checked off

-visited the Revolution Square
-knocked on the grave of La Milagrossa
-taken a ride in a 1950 Buick (likely with a tractor engine)
-drank a Mijoto
-got lost in Vedado
-rode the only electric train in Cuba
-haggled and had a trip on a bici-taxi
-walked Calle 23
-did not drink in one of Hemigway's many drinking spots
-had a coffee with a local in a peso bar
-washed my clothes by hand
-cut the legs off my pants
-cut the sleeves off my top
-got a sunburn
-got shortchanged
-ate the local cuisine of grilled fish, rice and beans, cabbage and papaya juice
and
-bought a souveneir that was not Che related

bird song

Someone, every day, opens the window and steps out onto a ledge that overhangs the street of the green building across the street from my Casa. They hang a little rusty bird cage on a nail. A pretty little songbird flutters inside, but outside. Fresh air and a cool breeze is readily available. Someone gives the little bird a bit of food and water everyday. No need to fight, for this little bird. It can sit on it's perch and sing, happily, as long as the day is bright.

I see this birdcage every day and see an ornate antique cage. It's rusted bars contrasting against the tranquile tourqoise green. The little bird inside must be teased relentlessly with the freedom just on the other side. The other birds that swoop, flutter and perch at will, wherever they please.

Today I met a couple in their 60's. They asked me if I was Norweigan or Dutch. We had a friendly conversation and I asked them where they were from and they laughed and told me they were from Havana. With shared English skills we chatted and strolled and they told me their story over lunch. They told me of life in Cuba. Of their careers as an accountant and a secretary. He told me of how he lost his job for making a remark in the street against the goverment and how it was overheard. The told me of the ration card and the average salary. I was startled to learn that I had without a thought, spent a months salary in a day wandering around Havana.

I bought them lunch and slipped 40 Peso Convertables into his pocket. I told them I was very lucky to have such a good job and with opportunity. I told them I was lucky to be so free to travel and see this beautiful city that reminded me so much of places like Paris, Barcelona, New Orleans and a bit of Marrakesh thrown in. I told him I was grateful that no one cared whether or not I liked the goverment or voted. I told them the day of conversation, of sharing and their company was a great gift.

They walked me back to my casa and I pointed out the little birdcage hanging from a nail high up on a wall and I saw that they too have the cool breeze and fresh air available to them, that they are provided with food and shelter, but they too are caged and not free as they should be to sing their heart's song. Alberto and Teresita, still, manage to be heard.

I am privledged and happy, I hope, to count myself among their friends.

Hershey Train

HersheyTrain, originally uploaded by BikeTrip.

adventure to Hersey

The train rolls into Casablanca late and to cheers of dusty and sweaty travellers. The man with a wrench cuts rusty wire and climbs onto the top. The trolley is broken- again. We wait. He hammers the trolley and attaches more wire. I take photos while we wait. A young man in a white shirt, old Frank Sinatra hat tipped to the front, watches me from behind his newspaper. He later gets off in a small ramshakle town and shuffles he black dress shoes in the dust.

Aboard to dusty and worn green velvet seats and broken windows, the same from 1917, I'm sure. We roll off into unknown places, slowly at first then picking up speed. This train is a death trap on rails and I wonder what I have goten myself into. It bounces and swerves. Resigned to my 3 peso fate, my head whips from side to side, my shoulder slams into the window at the train's velocity. It courses down on it's predetermined destiny of Mantanzas.

As I watch out the window at the Cuban countryside of wind wipped palms, dried grasses and tinshack farm houses, I notice something dark, large and unusual. It's a cow. It's falling down the ditch. Fallen when I focus my eyes against the distance. It's legs straight up, head twisted- one eye looking. We pass, but only to stop a short distance and then back up. Passengers crane their necks out the windows and doors swish open. The train hit the cow and we backed up to make sure of something. Not sure what as no one got out and helped the cow up.

When we arrived in Hershey- the site, I presume of a chocolate factory, I figured that maybe this train adventure was a bit too much. It would be another 2 hrs to Mantanzas and I had no water or food. I got off and sat down and pondered my fate in Hershey. As the train rumbled away, I wondered still what sort of adventure I had gotten myself into. The return train to Havana wouldn't be for 2 hrs.

He sat down with his translation book and spoke a little english. I waved to the other with the tattoo and motioned to mine. The 3 of us became an unoffical pack for the day. One who spoke a little, one who spoke none and a book. I wondered what the day had in store. We walked across the street and bought fresca limonada served in cut off beer bottles. We walked through Hershey and they pointed out the broken factory, the old hotel from 1920 that was near demolished, the police station. We went to a market and bought a pineapple and with a pocket knife cut peices for one another and washed our hands with bottled water. I said Ola! to everyone who passed and they laughed. We laughed.

I took photos of the beautiful and decrepet stately houses, left over from the chocolate boom. Photos of the horse cart taxi's and chickens in the street. I tried to bribe 3 girls with a peso for a photo but they went running away laughing. We bought breadsticks from a vendor and sweets from another. Laughing, I said the nonesense phrases in the Language book, "Does Hershey have a bullring?" "Does Hershey have a recycling program?" and I helped them learn the months of the year in English.

These 2 waited until the train arrived. It had to wait as another train on the track was broken. I made origami birds from ripped out pages from Lonely Planet Cuba and gave them to the little girls on the train. I folded origami boxes and made everyone laugh when I blew them up. They waited and entertained me for a long time and then both gave me a kiss when the train was leaving and we exchanged adios.

