January 28th

Today was essentially the most perfect day I’ve spent in Cuba. We slept in, which was great, and finally started moving around noon. We hit the streets to grab some lunch, and ended up at a place called G-Café, which had all of these crazy drawings on the wall that reminded me of (I think) Dali. Although the food wasn’t superb (no Malta soda, what seemed to be undercooked chicken, bland rice, a decent cappuchino, and a pretty bad price), we had a good time talking and for a while fell into the Cuban speed of life and stopped caring about when the food was coming or when we could get our check to leave. Although it was late in the day, we agreed that maybe if time permitted we would check out the Playas del Oeste today.

Afterward, we headed for Coppelias to endure what we had read would be a forty minute to two hour wait. Thankfully, it wasn’t that at all, considering there are five to six different lines and locations to eat at in the some complex, and we only ended up waiting about twenty to thirty minutes. When we got seated, we were pretty much only offered one thing: ensalada. But this wasn’t lettuce salad, this was ice cream salad: five scoops of ice cream, three vanilla, two chocolate, with chocolate sauce poured over it. It was awesome. I can’t really place what it was that made it so great, but perhaps the insane amounts of cream was it. We all devoured it in about ten minutes. In the meantime, Scott told us a story of his love for banana bread, and how he would eat banana bread at least twice daily for the majority of his life. He loved the Pennsylvania-Dutch banana bread and ate it constantly, to the point where he was called the Banana Bread Kid. He was sad to learn when he came to college that there was a kid that enjoyed banana bread more than him, enough to have it shipped to him at college. We cracked up the entire time Scott was telling this story, because he was being so absolutely serious. We all lost it when he told us they called him the Banana Bread Kid, like some retarded Western hero who had an affinity for banana bread instead of whiskey or loose women.

Probably what made the ice cream even sweeter after it had already been ingested was the price – we paid 45 national pesos for all of the ice cream, which amounted to about 6 pesos each. Take into account 24 national pesos makes one dollar, and we each ate all that ice cream for less than fifty cents.

After ice cream, we headed over to the music store to scope out some songs we had been hearing since we got here. There was a dance contest going on outside between a bunch of local kids, and we watched them dance for a little bit, and then went inside the store. Inside, we made fun of a lot of the covers of the albums because they were so old, and Scott kept going up to the workers with different albums going “Es bueno?” Although the dance contest had ended outside, there were still a ton of people waiting around and so I went back outside to see what was up. Apparently, Eddy-K, the most popular reggaeton act in Cuba right now, was there, signing autographs. Danielle, one of the three tallest girls in our group all tied at 5’11”, got in line with the other twelve and thirteen year olds to get her CD signed. Sticking out like a sore thumb, the bouncer/organizer took her and bumped her to the front of the lines to get the autographs of the two MCs, the DJ, and the keyboardist. Scott stood in line as well to get his receipt autographed, though he didn’t actually buy their album.

Valerie was tired, and Scott wanted to go listen to his music, so they headed back to the casa while we went to check out the movie times at the theatre. Then we figured since it was too cold to hit the beach, we’d head to the Hotel Nacional to grab some cocktails and check it out. While the Hotel Melia Cohiba is decadence, the Nacional is decadence in a different fashion. This is the old hotel that used to be frequented by mob bosses and bigwigs in the fifties (and even afterwards). Mercedes Benz taxis waited outside, and marble, hardwoods, and gold adorned the interior. We went straight for the outside gardens in the back, and I grabbed a beer and soaked up the view. The Nacional sits on a small cliff above the Malecon looking out onto the ocean, with a view of the old forts to the right. There were small lounging couches everywhere, as well as those quaint whitewashed iron tables. We walked around and marveled at the huge cannons aimed out at the sea, and how perfect a location this was to defend the island from Northern invaders.

We found this thing called the “Cueva de Taganana”, which was an underground trench area made in the early 1900s. It was adorned with posters talking about all the crises between the States and Cuba, and Russia’s involvement. What was the coolest about these pictures were all the photos of Castro and Che, especially those with other world leaders like Jruschov (Krushev in Spanish). While we were looking around, the old security guard told Danielle, “Senorita” and waved his hand to follow him. She did, down these stairs into these other tunnels, and so we all followed suit. He unlocked a small gate and we walked through a hundred yards or so of trenches and tunnels dug through the grounds of the Hotel Nacional. About halfway, they had a small display of a piece of the U-2 spy plane that they had shot down, as well as two uniforms of Cuban military that had been killed in some activity (unfortunately I didn’t catch what it had been). It was a really cool little tour, and whether or not it was given to everyone, it seemed like we had done something not many people got to do.

We emerged back into the light, tipped the guard for the experience, and then decided to have some pina coladas on the veranda, while watching people walk the Malecon. At one point, we heard lots of honking and looked to see an old Buick convertible carrying a bride and groom, while people waved as they drove by. It was really nice to just enjoy the sea breeze and the green grass and the good company. We headed back to the casa to grab dinner, which was pasta with alfredo sauce, a ham and tomato sauce, and some tomato glazed ham cutlets. They served the alfredo sauce in a little cup which they usually serve the soup in, so we all dove into it before they brought out the actual pasta. We all felt like idiots when we realized it was sauce for the pasta. After dinner decided to head to the baseball game between Santa Maria and Guantamo.

We took cabs to the stadium, and grabbed some five centavo popcorn outside and tried to get our tickets. But since it was obvious that we were a bunch of mostly white students, they deterred us and made us go to a different entrance around the side. There we were told to come to that side in the future for student seating. We paid three convertible pesos, which is exponentially more expensive than what everyone else paid. Still, our seats were pretty decent – the second section back from behind the plate, and we sat in front of the UNC students. It was a great section, but the whole stadium had less than two hundred people in it because of the teams – Santa Maria (who was supposedly decent) and Guantanamo (supposedly last). Also, during a game earlier in the week between Santiago and Havana, two of the best and biggest teams in the league, a riot between the rivalries broke out in the stadium and they had temporarily imposed a no alcohol rule in the stadium. The vendors were selling peanuts, candy canes, chips, and coffee, but no sodas and no beer or alcohol. Considering we were in dire straits here, we decided that we had to take matters into our own hands. Diana and I borrowed someone’s bag and went to find a grocery store. When we finally found one, we only saw beer, and realized that there’d be no way to buy enough beer to satiate everyone, so we asked someone else where we could buy some rum around the stadium. They said the store we were at sold it, and they held up a small box like a Juicy Juice box. We were ecstatic, and promptly bought six, along with a two liter bottle of orange soda (the coke was warm). From then on, the celebration was on. We hid our illegal liquid well, and passed around strong orange soda while cheering on our underdogs, Guantanamo. UNC was cheering for Santa Maria, and considering how poorly everyone had heard Guantanamo was doing in the league, we made a bet with UNC that Guantanamo would win. They felt so bad for us, they gave us a 3 point lead – the final score was 2-1 in Santa Maria’s favor, but that still meant we won the bet. During the game, we cheered on our batters, trash talked the pitchers, and sang “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” at the 7^th inning stretch. We were easily the rowdiest bunch in the crowd, and it wasn’t helped by the echo-y acoustics of the stadium. Still, we had a blast at the game, and once they start serving alcohol again, our attendance will be an assured party.

After the game, a few of us went and drank some beers at a local establishment, listened to a traveling guitarist who played some mariachi and other classic songs for us. We headed back to the casa, shared another box of rum, and hit the hay. It really was a great evening and was a blast for all of us.