Central America / Caribbean Archives - Page 2 of 3

Central America / Caribbean Panama

El Chorrillo

On my third and final full day in Panama City began with a good walk. Had I not scheduled a walking tour for 1pm I would have gone to the Metropolitan Park, which looks amazing – a big rainforest just north of the city centre with wildlife and hiking trails. But I didn’t have time, so while I was having coffee at the hostel one of the workers suggested I hike up the Ancon hill. It turned out to be an excellent idea.

I left the hotel and walked up Avenue Central outside the Casco Viejo into another neighbourhood. A few blocks and the area changed utterly. Casco Viejo is beautiful, but it is quiet and a little sanitized. The locals were basically relocated when the restoration occurred and so it all feels a bit artificial. Old Havana is similar in that it is colourful, touristy, and has been restored, but Old Havana still has locals living there so it is lively. Casco Viejo is not. But this new area was totally alive. People selling bananas and onions, lottery tickets and newspapers. Shops and restaurants busy with local people. None of them fancy, but busy. In the square that I passed people were hanging out, kids running around, music loudly playing.

The buildings in this area are mostly not so attractive as they were (I learned later that day) bombed and rebuilt, or bombed and left as shells during the American invasion of 20 December 1989, which is a date still spray painted around the area for remembrance.

There was still lots of street art, including one painted of two women painted on the shell of a former church.

I walked down Avenue Central until I saw the McDonalds on the right and took a left, walking about a block until I saw a small monument to the riots of 1964 wherein some high school students tried to take down the American flag and erect the Panamanian flag. A riot broke out and American soldiers killed a number of students. On the concrete walls along the highway that I crossed were murals honouring the event, including portraits of some of those killed.

From there I followed a snaking street past a hospital and fancy gated houses until the path up the mountain revealed itself. (If you are making this walk, just follow the road. It will seem like you’ve missed a turn off, but it will come. The signage just is not great until you have arrived.) Climbing up gave good views over the city with glimpses of skyline and tiled roofs, cemetery and harbour. Lots of families and ambitious cyclists were making the same ascent.

Half way back down it started to rain. Tropical, aggressive rain. Fortunately, I had an umbrella. Unfortunately it dod nothing but keep the water off my face and by the time I got back to town I was soaked. I spent the spent 30 minutes or so haggling to buy dry shoes.

Later that day I met with Victor who runs walking tours through his company PTY Local. This particular walk was through the El Chorrillo neighbourhood, known for being dangerous and poor. Indeed, my taxi driver had told me firmly never to walk there. I had already walked there a little bit and it seemed fine, but I wanted to see a bit more and learn a bit about the neighbourhood so I took this walking tour. I am so glad I did.

The tour was great. Victor was great company and explained about the history of El Chorrillo, Casco Viejo, and other neighbourhoods through dictators, invasion, gangs, and tourists. We walked around seeing murals and markets and meeting local people.

Victor also took us to the police station to learn about a program he started to keep kids off the streets and out of gangs. We chatted with people paying passionate games of dominos, playing music, and just hanging around, listening to music and having a drink. I was great. At the end Victor and I had dinner at the Coca Cola cafe, which had a pleasant diner feel and was cheap.

It was nice to have the company, but I really appreciated seeing other areas and knowing there is more beyond the boundaries of Casco Viejo.

I didn’t do much that evening. Went for dinner, read my book, had a cigar. And the next day I was home (via a super brief visit to Mexico City).

Panama City was a great weekend break. There wasn’t too much I wanted to do, so I left feeling satisfied, but also rested.

I like these little city breaks between longer vacations. It’s such a good way to see places that I have only a passing curiosity in or that only take a few days to see. And what would I do if I stayed home? Work? I’ll take Panama.

Central America / Caribbean Panama

Panama Canal

On my second day in Panama City I was met at my hostel at 8am by Ana, the taxi driver I met the day before. We were heading to the Panama Canal. Honestly, I was not excited to see the canal. I figured it would be boring – an engineering marvel no doubt, but not an interesting sight. But I also felt like I couldn’t go to Panama and not see the Canal. Surely they will ask me when I leave the country if I saw the Canal, and if I say no, I will not be allowed to leave.

