Be My Valentine

Happy Valentine’s Day! I can honestly say I had the best Valentine’s Day ever with the best man ever.

We both felt sick and gross last night and we took our time getting up this morning. It is our last full day in Cuba and we had things we wanted to do but nothing structurally planned to hold us to any time frame. We took our time getting ready and packed my little backpack purse for the day as we didn’t want to have to come back to the apartment until it was time to change for dinner. It is remarkable how much stuff we crammed into that little purse pack… swim trunks, bikini, towel, sun screen, snacks, all sorts of digestive meds, bottled water, tissue, sunglasses; that little pack was loaded. The skies still looked gray but I could see glimmers that the clouds would break. I assured Brandon that I knew it would get sunny and warm enough later for us to make it to the beach, I just knew it. We left the apartment late morning and stopped to have brunch at one of the little restaurants we’d walked by last night. As we were waiting for our food, two girls walked in and asked, in English, if the restaurant took credit cards. No, of course they didn’t. Nowhere in Cuba do they take credit cards! The girls said they had no cash and walked out; we gawked over how screwed these girls were going to be. I hope they had someone who could wire them money. We both had omelettes, pineapple smoothies, and toast. And indigestion. But the food was good (though so greasy) and it was worth it.

We had been wanting to do our own research on the real price discrepancy between the supposedly private classic taxis and the government taxis so for once we approached a modern yellow cab; and learned another lesson in propaganda. Everyone and everything said that the government cabs were way more expensive. Wrong. While the driver didn’t seem very friendly, his taxi did contain the first seat belts we had seen in the country and the price to take us to the aquarium was quoted as the same we paid to take us to Fabrica Monday night. But the aquarium was twice as far. We arrived at the aquarium and found another price discrepancy, but this one we didn’t mind one bit. The price for a non-Cuban to visit the aquarium? $10. The price for a Cuban? Five pesos, the equivalent of 19 cents USD. But residents had to pay extra for the shows.

The aquarium was what one would expect from a country such as Cuba. Dismal and in disrepair. They had a lot of sea turtles on exhibit. A lot. We walked through the displays of fish tanks and Brandon pointed out fish he had seen snorkeling yesterday and taught me about others. The highlight turned out to be the back deck of the aquarium which was against the sea. The seas had been angry again and huge waves crashed and sprayed high into the air and over the railing. We waited to try to snap the perfect crashing wave selfie, laughing and enjoying the carefree moment. A large family asked if we could take their picture and Brandon happily obliged. We asked if they would return the favor and then felt bad as we realized the man was waiting for a giant splash behind us to get us good pictures while for his family Brandon just snapped without waiting for the waves. Oops. Well the family should just be happy he got their entire herd in the frame!

There were cats all over the aquarium, some smart cats to come hang out here! We watched with amusement as a stray dog chased a cat around a tree. Finally giving up and jaunting past us with a look of amusement on his happy face. An eel was on display that I’m pretty sure was the inspiration for the 80s horror film The Tremors.

The sun was shining and we had gotten a late start on the day so we decided to go from the aquarium straight to Santa Maria Playa instead of doing Habana Vieja on the way. We walked a few blocks from the aquarium and hailed a taxi. We hopped into the teal 1949 Chevrolet and this Luis would take us to Santa Maria Playa for $15. We started to realize that quince just may be the magic taxi cost here since this was the third time we’d been quoted the same price for drastically different trip lengths. Luis spoke no English so it was a quiet ride to the beach, we had come west of La Habana for the aquarium and this beach was east of town.

Luis pulled into a deserted parking lot and let us out. There was nobody around and the beach and sea were hidden out of site. As we followed the short sandy path the beautiful blue water came into view. The seas were rough and the beach was nearly empty. Umbrellas, chairs, and little sea vessels (kayaks, paddle boats, etc) were lined up along the sand – on busier days there would be attendants out here renting these items out. The sand was soft and white, the sea fierce and blue. It looked like blue water bottles were stuck throughout the seaweed that had washed on shore and we realized those blue water bottles were actually bloated jelly fish. They were everywhere. The American couple we met at Fabrica our first night – this is the beach where they had spent all their time. They had told us that they took a “collectivo” bus roundtrip from Habana Vieja each day and at the end of the beach, the 3rd bus stop, is where they would get off as there was a guy who made the best pina coladas and a place to get the best lobster skewers they had ever eaten.

