Victoria's birthday

I have a Cuban friend named Surama here in Hannover. She married a German man last year, and is trying to get through her first Hannover winter. She and her husband George gave us a lot of travel tips, and in exchange we brought a bag of stuff for Surama's family. I knew we were in trouble when Surama asked what the weight limit was on our baggage. She and George showed up with the bag and a scale on the day before we flew to Cuba. The bag was packed with soap, shampoo, razors, deoderant, clothing, shoes and other things that are difficult to get in Cuba. They sent some cash along with us also. When I asked Surama if we could bring any gift for the family, the answer was easy: Nutella. Apparently they are crazy about it.

Surama's twin brothers and mom Victoria met us at the Havana airport. The guys took the heavy bag off our hands and put it on their moped. Victoria rode in the taxi with us to our room at Señora Elsa's apartment. While pointing out the sights out the window, Victoria told us she is a civil engineer for the agriculture ministry, which means that she designs silos and other agricultural structures.

The next morning she called and invited us to come over for her birthday party. For a traveler this is a pretty cool thing. Any time you can hang out with locals, it adds meaning to the trip that no guide book can replace. And in this case, all we needed was a little Nutella. But we also brought flowers.

When we arrived at the apartment Victoria gave us a tour. The place isn't big but it is brightly painted and nicely furnished. Victoria grew up in the apartment downstairs and her sister lives next door. As she showed us around, she kept mentioning things that son-in-law George (she calls him Jorge) had done or said or contributed to the family. He is a bit of a celebrity around there. After we met the aunts and uncles and cousins, the twin brothers showed up with some beer. They offered beers to Brian and me and we accepted, but after opening the cans we noticed that nobody was given beer except us. Then we sang happy birthday songs (several), took some photos and Victoria blew out the candles. Dessert was served. It was a papaya sauce with some fruit and soft cheese. I know they grow sugar in Cuba, but I have never eaten anything so sweet in my life. Brian and I had it on plates while everyone else ate from cups. When I asked why, Victoria told me it's because they like to pig out. Even though Surama's family made us feel welcome, it was hard not to feel like we were getting special treatment. We were also the only white people there, but somehow that didn't make us feel nearly as uncomfortable as eating our sugary papaya sauce from a plate.

The conversation was all in Spanish, except for when we talked with Surama's Uncle Tony, who spoke very good English. He and Brian got talking and we learned that Tony is a musician. He invited us to hear his band play at a restaurant in Old Havana. I talked more with Victoria, who told us that she was given the moped at work. It meant that she was pretty important, though the most important people get cars. She misses her daughter and asked how I think Surama is doing in Germany.

It was hard not to imagine about how a civil engineer in another country would be living. She certainly wouldn't have trouble finding soap, or getting enough beer for all the guests. Would she sport a hot pink dress and host an all-day birthday party? Probably not like Victoria did.

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

We beat Burger King

Brian and I have wanted to go to Cuba for a long time. Because we couldn't go there from the U.S, because I now have a Cuban friend who could help me with some tips and connections to her family, and because someday the Castros will die off and Cuba might become a Caribbean vacation destination like any other, we decided to go there during our 2014 Christmas break.

Just a few days before we left, Obama and Castro announced that they were re-establishing diplomatic relations, opening up business and finance opportunities, and allowing more remittances to go to Cuba, we were looking like geniuses. Even though general tourism will still not be allowed as long as the blockade is in place, more visitors will be able to go to Cuba starting in early 2015. We felt like we squeezed in just before the deadline, like we got there just before Starbucks and Burger King did.

The trip started in Havana, then we moved on to Viñales and Cienfuegos. You'll read more about each of those places. For almost all of our trip, we stayed in casas particulares, private homes that are licensed to rent out rooms to tourists. It's sort of like a Cuban bed and breakfast. I'll tell you more about those too. Even though there is a lot of the country we didn't get to see, I am fascinated with Cuba. It's got classic cars, hot ham and cheese sandwiches, mojitos and communism. So at the risk of the state department hunting me down, I have decided to blog about the trip (which I may or may not have taken). Here are several posts with my impressions.

Happy new year to you, readers.
I may or may not have spent the holidays in Cuba.
I am going to write as if I did, though. There was (or maybe there wasn't) a lot to write about there, which I wrote on paper (or did I?) and will be adding to this blog over the next few days. 

Feliz Navidad

Dear readers,

I am traveling for a little while and will be away from the internet.
I hope you enjoy a joyful, peaceful Christmas and a happy new year. I'll be back in January.

Back on the bus, to the List

It's been a long time since I drove the hop on hop off bus around Hannover. But we are hopping back on it again, this time to the List. The List is a neighborhood where you need to live if you are a yuppie in Hannover. I know that term is a little outdated, but if you are between 25 and 50, shop at the organic grocery store, wear expensive shoes, drink cappuccino, have small children who also drink cappuccino, and don't want to move to the suburbs, the List is the place for you.

