“His name’s a little complicated so we call him Brookes”, says Eric the tour guide from the front of the bus.
It turns out the man’s name is Vladimir Brookes and he’s the person driving us early in the morning towards Havana.
This is our first trip out to the real Cuba and that starts at the truck stop where we break the journey. Here the toilets don’t flush and you pay for toilet paper. From no where a band appears to play Chan Chan and offer their CD for sale. There’s fresh Piña Colada for sale here and you pay for the pineapple and coconut - the rum is free and you can add as much as you like. We’ve been on the road an hour or so, it’s 09:30 am.
Like Brookes’ first name a lot of the landscape on the way to Havana is of Russian origin. There’s a large, abandoned paper mill and grim imposing power stations. The more modern Chinese power plants are less of an eyesore but, like the old American cars, they have been customised by Cuban engineers to deal with the heavy crude oil they drill for with the help of Canadian firms.
On and on we drive on what Eric informs us is a road funded by old American mobsters who wanted to create a highway from Havana to Varadero lined with resorts and hotels. Luckily that didn’t happen and all we can see is the countryside with the black Turkey Vultures cycling high above it in the sky.
Our first taste of Havana is Cementerio de Cristóbal Colón which was founded in 1876 in the Vedado neighbourhood. It occupies an area of 135 acres and has around two million graves, which equals the city’s current population. It was designed in the 1860s and contains some amazing architecture and sculpture and people often come here to wander the paths and visit their loved ones, the graves of the famous (including José Miguel Gómez (1858-1921), president of Cuba; Ibrahim Ferrer (1927-2005), musician;Chano Pozo (1915-1948), musician, pioneer of Afrocuban jazz and Alberto Korda (1928-2001), photographer).
As we wandered around a man came up to us and asked in Spanish where we were from. “inglés? seguirme”, he said indicating that we should follow him. “This grave - Mama Cuban, Papa English”, he said. I wondered if we’d be shown the same grave if we’d said we were from Germany. “That grave, Crystal beer” he says, patting my tummy. “I don’t smoke and I don’t drink”, he said catching my eye as I noticed his waistline was a lot less than mine.
Next on his tour is the grave of Amelia Goyri de la Hoz who died in childbirth in 1901 along with her daughter. In keeping with the custom of the time mother and child were buried together but her husband, José Vicente Adot y Rabell, refused to believe that she was dead and visited the grave every day thinking that Amelia was asleep, so he used to wake her up with three knocks on the tomb and never turned his back on grave. When the grave was opened many years later Amelia and her child were found intact. The grave was resealed and has become known as La Milagrosa “The Miraculous One” the protector of pregnant women and newborn children who ask for her blessing and leave without turning their back to the tomb.
“Cinco Pesos?”, asks our guide as we wander back to the coach. The visit has been short and there is so much architecture to take in here. In Cuba the only piece of land you will always own is the family grave and funerals (like eduction from infant school to university) is free for all. Entrance is also free but photography costs five Pesos.
Lunch is typically Cuban food and contains something called yuca which looks like potato but isn’t. It turns out to be Cassava and is surprisingly good.
After lunch there’s another surprise - Plaza de la Revolucion. This has been the political, administrative and cultural centre of Cuba since 1959. For somewhere that is so important to Cubans and has been the scene of military parades and official celebrations which have seen it filled with close to a million people it is remarkably plain. The buildings around the square are very obviously from the fifties but Eric points out which are which with a running commentary of “We think Fidel’s office is in that building - Raul’s may be in there”.
If Plaza de la Revolucion was spacious the cigar shop was crowded and noisy. Outside young lads hung around offering cheap cigars which were probably banana leaves, inside the staff were offering knock down deals on all the best brands. Coachloads of people tried to squeeze in to grab a deal and money passed over the counter as quickly as cigars passed back.
Eric breaks us in with an easy walk around Old Havana in a part that is very much on the tourist trail. Young children ask for Pesos and old men try to sell us newspapers as we walk from square to squre trying to get our bearings.
With a little more thought we’d have brought swimming costumes to enjoy the outdoor pool at the hotel we are staying overnight in but the room overlooks the bay and the air conditioning is the best yet. But then, in a moment, the storm hits Havana and blue sky turns black and the rain comes down. Not just down but in. Into the open corridor running alongside the rooms in the wing of the hotel we are in and into the glass lifts running up the outside of the hotel. Luckily we make it to the bar for a drink before the power cut which leaves people suspended outside with a very good view of the storm. At least we only have to deal with a little gloom and the piano player playing Morning Of The Carnival From ‘Black Orpheus’.
Fifteen minutes from the hotel in Havana’s Marianao district lies the Tropicana.
The club opened in 1939 on a six-acre suburban estate which was originally rented from Guillermina Pérez Chaumont, known as Mina, and the tropical gardens of her Villa Mina provided a lush natural setting for an outdoor cabaret. Like most things in Cuba the place hasn’t changed that much over the years and we all looked up a little cautiously and hoped the storm had passed. All we saw was the fake smoke and the largest chandelier I’ve every seen that form part of the show.
In it’s heyday Carmen Miranda, Nat King Cole and Josephine Baker headlined the show and Édith Piaf, Ernest Hemingway, Jimmy Durante and Marlon Brando used to come to watch.. . Heralded as a “Paradise Under the Stars,” the Tropicana became known for its showgirls, conga sounds, domino tournaments and flashy, spectacular productions. Beginning in 1956, Cubana Airlines’ Tropicana Special was a round-trip flight that brought club customers from Miami to the Tropicana and returned them to Florida at 4am the following morning.
Our visit came with a complementary flower for the ladies and a cigar for the gents. Of more interest to everyone was the free bottles of rum and cans of coke on every table to enjoy the show with. Our table comprised of Rob from UNICEF (interesting but after a while the talk of Nobel peace prize winners and politics proved a little hard going) and a Scottish couple who were drinkers, much easier to get on with.
The show is amazing. Split over two stages it has everything : tall women, acrobats, a big band and waterfalls. After a while it’s easy to forget that you are outside and all you need to do is sit back and watch the show and some very impressive smoke rings being blown.
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