The Miraflores locks are not far from Panama City. It costs $20 to go to the observation area and visit the museum. (You used to be able to go to a bar and get a drink and watch for free but they put an end to that.) Fortunately, just when I got there there was a large ship and a small boat passing through. Had there been no vessels to see, I do think it would have been dull. Like, really dull. But seeing ships pass through was actually, surprisingly, interesting. Really.

The museum is pretty good too, as it explains how the locks work and about the history, which I previously knew nothing about. So it was good.

From there I asked Ana just to drive me around. There really aren’t many sites in Panama City I was interested in, at least not enough to make an effort to get to or the time to explore, but I was happy to see some areas. We stopped at a market selling crafts.

We drove out to an area of cafes and whatnot to take in the view of the new city and have some shaved ice.

We took obligatory pictures in front of the Panama sign.

We drove through the new city to look at the high rises where the rich people live.

Along the way, Ana told me about some history and different areas. She played me local salsa music and sang along. It was a good time. I didn’t see anything amazing, but it was pleasant.

I was back at my hostel a little after noon. For the rest of the day I walked around and found a few new areas, but ultimately I ended up having a cigar in a square before dinner and a cigar on a plaza, listening to jazz music and relaxing. As I often do, I had ideas of going out to a bar or a night spot, but I was tired and asleep by 10pm.

Central America / Caribbean Panama

Panama Bound

It was a super cheap flight that inspired me to go to Panama. That sounds crass, but it’s true. I’ve not thought much about Panama as a destination, but a $273 round trip ticket was inspirational. I left Thursday right afterwork, changed planes in Mexico City, and by Friday afternoon I had landed in Panama City.

I stayed in Casco Viejo. The old city, reborn. There seemed no other options really. The new city of Panama just looks like a jumble of skinny high rises, malls and traffic. Casco Viejo is a pretty grid of revitalized colonial buildings jutting out into the sea, painted with striking colours.

There are several lovely looking hotels, but I opted for the Hospedaje Casco Viejo; a functional hostel with little in the way of services or amenities but a some private rooms and great location at a cheap price.

I took a taxi from the airport. My driver was a woman of a grandmotherly age named Ana. She spoke a little English and I enjoyed chatting with her so we made plans for her to drive me around a bit the next day. But in the meantime, I had wandering to do.

Casco Viejo is small. I walked nearly every street in a few hours, but it is lovely. About 16 years ago it was crumbling, broken, unsafe. But now, through the magic of capitalism and gentrification (about which I have mixed feelings – and so do the locals, judging by some signs and grafitti I saw), it is pretty and safe. On that first evening it was just what I wanted.

I visited the many churches, paused in the squares and photographed many of the colourful buildings.

I finally settled on a place to eat, which wasn’t as easy as it should have been. There are tons of restaurants in Casco Viejo, but they are mostly either too touristy or too fancy and none of them seemed just right. I finally settled on a cafe (yes, touristy, but not cheezy) with a leafy courtyard.

Of course, then it was time for a cigar. There is a La Casa Del Habano with a good selection. I bought a cigar and was going to settle into one of their inviting leather chairs when they broke the news: no smoking. I think I audibly gasped and clutched my non-existent pearls. They had cigar ashtrays out, lighters, and cozy comfy chairs. But no. Smoking is not allowed indoors. Period. I don’t know exactly what the law is here on smoking, but many patios are also non-smoking. Fortunately, I found a seafood restaurant down the street from the La Casa with a generous patio and virgin piña coladas. I settled in with a Bolivar (always the right cigar to start a holiday in Latin America – if you don’t know why, check your history) and a book and stayed until it started to rain.

Had that been my only time in Casco Viejo, that would have been fine. In a few hours you can see it, eat, stroll, and hang out. It would be rushed though. The next day I had other sites to see.

Central America / Caribbean Cuba

Weekend in Havana

A long weekend in Havana sounded perfect. I had been before, in 2014 I think, and I loved it. Mostly for the cigars, but it is a great destination in its own right – though if it wasn’t for the cigars I wouldn’t have gone back. I had already seen the sights I wanted to see in Havana, so a weekend sounded like a perfect opportunity to just hang out with no pressure to see or do anything in particular.

