Cuba
The author took temporary leave of this country for a holiday in Cuba, or as John Lydon succincty put it, “cheap holidays in other people’s misery”. And boy, was he right!
Tourism is Cuba’s second largest income generator, after selling its doctors, nurses and teachers to other countries for two years at a time! The tourist area of Cuba was as you would expect any resort to be. Clean, tidy, very well staffed and excellent value for money. The sea and sky were both blue, and both hot, and everyone had a wonderful time lying on their sunbeds sipping all inclusive pina coladas and tequila sunrises and going very brown.
When we visited three cities, on an approved tour (and all tours have to be approved, needless to say) we saw the country as it really is – a poor repressed communist state that keeps its people in abject living conditions. In the villages we drove through, in our air conditioned tourist bus, were populated by shoeless children and adults dressed in rags living in shanty town accommodation. The average wage is 200 pesos, or about £10 per month! Tourists have their own currency, Convertible Pesos, which are worth 25 times a Cuban peso, so it’s no wonder the people were desperate for tourist pesos. We left our maid a 5 peso tip, about £2.50, before we realised that this was the equivalent of over a week’s wages. Guilt didn’t come into it. Most Brits left gifts of clothes, cosmetics, jewellery toiletries etc, as Cuban shops do not have such luxury items. All Cubans are given food ration books on a monthly basis (which lasts the average family three weeks!) and have free education and healthcare. And with one doctor per 250 head of population, that ain’t bad!
But if you’re one of the proletariat you can’t buy a car unless it was manufactured BC – Before Castro, or pre 1959. So you’ve got to find someone willing to sell a car, cos there’s no such thing as a second hand car market – it’s dead man’s shoes.
Which is why there are so many 50′s Chevvys and Buicks belching out black smoke and riddled with bullet holes! The most common sight on the roads of Cuba? A broken down American car with a pool of water emanating from the radiator, surrounded by a gaggle of Cubans all attempting to mend the damn thing! Don’t believe the photos of Havana in all its American car restored glory. It’s a hole, though it is getting better, but the people are repressed and poor.
However, the human spirit is resiliant, and we saw the beginnings of progress under Fidel’s brother, Raoul, who has introduced cutting edge philosophies such as doctors earning more than dustmen, and farmers being allowed to sell a percentage of their crops.
Public transport is fun, to say the least (not that we were allowed to travel on it) If a vehicle has a blue number plate it belongs to the Government. 70% of vehicles in Cuba have blue number plates. If a person in a mustard uniform flags you down at a crossroads, and there is someone going to the same place as you, you have to give them a lift. No argument. Which is why we saw lorries loaded with adults and children wherever we went, and crossroads crowded with people! It’s a strange system, it sort of works, but it’s a bit Heath Robinson!
And what’s with the French Canadians? They’re so rude and arrogant! It’s like they can’t decide if they’re going to be French or American, and so have created a monster hybrid of all that’s (allegedly) bad about both races!!! Pushy, arrogant and demanding, constantly moaning about EVERYTHING, and I mean that sincerely. The beach was too far to walk, you had to get there at 7am to get a sunbed, the Cubans were lazy, the rooms were too hot or too cold, the drinks were too small, they had to be served NOW! They thought that handing over money was enough to get them anything, but it wasn’t always the case, I’m glad to say. Dignity prevailed with some of the more experienced staff. The Cuban hotel workers, bless their little cotton socks, smiled and got on with it, but you could tell that they just hated them!
Did I enjoy it? Yes, overall, because it was relaxing and I got to see the underbelly of communism, which just isn’t working.
A wise head once said to me that if a man wasn’t a communist before he was 21, and he was after, then he wasn’t a proper man. And you know what? I think he might just have been right!
