Cuba -- what a place!

By GERRY WARNER

Cranbrook Daily Townsman

April 11, 2008

Buenos dias Senoritas y Seniors!

Please forgive this small lesson in Spanish because the Good Wife and I just got back from Cuba Wednesday and we're both jet-lagged and in the throes of readjusting to home after a fascinating plunge into the vibrant chaos of what has to be the Caribbean's most intriguing nation.

I'd never been to Cuba before nor the real tropics, so I arrived at the Varadero Airport a blank slate, a Tableau Rosa, with the sights, sounds and smells of Cuba ready to spill over me. And spill they did. Only three steps down the plane's platform, I thought I'd been hit by the exhaust of the dying jet engines. But no. It wasn't that at all. It was the heat, the humidity and the warm tropical wind blowing in from the Royal Palms (coconut palms) lining the blindingly bright Varadero Beach."

"Sandra, it's too hot. I want to go home," were the first words out of my mouth. Considering we had flown out of Calgary that morning at minus 9 C and three inches of fresh snow on the ground, those were strange words indeed. But they were honest words because I wasn't prepared for that much heat and that much humidity. But one of the joys of traveling is you learn to adjust. And less than a day later, I was swimming in the warm waters of the pool at the Habana (Havana) Miramar Occidental Hotel at 7 a.m. and thinking to myself, "I could get used to this."And over the following week, I got used to a lot of strange things and a lot of surprises too.

But before I go any further, let me make two recommendations: 1) By all means try Cuba yourself. It's cheap, safe, exciting, sensual and challenging at times, but don't let that stop you. 2) If you do decide to go to the country that's been successfully thumbing its nose at the American Empire for the past 49 years, don't just go to the all-inclusive hotels on the beach. They're great, but if you miss Habana, as Samuel Johnson said of London, you've missed life. If you don't believe me, ask the Good Wife. We only had three days in Spain's former Colonial Capital, but they were unforgettable days for more reasons than I could possibly name. But I'll try.

Upon arriving in Old Habana, with your back to the famous Malecon (sea wall) that keeps the Caribbean Sea from rushing in during hurricanes, you'll stare straight down the Prado, (Paseo de Marti), a glorious, tree-lined boulevard that heads straight as an arrow to the Capitolio (Capitol) Building with it's glorious dome and rotunda patterned, believe it or not, after the White House in Washington D.C. when Cuba and the U.S. were on good terms. (See what I mean about surprises!) But the real treat is the glorious Spanish colonial architecture that permeates virtually all of Old Habana and earned that exotic urban landscape a UNESCO designation as a World Heritage Site.

The Capitolio, now a museum built largely with American money in 1929, is still in good condition with its gigantic bronze statues of Justice and Labour at the top of the stairs leading to the even larger statue of what looks like an Egyptian Pharaoh inside below the Great Dome, but is labeled "The Spirit of the Nation." Directly below the dome floating in the sky above you, a gold coin is buried in the mosaic floor, another symbol of the wealth that used to exist in Cuba's glorious past. But the glory, of course, was limited to a precious few, because Cuba was virtually a slave colony of the repressive Spanish Colonial Empire for more than 300 years until the First Cuban Revolution under Jose Marti threw off the yoke of the hated Spanish Regime only to be replaced by the New World colonialism of the USA and the mafia led by Meyer Lansky. (Ever wonder why Cubans are so anti-American?)

Of course, all that changed in 1959 when Fidel Castro, his brother Raul and the eponymous Che Guevara sailed from Mexico in their shabby, little yacht "Grama" and landed in the Sierra Maestro Mountains in remote southwest Cuba to lead the revolution that overthrew the American- backed dictator Fulgencio Batista and change the course of history.

Now truth to say, that baroque, Rocco and neo-classical architecture that I was rhapsodizing about before I got side-tracked into history and politics, (ain't that always the case) is looking pretty run-down itself these days like the Grama. But I can honestly tell you that the run-down look only contributes to its ambience and charm. A charm that is only surpassed by the Cuban people themselves, who treated us like royalty as we ferreted our way through the narrow side streets and laundry-hung balconies overhead. In short, Cuba - especially Old Habana - is the most exotic place I've ever been. (including China)

But that will have to wait for another column.

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