I left Vancouver on a Thursday evening, changed planes in Mexico City and landed in Havana at about 2:00pm on Friday. I arrived at the airport in Havana and, once through immigration, found myself doing the usual haggling with taxi drivers. They all wanted 40 or 35 CUCs, which I knew was too much. After making my counter offers, I was left rideless. I smoked a cigarillo, deciding how long to wait before upping my offering price, but then a guy who was picking up other passengers and also going to the National Hotel offered to take me for 10 CUC. Bingo.

I held the sign with the name of the family we were waiting for. When the family of four (two older couples) emerged, I suddenly found myself being asked to pose for pictures with them. I get that they were excited to travel to Cuba, but the airport pickup photos seemed excessive. I found out on the ride in that two of them were born in Cuba but left 40 years ago, moved to Puerto Rico and hadn’t seen their families since.

I arrived at the Hotel National giddy. With heat and humidity, with the excitement of being in Havana, and with the sight of that gorgeous patio facing the sea. Before even going to my room I bought a box of 10 Partagas torpedos and smoked a cigar on a wicker sofa outside.

My room was ordinary, but the Hotel Nacionale is a dream. It is this grand historical hotel that has so many stories that they do historical tours everyday of just the hotel.

From the hotel I walked mostly along the Malecon to old Havana, taking detours for street art and architecture. It wasn’t a long walk but I was dripping with sweat by the time I arrived.

I spent the rest of the day time hours walking around the old city revisiting streets and squares I have been to in the past.

Much of it was as I remembered but there were also new and refurbished buildings.

It’s such a touristy city but it still feels authentic. People live there and operate businesses. There was a new cool cafe that had opened, but next to it was still the same shack where locals paid a pittance to shoot bebe guns at beer cans.

I wandered aimlessly over that day and the next, taking time out to smoke cigars at the private room at the Partagas store and in At the La Casa in Miramar.

One of the best things that happened was walking through old Havana I heard loud Duke Ellington music and I thought, “That’s a place I need to be.” I figured it would be a bar or restaurant but when i found the door through which the blared I discovered that I had in fact walked in to a man’s humble living room.

He was older. 70 maybe. Sitting in a wooden chair in a pretty empty room next too a record player and a stack of records. I apologized a d said something about liking the music, but as I went to leave, he beckoned me in and pulled up a chair. He spoke no English and I speak only the most basic of Spanish but we hung out for the better part of an hour. He showed me his records – classic jazz and crooners. I played with his kitten and snapped my fingers along to Dexter Gordon. He played songs and I sung along to Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra. He put on an old Ray Charles album and got up to dance. He started twisting with enthusiasm. I felt suddenly awkward. Dancing with a stranger in his living room open to a busy pedestrian street is outside of my comfort zone, but I wasn’t going to sit there. That would be more awkward. So I danced. We danced for three songs and then I thanked him and left. It was a great experience. A brief connection.

I didn’t want to invade his hime by taking pictures of him, but I did take one of his kitten…and his foot.

I chilled out at my hotel in the evening, smoking cigars outside and in my room (just because I could). At about 11 pm I walked to the Fox and the Crow, nearby jazz bar and watched amazing jazz until nearly 1 am in an tiny underground bar.

And that was just one day.

The next day I did more of the same. Smoking, walking, reading, listing to buskers, drinking virgin piña coladas. It was perfect. I was actually happy to leave after two full days. I had what I wanted to do, soaked up the sun and the atmosphere; smoked more cigars than I can count. And then I was home.

I think that 2 days would not nearly be enough for a first visit to Havana, but for a second trip, for me, it was perfect. I’m sure I’ll go back for another two days of cuban cigar heaven.

Central America / Caribbean El Salvador

Walking in San Salvador after dark

The whole reason I am writing this post is because this is precisely the information I wanted before going to San Salvador but could not find.

I returned to my hotel after visiting the Ruta de los Flores around 5:00 pm and I had a little lay around the hotel, but then I was hungry and restless, so decided to go out. It was only maybe 8:00 pm, but it was dark.

The thing is, everything I read said that it was absolutely not safe to go out alone after dark in San Salvador, and if you must go out, take a taxi, even if it is just a few blocks. Furthermore, I read that the central area I was staying in was particularly dangerous. That just didn’t make sense to me. So, no one walks at night alone, ever? The sun goes down at 6:00 pm and the buses stop at 9:00. I had had to test this advice.

