, begun to reupholster my living room suite (or the diminutive 79 year old who is in my living room has begun the job), met a new fun group of Wednesday lunchers, visited an eco reserve in las Terrazas, been back to Hemingway’s house, eaten in a real vegetarian restaurant in Cuba, entertained filmmaker friends from London and grandparents from the Cotwolds, had the best steak of my life, bought an amazing photo of the Malecon by a very talented young photographer, juiced a lot of sweet delicious oranges (its the season!), met a new bubbly Thai friend who is a dress designer (my new beautiful material sent from London will soon be designed into something cool, thanks Amanda!), received lots of wonderful presents and goodies from kindles to cameras, strawberry jam to my new favourite chocolate bar from Tescos, swiss, orange and almond (any Brits rush down there now, you won’t regret it, Thanks Nico!), a whole load of great music, got very frustrated with my lack of internet, repeatedly failed to post photos on my blog, met a Cuban working in occupational psychology in the Cuban social research centre and remembered what I used to do, failed to even begin to think about the English translations of the film school website, and today I made a cottage pie to celebrate the return of the potato. But absolutely failed to write any of this down.  Some of this is to do with living life to the full rather than writing about it or living on line.  But blogging for me has been a discipline, something to make me sit down and share.

So I have made some decisions: I have to write at least something once a day even if it is off line.

Invite people to guest write on my blog!  I like this one, it makes it more fun and interesting.  Not sure if they actually will write anything for me but it might stop making me feel so overwhelmed by the amount of stuff that I should be writing.

Give up on trying to post photos on my blog and upload them to a related facebook photo page.  I actual do manage to upload pictures to facebook.

Off to swim in the crystal clear sea ……………..

 

Family life, my first Havana Birthday and the first US official visit to the Film School

We have been here just over 6 months now and my family is settling into a new rhythm. I have just celebrated my first Birthday in Cuba, and for the first time in years, I didn’t organise anything, as being in Havana for us is just like one long ridiculous party at times.  There is always so much to do and it seems we are always invited!  January was supposed to be a quiet detox month but it has just slipped by as crazy as all the others.  We headed out to Havana Vieja with friends to see the opening of an exhibition by Cuban artist Jose Emilio (JEFF), who, the day after he met me at a very fun dinner before Christmas, painted me!  (I think it was my dancing that inspired his creativity!)  We sat outside in the beautiful Plaza de Cathedral afterwards for a snack and a couple of drinks.

I am always amazed how quickly children adapt to new things, or at least mine do!  I suppose they don’t have much choice – poor little international nippers.  But they haven’t complained too much.  Not even the lack of McDonalds, multiplex cinemas with buckets of coke and popcorn, youtube on tap and bad cable TV.  Maybe it is easier to keep your children children here in Cuba.  I can remember how terrified I felt in those last few days in Guatemala, and the idea of jumping into the unknown again.  But hey, there is never much point in worrying and being in Cuba is all about not worrying.

On top of that we put them into a French school, just to spice things up for all us.  Paulo is now speaking French (with an outrageous accent) to some of his new school friends, and one of my friends reported that he heard Nico speaking French at the school gates the other day.  He denies it vehemently, but I feel quite proud anyway!  Maybe it was just his favourite comme si comme ça shrug.  He is learning to read really well in Spanish, English and French and managing his linguistic chaos with aplomb.  As I am educating them in the world of Sean Connery’s James Bond right now, I tell them if they do well in all their languages they too can be a secret agent! How does James Bond have so many nobias Mummy?  Nico asked me the other day!   And both boys are beginning to sound a little bit Cuban too!  Saskia swings her bum like a native.  Talk about adapting fast!

THe US Interest section finally got their permission to go outside the 25 mile zone so they could visit the film school.  This regulation was originally put in place by the US on the Cubans in Washington, and naturally was reciprocated in Cuba.  Anyway John Caulfield the Chief of Mission and Gloria from Public Affairs were very genial and seemed genuinely interested in the film school and we spent a pleasant afternoon with them chatting and showing them around.  John was remarking that Cuba was a wonderful place to be living with a young family and that the rest of Latin America was blighted by violence and drugs.  There was a micro second of tension in the room when we resisted commenting that maybe, just maybe that violence and drugs could have something to do with their neighbour to the north who consume most of those drugs and are no strangers to violence. Historically, the US supported the rightwing governments of Latin America and really helped teach their people how to kill and torture.    Is it just a coincidence that the most peaceful, crime free country in the Latin World is the one where they kicked the US right out ……. ? Anyway in the name of good relations, it is best just to let these things go sometimes!   😉

