Economics With A Face

Em and I had breakfast and afterwards headed out together. Over at the Malecon the waves were crashing onto the sidewalk. Cuban children played a game of chicken with the waves by sitting on the ledge and waiting for them to crash. One huge wave almost sucked two kids over, but they maintained their balance and quickly retreated across the road soaking wet. Soon the police were there and cleared the area.

Em and I kept walking and soon it was pouring rain and we were the only people walking outside on the street. I started to get worried about lightening, which was crashing in the distance, so we made our way towards Havana Vieja and the Plaza de Armas. Along the way we were approached by a man that warned us to walk in the middle of the road as the old balconies were prone to fall with all the rain.

We headed back towards the Capitolio, and then decided to do a u-turn and head back to take a look at the Cathedral in old Havana. Once there we watched a band of old men play some classic Cuban tunes and decided to sit down for a coffee. As we sipped our drinks we saw the Swedish couple from the airport, Josephin and Calle, crossing the plaza. We signaled to them and they came over and sat down.

We immediately hit it off and realized that we had both had been in similar situations with young Cuban men and cuba libres. Jineteros they are called. It also seems it wasn’t uncommon judging from the other stories they had heard. Eventually, we all headed towards our hotels after many drinks and lots of conversation over a few hours.

A few blocks down from the Cathedral, right in the middle of the alley that Emily and I had just walked up, a large piece of a balcony had indeed fallen. If someone would have been standing there they would have no doubt been killed, but luckily it had fallen without harming anyone.

At this point it was getting late and we were getting hungry. They suggested a restaurant in Chinatown near their hotel that sounded interesting. After a quick stop at their hotel we made our way to there, but while there were people all around the restaurants, none seemed to be open. A few had long lines of Cubans in front of them who appeared to be waiting for the doors to open, while at others small boxes of food were being handed out. I asked someone inside if the restaurants were open for tourists, and they replied not today but tomorrow they would be. I’m still not sure if this was specifically for hurricane relief or if it was people simply picking up their normal monthly rations.

So we continued walking around town and eventually just ended up back at the Swedes´ hotel for a great chicken meal, which was a better deal than anything we had found in paladares or other hotels. The electricity had been down for most of the day and so food availability was scarce. After dinner we headed out to see if we could find a salsa club where the girls could dance and Calle and I could have another beer. The one we found turned into a karaoke bar of all things shortly after we entered. We watched for a little while, but karaoke is just not as much fun when you don’t know the songs and the singing was horrible so we eventually headed out. In the end we decided to call it a night and all headed back to our hotels.

A few blocks from our hotel, several police charged down the street to our side and raced towards the outside of a bar. By the time we passed them a young man was in handcuffs and a young woman was being escorted away by the police. A few days earlier I might have been afraid to openly watch the scene, but at this point I realized that as tourists we were a protected class.

The way the police in the country worked reminded me of how I envisioned a fascist state. There are police in uniform on nearly every corner, you suspect that there are a few more undercover not too far away, and since the laws are ambiguous and randomly enforced there is always a slight chance that Cubans could get arrested at any time for a trivial offence. Still, they seem to adapt to it the best they can and go on with their everyday lives, making Havana for the most part look like a normal city.

(All the names of Cubans in these posts have been changed as a precautionary measure)