We weren’t quite sure how far down those bus stops were but we decided to walk the length of the beach towards the slightly busier swath of sand and see if we would find the amazing pina coladas and lobster skewers. Along one narrow portion there were plastic tables and chairs set up and men coming at us offering us food. They had wooden foldable fans as menus with each fold listing a menu item and price. Their prices were ridiculous, about triple what we had seen anywhere else. Brandon guessed that these guys were simply runners who would take orders and run to the nearby restaurants or food stands, marking the price up. He’s definitely correct. We decided to veer off he beach on a little path back towards the road to see if we could find any of these food stands ourselves and sure enough, many came into view. The first one we approached was a bar and we bought a large bottle of water for less than half of what we had paid anywhere else on our trip. We stopped at a couple places looking at the menus but none seemed like that people had described. I pulled out my offline map to see if we could figure out the bus stop location and one of the listed restaurants, Don Pepe, was visible. That sounded familiar! I showed Brandon, and yes, he remembered it too! Score! We walked another block and found the open air restaurant with lobster skewers posted on their menu! And the little pina colada stand next door.

Ready for some lunch, we ordered one set of lobster skewers and one set of shrimp skewers. The folks at Fabrica had spoken so excitedly about those lobster skewers we were ready and waiting! We thought about getting pina coladas but I also thought about putting on a bikini and lounging at the beach after lunch and so I had to consider if the pina colada was worth the bloating. Nope! Not much is worth the bloating when your are about to put on a bikini on a gorgeous beach, with a sexy man, in Cuba. So we both ordered sangria instead. I have never been a big sangria drinker but holy cow, this sangria was amazing. I sucked it down happily as Brandon pointed out that my love for it may have something to do with the massive amount of sugar visible in the bottom of the glass. So maybe there was that. But the sangria was delicious and we both were more than happy to drink it and order another later in our meal.

The skewers arrived, complete with rice, fresh chips, and vegetables. We both avoided the veggies, we’ve now learned our lesson and are still dealing with the consequences. I was irked that the shrimp weren’t peeled, peeling them was a lot of work. Brandon offered to help me peel but also mentioned I could just suck it up and eat the entire thing. Hold up. One, I can eat shrimp peel? And two, we all now how I get when I sound like I’m being challenged. I watched him eat one, peel intact to make sure he wasn’t just messing with me that they were edible, and with a slight curl to my lip, slowly bit into one. And you know? It wasn’t bad! The shrimp were grilled so the peel was kind of crispy. It took a minute for my mouth and brain to make sense of the texture but the taste was fine and and it went down smoothly. Go figure! The lobster was ok. Not amazing, just ok. We decided that the Fabrica Americans must not have had much lobster experience. We also decided that not everyone should walk in and sit down for lunch wearing nothing but a banana hammock.

Though I had I already ruled out a pina colada, I knew I wanted fresh coconut water to take down to the beach. The pine colada stand surely had agua de coco listed on the menu! The man running the stand was not very pleasant and did not find us very amusing. We were happy to get our coconuts and move on. Walking back over the bank towards the sea we saw that beautiful beach come back into view. The sun was out but the sky was full of clouds and the waves were rough. I loved it. I love the power of the waves and feeling their angry energy; it draws me in and settles me.

We walked a short distance down the beach until we found a swath to have to ourselves, with nobody else nearby. We faced the angry sea and crashing waves while thankful for her warm temperatures, enjoyed the feeling of the soft white sand, drank our fresh coconuts and dug in for some of the flesh, and soaked up our time together. As with our beach house afternoon, I will keep the details of this time for our memories only as I hold it so dear, but the smile that man puts on my face says it all.

We were starting to lose the sun to the clouds and it was getting late. We had hoped to make it to Habana Vieja while it was still light and we needed to get going if we were going to make that happen. We walked away from the sea and out towards the street. This whole little town was basically deserted. We had maybe seen two cars go past the entire time we were sitting out having lunch and most of the dwellings seemed vacant. But we had seen a couple taxis earlier. Sure enough, there was taxi parked in a taxi zone. Sure, it was a yellow government taxi but we needed to get going so it would do. We asked him how to get us back to Vedado. The answer really didn’t matter and we aren’t proficient enough in Spanish to haggle but we still always asked. Vedado? No, not possible. What? The taxi driver said it was out of his zone and he couldn’t take us that far. He had a little friend with him. This friend said he could call another taxi to come for us. How much would that be? The taxi driver, spoke up, “Oh, I don’t know, they could charge you whatever they want. Normally it be $25 but they know you’re out here and there aren’t many choices so they can charge you whatever they want.” Real helpful. The whole thing seemed sketchy so we decided to bail and keep walking. We would find another taxi. There was a hotel with cars in the lot, maybe one was there. The yellow taxi drove off past us. We saw a bus stop sign. Oh! That must be the bus the Americans had taken from Habana Vieja, let’s check the times! Nope, scratch that, this had a picture of a route that looked more like a local shuttle.