I left behind my my credit cards, my ID, and anything of value. I took a little cash, a cigar, a phone, and a lighter.

I left my hotel, the Hotel Villa Florencia Centro Historico, and walked more or less towards the main cathedral square. The streets were very quiet. Desolate. Everything was closed except for one supermarket. There were a few people still packing up their market wares, but it was quiet. A pedestrian here and there, the odd car, and buses on one street, but the street I walked on, so alive with bustle in the daylight, looked almost like an apocalyptic wasteland at night. But I didn’t feel unsafe. I was just very aware of the lack of people. Actually, that may not be accurate. It did feel potentially unsafe, but I was ok with it.

There was one spot where I walked through what was a narrow corridor of closed up market stalls on either side. In there it was very dark. On either side, solid walls metal security gates, and tarps overhead. I don’t love the dark and there was a lack of side exits, so when I approached that veritable tunnel, and I saw a young. Preppy looking guy head in before me, about 40 feet, i sped up so i could sort of walk with (behind) him. I did this because i felt it would be safer than walking solo.

I started to speed up, to catch up with him, and he sped up. I walked even faster and he broke into a run. I guess everybody was a bit uneasy about walking that area at night, but I was surprised (amused?) that in this instance I was the threatening force.

I did make it to the two squares by the theatre and cathedral. There, things were lively. People out for strolls and dinner, buskers, crowded pupusas stalls. It was nice. I had a bite and then walked back along the same, dark streets back to my hotel.

I did stop to take a few pictures in the square on my lousy cell phone.

I think it is probably fine to go walking after dark solo, but you definitely need to be aware of your surroundings. As usual, though, the hype about violence and crime far exceeds its presence.

Central America / Caribbean El Salvador

La Ruta de las Flores

On Sunday, day three in El Salvador, i was set to visit the Ruta de las Flores, a string of pretty towns in the mountains, surrounded by coffee farms. This was something one would need or more than a day to do on a bus, so i hired a driver and guide to take me the route. I am not one for tours, but a private car where I can control the pace and the itinerary somewhat is ok once in a while. The bonus was that I actually got a really good overview of El Salvador’s history, politics, economics…and I got to ask all of the questions that had been brewing for the past few day.

We left El Salvador early in the morning. As it turned out, the day I picked for my tour happened to be the annual day of the Ruta de las Flores, so in each town there was music, piñatas, firecrackers, food stalls, and other festivities. It was perfect.

Each town was lovely, but I didn’t feel like I needed to stay long than I did in each place. A visit to a market, a spin around a square, a trip to a church…each town had similar attributes, but each one had their own ‘thing’ also.

In Nahuizalco we visited the market and bought some guava juice and then added a powder made from pumpkin seeds with a but of salt, which we got from another vendor in the market. Pretty good. While drinking it, a flock of pre-teen girls slowly closed in around me until I was trapped in a circle of shy giggling. My guide said they were curious about my English and tattoos.

In Salcoatitan, we had pumpkin soaked in honey. In Juayúa we visited the plaza of the yucca, where the best yuccas in the country are sold (take that, second rate yuccas!). All along the way was beautiful green hills of coffee plants.

We had lunch of pupusas at a restaurant / coffee farm, where I got recruited to be in some commercial or tv spot. My job was to listen intently as a barista explained about different coffees, and then drink the coffees, looking pleased. I was made for this. I had espresso, cappuccino, chemex, and americano.

It was pouring rain, so i just took a quick walk in the garden where the most wonderful plants were growing.

From there, we visited the final town, Concepcion de Ataco, known for its colourful murals.

On this day though there was also a high school marching band competition, so we huddled in the rain and watched costumed teens play brass band instruments and engage in choreography on rocky, muddy ground in the rain. The weather did not dampen the enthusiasm of the crowd.

My guide helped me source out some local cigars, and we drove back to San Salvador. It was a pretty perfect day.

Central America / Caribbean El Salvador

Suchitito

Day two in El Salvador I discovered there was a tiny restaurant next to my hotel. Such a hole in the wall that I missed it every time I had walked by it previously. Good food though. Vegetarian options were lacking, but there WERE vegetarian options. Rice, beans, plantains, and coffee for about $1.50.

