Day 2
Havana to Cabanas-55 miles
Boy are we smartening up. Yesterday we spent the day cycling around Havana and getting the lay of the land and the culture. The roads criss-cross through old neighborhoods lined with buildings that hold vestiges of their former beauty. Many have large concrete columns, ornately decorated windows and majestic doors. Behind these doorways we caught glimpses of hidden courtyards, polished floors and splashes of color and art, but most of what we saw was crumbling. Unless it was owned by the government or a foreigner.
The people who we met were kind, but many were struggling and this struggle made them hard to trust. Several times, we were “befriended” by people who wanted to show us the best restaurant, the cheapest dance club, or a shortcut. These interactions all ended with a plea for money to buy their babies milk or an awkward situation involving unasked for services and a demanded fee.
By the end of the afternoon, we had become proficient at telling people kindly, but firmly that we didn’t need their help and we high-fived each other when we finally mastered this skill.
You can hardly blame the people for these well orchestrated shenanigans. Here we are waltzing around on a holiday with our fancy bikes and a roll of pesos and it just isn’t fair.
Ernesto, who works in a cigar shop schooled me in Spanish, as well as, the Cuban economy. “We have nothing,” he said. “We make maybe 16 to 18 dollars a month. Yes we have food, medicine and education, but we can’t buy our daughter lotion! A night out; a movie, an ice cream and cab fare equals a whole month’s salary.” He also told me not to be lazy and to speak in complete Spanish sentences. I am getting there.
Our host last night at our Casa Particular also spoke of these injustices. “If you have a child here, you just know they will be here forever. You will educate them, and groom them. For what? We are trapped.”
The only way people can afford not to live in poverty here is to have relatives living abroad that send them money, but not everyone has this and so the disparity is striking. For a socialist country, all is far from equal.
Now we are on the road and have biked 55 miles along a hot, but beautiful road to the town of Cabanas. We have everything we need and our being treated with the utmost kindness, but every financial exchange is a game, one that we feel guilty winning. No matter what the final cost to us, it is unfair.