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Potatoes and the whole consumption game in Cuba …..

Potatoes disappeared from sight here in Havana a couple of weeks before Christmas. I managed to get hold of some a la izquierda, ie on the black market. This entailed going to the big agro (veg market) on 19 and 42, parking my car round the corner and being approached by two or three guys whispering out of the corner of their mouths ……….. papa, quieres papa mi amol. Why so clandestino? I felt as though I was buying crack cocaine in the street.

Well it turns out, or so I am told, that all the potatoes at this time have to be planted, re-seeded, whatever the term may be. And anybody not doing so was operating illegally. So I suppose was I, in the act of purchasing them, but I am still a complete innocent in these matters, and there seems to be a lot of grey territory from potatoes to internet services and anything else in between.

Potatoes are back now and we are enjoying them but you could say that the problem with buying potatoes here in Cuba, is the problem about all matters of consumption, you just never know what you are going to get and how you will find it. This is partly the reason why I have so many people working in my house the whole act of pursuing things is a continuous game and word goes out on the grapevine when something arrives in a certain shop. At the moment the elusive apples are dancing with us again.

I realise that I am quite spoilt as the film school supplies a lot of my necessities and I have such delicacies from the farm such as baby sweet tomatoes and asparagus, herbs, tenderstem brocolli, cauliflower, tasty greens, cucumbers, a selcetion of lettuces and arrugula (rocket), and garlic and onions of varying size and sweetness.

Cheese is not big in this part of the world and the locals tend to eat a very mild version of Gouda or an Italian style mozarella cheese to melt. I have so far managed to order 3 types of cheeses from the French importer …….. Goats cheese and Compte and real Parmesan. I wrap them up in damp cheese cloth and put them in the fridge and they will keep for up to 3 months. Young when they arrive and old and strong when they are finished. The parmesan I grate and freeze in little ziplock bags. If you have the money you can pretty much buy any fancy French things from him including partly baked croissant, tarte Tatin and a huge selection of yoghurts, tasty Toulouse sausages, charcuterie, pate, pastries etc etc. The French guy is married to a stunning Afro Cuban actress who delivered my cheese personally to my door a few months ago, all dressed in white with some trance inducing green contact lenses. It was dead man’s cheese but that is another story ………….!

There is a Belgian who imports a variety of wares but I haven’t got my act together with him yet as you have to order 3 months in advance …….. He sells breadmakers and a huge selection of cleaning products, wine, juices, packaged goods, amongst other things.

My milk, yoghurt and butter come from a local farm. Cream is still relatively elusive, which is a bit odd. Maybe Cuba is just not a creamy culture! Cream cheese grab it when you can, but when you get it, it is good, almost dolcelatte standard.

Bread is not very wholewheat (light brown and limp, ok toasted) but I can get hold of some pretty good wholemeal seeded baguettes when I am lacking in the grain department. A bit pricey at $2 but worth it.

Fish and seafood can be bought in a nearby fishing town and all comes fresh but frozen at source in kilo bags of fish filets, prawns, lobster and crab. Apparently if I organise them to call me when they have a fresh catch I can get there before they freeze. I suppose everything gets frozen fast as it is so bloody hot here most of the time. Also we have bought great fish from the fishermen who dive with their harpoons in front of the house.

All pork items get delivered to me from a local farm. Ham, bacon, gammon, cold cuts and sausages all pretty good quality and fresh. Sometimes we have to call them a few times. Maybe they run out of pigs to slaughter from time to time! Local beef bought in 70 supermarket can be very good as great filet steaks or in casseroles such as the famous ropa vieja cuban stew. Serrano ham imported from Spain along with olives and olive oil are nearly always available.

Outside the French school at collection time there are always a handful of sellers with iceberg lettuce, baby carrots, freshly picked spinach, beetroot, huge hunks of smoked ham, peanuts, fresh flowers, pirate films, green peppers amongst other random items.

Clothes are as random as apples but I have managed to buy some great sandals and a few summer dresses from Italy which appear in the boutiques of Habana Vieja, Nautico and Casa Particulares (like shopping in someone’s living room with 3 women serving you coffee and giving their opinions on anything that they manage to pull out the closet for you).

Toiletry items are in short supply and sometimes quite expensive but I have recently found good reasonably priced shampoos from Spain and Argentina and a great bubble bath from Italy. Head and Shoulders is $9 a bottle!