Through the boys school I have met a good set of friends, mothers and fathers from very diverse backgrounds and don’t feel quite so lost anymore as I sit through the parent teacher meetings in French and Spanish.  Paulo played in a rugby tournament on Saturday, yes that’s right, rugby in Cuba!  Who would have thought.  I was just a little horrified that I had to get up extra early on the day after my birthday.  I suppose that is all the fun of being a parent and all that joy and pride ……. but Saturday morning at 8.30.  I don’t have much joy!  THe Cuban children (mainly Afro Cubanos) who have just embraced this new sport whipped the pants off the French School).  Undeniably Cubans just excel at sport in general.  I could see a future team giving the All Blacks a run for their money!

I suppose the children have a routine more than I do, as in my life so far here in Cuba, every week is different, but it is always exciting or interesting or challenging.  I am learning to be more patient, learning to be more creative when it comes to food and cooking as nearly everything is seasonal, and supply and demand are not two things that always go together in this crazy world.  There are no rules.  In fact the only rule here is that there are no rules.  I think that is why the Cubans have learnt to let go.  You can’t control life here in Cuba.  It controls you.  But luckily for us, so far, life has been pretty good.

My little Saskia, true to my prediction of being a girl born to live in Cuba is completely content.  She is such a happy little girl that she infects all around her but as a friend commented the other day, she knows what she wants and she knows how to get it. I marvel at her ability to do this and I am trying to learn fast.  But apart from this superpower, she is the most cuddly kissy sweet little ball of love.

She is talking more and more and at this stage of my children’s bilingual development, I have always found their ability to acquire two languages so effortlessly, nothing short of miraculous.  How everyone around her says a word in Spanish 50 times and then along comes Mummy and says something different and she accepts it, quite happily repeating a complety different word as though humouring me.  Paulo and Nico are not helping me out as they have decided that Spanish is their language for their sister.  I keep trying to recruit their skills to my side of the linguistic table but ………   Luckily British grandparents are arriving on Sunday to remind her that it is not just her crazy mother who says the weird words!

Finally Los Van Van get to play

Due to the rain at the Film School’s 25th Birthday party in December, Los Van Van did not get to play.  The students put on some great tunes and we still danced until breakfast, however Los Van Van honoured their promise to play at the Film School and finally came back last Friday.  Two nights before, the heavens had opened with another terrific downpour and Rafa was convinced that they were never going to get to play, but although the sky was grey over the sea when we woke up that morning, the island climate was kind to us.

So who are Los Van Van? (loosely their name could be translated as The Go-gos).  When I heard their name here in Cuba I thought they were saying the Bambams, which sounded to me like a caveman TV series for children and not one of the coolest bands on the island.  When I was telling Cubans and long term expats that Los Van Van were playing at the party I noticed a certain soulful reverence from most people as though I was talking about the Beatles or the Stones, and it seems that Los Van Van have been round for almost as long as those pop legends.  Formed in 1969 by their bass player Juan Formell and arguably Cuba’s most successful post-revolution band.  Their founder, is one of the most important figures in contemporary Cuban music.  Many other stars have passed through Los Van Van school of music before heading off for solo careers.

So we were in for a treat.  I managed to rustle up a few Habana friends to make the journey out to the Film School last Friday night, and we were not to be disappointed.  Teachers and students from all over the world, workers and their families from San Antonio de los Baños, all came together to dance and party with Los Van Van, a really wonderful cross-section of people and a great show.

The first thing that impressed me was the amount of people on stage.  As though some big impromptu family party had set off a musical event, from your old grandpa veteran to the new and young, hip-thrusting tight trouser wearing youngsters.

Using what is known as a charanga line-up (flute, string and rhythm) as its base, Los Van Van added trombones and were said to be the first Cuban group to use synthesizers and drum machines way back when such things were unheard of.   Initially, their sound was a fusion of  son montuno, rumba, and North American rock and pop if you can work that one out, and try and imagine what it sounds like. Later they incorporated funk, disco, and hip hop.  So with all that going on, you have a little bit of something for everybody and you could see that in the crowd, from grandmas to stunned toddlers in arms being rocked around by their parents.

Los Van Van are also known for their clever use of double entendres and word plays in their lyrics. Some of the stories in their songs span several albums!  Obviously most of this clever stuff went sailing right over my head but at one point Rafa said they were improvising and singing about him and the film school.  When he tuned into it, he was too late to hear exactly what!  Damn I thought.  I wanted to know just how cheeky they were!

