Determined to expand his linguistic horizons, Stephen Conn embarks on a crash course in Spanish in the colourful melting pot of cultures and ideology that is Cuba, and discovers that the locals are as vibrant as the remarkable Caribbean island itself.
AFTER YEARS of feeling like a single-language savage beside my worldly, cultured, multi-lingual friends, I finally decided that I would go overseas for a while, plant myself among the locals and learn their language.
While researching the range of language courses available, among the usual French-in-France or Italian-in-Italy courses I discovered I could learn Spanish in Cuba, an option that seemed much more adventurous.
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The exotic Caribbean locale, tropical climate, faded Spanish grandeur and the amazing music were major selling points, coupled with curiosity about the effects of the 1959 revolution on the place and its 11.25 million inhabitants. Plus I was anxious to see Cuba before the US inevitably lifts trade and travel embargoes
following Fidel Castro's demise, and floods the island with tourists and McDonald's.
Sold on the idea, I decided to spend a month based in Havana, the country's capital.
The trip proved very easy to plan, with lots of information available on the Internet. I found a wealth of tours that package language-school study with hotel or home-stay accommodation and cultural activities, which would be ideal for a shorter visit. But as I was planning to stay in Cuba for a while, I decided to arrange the trip myself to ensure maximum interaction with 'real' Cuban people.
I chose a two-week Spanish course at the University of Havana and a four-week stay in a casa particular, the Cuban version of a B&B, where I could get involved in the daily goings-on of a private house.
I arrived in Havana via LA, a connecting flight to Mexico City and another to José Martí International Airport on the city's outskirts. I had chosen a casa situated in Vedado, one of Havana's more affluent residential areas, because it was away from the main tourist traps, close to the university and had an English-speaking host. I'd been able to view and book my room on the Internet and negotiated a discount rate for booking an entire month: US$550 compared to the US$25-30 most casas charge per night.
The casa was amazing, occupying the entire upper floor of a massive Spanish colonial mansion that my hosts had renovated and filled with antiques. The family were lovely and a great source of useful information. I had my own bedroom and bathroom, no curfew, run of the house, breakfast every day (for an extra US$2.50) and optional add-ons like laundry (US$5/load), dinner ($US8) and salsa classes (US$10/hour).
The casa was just off a main street called Calle 23, which constantly roars with dodgy cars pumping out clouds of fumes. The famous '50s American cars, in various states of repair, are used as 'collective' taxis that bus locals up and down the street on a hop-on, hop-off basis. They are not supposed to take tourists, but over the month I occasionally got a ride. I preferred to take the Coco Taxis: government-owned, three-wheeler fibreglass domes that seem to run on lawnmower engines. While I was apprehensive the first time I took one, I grew to love the precarious, wind-in-my-hair abandon each trip entailed.
To get my bearings when I first arrived, I placed my wallet firmly in my front pocket and concealed my camera, as my host had recommended, and walked the length of the Malecón, an eight-kilometre sea wall built in 1901. It wraps the coastal side of Havana, from Vedado, past the crumbling architecture of Centro Habana to La Habana Vieja, the oldest part of town. The Malecón teems with locals fishing, swimming, walking, romancing or just hanging around.
All along the wall I was stopped by people either making "tsk"-ing sounds to get my attention (unnerving the first few times) or starting conversations with, "Hola amigo, where you from?" These interchanges inevitably ended with them asking if I wanted a good restaurant, a cigar, a taxi or, on fewer occasions, some 'pot' or a nice Cuban girl! Others would simply ask me to give them a dollar.
In a country where people are forced to survive on low Cuban-peso incomes and rations, and luxury items can only be purchased in US dollars, this behaviour towards a "wealthy tourist" was not particularly surprising, but it did get a bit grating after a while. However, I took heart in the fact that the hustlers were only a vocal minority of Havana's 2.2 million residents, and found the locals I met in social situations to be extremely warm and friendly.
On the first Monday of the month, I enrolled at the large, grand campus of the city's university. The enrolment process was chaotic but hilarious, with about 40 students - mainly from Canada, Germany and Japan - sitting a placement test (all in Spanish), being allocated classes, then trudging through a laborious form and payment process (US$200 for two weeks).
I was deemed an 'absolute beginner' and placed in a class with six others who turned out to be great playmates. Lessons were held from 9am each day, for four hours in the first week and three hours in the second, leaving the afternoons and evenings free to enjoy the city.
Our teacher was very committed and patient and the course content was intensive. Two weeks of study, however, really only left me with an understanding of the basics of Spanish. I learned just enough to get me through a very simple three-minute conversation with a Cuban, after which we'd have to resort to an amusing combination of broken English, broken Spanish and charades.
