Finally, I can post my Cuba blog entries!

Barely 200 kilometres apart, Cancun and Havana showcase the extremes of economics. Cancun’s glistening malls and hotels lining a thin stripe of man-made beach are a shrine to capitalism. And dilapidated Havana, well… the result of a communist revolution, nationalised industries, a Soviet love affair and subsequent economic crash, the effects of which are still evidently being felt.

For some reason, we were singled out of the arrivals queue at the airport and had our passports taken away. A customs official then “interviewed” us about the reason for our trip, how much money we had, how many credit cards, our occupations and where we worked.

By the time our passports were eventually handed back, we were a little distracted and neglected to exchange money at the airport and didn’t realise until we were being shunted into an overpriced taxi – for which we paid in $US at a ridiculous exchange rate.

Havana isn’t much to look at in some respects, but you can’t judge this book by its cover. The grand colonial buildings in its old quarter are beginning to be propped up, restored and freshly painted, but a large part of the rest of town is simply falling down. We strolled past dilapidated tenements supported by jagged timber beams, crumbling facades, caved in roofs and boarded up windows with broken shutters.

I don’t think I was quite prepared for the state of disrepair this once stately capital has fallen into. Many “shops” are in reality the front room of houses, with makeshift counters placed in front of the half-opened doors. They are run by people looking to supplement meagre incomes. Others are state-controlled, with products on half-empty shelves stashed behind counters.

Cruising the streets downtown, the impact of the US embargo on Cuba is immediately noticeable. Or is it the lingering effects of Cuba’s 1991 economic collapse after the breakup of the Soviet Union? From the roads, to the cars, to the curious dark holes in the walls that seem to pass for shops, everything looked to have been frozen in time.

Havana’s rustic appearance is at the same time charming, and while a good chunk of its buildings are undoubtedly condemnable, they endow the city with unshakeable character. Its 50s-style American cars, the last of which were imported before the 1959 revolution, are enchanting. Some are complete rust-buckets, spew out clouds of black smoke, and have been tinkered within an inch of their lives, but others are lovingly restored, all polished chrome and freshly painted.

The bare-shelved dimly lit shops are not exactly up to much, but at the same time it is refreshing to be in a country that is totally devoid of American influence, especially after spending time in Mexico. Gone are the fast-food joints, big brands, the drive-in malls and the constant in-your-face advertising. There is no urge to own the biggest TV, the newest car, the nicest home. You can’t keep up with the Joneses because they don’t live here.

In Cuba, everyone's a mechanic

We have travelled in communist countries before, and are aware of the unique situations and absurdities in which travellers find themselves, but nothing quite prepared us for Cuba. Money has been the trickiest aspect of our visit thus far

Cuba’s dual currencies are very confusing. There is a big push for tourists to use convertible pesos, the hard currency that can be exchanged for foreign currencies, but it makes everything more expensive than using the local currency, called moneda nacional.

Sometimes you walk into a restaurant thinking you will pay in MN and they hand you a “convertible pesos” menu. When you pay in CUC they give you change in MN but rip you off on the exchange rate. Worse, both currencies are called pesos and both have the same $ sign symbol.

I didn’t think rocking up with no Cuban pesos would be a problem – I could just cruise over to the nearest ATM and withdraw cash, right? It turns out that ATMs only work when banks are open, after which the phone lines are switched off – at 3:30pm. It was 5pm by this point, and fortunately the kind owner of the guesthouse where we stayed lent us some money until the next day.

When we went to the bank, we discovered that my mastercard would not work because it is a brand owned by GE, one of the US’ biggest companies. Cards issued by US banks are not accepted in Cuba.

The bank had strict protocol. Only one of us was allowed to visit the teller. For each transaction you had to sign at least three different receipts, including each time my card was declined. Then I had to sign to say the transaction went through and again to say I had received the money. The teller counted the bills manually, then put them through a money counter, then counted them out manually in front of me.

Before I could touch the bills, she gathered up all the receipts, my card and my passport and called out “signature check!” She handled the bundle to a colleague who sat down at a separate desk and analysed all of my signatures for a few minutes. Only then did she hand over the cash!

Using the internet is another logistical headache. Its only available at the state-run telephone company offices or at some hotels. You buy a card that gives you an access password and an hour’s worth of usage, costing between $6-10.

We discovered the hard way that cards purchased at hotels cannot be used at the telephone offices or even at other hotels. After two weeks we had probably spent $25 on ridiculously slow internet, allowing us to check emails a couple of times and book a hotel room. Hence the 3-week hiatus in publishing these blog entries!