In the end I liked Los Van Van.  Their performance and style was one of unpretencious good fun and good music with no rules.  Just join in and dance how you like ……and I did!  I even was dragged around in a conga at one point by one of the kitchen ladies!

Check out your local listings as maybe Los Van Van are coming to a theatre near you.  They spend a large portion of the year travelling the world and performing, so I consider myself very honoured to have caught them at the very Cuban and more intimate setting of the basketball court next to the swimming pool behind the student residence!

Ooh and the ham and cheese sandwich that Rafa and I had at the bottom of the basketball court around 1am was the best one of my life.  I was woken up the next morning by my really annoying mother’s internal clock at the usual time of 7 am (never mind  that the children were in Habana with the nanny) with a mild hangover, starving and dreaming about that sandwich.  Lots of bottles of rum were being passed around the dance floor that night!  When in ron ………….. and all that.  That’s my new witty double entendre that obviously nobody gets but me, but it makes me chuckle to myself as I neck someone’s proffered bottle like a true Cubana.

Anyway click here to check out some photos of the night by photographer Nicolas Ordoñez.  If I was not on dial up I would have endeavoured to upload them but this way you can check them all out.  See who can spot me in the crowd!

Cuba Heart & Soul

I was thinking about writing a blog about Christmas (or the lack of it) in Cuba, or an end of year summary.  Trying to round up my first impressions, but it just wasn’t forthcoming and I hate writing in a forced way.

Christmas came and went and the whole thing about the robbery, which I had managed to forget for a couple of weeks during the festival and the party, reared its ugly head again and I could not shake it off …….. that ugly head.  I was resentful with the police for not giving me the respect to talk to me, and the film school for not supporting me more, and Rafa for being defensive about my suggestions and opinions.  I think he was caught between the film school and me and a million other important pressing matters!  But the feminist in me was stamping her feet indignantly.

But luckily so many good things are always happening, and I have managed to finally put it behind me and stop thinking about it.  I do always carry around in my head so many impressions and thoughts about this place and my life that in the end last night I decided to write a few of my ramblings…………

My little life in Cuba

Already I feel as though I have a lot of people around me who care about me, and me for them, friends and helpers.

The international community of ex-pats and diplomats are a fun and varied bunch and there is always something going on.  The most elegant dinner parties to the most bohemian Havana nights.

When I arrived, I did not want to have so many people working for me in the house but now I do, as this is Cuba and if you can give anybody a job you can support a whole family.  But the big difference is that I now have people working for us who we chose and they are very much a part of our lives and the lives of our children.

You get involved with Cubans and their lives very quickly.  When you hear what little people earn in professional jobs working for the state it can be quite shocking, but despite their lack of remuneration, people in Cuba don’t look or seem poor.  Something is different.  There is a pride in appearance that I have not seen in many countries.  Cubans stand tall and proud.  Cuba does not seem like a country suffering poverty (the special period is well and truly over but not forgotten), just some kind of weird limbo of a war or a revolution that has gone on too long.  What is the next step for Cuba?  Who knows?  But there are so many good things here that I really hope do not disappear.  I am sure that it easy for me to say from my beautiful house in Flores and my charming and interesting existence, but still I feel things more than most people, and this country is already under my skin.

I just watched an amazing documentary by an English director, Andrew Laing called Sons of Cuba.  It tells the story of 3 young Afro-Cuban boys training in the Boxing Academy in Habana at a time when there are big changes a foot (2006-2007).  The documentary is fascinating but one of the things that really struck me was the affection the boys had for each other and their coach and their families.  How they wanted to succeed so their parents and Cuba could be proud of them no matter that they will never be earning the huge salaries of a professional.  Tears and hugs and beautiful faces all mixed up in the macho world of boxing.  It could only have been in Cuba.

One thing I can say about the Cubans is that there is plenty of heart and soul on this little island despite the economic challenges of life and the heartache of broken families, people have a lot of love to give and take.  You feel and see a lot of humanity in Cuba.  Many people are complaining about the changes and that Cuba is changing fast, but I have nothing to compare it to, as I live in the present Cuba and can only compare it with the other countries where I have lived.  For me you just can’t beat the unpretencious warmth and spontaneity of these people.  I feel as though in some ways I have found my spiritual home.  I can be myself in Cuba.  I can talk straight, be emotional, be silly, be intellectual, be caring, be strong, be weak …….nothing will phase them.

