My Spanish teacher arrives punctually at 9am. He tells me that he speaks Portuguese and fluent English, but the lessons will only be in Spanish. Within a few minutes I am conjugating verbs and trying to remember what I have just learned.
During a break a few hours later, I ask him about life in Cuba. He tells me he is lucky, because he also has Portuguese citizenship, so he has many more freedoms than many Cubans. Life is still tough, with many limitations, but he is able to travel and has a car and is hoping that one day he may even be able to buy his own place. This is not possible for Cubans, but there is a growing collective awareness that change can and must happen in Cuba.
The State provides basic health care and education for all its citizens. University education is also possible, but then you must work for the government for a number of years when you graduate.
The problem is that wages are extremely low, and locals must queue for many services. Very little choice is available in local shops. Each sells just a few products and many things we take for granted are just not available. I went to one of the only “department stores” to try to find some shoes as my only ballet pumps are in a sorry state from all the walking I have been doing. Each “store” within the complex had just a few items and the doors were locked so you only a few people could enter at the time.
The supermarket had very limited stock –interestingly you can buy Barilla pasta and Vietnamese crackers everywhere, so it is evident which countries Cuba trades with. I buy 2 tins of tuna, 2 packets of crackers, I small jar of olives and some strange cereal product from Vietnam and I hand over nearly 20 USD!
Later I stand for 45 minutes in a queue to change some CUC into local Pesos as this is the only currency you can use in local transport and markets-it is very confusing let me tell you. 1 CUC (similar to 1 USD) is worth about 25 pesos. I was supposed to pay 10 pesos to get to the dance studio in the local collective taxi- 6 people pile into one of the old rusty cars that then leave a cloud of pollution in their wake, but I ended up paying 5 CUC by mistake.
Just to give you an idea, a doctor in Havana earns 400 pesos/20CUC per month. It costs about 100 pesos a week just to survive with groceries and basic utility costs, so life here for many people is not easy.
After being overwhelmed by my first Spanish lesson, (my understanding is much better than my speaking and pronunciation) I come away with some homework and some basic rules- j is pronounced h, ll is pronounced y, v is pronounced b, and g is pronounced h. I realise that in some was my “advantage” of speaking Italian is a disadvantage as I have to unlearn many things I know, and to be fair I have been trying to speak French for the last week as well, so my poor brain cells are pretty overloaded!
Ulrike is Swedish and is staying upstairs at another casa particulares. She has been here a week and I am glad she will accompany me to my first movimento and salsa lesson.
Elizabeth is the movimento teacher, a classically trained ballerina she looks much younger than her fifty years. It’s her job to help us loosen our hips and shoulders and get us to move each bit independently, an important factor if you are to master the fluid Cuban salsa style. Fat chance! Try as I might, my hips and shoulders refuse to work independently, but Elizabeth is very encouraging and gets me to sit in a chair, so I am forced to keep my hips still. She says it is normal for non Cubans to have difficulty isolating these areas.
An hour later I am exhausted and my body does not feel like it will ever get the movements right, but I have had fun and am sweating profusely after a good work out!
Another much more serious older female teacher comes to teach us salsa. 2 male teachers join her and will be our individual partners. Louiz my partner is a great dancer, and generous with his compliments. He flirts openly with me, and I tell him I am married. He confesses to having 3 children and being out of work, and continues to flirt!
For my over fifty female friends who have complained of feeling invisible, (and I know what you mean) come to Cuba. Here it is not uncommon to be complimented just walking down the street in the middle of the day. So far I have not experienced any sleazy or offensive comments or behaviour. I’ve been trying out my limited Spanish at every opportunity and people (men and women) have been friendly and helpful.
After the lesson, Ulrike and I catch a bici ( a type of tricycle) operated by a very savvy young business woman, who senses we are exhausted and happy to pay any price to get back to our accommodation, and we are!
As I step towards the bici the pavement gives way and I almost end up in a manhole. Luckily I manage to avoid falling in and more importantly injuring myself. It would have been a pretty sad thing to happen on the first day of my salsa course.
I am so tired that I can barely muster the energy to find a place to eat, but Gustavo suggests a restaurant within walking distance, and I have a grilled pescado (fish) before heading home. It is so hot that I have a cold shower and decide I will not go out as planned. I eventually fall asleep listening to the neighbourhood sounds and the whirr of the ceiling fan above my bed.
Breakfast the next morning, I encourage Gustavo to sit with me so I can practice my Spanish, then I head to the Central Parque Hotel to access the internet. Gustavo has told me it has a roof top pool, so I make my way there and pretend to be a guest. A very astute Rene catches me out but kindly lest me stay. So I practice my Spanish and have a swim in a 5 star hotel and then check my emails and upload some photos in the comfort of their air conditioned lounge.
A young man from Guyana and his Mexican girlfriend who tell me that they fell in love while studying (teaching Physical Education) at a local University and are about to graduate ask me about my computer. We end up chatting for ages and it turns out Elizabet’s family owns a restaurant in Oaxaca Mexico, which is a market town that I am intending to visit. It is one of the joys of travelling solo to be available to talk to people and each interaction offers possibilities.
I decide to walk into the town and I come across the hotel where Hemingway stayed and a trio of feisty cigar smoking Octogenarians who are performing for tips from tourists. I tip them and practice my Spanish. One of the trio speaks English fluently. She tells me that she graduated from University and teaches languages but is forced to “work” again with her friends trying to encourage tourists to give them tips because life in Cuba is tough. She confides that her friend is 90 years old and actually doesn’t smoke cigars normally. It is just a way of earning money.
I find my way to Plaza Veije. It is a huge square which has been renovated and is surrounded by businesses catering to the tourists. From there I walk through a local area. Every now and then I stop to listen to music that is playing in the apartments above the street or watch young children playing in the street and locals going home from work.
When I find my way back to the Capitolio I look for another restaurant Gustavo has recommended. Hidden up three flights of stairs in a nondescript building, I find it. Nardos. There are 3 levels. The first is apparently romantic, candles on the table and soft lighting, the second, serves exactly the same food but is cheaper, frequented by locals and tourists in the know, and the 3rd is an Italian restaurant which is known for its pasta and pizzas.
I walk up to the second floor and have a (huge) grilled fish and glass of red wine. The bill is 5 CUC, the cheapest and nicest meal I have had to date.
Tomorrow I am going to catch a local bus and check out what is supposed to be the nicest beach around.
For now, I will stroll back to “me casa”
A presto Mon x
No comments:
Post a Comment