Cuba Libre Redux – Waking Up to Reality

I awoke confused.  Some of you might posit that you have never seen me in any other state but opening my eyes I see only varnished teak slats three or four inches directly ahead and I do not know where I am.  I have taken many, many long transits via planes. trains, and cars to weird corners of the world and awakened confused and needed a few minutes to determine where I was.  That has never happened to me on a boat regardless of the length of the passage.  So this is a bit worrisome since the last two day’s sail has harshly reminded me of my advancing age.  Suddenly it comes to me that I am in Cuba and age advancement no longer troubles my conscious. Adrenalin and expectation are wonderful antidotes to old age symptoms. 

  

Billowing clouds and a deep blue sky greet me on deck.  The wind still howls but we are safely in harbor and the palm trees bending to the wind are a graceful exclamation point to a brilliant first January day in Cuba and we have errands.  Changing money in most foreign countries is quite straight forward.  You go to a bank or money changer and do the exchange.  Depending on your tolerance of tediousness the exchange rate will not be an issue.  It is slightly different in today’s Cuba.  The government has installed a two tier money system in which tourists use one type of peso and residents use another.  The tourist peso is worth about $1.25 while the resident peso is worth about 15 cents. Citizens may not use tourist pesos when they purchase something but instead must turn it in to the bank for resident pesos.  A clever system to insure tourist money whether dollars or euros or anything else is all funneled through the government owned banks.  Remember there is no private property or private business in Cuba, everything belongs to the State.  (in the past two years, the State has allowed citizens to open 'palidars' which are merely a restaurant you operate out of your living room or back yard)  The State takes a 50% profit tax (they do not call it  "profit") but still, it is income the family would not otherwise have. Will this change with the pending influx of US tourists?  Of course, but control by Raoul is not going away anytime soon and the State will have its cut of every financial transaction be it groceries or cigars or taxi rides.  

Taxi to Old Havana

We need to stop at a bank on our way to downtown Havana and exchange some dollars for Tourist Pesos.  We must also remember that US law currently allows US citizens to spend only a total of $400 per person while in Cuba.  There are ways around this but since we are in a gray area vis-a-vis our travel permits to begin with, we will see how far we get before investigating less legal exchange methods. Upon entering a Cuban bank, you must first be admitted through the locked door by a minder.  When he lets you in, he will take you to a waiting area and point out another waiting customer.  Your turn will be after that person.  Do not forget that person or miss when they go up to a teller window because you may not get another opportunity for a long time.  Everybody waits and watches because the lines were long every time we went regardless of the time of day or location of the bank. Yes a simple numbered ticket dispenser would work but there are few mechanical devices in Cuba that are not in desperate need of replacement parts that are non-existant.  And this method is replacement-part free and quite inexpensive if one does not consider the minder’s salary.  That is the beauty of the Communist system… everyone has a job. One need not ask if it is a job that needs to be done, suffice that someone receives a salary paid by the government who in turn, gets paid by every financial transaction including those of tourists.  OK that’s your dialectical materialism lesson for today.  And we are still five miles from downtown Havana.  But we now have pesos to spend.  Stay tuned...  or not.  

Arrival in a Semi-Forbidden Land

Last Night in US Waters

I would like to report that the above pix accurately depicts our last night in the slip at Marathon but it would be a lie.  We posed this and then spent waaaay too much time loading supplies for a three week cruise.  It is always tough to start any trip without last minute gyrations

A good many of you, I know, are bored by sailing stories and so I will not bore you with the getting to Cuba part but rather, offer a few observations of the Island by Your Man in Havana. (Apologies to Graham Greene for the semi-plagiarism)  Or full disclosure, actually ‘Your Man in Hemingway Marina’ which lies about eight miles west of downtown Havana. Hemingway Marina is currently the only option for a small sailing (or power) vessel to enter Cuban waters and come ashore.  Also, the marina is closed starting at dusk and only opens again at dawn.  No one in, and most importantly to Cuban officials, no one out under cover of dark hours.  We had spotted the lights of Havana the previous dusk but were too far away to make the entrance to Hemingway before it closed so we spent the night in a raging gale 20 miles offshore.  Another story for another time. We finally located the actual marina entrance channel at dawn through mist and light rain while the wind had subsided to a mere 25 knots.  We did have some concerns that the channel entrance would remain closed given the breath of breaking seas assaulting our only path to a calm harbor.  Our concerns were not alleviated by our inability to raise the Port Captain on the radio for permission to come ashore.  When finally he did respond and gave us permission and direction, his comment in excellent English was to use care because the channel was quite narrow and dangerous.  We of course knew that from our sailing guides but getting out of what had been a washing machine of violent motion for the past 12 hours was uppermost in our minds and having had some personal experience with narrow channels and foaming water, I felt confident with Mike at the wheel.  The actual entrance (which we took at hull speed I am sure, surfing down five-foot rollers at the beginning of the marked channel), was anti-climactic because the sailing guide‘s definition of “a dangerous, narrow entrance” was not my own.  We easily slid between the eight-foot breaking seas on either side of us by a margin of at least ten to fifteen yards.  Then, without warning, the violent boat motion suddenly stopped as we slipped into calm protected waters.  The previous night’s rough passage and bruising toss-about was now merely fodder for future captivating bar tales.