So what is on my list of things to get from outside:

Vanish (I am a laundry fiend and have 3 children!), nappies (daipers), ziplock bags, good jam and chocolate, music and magazines, HP Sauce, Worcestershire sauce and all the usual condiments from UK, wheat tortillas to make tacos and quesadillas, rosa jamaica, chili sauce and miel de agave from Mexico, Ibuprofen syrup for children, sponges for washing up, red oil for all my Guatemalan furniture, good quality stationery items, glue, pencils etc., presents for children including Lego ………….. and there is always something else missing!

Nobody is starving in Cuba, a lot of people get sent clothes and material things from outside. The Cubans always manage to look good and quite fashionable despite their isolation and constant desire to consume things, that they do not have readily available.

I can’t deny that consuming here is a frustrating and time consuming occupation and the only thing that you can rely on is that you can’t rely on anything.

My advice is shop carefully when you are abroad, and learn to stock up like a Cuban when you see something that comes and goes ……….. just grab it and grab lots especially if it will freeze or store!

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.

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 — 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.

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.

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!

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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 ……………

Our house, the party and the French lover who fled the country

Our first party in our wonderful house all went very well. Everyone from the film school helped me to make it a success. Maeda arrived with flowers to fill the house from San Antonio and then a team of caterers from the school arrived not long after with food for 70 people and a chirpy barman who set up the bar. Havana friends all made it along and mixed really well so that I felt as though I wasn’t just the wife of the director and this was my house too!

This house is designed for parties, being right in front of the sea and having a bar in the garden. Up until now the bar has been used to house the paddling pool and various toys and inflatables but that night a barman was whipping up cocktails served in Coco shells (Coco Locos!) a few mojitos and whisky, beer and wine, as well serving me up something cold and bubbly brought by my Habana girlfriends.

I have begun to realise that our house, which has been the Protocol house in Havana for the film school for 25 years, is quite a little gem. It stands alone between a beach club used by the Cuban military and a huge ruin which most recently used to be the Institute of Oceanology (is that a word??). Apparently there are not many houses so slap bang on the sea in Havana. Many people don’t even know there is a house here even though they have lived in the area for years. It is very close to the leafy suburban streets and diplomat houses of Flores and Cubanacan but seems to be from another world. However, other people seem to know all about it and give me a knowing secretive look.

We are right at the end of Primer Avenida, el final, and as you drive the last block which looks forgotten and run down, it really does seem as though you have come to a dead end until you notice our unassuming house right in the corner. I love opening the front door to people as they are immediately transfixed by the Caribbean sea sparkling behind me and Cubans being Cubans, they almost knock me out of the way to have a closer look.

I began to wonder in the first few weeks ……. who built this house? Who did it used to belong to before the revolution or before the Film school? As Cubans love to talk and tell a good story it didn’t take me long to find out that this house does have a history …….

I intend to find out more but this is the story so far.

For those of you who don’t know who Batista is ……. here is a little description from a JFK speech on the run up to his election in 1960 whilst criticising Eisenhower´s government.

Fulgencio Batista murdered 20,000 Cubans in seven years … and he turned Democratic Cuba into a complete police state – destroying every individual liberty. Yet our aid to his regime, and the ineptness of our policies, enabled Batista to invoke the name of the United States in support of his reign of terror. Administration spokesmen publicly praised Batista – hailed him as a staunch ally and a good friend – at a time when Batista was murdering thousands, destroying the last vestiges of freedom, and stealing hundreds of millions of dollars from the Cuban people, and we failed to press for free elections.

The house which has no number, is said to have been built in the early 50s for the French lover of someone pretty high up in Batistas pre-revolution government. Whoever she was she must have been a real character as the beach next door to our little one (now the military club) was known as the Francesita (the little French one). Bloody big house for one French ~~flousy~~ lady, but I thank her for my large walk in closet. Evidently she fled before the revolution as she was part of a more corrupt and dangerous time in Cuban history depending upon which side your bread was buttered. In the words of Arthur M Schlesinger when asked by the US government to analyse Batista’s Cuba.

The corruption of the Government, the brutality of the police, the regime’s indifference to the needs of the people for education, medical care, housing, for social justice and economic justice … is an open invitation to revolution.

But the architectural evidence of La Habana harks back to another time when dirty money was everywhere. The beautiful ruin next door was also owned by one of Batista’s honchos who was enjoying regular meetings with Al Capone in his amazing palace with its huge private beach to discuss the blossoming future of the Mafia and more Casinos to be put into Club Habana, the beach club 5 minutes away which is where, somewhat ironically my children now have all their extra curricula activities!