At the heart of the neighborhood is the Lister Meile. Meile is a Germanicized way to say mile. I still think this is a weird name, since as far as I know, Germany uses the metric system. Maybe "Lister Kilometer and a half" just didn't have the same ring to it. It's a pedestrian street lined with shops and cafes.

Lister Meile and Lister Platz

 

When you stroll down the Lister Meile, it's key to put your child in a 4 wheel drive stroller. The word stroller doesn't really do it justice. In German, it's a Kinderwagen. And calling it a wagon is a better fit. These things have tires that can handle off-road baby mountaineering. They laugh at cobblestones. They have shock absorbers, and probably exhaust pipes too. German families don't have to save up money for a college education, so they invest it all in the Kinderwagen.




The List is probably the prettiest section of Hannover. It has more historic buildings than any other area of the city I've seen, and much less 1960s-era architecture. These houses seem to have escaped the worst of the World War II bombings.

A few notable sights in the List are the Lister Turm,

The Bahlsen cookie headquarters, with this golden cookie sign that the famous cookie monster thief stole two years ago,

and the police stables at Welfenplatz.

If you want to go to an expensive boutique, or sit at a cafe, or buy your kid a cappuccino by the playground, the List is the place to be.   

Knecht Ruprecht

Last year, I told you all about Krampus, the German-speaking world's Bad Santa.
There's another Christmas-time character you should know about: Knecht Ruprecht. While Krampus is a Bavarian figure, Knecht Ruprecht is at home here in northern Germany.

He travels along with Santa, the Weihnachtsmann, and wears tattered brown robes. He's sort of wild woodsman, someone you wouldn't want to run into in a dark chimney. He carries bags full of ashes and coal for the naughty kids, and a stick to beat them with. If you are on the naughty list this year, watch out.

It sounds to me like his legend has been softened over the years. He also carries a bag of candies and nuts for the good kids ("Walnuts? again? but I really wanted an iphone this year!"). His job is to drive the sleigh, help Santa, feed the reindeer etc.

Knecht Ruprecht is the subject of a famous poem by Theodor Strom. I wish my German was good enough to translate it myself, but it's not. So here is a version I found on the internet:

Von drauß' vom Wald komm ich her;	From out the forest I now appear,
ich muss euch sagen, es weihnachtet sehr!	To proclaim that Christmastide is here!
Allüberall auf den Tannenspitzen	For at the top of every tree
sah ich goldene Lichtlein sitzen;	are golden lights for all to see;
und droben aus dem Himmelstor	and there from Heaven’s gate on high
sah mit großen Augen das Christkind hervor.	I saw our Christ-child in the sky.
Und wie ich so strolcht' durch den finstern Tann,	And in among the darkened trees,
da rief's mich mit heller Stimme an:	a loud voice it was that called to me:
"Knecht Ruprecht", rief es, "alter Gesell,	‘Knecht Ruprecht, old fellow,’ it cried,
hebe die Beine und spute dich schnell!	‘hurry now, make haste, don’t hide!
Die Kerzen fangen zu brennen an,	All the candles have now been lit --
das Himmelstor ist aufgetan.	Heaven’s gate has opened wide!
Alt' und Junge sollen nun	Both young and old should now have rest
von der Jagd des Lebens einmal ruhn;	away from cares and daily stress;
und morgen flieg ich hinab zur Erden;	and when tomorrow to earth I fly
denn es soll wieder Weihnachten werden!"	“it’s Christmas again!” will be the cry.’
Ich sprach: "O lieber Herre Christ,	And then I said: ‘O Lord so dear.
meine Reise fast zu Ende ist;	My journey’s end is now quite near;
ich soll nur noch in diese Stadt,	but to this town* I’ve still to go,
wo's eitel gute Kinder hat."	Where the children are good, I know.’
“Hast denn das Säcklein auch bei dir?"	‘But have you then that great sack?’
Ich sprach: "Das Säcklein, das ist hier:	‘I have,’ I said, ‘it’s on my back.
Denn Äpfel, Nuss und Mandelkern	For apples, almonds, fruit and nuts
essen fromme Kinder gern."	For God-fearing children are a must.’
"Hast denn die Rute auch bei dir?"	‘And is that cane there by your side?’
Ich sprach: "Die Rute, die ist hier;	‘The cane’s there too,’ I did reply;
doch für die Kinder nur, die schlechten,	but only for those, those naughty ones,
die trifft sie auf den Teil, den rechten.’	who have it applied to their backsides.’
Christkindlein sprach: "So ist es recht!	The Christ-child spoke: ‘Then that’s all right!
So geh mit Gott, mein treuer Knecht!"	My loyal servant, go with God this night!’
Von drauß' vom Walde komm ich her;	From out the forest I now appear;
ich muss euch sagen, es weihnachtet sehr!	To proclaim that Christmastide is here!
Nun sprecht, wie ich's hier drinnen find!	Now speak, what is there here to be had?
Sind's gute Kind sind's böse Kind?	Are there good children, are there bad?

I hope you have been good this year. If so, you can look forward to a lot of walnuts, and not getting beaten with a stick.