As I was parking in Habana Vieja the other day I told the parking guys hanging out on the street that I wasn’t a tourist but a resident.  One of the most exuberant of them ran round the car to kiss my hand good-naturedly and tell me that Cuba needed more Cubans like me and my beautiful daughter.  (Silly I know but in 8 years in Guatemala the people seemed more interested in telling me that I wasn’t Guatemalan even though had gave birth to 3 half Guatemalan children there).  In the same week a friend from England was walking alone through a little park in Habana Vieja after a rain shower.  An old man got out his handkerchief and wiped the raindrops off the bench for her so she could sit down, without expecting a thank you or even acknowledgement.  These little fun and selfless acts make a society different.  Don’t you think?

Cubans are very laid back to the extent that at times they don’t appear to give a shit and then just when you are about to lose your rag they come all sweet and mi amol on you and you think, thank goodness I didn’t lose my rag.  Or maybe that is the whole idea and they have it down to a fine art!  And why the Cubans live longer than any other country in Latin America and quite a few in Europe I suppose.  (Women 80, men 77).  In Cuba people have learned to be patient, to resolve, to keep loving life.  No matter what you think about politics you really shouldn’t judge Cuba until you have seen it, smelt it, talked to it, shared its food, watched its films, danced to its music ……………

I was reading Matthew Parris,´ Parting Shots (The ambasadors’ letters you were never meant to see) when I arrived in Cuba.  The section about Cuba was written in 1970 by Richard Slater and includes the following comments …….

An initial impression which I find least reason to change concerns the quality of the Cuban people.  Good-natured, good-humoured, courteous and incorrigibly hospitable, they bear no resemblance to the mental picture I had formed before I came out. ………… The Cubans possess both dignity and charm in a marked degree, and this goes for the government as well as the people. ……….. The fact that the Cubans are a fundamentally decent and likeable people has in a way compensated for the unpleasantness of living in a closed society …………. My emotions have been engaged here in a way in which they were never engaged during my service in Moscow in the mid-fifties by the suffering of the vast amorphous mass of the Russian people, unknown and virtually unknowable.

 

 

 

 

 

New Latin American Cinema ……… and me.

The dust is settling on yet another Latin American Film Festival.  I am becoming a veteran of these events, which is rather strange for a person who has never made a film in her life, Latin or otherwise.  I am a self-confessed interloper in this world but I do love it! I used to escape home life of two baby boys, once a year to the Icaro Festival in Guatemala.  My first visit to Guadalajara festival a few years ago is about the nearest thing Rafa and I have had to a honeymoon!

And quite frankly these days I don’t even get to watch many films during festivals or otherwise.  Although I am introducing my boys to some classic James Bond to give them a little bit of British culture along with the Beatles and the Stones! I am well up on the latest Narnia, Harry Potter or other such delights of children’s cinema.  Yesterday I had a discussion with Paulo and Nico on the reasons why Kung Fu Panda 2 was actually better than the first one!  So you see the depths of film criticism that I am plundering.

So I have never made a film, but I do have 3 beautiful British Guatemalan Co-Productions to my name Paulo, Nico and Saskia.

This was my first Havana Film Festival, and I know it won’t be the last.  The festival takes place in The National Hotel and several cinemas and locations around Havana.  This year it also coincided with the 25th anniversary of the Film school (EICTV).  And as usual, the annual meeting of the Fundacion del Nuevo Cine Latin Americano, of which Rafa is a long standing committee member.  And of course there was the most beautiful full moon too.

So very busy we were.  The films I wanted to see but did not get to see include: all the Cuban films, all the films made by friends, all the Guatemalan films I haven’t seen and a few Brazilian and Norwegian ones too!

At least now I know I have access to the film school film library and can console myself with the fact that over the next few years I can work my way through some of the marvels of Latin Cinema at my own, mother of 3, pace.  I am just so glad I got to see a lot of films and read a lot of novels in my not always misspent, and quite extended youth.

With 3 children, it is the usual juggling act of childcare whilst I escape to the many receptions and parties to which I am always invited, to see the huge gang of film makers that make up this wonderful community that revolves around the energy of EICTV and the Fundacion.

But what is New Latin American Cine exactly?  I am told that the term grew out of the dark days when most of Latin America was under right wing dictatorships. When writers, artists and filmmakers trod a delicate line with the authorities.  Also the filmmakers wanted to break away from the avalanche of Hollywood cinema hitting the region and defend the right to express themselves through their own images and stories during a time of great artistic repression.  And from what I can see the movement has not stopped growing since those days.

When I met my husband (whilst interviewing filmmakers in Guatemala) and we began our family (the two events pretty much coincided) I did not realise that I too was entering into another family.  A family of amazingly talented and passionate, independent filmmakers, good friends, warm and wonderful people, who never once made me feel like the interloper I so obviously am.  Who knows maybe one day I will make a film ……… all about them!

