Fun In Havana

Before the bus trip would end at the terminal in the suburb of Vedado, it passed through the old town of Havana, and I was so impressed by the attractive colonial buildings and fortress by the sea that I grabbed my bag and jumped off to explore it. I walked about, taking in the architecture and rock n roll traffic, the excitement of being in Cuba still fresh. I paused to chat to some locals and had a drink with one. He invited me to see his salsa band perform that night at the Casa de la Música.

I was keen to go and was lucky to have chosen a casa particular called Casa De Ania that was more like an apartment for backpackers to share. There was even a cheap and delicious palador (small private restaurant) downstairs, though the food took ages to get to the table. I made friends with the girls there and together with some guys from England, staying at another casa, we all went to the club. It was a fight to get a few extra chairs so we could all sit at the same table, but the night was good fun as we danced and enjoyed the live music when the band eventually came on stage.

Not So Fun In Havana

It was about three in the morning when we four girls decided to walk back to the casa. The poorly lit streets made the worn buildings loom over us, and each corner was a potential ambush waiting. We thought we had safety in numbers and we certainly didn't have anything valuable; no fancy jewelery or watches, not a lot cash either. I carried the most expensive thing among us; my camera, but had enough sense to stow it out of sight in my cargo pocket. But one of the girls carried a small handbag, just out of habit.

We turned into another dim street and were met with half a dozen young men. There was an instant uneasiness about us, but we pressed on to show our confidence. Then one of them lunged and grabbed the handbag, but she held on tight, tight enough so that she fell to the ground when he pulled. But the rest of us yelled angrily and advanced towards their group. It was enough to frighten them off and we were lucky that they didn't get defensive when the United Statien gave chase.

Needless to say, we were a mix of shaken and angry girls, and made our way back to the casa with a story to tell.

Sight-Seeing And Seeing The Sights

I had done sight-seeing in Vedado on the first day I arrived in Cuba, walking to Revolution Square, an expansive ugly emptiness where rallies and meetings happen, opposite the enormous concrete monument. A dozen or so blocks away was Lennon Park where a life-sized statue of the late John Lennon sat on a park bench, his glasses again missing. The neighborhood was a friendly and leafy one, where the old colonial houses reminded me a little of a run-down Sesame Street and people, from groups of the elderly to classes of school children, enjoyed the outdoors to do some exercise.

Nearby was the Necropolis de Colón, a cemetery taking over several blocks. It was an interesting place, though not as pretty as Buenos Aires' Recoleta Cemetery. Better than the elaborate statues and family crypts was the fact that the streets of the cemetery were open to traffic. Buses followed their routes through it, cabs, cyclists and other traffic did the same. School children and workers walked along its streets towards their destinations, some people pulling along wheeled suitcases, as if it was such a lively place that they wanted to move in before their time.

I walked around La Habana Vieja with Rian, exploring the streets. They were chock full of interesting buildings and museums, from colonial hotels and the Partagas Cigar Factory to the Capitol Building, parks, squares and of course, the fortress and esplanades. It was always alive with people bustling about, children playing baseball or soccer, people selling one dollar boxes of food called cajitas. Every day was a new discovery in Havana. It was one of those cities where you could spend a week and have had something interesting to do each day.