I had decided to go to Suchitoto. It is quite near San Salvador and looked pretty. I was going to take the bus. I can’t totally explain why I didn’t take the bus because I lack the Spanish language skills to understand. I took a taxi to the Terminal Oriente bus station, which seemed much farther than it should have been and when i got there, the bus station had a different name but people seemed to confirm I was in the right place, yet, there was no bus to Suchitoto. I didn’t relish trying to take another taxi to another bus station, so I took a taxi the whole way. The ride took about an hour and I paid $30. The driver got lost, but I got there eventually.

The drive was pretty, past verdant valleys and past cute little towns.

Suchitoto was so charming. All grassy cobbestoned streets with single storey building, painted bright colors set around a pretty and leafy square with a fountain, overlooked by a whitewashed church from the 1850s. No streetlights, nothing actually to suggest that it is the modern era, except an internet cafe (which, at best, suggests that it is 1998). It is definitely more of a tourist place. There were proper gifty crafty shops and a few couples took selfies in front of the church.

I walked a bit and then had coffee at Casa de la Abuela, which is a super cute cafe/shop/guest house. I chatted with the owner (the first person I have met here who speaks English). He told me that he was from Suchitoto, moved away, then moved back to raise his kids. He said it has a small town feel and is away from the gang and violence problems elsewhere. He also gave me a map and some suggestions.

Importantly, he told me about Victoria. Suchitoto used to be a cigar making town but after the revolution, he said, the cigar making stopped, except for Victoria, a 93 year old woman who still rolls cigars out of her home. He sold some at his shop (i bought all of them), but said I could go to her house. He drew a map and said i should go down this one street and look for the house “with a dog as white as snow.” So I guess I suddenly was on a quest from a fairy tale. I did walk to the street – twice – but I didn’t see a dog as white as snow. Just one as as tan as caramel and one black as coal. I did figure out which house it was (saw a pile of tobacco through a window), but no one was home…or she was hiding because a crazy girl with tattoos was creeping around her house.

I walked to the lake. It was about 20 minutes, down a steep hill past little farm houses. The lake was pretty with floating lilies and islands in the distance with cows grazing.

You can hire boats to take you to on little pleasure tours or to the different islands, but I was concerned about paying way too much to go solo and about being gone too long, so I just walked along the shore. I sensibly took a bus back up to the town. It was just me, the driver, and a man carrying a tiny puppy and about six medium sized fish strung together like a garland.

I had a cigar in the square and took a bus back to San Salvador.

Buses can make me nervous. Am I on the right one? How do I know when I am at my destination? This was pretty simple. It was a local bus – one of those old school buses repainted with bright colours and fitted with horns and spoiler. The ride was pretty good. I got a seat. No one carried fish. The ride took about 1 1/5 hours. When we got to the city I was a bit concerned about where to get off, but the I saw the yellow dome of the cathedral in the near distance, so i got off and snaked my way through blocks of market stalls and surrounding chaos.

I had a couple of pupusas at a pupuseria by the market. Pupusas are basically San Salvador’s national dish. Corn meal pancakes filled with cheese, beans, meat, pork fat, or whatever, fried, and served with pickled cabbage and spicy or mild tomato sauce. Pretty good. They are everywhere. I had two and a big bottle of water for $1.20.

I walked back to my hotel, where I am enjoying a cigar. Tomorrow I shall embark on the Ruta de las Flores.

Central America / Caribbean El Salvador

San Salvador, El Salvador

Canadian Thanksgiving was approaching and my magnanimous boss gave me an extra day off, resulting in a four day weekend. My new thing is: if I have the money and four days off, I’m going somewhere. I scoured the flights and the best deals were to be found in Central America. I decided El Salvador was my choice. It is small and has enough sites to see in four days, but is not a place that I have a strong desire to spend weeks in. And here I am in El Salvador on a Friday night, smoking a cigar on a patio at my hotel.

El Salvador suffers from a distinct lack of tourism. Travellers through Central America tend to skip it, due, likely, to its recent history of violence, gang activity, and instability. It was, for some time, the murder capital of the world (which is a terrible tourism slogan), but that honour has been lost to Mexico (though people still head thee is droves). El Salvador has a history of sad tourism marketing slogans that practically implore people to come here and those that do have inly good things to say. There are tropical forests, beaches, surfing, and an alarming number of volcanos to hike, but I’ll be sticking to cities and towns.