The Party at the Film School was almost rained off, not something that happens too much in Cuba.  The Van Vans, could not play and Rafa could hardly wrap up the ceremony as the heavens opened, but it did not stop most of us having a crazy night of dancing, reminiscing and drinking.  Workers and their families mixed with diplomats, students and former students, musicians, film stars, directors, film festival Jury and of course little old me.  Also a handful of my favourite Guatemalans to help me feel at home in my new life!

I had bought a new red dress for the event so I was rather too easily identifiable and I managed to stay up until 5am.  I have to admit that it has taken me a few days to recover.  I managed to keep going for the party in our house in Havana, which took place the following night but just could not make it to the closing party of the festival.  Sorry to those friends I did not get to say goodbye to, but it was a school night!!  I would like to take you up on your invitations some day to visit Brazil, Berlin, Costa Rica ………etc, etc.  But I’ll see you all in Guadalajara in a couple of months, I hope.  Guest Country Reino Unido ………. Oh yes that is my little country!  I have not forgotten you.

 

CSI Habana and Paradise lost

Well it happened.  Our paradise is lost and I am working really hard to get it back.  Last Wednesday Rafa had packed his bags and was all ready for his big trip back to Guatemala for the Icaro festival, he was leaving in the early hours before it got light.  I snuck off to bed knowing that I would be alone for the morning rush to school.  Rafa came up later, he was aware he needed to get at least some sleep before his flight.

I was woken at 4.20 by Rafa telling me that his hand luggage had disappeared.  As he knew he was leaving so early he had prepared everything to just fly straight out the door.  Suddenly he realised that somebody else had flown straight out of the door with it.  Then I started to look around the living room.  Where was my handbag, my purse with my driving license and ID, my ipod and base, my blackberry, Nico’s school bag, the little DVD player ……..  Rafa was despairing as he remembered exactly what was in his hand luggage, a large amount of cash to buy things for the film school, his brand new mac laptop with all his work and photos, presents for his sister ……….. and his passport.

The next 14 hours were spent dealing with the Cuban police.  They came in droves and many different departments.  They had a dog, they finger printed, they asked a million questions over and over.  Everyone seemed to be from a different department.  We got tired of giving the same descriptions over and over to different people.  A lot of them were army.  I didn’t understand, why was the army involved.  Many new ones kept arriving and there was lots of hugging and banter and even some flirting.  Some came in army uniforms, some police, some in plain clothes.

CSI woman (as Rafa and I later coined her as her tough slightly sexy  tomboy image could have been well characterised) was there with her box of tricks dusting away with her young black sidekick with the slightly too short trousers.  I described my Blackberry to her and mentioned that it was given to me by my sister in the UK and had a little O2 symbol on it.  This seemed to cause some excitement and we were told to follow them to another office to take more details.  Willing to do anything that helped, off we went.  We then spent another hour with some other police in the office photoshopping a picture of a Blackberry with a little O2 motif and designing and drawing my little Quick Silver suitcase.

Meanwhile back at the scene of the crime ……my name and nationality caused a lot of bureaucratic stress.  Was I inglesa or Britianica? Was I from Inglaterra or Gran Bretagne?  What was Reino Unido?  Even when I had my passport open in front of them.

Why did I only have one surname?  Why were we not married?  Oh goodness we had 3 children.  Yes we have lived together for 8 years.  Is that ok?  We never found the time to get married and most people in the world only have one surname.

The Chanel lipstick I had in my bag (the least of my worries) but did I not like Victoria Secrets???  Uuuuuh not really I don’t really care about the lipstick right now just everything else!!

They had entered the house from the beach side through a side door that lead into a downstairs toilet.   They had cut down our Guatemalan Hammock and supposedly used it to carry their loot.  They had been fast and left through the front door.  They had probably had a car waiting.  The dog got a trail but it stopped at the corner of the street.  They may have been watching our routine from the beach side of the house for weeks.  They may have seen Rafa switch off the lights on his way up.  They must have had a torch.

The boys didn’t do their homework that day and Paulo slept with his new plastic gun on his pillow.  Now we have a man standing outside the house on the street all night.  Everyone tells us that this is the season when theft and crime reach a peak for Christmas.  Everything is obvious now after the event, as usual.

Rafa is now in Guatemala for the last of the festival.  I spent the weekend at the film school with the children feeling sad and mopey and missing Rafa so we could be sad together.

There is very little violence in Cuba and people are not trafficking drugs, raping and killing women but still people also have very little money and are looking to a future where they will have to get real to survive.  Maybe we were too complacent or just damn unlucky but it has happened and I don’t want to think about it any more.

