Cuba: The lure of a forbidden land

Cuba: The lure of a forbidden land

By Rosemary McClure
Los Angeles Times

HAVANA — American visitor Rev. John Bakas roamed the cobblestone streets
of Old Havana, ate beans and rice at an outdoor cafe, and led vesper
services at a Greek Orthodox church.

At the same time, Kim Zimmerman, a pediatrician on her first trip to
Cuba, was visiting the capital with a group of health-care workers on a
tour designed by Global Exchange, a San Francisco human-rights
organization. She watched young dancers in folk costumes swirl across a
makeshift dance floor at a hospital for children with Down syndrome,
then joined them for a few moments, earning hugs and smiles from the troupe.

Bakas and Zimmerman, who traveled to Cuba from their California homes in
November, were among an estimated 40,000 U.S. residents who visited the
off-limits island last year. Despite tough new sanctions from the Bush
administration, which opposes President Fidel Castro's regime and
prohibits most Americans from visiting, about 2 million tourists
traveled to Cuba in 2005. Most were from Canada and Europe, but U.S.
citizens went, too.

Some, such as Bakas and Zimmerman, visited legally on authorized tours,
but many did not, defying U.S. regulations by flying to Havana from
Canada, Jamaica, the Bahamas or Mexico.

Regardless of how they arrive, most tourists are drawn by Cuba's
mystique. It is an intoxicating destination for travelers, a place of
fine rum and cigars; sugary-white Caribbean beaches; friendly people;
1950s kitsch; potent music and dance; and a wealth of Spanish Colonial
architecture.

Once a U.S. playground, Cuba has been forbidden fruit for its giant
neighbor to the north since the U.S. trade embargo began more than four
decades ago. For some, that makes it all the more inviting.

When I visited in November — journalists are allowed to travel to Cuba —
I interviewed tourists who were there legally and some who traveled
there without U.S. permission.

"I think everyone who really wants to go [to Cuba] finds a way to get
there," said a Los Angeles woman who visited Havana last summer,
entering by way of Mexico.

Stepping into the past

The Havana of long ago isn't hard to find. I needed only to step outside
Jose Marti International Airport to vault backward in time. Old
Studebakers, DeSotos and Oldsmobiles were everywhere, their horns
honking and black smoke belching.

In town, the 75-year-old Hotel Nacional, onetime host to notables such
as Winston Churchill and Frank Sinatra, overlooked the blue waters of
the Straits of Florida in serene elegance. And down along the 7.5-mile
seafront boulevard — the Malecon — couples embraced or strolled arm-in-arm.

As my week in Cuba unfolded, I explored Havana on foot and by pedicab,
horse-drawn carriage and taxi.

The city swept by in indelible images: live chickens being hawked by
habaneros; front-stoop musicians jamming for their neighbors; young
ballerinas practicing pirouettes in a storefront studio; newlyweds
smiling broadly as they rolled down the Malecon atop a gleaming '52
Chevy convertible.

I found the people of Havana to be good-humored, sharing jokes and
stories about life in a communist regime. "Havana has 2 million people,"
one man told me, "and 1 million police."

Old Havana

Like most tourists, I stayed in Old Havana, La Habana Vieja, the
historical core that was founded in 1514.

Old Havana is a warren of narrow cobblestone avenues lined with Baroque
buildings that have changed little since the 17th and 18th centuries.
One of my first stops was the fifth-floor room at the Hotel Ambos Mundos
where Ernest Hemingway worked on his 1940 novel "For Whom the Bell Tolls."

My self-guided walking tour continued to Plaza de Armas, the city's
oldest square, a beautifully landscaped park where booksellers barter
with tourists and residents. Restoration is a word used often in La
Habana Vieja. During the past decade, charming hotels, cafes and shops
have emerged from the disheveled ruins of once-beautiful mansions. Yet
Havana is rife with imperfections: Sewage runs in the streets; water
pipes won't work; abandoned structures, some converted into slum
housing, collapse overnight.

Castro's consequences

When Castro's rebel army won in 1959, throwing out a dictator and
bringing him to power, life changed irreversibly for the Cuban people;
it changed again in 1990 when the Soviet Union departed, taking its
financial subsidies with it.

Cubans have little cash — incomes range from $10 to $18 a month — and
supplies are hard to come by. A ration system allows each person eight
eggs, 6 pounds of rice, 3 pounds of beans and 2 pounds of sugar monthly.
But Cubans have universal health care and an effective education system.

Despite the economic hardships, residents have a contagious energy and
enthusiasm. They savor life, are warm to visitors and are passionate
about their homeland.

After Havana, I went west, away from the heavy pollution and crowded
streets. A multi-lane road took me into Pinar del Rio province, past
tobacco plantations, verdant grasslands and farmers tilling
ocher-colored fields with teams of oxen.

The highway itself offered entertainment: Billboards bore revolutionary
sayings and advice; hawkers stood at the side of the road selling
cheese, grilled chickens and live turkeys; groups of hitchhikers hid
from the tropical heat under overpasses.

Varadero, about 100 miles east of Havana, draws many Canadians and
Europeans to its surfside hotels. It's a magnet for budget travelers.
Canadians can purchase a weeklong, all-inclusive vacation for $700,
including airfare. More than 600,000 arrived last year.

Cuba continues to expand tourist facilities, planning new resorts and
encouraging foreign investment in hopes of luring more Canadian,
European and Latin American tourists. But the big plum is just next door.

"The highest spenders are Americans," said Miguel Alejandro Figueras, a
Cuban tourism official. "We want them to come. We think they want to come."

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/traveloutdoors/2002792962_cuba12.html