Now dark, the Hershey Electric Train rumbled, bounced, careened and crackled into the night. Large electric flashes from the working trolley flashed bright green and illumanated the scenery for a moment almost as brightly as my 2 compadras during the day.

taking the Hersey electric train

Today Iamleaving Havana Veija and crossing an inlet to Casablanca. There, is the only electric train in Cuba. In 1917 the Hershey Chocolate Company built this line to Matanzas. Apparently it stops at every pit stop along the way. I'm hoping it will create a breeze. And I'm hoping I won't get lost.

Like last night. I started walking and walkingand the next thing I knew I was in sketchy sketcheramaand it was dark and everywhere I looked it got darker and darker, weirder and weirder. I put my camera away. There are these bicyle taxis everywhere. I found one and 5 pesos later I was back at Hotel Florida (of which I can't help but pronounce it Flo-RI-da. Look it up. It was a Hemingway favorite.

Other observations:

The elevator in my building goesout of commision for certain hours of the day. It is a rickety thing and there is a crumbling cement gap between the floor and the elevator on the first floor. It jerks to a start and slammsto a stop on your desired floor. Yesterday it didn't want to stop and sort of jerked between floors. I was slightly drunk from Mohitos and didn'tseemto mind but fretted that I might sweat to death in it's chamnber. Maybe I should walk up the steap narrow stairwell instead??

Off in the distance someone is playing The Beatles "Yesterday" on oboe. The big hotel are cool oasis with internet and cheezy music.

Off for the Hersey Train!

xoxo
Jill

veija

DSC03938, originally uploaded by Simon 2000.

At the end of the day I see these cars belching caustic fumes, rolling down the slick ashphalt streets packed with Cubans like salty sardines in a blue tin can. Transportation is dismal. If there are buses, there are no route maps. They are inevitably packed if you see one, or the bus stop has 50 people waving bits of paper in their faces in effort to create a breeze.

It's hot.

And the women wear the tighest clothes. Only tourists are in gauzy coton skirts. I packed foolishly. I will not wear the jeans and sweater I packed for Toronto. You sweat geting dressed. I will likely wash out and wear everyday my cotton cargo shorts and my 2 coton tops.

The food is meat and bread focused. Anyone who says you will find times of no food is mistaken. You can get food everywhere and all hours. There are even ber vending machines on the street. It's hard to find vegetables. Salad is cabbage and carrot. Probably because they last the longest in the heat. I did have a cheese platter in hopes of Cuban cheese, but it was cheddar, edam, and parmesan. The bread was slightly toasted and stale. The lemondade was real.

No one sems to have a decent coffee.

All the music is slight cuban versions of bad lounge music. Barry Manilow type stuff. No Gypsy Kings yet, thank god. Buena Vista Social Club is closed.

BTW- this is not my photo, but I have sen this frame- old car, many cubans investigating. Another day and it's impossible to take a bad photo.

Habana

Habana - Cuba 17, originally uploaded by Helio Rocha.

Umm. she sits here and sells Cuba to the tourists. Today she is all in red. Mmn. I will watch and see what she is wearing tomorrow.

I look forward to showing my own photos. I have found it is difficult to take a bad one.

Having lots of fun on my 1st day in Havana. It's very beautiful, lovely and hot.

Habana

All is well in Havana.

Strange and wonderful, old, hot, busy, crumbling and lively.

Last night I got on my flight and I wish it hadn't have been in the middle of the night or the view from the window would have been more spectacular.

Observations of last night:

-was photographed coming into the country
-pass through security and xray of luggage coming in to Cuba
-woman standing next to me at the luggage carousel was smoking
-everyone wanted to be my cab driver
-the cab ride from the airport was fast
-lots of car stopped on the side of the road
-people standing around along side the road
-this was at 2:30 am??
-saw buses full of people going places
-lost 20 pesos somewhere between money exchange and counting money on casa bed

My Casa Particulare or room in a private home is very nice. Only a top sheet and another sheet on the bed and 2 pillow. You don't need anything else. It's hot. Very hot.

My host was very pleased when I gave her a giant slab of soap. I was asked for soap when talking to someone. Apparently it is hard to get?

My Casa is on Calle Obispo. A very busy and lively street in Old Havana.

More observations:

-lots of selling Cuba to the tourists
-someone dressed up as Che, another woman in traditional costume smoking cigars.
-small bottle of water 5 pesos, a few blocks a way- 1 litre is 1.50
-lots of small stray dogs. Some of them look dead just laying on the ground. I feel sorry for them.
-it's impossible to take a bad photo.
-lots of old fords just like you hear.
-the big hotels are havans of coolness and luxury.
-found one with this Internet access and the whole lobby and entrance is beautifully tiled.

Everything is well. It's lovely and I'm having a great time. I feel safe, but sweaty.

xoxo
Jill

bliss

bliss, originally uploaded by jill y.

chelsea garden

chelsea garden, originally uploaded by jill y.

Good news for the Chelsea Hotel. The oppressive and diabolical management staff that ousted long time manager, Stanley Bard has been fired.

Bard is largely responsible for fostering the bohemian spirit of the Chelsea- long allowing people to defer rent payments to art. He turned an eye to the rock musicians, drunkard authors and creative spirits and let them roam free through the halls and gilded banisters.

I hope he get's his job back.

Good news!!