We kept walking, no taxis at the hotel either. Brandon was starting to worry about how we were getting back. I was definitely questioning that very notion myself but wasn’t worried as I had a plan. We would simply walk a couple blocks up a steep hill to get back to the larger highway and try to hail a taxi there. Brandon wasn’t convinced it would be that easy. We were starting to lose daylight too as it was nearly 6pm. A bus started to appear in the distance and we decided to try to make it back down to one of the bus stops on the lower road. If anything, at least the bus driver should be able to help tell us about which bus we could use and where to catch it. As we neared the stop it didn’t look like we were going to make it. The bus was coming at a good speed and we were still a ways from the stop. But the transportation gods shone down as that bus spotted us lost souls and honked to see if we needed them, pulling over as soon as waved for them. Mucho gracias! And it was the bus we needed, it would take us back to Habana Vieja! We bought two tickets and piled in. The time on the ticket listed the last return bus at 6pm. It was exactly 6:06pm. Talk about luck! The relief of finding transportation was palpable and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Brandon smile so excitedly. Gotta love that smile.

We weren’t exactly sure where the bus was going to drop us off except that it would be somewhere in Habana Vieja. As the bus pulled to a stop it was the end of the line so off we went. And wow. We were in Habana Vieja for the first time and we both looked around with wide eyes and sparkling grins, it was beautiful. We were in Parque Central, right next to the Capitol and the Cultural Center. And we both regretted that we chose to stay in Vedado instead of here. It was definitely more crowded with more tourists than locals but it was also so much cleaner and prettier and convenient. Even the stray animals, especially the cats, in Habana Vieja were way cleaner and healthier than those in Vedado. The Habana Vieja cats were beautiful, friendly, healthy, well-fed creatures. The poor Vedado cats made us depressed at every sighting with their oozing eyes and scrawny figures.

We didn’t have a ton of light left and I really wanted to find Plaza Vieja as the apartment we had originally booked and then cancelled was actually located in that plaza. And sure enough, that plaza was bubbly and spotless and surrounded by restaurants and shops and beautiful architecture. *sigh* We could have been staying here all along. We walked down a little road off of the plaza and passed restaurant upon restaurant. We decided we would indeed come back to Habana Vieja for dinner but first we needed to get back to our apartment to clean up and change.

It was a short drive back to Vedado in a bubblegum pink Ford convertible. We walked into our apartment and both froze. And sniffed. Do you smell it? Yes. The smell of natural gas overtook our senses. I immediately went to start opening windows and Brandon immediately went to inspect the stove. All the burners were off. I continued opening windows and found that even the master bedroom smelled of gas. Brandon pulled the drawers out of the kitchen cupboards until he found the gas connection and turned if off, scoffing at the shoddy connection. We figured out which hot water sources were from the gas and which from the electric heater and agreed only to use the electric the rest of our stay. We couldn’t even get a hold of our AirBnB host to discuss the situation. This was the third day in a row that something at the apartment tried to kill us. First the random man beating on our door and creepy dead air phone calls, then giant puddles of water set up around the bend on our slippery tile floor, and now the gas. If we were anywhere else we would have packed up right then and gone to a hotel for the night. But this is Cuba, and it’s not that simple here.

We cleaned up and got ready for dinner, hoping that the smell would be dissipated by the time we got back. We didn’t have a specific restaurant in mind but had seen so many we figured we would just find a good point of entry and walk until we found a place that excited us. We instructed the taxi driver to drop us off at Plaza de Armas. It was close to where we had seen so many restaurants earlier and we hadn’t seen this part of Habana Vieja yet. As we got out of the taxi we were met by a large fortress. Wow, it was so overbearing and stately. I have no idea what it was but it was gorgeous. The plaza was peaceful and clean and I wanted to explore a little before we moved on to finding a restaurant. Mind you not too much exploration would take place as I was teetering on cobblestones and cracked sidewalks in stilettos. Yes, yes, I know none of you would believe that I would ever travel with stilettos, but I had to, it was Valentine’s Day!