Little by little we will replace our possessions but what is lost forever is the little piece of me that was so happy to be in my new paradise, so happy to trust and smile again.

All my family are alive and healthy and I must think about all the lovely friends who will arrive for the festival and the party and how things can be replaced and family and friends are forever.

xx

 

 

Cienfuegos ….. first trip outside La Habana.

As I was nearing our 3 month anniversary in Havana it seemed an appropriate time to explore the provinces.  We were toying with the idea of Colonial Trinidad or Viñales to the West but finally decided upon French influenced Cienfuegos between 3 or 4 hours away depending on your mode of transport.

Cienfuegos was settled by French immigrants from Bordeaux and Louisiana but apart from some of the grandiose architecture they did not appear to have left much of a cultural influence.  I was peering at the faces to see if I could see something Gallic but they all just looked Cuban to me.  Famous for being the cleanest city and province in Cuba I was prepared for something on par with a mini Geneva and yes it certainly was pretty spick and span.

Peaceful Cienfuegos, Punta Gorda

We were feeling a little vacant after our top night out at the Palacio de la Rumba but I had a pre-arranged white card to leave my 3 nippers with the husband and hop on the bus with London friend so we were going whatever.  The bus wasn’t leaving until 1pm so we had some time to get up, have a delicious Saturday breakfast (desayuno Chapin prepared by my noble Chapin husband), throw a few things in my bag (oh the long-forgotten joy of packing just for one) and get the whole family in the car to drop us off at Viazul coach station.  Mission accomplished we were on our way like two little girls on a school outing.

Cienfuegos (literally 100 fires, named after a 19th Century Cuban Captain General) is known as the Pearl of the South, La Perla del Sur and has a famous crooner called Benny Moré as its musical pin-up.  We had been all fired up by the Palacio de la Rumba so Cienfuegos seemed more like 100 smouldering embers rather than a full on fire!  It appeared to be full of pleasant very middle class older European tourists.  At times I felt as though I was in Chipping Camden or Bournemouth ……… and the Rumba seemed a long way away.

Club Cienfuegos

But to its credit Cienfuegos is astonishingly clean and manicured and there are some wonderful architectural jewels to keep you happy for a couple of days.  We had been recommended a very pleasant casa particular called Villa Largata right down the Punta Gorda at the end near the park.  It was clean, the beds were big and the food, pretty fine.  We made the mistake of deciding to eat out the first night in the rather grand looking Club Cienfuegos.  The food was expensive and average and the service, what you can expect in a goverment run establishment.  The was one cheeky smiley waiter though and we managed to find a decent bottle of wine on the list.

Cienfuegos was pretty up there on the transport facilities.  The buses all looked new and of course, very clean.  I was impressed with the condition and quality of the average Cienfuegos bicycle.  I don’t think I have seen so many shiny new bikes in one town.  The rather more Cuban-looking bicitaxis trawled up and down the Malecón plying their trade to a smattering of tourists and locals.  On Sunday evening the whole of the town seemed to be out in their best togs enjoying the balmy weather and with various types of refreshment in tow.  The citizens of Cienfuegos had an altogether prosperous air about them even if they were a little provincial in their taste and manners.

After taking in the architectural gems we discovered that the Hotel la Union had a pretty wicked looking swimming pool and we could lunch there with an extra charge of 3 cucs to swim.  The burgers were homemade and not bad washed down with a Guayaba smoothy.  Yet again we found ourselves surrounded by middle-aged, middle-class Europeans and ended up having a weird chat with a retired Dutch economist about ADDH and psychological conditioning amongst other things …….. wondering when middle-age is supposed to start and if it is more a frame of mind than an age these days? Our chat was brought to a halt by the entrance of a group of rather large tourists (we suspected Belgian Walloons) jumping into the pool.

The lovely pool at La Union

There were various dancing establishments recommended by Lonely Planet but a quick neb at a couple of them left us feeling cold ……… we were still beguiled by the Rumba and pop covers or Benny crooning just couldn’t get us going.

So in summary, Cienfuegos is a nice place to go and chill out.  Stroll around and take in a bit of architecture.  Marvel at the beautiful bay, lie on a sunbed on a wooden ponton jutting out into the water and eat some decent food in some good Casa Particulares.

We got a taxi back to Havana for not much more than we paid for the bus arranged by our new Cienfuegos friend Joyce (or that is what it sounded like) who I think took a shine to my friend from London.  With promises to be back we scooted out of town in a rather clapped out but seemingly reliable little car back to the big bad City …….. or my leafy suburbs close to the big bad city!

