Voyage of Discovery 7

"The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see."
G.K. Chesterton

Some historic cities are preserved in time, with 21st century living passing through them.  Havana has more of a sense of a place frozen in time, immune from 21st century living going on around it.  But then reality kicked in, we were immediately latched onto by a quick sketch artist who hurried alongside us, sketching us as we walked.  And then of course we were offered the result .... for a couple of dollars.  All harmless fun so I bartered a bit and coughed up; he was happy.

The candy coloured facades around the terminal building soon gave way to tired looking streets in sore need of maintenance and some tlc.  Traffic here was mostly on foot or handcart, so we accepted the offer of a bici-taxi "driver" - basically a tricycle with a canopy - to show us around.  Felt a bit guilty when he turned away a local with a sack of cement who wanted the taxi.  We toured the narrow streets in our luxury transport, stopping occasionally for photos of the open plazas and landmarks we passed.  The taxi even had some drop down flaps at the side to shield us from the occasional showers - all very hi-tech, the canopy frame was made from steel reinforcing bars from a building site, and reminded me a bit of the bikes in the 60's TV series "The Prisoner", although without the feelgood candy stripe canopies.

After our hour long ride through the old city our driver delivered us to the Museo de la Revolucion, housed in the former presidential palace of Batista, overthrown by the "rebels" led by Fidel Castro. Exhibits are very dated to me, using language that reads a like a propaganda rant from the cold war; reminding me of museums from my childhood which seemed like propaganda for the Empire.  Exhibitions have moved on a lot since then, with interactive displays and use of technology - not so in Havana.

By afternoon we'd got a good feel for the way things worked, and planned a trip out to the Plaza de la Revolucion, about a 15 minute drive, so walking wasn't an option.  Showing the slightest interest in the dozens of vintage cars parked along the waterfront immediately draws a local offering guided tours.  Having already done a fair bit of the old city we begin negotiating for a straight trip to the Plaza, with a stop for photos - much cheaper.  But the car he's offering isn't the one that K fancied a ride in [wrong colour] - not  problem he says, these are all mine, which one do you like?  Seems like he's an English speaker who does the negotiating on behalf of the Spanish speaking drivers, because as soon as we agree on a car a young woman driver appears.  The cars are pre-1959, before the revolution which deposed Batista and took Castro to power in Cuba.  It's only relatively recently that private car imports have returned, so the vintage cars have been cannibalised and kept running for the decades since.  The short drive demonstrates just how much a thing of the past these gas guzzlers really are, belching smoke and fumes from their coughing, spluttering engines - but I wouldn't have missed it! 

The Plaza is an enormous open "square", the venue for numerous political rallies where Castro would address Cubans; reputedly the length of his addresses sent many for an early siesta.  It's surrounded by government ministries and public buildings, including the National Library and the seat of the Cuban government and Communist Party.   There's a massive steel memorial to Che Guevara on the facade of the Ministry of Communications, with a similar one to Camilo Cienfuegos on the Ministry of the Interior [which I mistook for Fidel]. 

Our return trip took us along the Malencon, the coast road bordering the Gulf of Mexio, a scenic drive with the waves crashing over the sea wall and onto the road.  It's been a great introduction to Havana.