As I was admiring a building we realized that the mariachi music we heard was coming from a little outdoor restaurant that had been set up in the plaza. It looked so charming and was so close and convenient so we decided to check out the menu and, ultimately, to eat there. A table was ready and waiting for us, right in from of the mariachis! A rose was on the table and the waiter picked it up and presented it to me as we were seated. They had a special pre-fixe Valentine’s menu that included a four course meal with bread service and wine. The warm air spread a gentle breeze, the sky twinkled with stars, bats flew around the trees behind us, a little dog was sound asleep against diners at another table, and a friendly cat kept coming by to say hi. No more perfect of a setting could have been possible.

Our meal was good, nothing super amazing, but very good and very filling. Except for the raisins. I hate raisins and the salad was full of them. I picked them all out one by one and then didn’t eat much of the salad anyways. We figured at a nicer place like this it would be safe but I wasn’t feeling super risky. We even liked our wines. We watched as the little dog got up three different times to check something out or greet another dog and then each time come back to sniff out the EXACT same spot he’d been in, circle a few times, and then drop into a ball. As our fish courses came, our cat became friendlier. I decided to name her Lucy as she was pretty much our cat for the evening. Lucy enjoyed scraps of my fish that would just so accidentally drop to the ground in front of her. Listening to the mariachis we reflected on it being our last night in Cuba and how amazing our time had been. This had been the most perfect Valentine’s Day imaginable.

We took a very short stroll after dinner and then needed to catch a taxi back home. Walking out to the Malecon we figured we should cross to the other side so the cars would be going the right direction and then there should be plenty to flag down. We saw some of the private not-so-nice taxis and scoffed – this was our last night we wanted one of the nice classics. It was around 11pm and the Malecon was bustling with activity. This was where the locals came to hang out. Happy couples and groups of friends were spread along the Malecon wall with music, wine, and bottles of rum. It was fun walking along and seeing how they found joy. As we walked we kept trying to hail a taxi but all were already full. No biggie, there was a larger intersection ahead, we would just walk down a ways further and it should be easy to find one. My feet were killing me and my ankle was pissed about something but oh well.

The sight of taxis grew less frequent. And all we did see were full. What the heck. This town must close up for taxi service earlier than we realized! We should have just taken one of the yucky ones we first saw but it was way too far to walk back now, we had come about a mile or more. Random cars kept pulling over asking “Taxi?” but none of them had the official taxi sticker and we were not going to take the bait of getting in some random car. Until we did. After trying for over half an hour to hail a cab and midnight getting nearer, we agreed that the next car that pulled over with only one person in the front seat we would let be our taxi. Within a couple minutes a car pulled over for us, we could tell it wasn’t a legit taxi but we had already agreed that would be ok. But there were two people in the front. One was a woman, however, so Brandon felt it would be ok. We were seriously running out of options. We told them where we needed to go. $6. Perfect. It was less than two miles and we were desperate so with only mild trepidation we slid into the backseat. The woman in front glared at us. She was not happy with the situation. Brandon squeezed my arm and gestured, quietly putting out the doors to me. Oh shit. The backdoors had no door handles or window cranks on the inside. For the first time this entire trip, I was scared. We were trapped in a fake taxi with a burly man driving and not saying a word and an even more savage-faced woman glaring at us. I willed the drive to be over and pulled the keys out of my purse to had to Brandon. I watched his hands and took glimpses of his face as laced the keys between his fingers. The drive probably took two minutes but it felt like two hours. We were close enough to our apartment finally and strongly instructed the driver to stop here. And he actually did. And the woman got out and reached out to open the back door for us. We were fine and safely delivered close enough. But holy crap that was scary and left me feeling pretty freaked out.

The good news, the apartment doesn’t smell like gas anymore so we think we are going to live through the night. We don’t have anything really planned for tomorrow. We have someone coming to make us breakfast at 9am (let’s hope they don’t need the gas stove) and then Julio is supposed to pick us up at 11 to take us to the airport. It’s bye bye Cuba and back to Florida for tomorrow night.