Habana Vieja, old Havana

On day one the tourist trap opened and I fell right in. I had read about the jineteros, guys who try to hustle tourists by selling them things, taking them to hotels or restaurants and then demanding money for the service, etc. I just didn't realize when I was talking to one.

A guy named Pedro said hello to us on our first day in Havana, we said hello back. Then he wanted to talk, and suggested some places to visit. Then he walked us down the street to show us a bar he recommended, took us inside, and the next thing I knew we were sitting at a table with Pedro and Maria and buying overpriced juice. I should have known better. Pedro also told us that he is a 6th grade teacher and would love it if our school could send scissors and colored pencils and things to his school. To wrap it all up, they asked for money so they could buy powdered milk for their baby. All of this could have been true, maybe it was, but I should have known better. I did know better, but because I was fresh off the plane (add this to the list bad decisions I've made while jet lagged) and excited to speak Spanish and a little naive... I got played.

My pride in being a savvy world traveler was hurt. The rest of me was okay... Cuba is a remarkably safe country. For the rest of the day, we wandered old Havana. Not everyone there tried to talk us into buying stuff. A few people just stopped us to say hello and ask where we came from.

We rented a room from Señora Elsa, in her big, beautiful apartment along the Malecón, Havana's seaside avenue. Our place was on the 9th floor of one of the tallest buildings in sight, and from the window we could see much of the downtown and El Moro, the colonial fort protecting Havana's harbor. Its cannons still shoot every night. Elsa is pushing 70 and mostly watches TV and smokes cigarettes. She used to work for the Ministry of Cooperation, Cuba's foreign ministry, and has traveled all over. She even lived in Benin for a while. While the other casas we stayed in were pretty full-service, almost like little hotels, at Elsa's we were just people staying in her apartment. The most awkward moment of the trip came when I went to ask Elsa if I could borrow the phone and I found her covered only in a towel, getting a full body massage by a much younger man. She wasn't embarrassed, but I was.

From the open window we heard the traffic down below. We also heard a rooster crowing at 4 or 5, and a baker selling his bread and butter with the cry of "panadero, panadero" at 6 or 7.

Living room at Elsa's

View from our room

The harbor and El Moro

The Malecon, our building is the tall one in the foreground

After falling in the tourist trap, we ate the first of many hot ham and cheese sandwiches at a Cuban version of a sports bar, and set off on foot. The best views of old Havana were from the rooftop of Hotel Ambos Mundos, where Hemingway lived for five years while he wrote For Whom the Bell Tolls. We walked the Malecón, and watched the other tourists, who were everywhere. I am sure that Pedro and Maria had their pick of tourists to reel in, maybe even a few who should have known better.

At Hotel Ambos Mundos

Me with a mojito, which helped heal my pride

Havana Vieja