The only downside to my plan was that I vastly over estimated how much sleep i would get on my red-eye flight. Very little as it turned out and I have been exhausted today, though I still got out to look around.

Immigration was easy. You have to pay $10 for a visa, but there is no formality to it. Allegedly there are shuttles one can take from the airport to town for a small price, but there was no signage or information booth to assist. So I took a taxi. $30 (probably could have gotten it cheaper but fatigue diminishes my enthusiasm for haggling) and about 40 minutes through some beautiful, velvety green hills and then though urban areas with tangled traffic, coconut vendors, and scruffy buildings.

I am staying at the Villa Florencia Historico hotel which is just a 10 minute walk from the historic centre in a quiet university neighbourhood. The room is basic, but comfortable, the hotel is basically an old house and is quite cute. No hot water and no English, but I knew that going in and the price was right.

I walked to the Centre, down busy streets lined with market stalls selling rambutan and other fruits, juice, snacks, and an extraordinary amount of underpants and stretchy jeans. The stalls became an encompassing labyrinth but then gave way to three squares in close proximity. A couple of pretty churches, an attractive theatre, an empty palace for wandering.

The squares were filled with musicians, police, and locals. I saw only one other tourist. I was not able to be incognito. I’m not sure if it was the goth white skin or green eyes, but everyone knew I was a tourist. Thankfully, everyone was very friendly – as best I could tell. No one speaks more than a word or two of English.

I had a strawberry juice and some kind of fried disk piled with beans, radish, lettuce, tomato, cabbage, cheese, and hot sauce (2 for $1.10).

One of the most interesting things was the Iglesia El Roasario, a church built in 1971. From the outside it was unremarkable. While i was there, the name of the church was being scraped off from the concrete. The entrance was off a sketchy-looking side street.

But inside it was a kaleidoscope of rainbow colors. The exterior is covered in small slits filled with colored glass and the light that comes in fills the inside with glowing rainbows. The photos don’t really do it justice, but it was stunning.

I walked through a market with endless stalls of handicrafts and handmade sandals and hammocks. Everyone was very eager to sell, but I was only looking.

I walked and wandered and eventually made my way back to my hotel just in time for the darkness and the rain. I’m too tired to do anything this evening, but I have an early morning planned to take the bus to Suchitoto, so I’m ok with a restful evening.

There is certainly more one could see in San Salvador, but a day is plenty and the surrounding towns look charming.

Ok, I’m going to practice some Spanish. Buenos noches.

Central America / Caribbean Cuba

Our Woman in Havana

I was undecided about what to do with my final day in Havana. Obviously there would be walking, but i wanted some sort of loose destination. Musing over my morning cigar, i discovered that every Sunday afternoon there is an area with live rumba music. Good enough. Little did i then know that the destination would be even better than live music. I set off through Havana Vieja, past Parque Central, down Calle San Rafael for many blocks, until tourists thinned out and were replaced with local residents doing their daily activities. I tried not to be too obvious as i snapped photos.

I found my way to my destination – Callejon de Hamel – wondering where the live music would be and whether i would even be able to find it. It wasn’t hard. The short street, closed to cars, is lined, crammed, and towered by art. Graffiti, sculpture. Benches made from painted, repurposed bathtubs, courtyards filled with scrap metal totems, the sides of buildings covered with murals…even some art studios, open for visiting.

There were a couple of cafes/studios which were filled with an acceptable mix of locals and visitors. Most of the locals were afrocuban and spoke good English and were happy to tell me about this neighborhood, the artists, and the free programs for autistic and disabled children provided there. I had the local drink – a Negro (like a mojito but with basil instead of mint) – bought a couple of cds of rumba music and took in the sights.

At noon the bands started to play. All percussionists, singers, and dancers. All but one were women and they played the most infectious music. The crown pressed in and climbed up the sides of the buildings to get a prime view. I stayed until the rains started and then headed back to old Havana for an early dinner.

I did of course, stop off for a final cigar at the Partagas Factory VIP room.

What glory! Back in old Havana i found a restaurant that served pizza! Not the barely warm white bread covered with a whisper of sauce and tasteless white cheese that is ubiquitous in Havana, but actual crispy, chewy pizza with tasty sauce and four vegetables. It was great. I celebrated by having a glass of wine and pair of Ramon Allones robustos. I enjoyed a chat with a couple of local travellers from Germany and listened to some decent jazz from the band on the corner.