I enjoy hearing about these pre-revolutionary days with the security of history and intend to find out more but I am glad that Fidel got rid of them all as after 8 years in Guatemala I know there is nothing remotely glamorous about gangsters or their girlfriends. And my family now lives in a paradise of tranquility despite the undeniable economic problems. I am not sure that even the Cubans realise what they have.

It could make a good film script though …….. somewhere down the line. And gives me something else to think about as I sit in front of the sea looking at the beautiful trees which line the beach next door as the sun goes down. Every night and most days people jump over the tumbling wall of this old mansion and get to the edge of the sea next door to us to fish and chat and watch the sea or whatever else they get up to. (Rafa was rather horrified how many condoms got washed up on the beach the other day when the currents were not in our favour).

I wonder what parties have taken place in this house? I need to investigate more ……….. just not sure how to yet. I will leave you with the words of JFK, an American icon (Oct. 1963).

I believe that there is no country in the world including any and all the countries under colonial domination, where economic colonization, humiliation and exploitation were worse than in Cuba, in part owing to my country’s policies during the Batista regime. I approved the proclamation which Fidel Castro made in the Sierra Maestra, when he justifiably called for justice and especially yearned to rid Cuba of corruption. I will even go further: to some extent it is as though Batista was the incarnation of a number of sins on the part of the United States. Now we shall have to pay for those sins. In the matter of the Batista regime, I am in agreement with the first Cuban revolutionaries. That is perfectly clear.

Unfortunately, I think Guatemala is still paying for those sins.

My friend Tony says I can come round and use his zippy satelite internet connection whenever I want ……… so I may be able to post some photos soon!

Cuban Police and me ……..

I have just spent 8 years living in a country where the police are ………… quite frankly a joke. In fact, they are worse than that, they are a corrupt bunch of people who I would not call if anything remotely bad or good happened to me. I just wouldn’t trust them one bit. Also I knew someone who was raped by 3 policemen in Antigua and fled the country pretty soon with her daughter. Do you blame her? Rapists and the police have impunity in Guatemala along with a whole bunch of other low-lives ……..

By the end of my time there I had even stopped stopping for the police in Guatemala. My opinion of them was so low that even if they tried to wave me over in the road I would just wave at them like a foreign loony without a clue. One time I was involved in a police chase when I was taking the boys to their French class at Alliance Franςaise. I had touched the bonnet of a taxi whilst virtually stationary at a T junction and the taxi driver wanted to get a few quetzales out of me for his already falling apart taxi. I knew the drill and was so bored. The taxi driver managed to flag down a police car and they chased me all the way to the Alliance. I didn’t want the boys to be late and they LOVED being involved in a real life police chase. They ran into their French class as though they had just been on the best fairground ride ever!

I then had to go through the ridiculous farce of paying off the taxi driver and the police as any other option just isn’t worth it. At least the young police officer had the decency on this occasion to look a little bit ashamed. So my boys have always known that we did not have much respect for the police in Guatemala!

So here I am in Cuba a country with hardly any violent crime and certainly not of the organised variety. The police have a strong but unaggressive presence on the streets and I am glad they are there. Having said that I have already managed to get stopped twice! Schoolgirl errors, as really this is about the easiest city I have ever had the pleasure to drive around.

On my second Saturday I was suddenly filled with a desire to get out of the house and get Paulo’s hair cut before school began. Off we went down Quinta with a vague idea that someone told me that there was a barber shop near Nautico shopping centre and supermarket. Suddenly I saw it and swung across Quinta at the next opportunity. Peep peep peep went the policeman’s whistle. I was pulled over and a friendly policeman informed me that I had crossed a yellow line. Never cross a yellow line in Cuba, is a bit like never eat yellow snow. A good bit of basic advice.

The policeman asked me if I thought I should get a fine with a smile beginning to appear on his lips. Please no I am new in town and my son needs a haircut and I’m having problems getting my electronic wing mirrors on my new strange car to open. I promise I won’t do it again I was a bit confused! After this he helped me to back the car out and showed me where to park and where the barber shop was.

