Before 1959 tourists mainly came to Cuba for sun, sand and sex. Plus gambling and, during American prohibition, to drink themselves blotto.
Most still come for sun and sand and, perhaps, sex. The rum is excellent, but gambling illegal. That’s because casinos - many run by the Mafia - were shut when the revolutionaries marched into Havana. American casino operators are now smacking their lips in hope of improved U.S-Cuban relations.
So what to do other than head for an all-inclusive resort and beach?
Having taken in the still impressive view of Havana’s Malecón and venerable Hotel Nacional (its pool is seen in the postcard) …
… the visitor, with hundreds of others, can tour Hemingway’s old house on Havana’s outskirts. I’ve never been to this top attraction.
One could simply - and far more comfortably - look at well composed pictures in a travel book, but there is some interest in actually seeing …
… Hemingway’s (or, more likely, his fourth wife’s) pink bedspreads …
… books (9,000), paintings (many are copies), dusty game trophies …
and long drained bottles.
The light is just right for a shot of his typewriter and a clipboard, perhaps for jotting down Nobel prize wining thoughts or maybe just shopping lists.
As Ava Gardner unfortunately isn’t swimming naked in the pool …
… I look for the dogs’ graves (some found their way into Hemingway’s novels). They’re curiously formal. If I was a dog, I’d prefer to be under a tree with grass overhead.
Well, there’s no way of avoiding it. I have to show some cars as, with Hemingway, they’re such a tourist pull. Old American cars are popularly called almendrónes from the Spanish for ‘almond’, which supposedly is similar in shape to many 1950s models.
Since old cars in Cuba have become a cliché, I’ll limit the number.
My prize find is this Edsel, not in Havana, but well to the east in the small town of Trinidad.
Possibly a 1932 Ford Model 18.
This Ford’s for sale. Telephone: Havana 5-2643941
An early 1950s Chevrolet station wagon.
British Ford Prefect.
Late 50s Ford Mercury.
After awhile, like missing Cuban toilets and late Toronto buses, you just get used to the cars.
Ho, hum, another two … yawn.
For all the photo-worthy cars …
… most Cubans depend on other forms of transport.
And that means waiting.
Cuba is the land of waiting.