I have to say, the food has been better than i expected in Havana. Everyone told me that as a non-egg-eating vegetarian i would have nothing to eat, so i packed granola bars, almonds, and cranberries. True, there is not a great variety for vegetarians and the food is bland, but there is lots to eat.

When the evening came i went to the Hotel Inglaterra where, despite its gorgeous appearance has dismal service and drinks, i met with Stripes’ friend Rosalita. Rosalita had mentioned the other night some no-longer-in-production Limited Edition Cohibas she had a line on. Stripes was leaving but i agreed to meet up and get the coveted cigars. I felt like a drug buyer as a sat on the patio, trying to look casual as i stirred the sugar at the bottom of my watery mojito and eyed the crowd for Rosalita’s face, looking at my watch occasionally. The covert nature of the transaction was entirely necessary as Rosalita could spend years in prison for selling us the cigars, as could the person she bought them from. I smoked a comically large cigar, which did nothing to help the invisibility i was seeking. Finally she showed up, sat down, and ordered a beer. We chatted for a bit about tattoos and the availability of American music in Cuba before i asked, “Do you have the cigars?” She nodded and, just below table height, opened a satchel just enough for me to look in and take a deep whiff of the leathery, barn-yardy smelling cigars. I slid an envelope of money to her across the table. She passed me the satchel of cigars under the table. We finished our drinks, i declined a drive, and i made my final way home, finishing my cigar just as i put the key into the lock.

Havana has been a good trip. Not particularly different or exciting, but enjoyable and relaxing. The best part was the cigar culture and cigar experiences and having some friends there to share that with and to open doors to experiences that i would not otherwise have had. Oh, i decided to keep count of the cigars (not counting cigarillos) i smoked and coffees i drank – for no particular reason other than curiosity. 9 days, 31 coffees, 40 cigars. That adds up to a good trip.

Central America / Caribbean Cuba

Casablanca, Havana

Saturday morning in Havana started a bit late, due to the late night spent smoking in the park the night before. With Stripes and Noodles en route back to Canada, i was on my own. After my late breakfast i walked down to the water and caught a ferry across the water to Casablanca. By “ferry” i mean a simple, standing room only open sided boat that takes people across for a fee (half a peso). The ride was pleasant and gave nice views of the old city across the water. It was all locals on the boat, except for me and one guy from Chicago, with whom i chatted on the way.

On the other side, for being so close, Casablanca had a slightly different feel, a little less precious, quieter. I walked up a hill toward the giant statue of (surprisingly) Jesus on the hill.

And from there down a pleasant road bordered by attractive army buildings and rockets, missiles, and planes on display. I paid to go into the fort – the one that is always visible across the water from Havana.

The fort wasn’t very interesting really, but the views and breeze were nice. After a bit though i was satisfied that no sight was left unseen and i boated back across. This time the fare was twice as much but i didn’t care enough to complain.

After a great nap, i decided to visit the bars on my street (Calle Brasil) that i had not yet visited. I went to a couple of cool ones that played rock music and featured abstract black and white photography or showed awesome adult cartoons on TVs. I had a mojito (i don’t actually like mojitos, but i don’t drink beer and mojitos are cheap and seem Cuba appropriate) and a plate of yummy olives, cheese, bread. These bars were cool and not just Havana cool; they would be awesome haunts anywhere.

I also stopped on a block unlit by street lamps and filled with off duty bicycle taxi drivers and avocado sellers and watched people in a small store, leaning on a counter and shooting bebe guns at rows of empty soda cans on the back wall. There didn’t appear to be any prizes, just the fun of shooting things. I waited around for a turn, but the men shooting had no interest in giving up their guns, so i wandered down to the Plaza De San Francisco for a virgin Piña Colada and cigar on the square and watched the throngs hanging out in the cooling air.
(You would think i might be tired of cigars in plazas by now, but I’m not even close.)

Wandering North

Category: Central America / Caribbean

El Chorrillo

Panama Canal

Panama Bound

Weekend in Havana

Walking in San Salvador after dark

La Ruta de las Flores

Suchitito

San Salvador, El Salvador

Our Woman in Havana

Casablanca, Havana