The second time I was on Quinta near our house on my way to get Saskia from her circulo (nursery). I have to say I am usually more bothered about going fast enough on Quinta as it says maintain your speed at 80 kph or 60 kph depending on which lane. So there I was trying to maintain 60 but falling short when I got pulled over. Maybe I wasn’t going fast enough I thought! A few teenagers crossed the road giggling and shouting suerte! I had forgotten that that part of Quinta was in a school zone where you have to go 40 kph. Quite right too. I was terribly apologetic to the polite and professional young office saying I had 3 children of my own etc etc. He asked for all my papers and when he realised that the car and the driver were in some ways connected to the film school he was even more friendly and kind. Apologising for bothering me. Not at all I said, el contrario! I think he even ended by sending greetings to the school and my husband. Once I got on my way again they drove past me waving!

So what have I learnt. Police in Cuba do their job but they are not officious nor heavy handed. Do not ever cross a yellow line on the road and watch out for school zones. And also that in a country that puts so much emphasis on cultural development like Cuba everyone knows the film school and our position here is a privileged one but in the nicest possible way. Rafa is respected for who he is, and what he does rather than how much money we have or have not or what model of car we drive.

Quinta Avenida, Embassies and Air Con

A month has flown by and my life is still not sorted but we have done so much in such a short space of time. We need to remind ourselves, on those days when we both feel exhausted and I’m lying on the Bodega floor (coolest place in the house) clutching a bottle of fine red wine …….. to take it easy and look how far we have come already.

We have met more interesting wonderful people than I thought possible in one month. Rafa had a visit from his oldest friend from film school days, Mariano from Angola. Mariano was here for an African film event in Havana so was pretty busy but they managed to spend some time together and catch up on 20 years of news, and talk about the old days. Through Mariano we met the extremely cool Tony, also Angolan and married to the Italian head of the UN here in Cuba. They are neighbours, and we look forward to seeing more of them starting with a party this Thursday to say goodbye to the Africans. Already trying to get some early nights in to prepare for that one as from what I see Angolans like to party!

I too have met some great mothers in a short space of time : Dutch, German, Guatemalan, Cuban and French. Even one British dad from Yorkshire!

We managed to get the lovely Maida to come from the Film school on Friday night to babysit and got out for our first night. We didn’t hit the underground dance scene in Habana as I plan to do, if my life as mother of 3 ever allows it, but went to two embassy events. One France, one Mexico. It was work for Rafa but fun too!

The film school was involved in an international meeting on Film archives and as the French presence was strong the ambassador had a reception. (No Ferrero Rochets in sight just a few mojitos). The French Residence is in a beautiful crumbling palace in Miramar so it was a very pleasant way to start the evening on their splendid garden patio. I met an interesting chatty Brit, Sue ex-BBC now with her own film archive company.

Next stop up the road to the Mexicans for a bit of mariachi and lots of delicious Mexican boquitas. Strangely enough nobody was dancing in the garden where they band were pumping it out with all the Mexican charm necessary to fill the floor. So quietly tapping my foot and swinging my hips, we spent most of the evening chatting to a couple of Cubans, one of them Rafa’s ex teacher from his student days at the Film school, a successful producer. They live close to us so I am sure we will see them again. For the second time since arriving in Cuba I was told that I don’t seem English, that my personality is more Latina! Hmm, I still think I am very bloody English, people just don’t know what us English girls can be like!

I spend a lot of time cruising up and down Quinta Avenida, the beautiful boulevard that runs from this smart suburb to the centre of Habana. Our house, the supermarkets, the panaderia, the boys school, Saskia’s new nursery in beautiful Miramar are all just off it. There is never much traffic and it is as straight and treelined as any Avenida should be. I felt quite at home listening to Leftfield on my ipod stopping to pick up passengers on my way back from Miramar this morning. (Yes hitchhiking is legal and safe in Cuba and I love giving people lifts and having a quick chat. As a rule I only pick up women but if I saw a wise old man I would stop too I think! Anyway I shall write a whole blog about the hitchhiking thing when I get chance. La Botella, they call it for some reason).

All the traffic lights have count downs here in Habana. I love it, you know exactly how much time you have to wait and if it is worth putting your foot down or just slowly cruising to a stop. Also it is helping the boys a lot with their counting backwards skills!

After one month I think I have finally mastered living with air con, still not quite sure what all the buttons do on the controls but I can now manage to put them on and turn them up and down which is about as much as I´ll ever need to know. In a few weeks the temperature will drop and I hope we can just enjoy the sea breezes.