The central focus of the tourist trade in Havana is Habana Vieja, which has been listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site. With its restored Spanish colonial architecture, cobblestone streets, grand plazas and museums, it has a distinctly European feel but not much 'real' Cuban life. Like a Disneyland version of itself, it is filled with souvenir shops, overpriced restaurants and bars, bands playing traditional music and packs of tourists climbing off coaches to down mojitos. Despite the police posted on every street corner, it's also home to the highest concentration of touters, beggars and prostitutes in the city.
However, the highlights in the area are well worth a visit, and include the Plaza de la Catedral, where Catedral de San Cristóbal de La Habana, completed in 1787, looms over a square with al fresco dining and live music, and Plaza de Armas, with its lush central park surrounded by some of Havana's most beautiful architecture, tourist restaurants and museums.
Centro Habana, Havana's central business district, bustles with life. Parque Central is a lively park where locals meet in the shadows of the Capitolio Nacional, a building similar in style to Washington's US Capitol Building.
The nearby Gran Teatro is the oldest working theatre in the western hemisphere and is great for opera and ballet. The Museum of the Revolution is another must in this area, with its exhibits tracing Cuba's revolutionary history housed within the beautiful architecture of the former Presidential Palace. The 'department stores' in the area are worth a look, too. One shop I visited housed a bizarre mix of stalls selling pets, hardware, party goods, clothes and beauty products.
The Cuban capital is incredibly culturally rich, with live music in bars, concerts and theatre going on constantly. The Casa de la Musica in Miramar became one of my favourite music venues during my stay. It holds performances twice every night, with matinees from 5pm-9pm that are packed to capacity with locals drinking hard and busting impressive salsa moves.
I also went to a concert at the Hotel Riviera, famous during the '50s for its casino and gangster clientele. The cheesy show was billed as an opportunity to see members of the Buena Vista Social Club, but basically involved an octogenarian being trawled out to sing a few notes and totter around before the whole thing derailed into a corny tourist conga line.
On another night, my uni friends and I all shelled out US$85 to attend the cabaret at Tropicana, because when in Cuba it just has to be done. World-famous, the show was a '50s glamour throwback, with over 200 performers on an outdoor stage set amongst lush tropical vegetation.
Despite the amazing sights and all the fun, Havana became challenging after a couple of weeks. While Cuban food was nice, with its salty meat stew, beans and rice and deep-fried banana, it was not something I could eat every day. Western-style food varied from awful to not-quite-right, depending on the establishment. I also missed shopping. While there wasn't anything I really needed to buy, the fact that I didn't have the option to buy things had me longing to visit the mall when I got back home. The blare of horns and the hustlers also began to wear me down.
I felt the need to get right away from the city. So, with the Spanish course over, I took a side trip to Viñales, a beautiful farming village a three-hour bus journey west of Havana.
Set on a plain among limestone mountains, the village and its surrounds are famous for their amazing caves and tobacco farms. I stayed four nights in two different government-run hotels: Hotel La Ermita, set on a hill with incredible views of the region, and Hotel Rancho San Vicente, a series of modern huts sitting in the valley. Soaking in the clean air and peace and quiet was a fabulous way to recharge after my intensive study in the city, while the cable TV in the guest rooms was positively thrilling after two weeks without access to media!
In my final week, I took another trip to the town of Trinidad, a six-hour bus ride south-east of Havana. It was founded in 1514 and still has well-preserved architecture from the 1600s to 1800s, cobblestone streets and old men riding on donkeys and carts. The town has a great variety of interesting museums and street markets and, despite its population of only 50,000, was buzzing at night when the friendly locals came to the open-air Casa de la Música to watch the live bands and show off their salsa skills.
I stayed at the Motel Las Cuevas, set on a hill with a view over the town and out to sea. While the facilities were basic, finding my towels sculpted into arrangements of swans on a daily basis was an amusing plus. I spent one of my days at Playa Ancon - a fairly unspoiled resort strip, 12 kilometres to the south of Trinidad - lying on the beach under a palm-frond umbrella, wishing I could have stayed a lot longer.
When I left at the end of my month-long adventure, I realised that despite the challenges, a love of the country had been quietly creeping up on me. I would miss the scenery, the people and the unique atmosphere of Cuba. My only regrets were that I had not seen more of the country and that my still-limited Spanish had prevented me from getting to know the locals as well as I'd planned.
While I was glad to be returning to the relative comforts of home, I was sure that, before too long, I'd be practising my salsa moves, polishing up my español and heading back.
When to go
Visa and tax requirements
Travel warnings
Currency and money
Getting there and away
Spanish courses
Accommodation
Short Stays
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Stroll through historic La Habana Vieja, marvel at the natural beauty of Viñales, visit centuries-old Spanish fortresses, watch the world’s finest cigars being made, enjoy the island’s best restaurants and hotels... the choice is yours.
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