Tying up at the customs and immigration dock, we were apprehensive.  TALARIA was an American vessel in a port forbidden to us for fifty years.  Even today we were in a gray area regarding our legal status.  Melanie had wasted hours attempting to get US permission to go to Cuba before we left and finally was told by the Coast Guard, “Just go.”  We recorded that phone call… and we left.  Now we were where the rubber meets the road as my driving friends would have reminded me.  Two young men in uniform with sidearms somewhat hidden by rain slickers efficiently tied us up and motioned for us to follow them into Immigration.  ALL of us… including the two women who were, as they phrased it, “not ready for public viewing.”  I have gone through a hundred third world customs offices in my various travels and I forced myself to remember the rules I was taught by some un-named State department individual a hundred years ago during a different life.  One… smile.  Two…  smile.  Three… look them in the eye.  I mentioned the rules to Mike since he was first as Captain and when he stepped out of the room, he gave me the thumbs up.  The primary question asked was to face the camera so the facial recognition software could get a good look at us.  Our smiling Port Captain and Immigration official was exceedingly courteous going so far as to stamp our Cuban visas on a piece of paper which he gently inserted in our passports with a knowing glance to each of us, thereby eliminating any possible embarrassing moments with US Customs upon our return.  A very encouraging start to our visit.

Tied Up in Cuba

We motored to our assigned slip location and tied up under the watchful eyes of two young men and an older gentleman who would perform our “health inspection.”  This was a thorough poking into every nook and cranny to ascertain we had brought in no black market goods intended for re-sale.  Under cloudy overcast skies, three of us remained on deck while Mike and the Inspector went over the interior.  In spite of having no illicit goods, Mike felt the need to offer a small “gift” to speed our access to the now steady and un-moving bunks so we could all garner some desperately needed, quiet shut-eye. TALARIA was secure but the wind still howling through the nearby palm trees went un-heard by any one of the four of us for the next five hours.  We had arrived in Cuba.  And we were WELCOME!   

CUBA LIBRE REDUX

Okay, okay, I owe all of you a “yuuge” apology (sorry Donald) for abandoning the CUBA LIBRE series of blog posts so abruptly but I fully intend to resume the series in the next week or two.  This, in spite of being a tad outdated now that US airlines are beginning daily service from the US and Starwood Hotels has signed a deal with the Cuban government to bring several Havana hotels up to American tourist standards.   Many of you have asked “Where is that  ASS^*%* especially since he has force-fed us his teasers about the Cuba travel blog and then just stopped posting without any warming?”  Fair enough.   Explanation follows.  The picture below delineates where I have been every single day for the past three months.  In a lead-lined room in the basement of a hospital flat on my back while many rads of invisible rays penetrated my nether regions, hopefully killing a plethora of persistent cancer cells.

 

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Although it has been difficult for me to concentrate on my writing since my diagnosis, three good things have evolved from this ordeal.  First, it re-iterated to me that tomorrow is NOT guaranteed.  I shall never forget this maxim.  Second, it made me eternally thankful for access to excellent health care through my Medicare. My diagnosis was the same one that killed Kristine’s brother-in-law at age 47 many years ago before there was a life-saving treatment for it. Thirdly, the one most important in my eyes is the fact that I am the luckiest guy alive to have so many true friends who selflessly offered to help in any way possible.  And of course, to Kristine who was a saint, driving me to and from the hospital every day, putting up with my moody silences and rapidly disintegrating energy levels but forcing me to look forward regardless of my circumstances at the moment,  I can only say thank you and I will try desperately to make it worth your while!   

Graduation Ceremony

Monday the 15^th of August 2016 was a day of good news for me…  Graduation Day!  My last day of radiation and hormone treatments capped off with my hospital’s ritual ceremony where all of my caregivers gather to congratulate me and share a hug while I ring the ceremonial bell before I leave this place hopefully forever, never again to shuffle along those antiseptic corridors disappearing into those cavernous lead-lined rooms.  My oncologist has informed me that I will have many future years in which to write more bad books and harass any and all who disagree with my personal world view. ( I guess he knows me well). I fully accept that this news will have mixed reviews amongst y’all.  

In the immediate aftermath of my diagnosis, Kristine suggested we set a goal to look forward to after my long period of treatments ended and so we booked a three week trip to China as a little reward to ourselves.  I have already warned my son there will be no inheritance, to which he replied that it was not news to him!  I will now concentrate on regaining some strength and stamina before leaving for China later in September and try to catch up on my moribund correspondence files.  Let me take this opportunity to say thank you to all of you who have wished me well and once again apologize for my less than adult behavior in shutting out the world while I attempted to get my head around the fact that I am merely mortal.  I continue to grapple with the “humility” component of that concept as I am sure, many of you can well imagine, given my personality.  But… today IS the beginning of the rest of my life.  I intend to LIVE it… every single day!   Okay, I’m done whining now.   Let's go to Cuba!