 

Converted to la Rumba in just one night!

As I have had a good friend in town I have had lots of excuses to be a tourist and party a little bit more than usual!  Also the reason for my absence from the blogosphere.

Last Friday we had been tipped off by our musician friend Tony that there would be a good night down at the Palacio de la Rumba, and he wasn’t wrong.  After the usual fraught bedtime theatre of 3 children under 7, we managed to escape down the Malecon and after asking a couple of people we found the Palacio nestled in a small square in Central Havana.  We all paid 10 cucs entry, which although I am sure the locals weren’t paying, I really didn’t care and in my mind it was worth every centavo!

The venue was a little like an old style music hall with a stage, a dance floor and chairs and tables down the middle and some on raised platforms.  There was a bar running down one wall at the back of the room and a dickie bow tied waiter hovering.  Needless to say there weren’t many white faces in there but this didn’t seem to matter to anybody least of all us.  I did feel a little honoured to be there.  It was African Cuban music about as authentic as you could hope to find it, and although there were people dancing when we arrived there was a serious air of contemplation and appreciation.  The stage was full, around 12 people were playing, drumming and singing in a well practised, effortless way.

We got a bottle of rum and found ourselves a table.  The haunting soulful singing and distinctive rhythms soon got us in the mood, in fact all 3 of us were grinning like loons who had just stumbled upon a great party.  At one stage early on a Babalu (or Babulau) appeared behind us with his shell necklace and long beard he looked the epitome of Santeria wisdom.  A lot of the men were strikingly dressed in white with white flat caps setting off their dark complexions.

Early on there seemed to be some tacit rules about who was up on the dance floor and what was going on and I was happy just to sit there and lap it all up.  Couples would get up and dance as though they were conversing.  Both men and women had some kind of scarf which they would use to exaggerate their movements.  After a while the crowd that had collected on the right hand side would move across and all start dancing.  At one stage there was even a conga that filed all the way through the club, a million times cooler than one of those awful things done at drunken office parties and weddings.

The club was no smoking and people were not drinking excessively it was all about the music and the dancing.   At one stage a huge birthday cake appeared to celebrate the anniversary of one of the groups and I vaguely remember allowing myself to be lifted up onto the stage to join the celebrations.  I felt a bit like a gatecrasher but by the end of the night we were up there with the best of them shaking our booty to the rumba until closing time.  We bumped into some Belgian friends who had been in Havana to organise a dance event with the local people and through them I got the phone number of a dance teacher who came with strong recommendations.  She is a rather scary-looking Amazonian woman, helped by the 3 inch platforms she was wearing.  I am sure she will whip me into rumba shape in no time!

Suddenly at 1.30 we found ourselves in the square outside the club realising that it was all over and we had certainly stayed the course.  In fact I was rather glad that it finished, as otherwise I am not sure when we would have got home!  Our car was parked right outside, as is the luxury of no car Cuba, and we were contentedly whisked home through the empty streets down to suburban Flores and a last drink in front of the sea to discuss the fun we had had on our first official night out dancing!!!  Viva la rumba!

Next stop quiet and sleepy Cienfuegos, the cleanest town in Cuba!

 

If you want to receive these messages directly to your inbox, register in the little subscription box on the right hand side of this post.

Life is surreal ……. but I like it

I sat in the auditorium of the Museo de Belles Artes last night listening to some great British actors delivering a beautiful collection of Pinter’s plays and poems finishing with his incredibly powerful acceptance speech for the Nobel Peace Prize for literature.  The theatre was packed and the audience completely absorbed despite the ridiculously excessive aircon.  I sat next to an employee of the museum who had her translated copy of Pinter to hand.  It cost me 10 Cuban pesos (30p) for the entry and was all part of an international theatre festival taking place in Habana this week.  I had driven there alone and parked right outside the theatre.   After the performance I drove one of the actors, Roger (reluctantly famous as Trigger in Only Fools and Horses amongst his many other achievements) back to the National Hotel where we met the other actors and headed out for dinner.

I can drive right into the City centre at 7pm and not get stuck in traffic, park right outside whatever theatre, museum or restaurant that I happen to be going to.  I don’t have to worry about traffic wardens, cameras, violent attacks or aggressive people.  I can stop and chat to anybody and they don’t mind, in fact they always have time to chat.  If I get lost everybody wants to help me find where I am going.  Everybody has time ……..

