A House and Home in Cuba
Lisa Trick
My interest in Cuba grew from our history lessons at school. We spent weeks looking at the Cuban Missile Crisis and for some reason it just caught my attention. From that point on Cuba moved to the top of my travel to-do list but I wasn’t sure I’d ever have the opportunity to go there. Then everything came together in summer 2006; I was already feeling lethargic at work and when Fidel Castro became ill I realised that this might be my last chance to experience the Cuban culture before it hit a whirlwind of change. Being one of the few Communist countries left in the world, Cuba offered a unique cultural experience but Castro’s illness threatened that. I wanted to experience the real Cuba and decided the best way to do this would be to live with a local family in a ‘casa-particular’.
I arrived in Havana late at night, jet-lagged and exhausted (having waited hours to pass immigration control and claim my bags). I climbed into the first taxi I could find, my head filled with dreams of a nice warm bed. My energy was rapidly draining and I could only just think in English let alone Spanish! I hoped my host family wouldn’t be expecting sparkling conversation that evening because that would be beyond me. My insecurities were soon forgotten as the taxi set off at break-neck speed. The journey was terrifying, bikes and rickshaws were pedalling furiously alongside cars and large trucks with groups of travellers crammed onto the top. It seemed there was no such thing as overloading in Havana! Ancient trains regularly cut into our path, and more than once we had to break suddenly to avoid crashing. As if that wasn’t enough, hitchers were constantly jumping into the road, so eager for a ride that being run over didn’t seem to matter. Not five minutes into the journey I had already begun to question my decision to travel to this hectic destination.
When the taxi finally slowed in what appeared to be a dingy shanty town my spirits took a dive. The taxi came to a stuttering halt and the driver declared that we had arrived. I looked out the window at what was to be my home for the next few days. The windows were covered in thick iron bars and the roofs were crumbling away after years of neglect, there had to be a mistake!
I ask the driver if he was certain but he just handed me my bag and pointed to one of the better looking buildings. Two palm trees were growing outside and a car sat in the driveway. It was eleven o’clock at night, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else until morning so I just crossed my fingered and hoped the inside would be more inviting. I knocked nervously on the door and stood waiting for my fate. A short, middle-aged woman answered crying out ‘ah chica’ as I watched the taxi speeding out of sight!
As we entered the house the woman cheerily introduced herself as Rosa. After a little while a man appeared from another room and I must admit he was a dead ringer for Lurch from the Adams family (needless to say that did nothing for my already dwindling spirits). Rosa introduced him as her husband Umberto and led me to my room. It basically consisted of two single beds, a chest of drawers and a lamp with a few pictures hung here and there to cheer it up a bit. The large window gave me a brilliant view of next doors kitchen and I made a mental note to close the shutters whenever I was getting changed. The room was small, traditional and clean, and for the first time since I had arrived in Cuba I began to relax. As Rosa led me into my ensuite bathroom I finally realised that this wasn’t the holiday home from hell. My enthusiastic host tried to explain something about the shower but my relief was so over-powering that I wasn’t taking anything in. It was only later that I realised she had been telling me that the shower only used cold water.
Rosa was chatting away as she showed me round the rest of the house but I must admit I didn’t understand much of what she was saying. The rest of the house was on a par with my room. Everything was on one level and the inside was infinitely more appealing than the exterior. It had all the mod-cons; TV, Hi-Fi etc and really isn’t all that different from my place back home (if you close your eyes and squint a little). In fact, on the inside, it was just what I’d expected. The floors are tiled and a couple of rugs are scattered around at random. The walls were adorned with large tortoise shells as well as a selection of family photos, and the furniture was a mixture of native woods and cane. All in all, it was both comfortable and homely, and I soon realised that I was going to like it here.
Before heading off to bed for my first night in my new home, I took the time to get to know my host family. I soon learned they had three children and one grandson. Their son had moved to Florida with his son because he didn’t like the Cuban way of life or the restrictions which he and his son would have to endure. Their daughter was married and living in Switzerland while their youngest son had chosen to remain in Cuba. They took me out to the front porch to see the talking parrot and then into the back parlour where their somewhat terrifying rockweiler lived. I’ll never forget that first evening as we sat on the porch, rocking in our idyllic cane chairs and listening to the calming buzz of crickets in the undergrowth. They answered all my questions about the local area and I answered their about England, it was the perfect end to my first day in Cuba.
The next morning I got up early and headed to the shower, discovering that in 30 degrees heat a cold shower is just what you need. I got dressed and started to get excited about having a traditional Spanish breakfast with my family. I was slightly disappointed when I walk out to the living room to find breakfast neatly laid out for one. With only a few polite questions and remarks Rosa left me to my own devices. Breakfast consisted of bread and butter with a fruit salad of banana, papaya and pineapple and a selection of hot drinks. It was basic but tasty though by the fourth day I was craving a change. After breakfast we went through the formalities of the home stay with Rosa requesting my passport filling in the necessary governmental forms. With that all sorted I headed out to explore the city. After dinner that evening I settled down to watch TV with the family.
As the days past I found myself spending less and less time with the family who rarely pushed their company upon me. I was happy in one sense – I’d been dreading an overbearing host – but I also felt a little disappointed. I hadn’t found a ‘second family’ and we wouldn’t keep in touch after I had gone. It was a similar case in all the casa particulars I stayed in on my three week trip to Cuba but the more houses I stayed in the more I began to realise home stay accommodation is a part of everyday life and to ‘adopt’ every traveller into the family would be impossible.
The fact is that staying in a casa particular is a great experience that lets you see within the closed doors of Cuban life. It’s also significantly cheaper than staying in hotels. I soon discovered that the plain meals I had been served by my host family were infinitely better than those available in the city. My host family had made a real effort to make something special for every meal. Also if the family hire out more than one room you can get to meet a variety of people and swap experiences. This is a great way to make new friends and though I didn’t go home with a second family, I did go home with friends from around the world.
Staying at a casa particular offers a window into real Cuban life which you wouldn’t get if you stayed in hotels. Houses often boast three or four generations of the family as the Cuban government is still struggling to build enough homes for the growing population. Grandmothers grunt and stare at you, children scream at you and mothers mollycoddle you but it all adds to the experience. You can sit with the families at night and watch the so-bad-its-funny Cuban TV, or sip rum on the veranda like a true local. This makes for a great cross-cultural experience for all involved especially because Cubans cannot, at present, travel outside Cuba without a special invitation. If you’re lucky enough to stay with an open family you discover the realities of the Cuban lifestyle and the hardships which the average Cubans faces on a daily basis (unemployment, substandard medical care, limited housing and a distinct lack of freedom). Staying in a casa particular in Cuba is a unique experience and presents a rare opportunity to get to the heart of a new culture. It also important to remember that by staying with a local family you’ll be making a direct contribution to the Cuban economy where it really needs it.
I may not have found a second home in Cuba, but I definitely discovered the real Cuba.
