Today I met Delma, a very smart and personable mulatta, who
provided me with a map of the city, and told me that the city counts with a hop
on – hop off touribus. I have died and gone to heaven 😊 For only 10 CUC’s I will be able to ride all over the city,
stop at paces of interest, and then catch the next bus to the next cool stop. Delma
told me how to get there (piece of cake) and gave me her own version of how to
be a smart tourist in La Habana. Not a bad reminder, because I had to walk
about 12 blocks through the dingiest part of La Habana before reaching the Parque Central, where at 9 am I was to
take the very first bus of the day. Probably the first thing I learned is that
La Habana is a lot more handsome than the bad first impression I had gotten the
day before. From the Parque Central
we followed the Paseo del Prado all
the way to the malecón, from which we
could see, across the Habana Channel, the Spanish fortress. Curiously my
informants don’t think it is a tourist destination, probably because most of
those facilities are occupied by the Cuban army. I am fascinated by the crucial
role that Cuba played in the Spanish invasion of the New World and wouldn’t
mind steeping myself in the colonial history of the place. However, until know
I have not discovered a single museum that deals with this period of Cuban
history. Is it that the Revolution of 1959 has truly erased from the people
their long colonial past? Note: I would say that 70% of the people I see are
mulattos, because Cuba was a major consumer of African labor, so I wouldn’t
blame them if they have no interest in that painful time in their history.
We followed the malecón
to the west, passing some landmarks like the Hotel Nacional built in the 1930’s, and a couple of big hotels
built by Americans shortly before the Revolution. From there we took the
attractive Avenida de los Presidentes,
and eventually made it to the Plaza de la
Revolución. It was in this plaza that Fidel would engaged in his multi-hour
speeches to the people of Cuba every May 1 (International Labor Day), and
apparently is the center of the old American convertibles, which for 30 to 60
CUC’s will take you in an old-fashioned tour of La Habana. The plaza is of
course a big open space surrounded by the ministry of this and the ministry of
that. The three landmarks in it are the monument to José Martí (very impressive
statue and 100-m spire behind it), a giant outline of the head of Che Guevára (with
a quote of his “Hasta la victoria
siempre”), and another of Camilo Cienfuegos (with the quote “Vas bien, Fidel”). Nicely done!
From the plaza we headed to the northwest, passed the Cementerio Colón (the largest cemetery
in Latin America), crossed the Río
Almendares, and entered a very nice part of Habana, dominated by the
residential neighborhoods of Kohly and Miramar, and the rather swanky Quinta Avenida. By the sea side I really
liked the Hotel Copacabana (and I kicked myself for not stopping by and asking
for their prices). Eventually we came to the far end of our tour, in the
“beach” called La Cecilia. This is a
favorite spot among Habaneros, who come to swim off the cliffs (there is no
beach per se), picknic under the scrawny palm trees, or take the little ones to
the biggest amusement park in town. Besides walking through these areas, I took
the guágua (Cuban for city bus) to
the Hemingway International Marina, where I saw some nice Key West boats and
the Viejo y el Mar Hotel (and here I
asked for prices, which ranged from 50 to 100 CUC’s per night). Have you read
“The Old Man and the Sea”? It is one of Hemingway’s finest short novels and I
strongly recommend it.
I did stop at the Acuario
Nacional (the aquarium), got ripped off with a 10 CUC entrance fee, and
quickly walked through what at best was a 2 CUC shabby exposition. They did
have dolphin and sea lions shows, but those were at an additional cost, and the
kids were having a good time, but I wouldn’t recommend it as a touristic
attraction.
Overall I had a good, tiring day, and it was with grateful
relief that after 10 solid hours of tourism I made it back to my home sweet
home.
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