As I was driving home I marvelled at how surreal and fascinating my life is here in Havana.   I was exhausted and the salt water from the Malecon had sprayed my windscreen and I could hardly see where I was going so was crawling along like a campesino in the countryside as I tried to clean the screen.  Here, in one of the most famous cities in the world, they are not big on street lights even in the centre.  When I drove out to Hemingway’s beautiful house (a museum) the other day with some friends from Guatemala, I read a billboard (not many in these parts!) that reminded me that the first world uses three quarters of the world’s energy.  That’s not fair is it!!?

The boys had half term this week and a good friend came from Guatemala with two sons so we were doing a few touristy things and keeping the children busy.  5 children in the house was quite a handful but we had 2 Cuban nannies recruited to help us keep our sanity!  After they left I packed the boys off to school on Monday only to discover that the half term holiday lasted 1 week and 2 days.  (Lost touch with reality and school holiday dates!)  2 more days to kill and I was rather tired of dragging out the Lego and jigsaw puzzles in the house as the stormy October weather kept us out of the sea.  I decided to take them for some adventures in Havana and we ambled around chatting to lots of people and discovering strange modern Chinese video installations in one gallery and wonderful prints and etchings in another workshop where Paulo chose his Birthday picture of the Orisha spirit of fire.  We stopped to buy lunch on the street and the boys splashed in the puddles in their welly boots in the little alleyways of Havana Vieja while I endeavoured to teach Nico the names of all the months in French by making up a little song.

Last week I had attended the UN day celebrations in an old palacio in Habana Vieja where I met people from the EU, the UN and the Nigerian Ambassador, who full of African charm promised to bring me one of those wonderful dresses from Nigeria when she goes at Christmas.  Come round and visit me she boomed and I will take your measurements.  I’ll take you up on that offer I thought to myself.

Anyway all these fun and surreal discoveries means that I am too tired and too stimulated to feel as though I am being a good mother or a good blogger for that matter.  Too many things to do and not enough hours in the day to do them all, and sleep, and get woken up by Saskia at 5.30.  Saskia has recently learnt the word apple just in time for apples to mysteriously completely disappear from Cuba and now every time she approaches the fruitbowl she jibbers on about apples and alas there are only bananas and pineapples.  Thankfully the boys are now back at school and we have a bit of resting time before our next visitor arrives from England on Saturday.  My dear friend and Paulo’s Godmother is trafficking Birthday Lego, Marmite, toothpaste, shampoo etc etc.  and maybe, just maybe I will get that night out dancing ……………

 

 

The Spanish Party, Cuba the Cat and the Lion that roars ……

We headed out for yet another embassy bash last week.  It was the fiesta nacional of Spain at the Spanish Ambassador’s Residence and what a beautiful place it was.  Imagine a huge white villa with palms leading down through a beautiful tropical garden to an elegant pool.

We were greeted by the Ambassador (rather dashing) and his wife (looked a little like a younger version of the Queen of Spain) and then handed some useful freebies: a fan and a lighter before heading down to join the crowd down in the garden.  It was a big turn out and there was a fair amount of Cava being quaffed.  I fell upon a few Brits that night, a very nice chap from the embassy, one who acts as consul for Finland and is about to retire and Toby who runs a tourism and film and music production company.  I met Canadians, Brazilians, Chip from the US Office of Interest, Belgians, French, Norwegians and of course a fare few Spaniards.

It was a hot night and people were sweating a lot, so I was glad that I was feeling pretty cool calm and collected despite the grown men dripping around me.  We spotted the Spanish contingent of the film school students moving around in a gaggle but never quite caught them up.  We headed home at a pretty respectable time and sat outside cooling off in front of the sea in the breeze.

The other night as we were doing exactly this a little tabby kitten was spotted running along the wall.  She jumped down and slowly made her way towards us looking more for love than food and that is how Cuba the Cat as she is now known came to live with us.  She is young, impeccably clean and pretty and even seems to quite like hanging around our 3 not very gentle children.  In fact she has a lot of Cuba in her.  A little survivor who has a past, she has, in the most charming way, quietly seduced us.

We have another much larger cat that has a presence in our house. Next door to us, in between Club Habana and us, there is a beach and social club for the Ministry of the Interior known to the locals as Club 99.  The have a little zoo or more of a menagerie as it is small, the animals are small and the cages are small except for one bloody huge male lion, which is in a shockingly small cage.  Anyway this lion roars, especially at night so I often fall asleep to the sound of the sea and the lion roaring in a rather pathetic cat in a cage way.  It is strange and poignant to have this rather unusual neighbour and also something that makes me muy triste.  But alas you don’t mess with the Ministry of the Interior.   But if any important people in the Ministry are reading my blog (yeah right) please put the lion somewhere more comfortable.