Honeytraps and hairdos
A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Wed 11 May 2011 14:50
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(Editor's note: the following from our Teddington
correspondent...)
1. In accepting Sam's invitation to write a
piece on Cuba, I feel a bit like those stalwarts invited to edit the Today
programme at Christmas. The Summer Song blog is, to its
adherents and admirers, also something of a national institution I
suspect. So where to begin? At the beginning
perhaps. And that lies really with Timo. At Havana
international, I decided to dodge the long queues by heading for the
Diplomatico line. We waited behind some weary Dutch flight crew and
ushered ourselves in. I had had to apply for permission from my
employers to visit Cuba - what with it being a communist revolutionary
paradise and all - and whilst consenting they issued dire warnings of the
attention I was likely to receive - surveillance, honey-traps, the
works. But in our queue, Timo trumped all that by asking the
immigration women in Spanish how she was. Cubans are extremely fond
of, and kind to children - one of the country's finest characteristics -
and the woman melted completely, engaging Timo in immediate conversation
and barely even bothering to take my picture. So far so good. A minor
kerfuffle with our bags - or to be precise my bag - which came out last
amid loud mutterings from Edmund that we should leave because it was
clearly "a gonner" and then off into the hot, humid, tropical Havana night,
a taxi and the drive to Veradaro to meet Sam and Alex.
2. Now I have not been able to follow every one of Sam and Alex's blogs. But I recall very few pictures of Sam - or Alex for that matter. More of blue horizons and visitors. But we shall need to pause a second on the subject of Sam who leaping out of the tropical dusk at the marina on our arrival was entirely unrecognisable to me. Deep, nut brown all over, to be expected of course, but it is the hair that needs urgent description. It is almost entirely blonde. And seriously blonde at that. And it would be long. Except that it has gone extremely curly. The result of all of this is that Sam is sporting the most outrageous blonde Afro that I have ever seen - outside the Broadway production of "Hair" in any case. Alex was much more recognisable - lovely as always - also brown. But that hair. It is a remarkable sight which deserves wider dissemination - on which more below.  3. So what have these two been doing this last five months? Well, it was on day two that this became a little bit clearer. We spent the first day on the beach at Veradaro, surely one of the most beautiful in the world. 40 miles or so long. The finest white sand. Coconut fringed. And the most turquoise water in which I have ever swum. Day two we took a taxi about 12 km west to a coral reef accessible from the beach. A bit touristy - lots of fervent Canadians. Some ramshackle huts and the normal collection of people trying to sell things and hustle a bit. In any event, whilst I was out snorkeling Sam managed to find someone who claimed to be able to rustle up a lobster for lunch. Combined with a pina colada and the remarkable tropical setting, life seemed very good indeed. I casually quipped that I assumed they hadn't been living like this for the previous five months. Slightly embarrassed smiles. 4. We sailed and snorkeled. Alot. We have some fine pictures of two barracuda plucked from the depths off Veradaro by a fiendish pink lure. The sail to two remote cayo was memorable. The first had a decrepit light-house and a couple of bored looking Cuban soldiers hanging about behind a daubed sign proclaiming it a military zone. They packed it all in at about 3 o'clock and went spear-fishing, presumably an exercise in basic subsistence as much as anything else. Sam and Alex are impressive sailors - no surprise there - and calm in the face of almost all crises, induced no doubt by the extreme mellowness brought on by the previously mentioned five months of lobsters and pina coladas. Towards the end of the holiday, whilst shaking the grains from a new cafetiere that we had brought to Cuba over the side, the screw fell off the plunger and the key filter bits disappeared slowly into 15 feet of marina water. Sam was having none of this, donned mask and in the (comparatively) gloomy and frankly none-too-clean water, and dived for them making multiple dives until found. Alex's ability to rustle up the most amazing meals was much remarked upon by Timothy and Edmund, as were her dab-hands with mozzy repellant on an evening which quickly became a required ritual. Pancakes for breakfast have spoiled them for ever. Their contribution, which Edmund warmed too quicker than Timothy, was the washing up. Some grumbling to start with but they found their feet, or at least the washing up liquid, and made an (unexpectedly) useful contribution. 5. As for Cuba itself, I found it a remarkable place. A fantastically beautiful tropical island, one of the great cities of the world, all overlaid by one of the world's last Communist dictatorships. Cuban Communist Party offices everywhere, usually in well put together buildings, and no other political parties permitted of course. Slogans, murals and revolutionary posters everywhere too. You know somethings gone wrong when the citizenry needs constant exhortation to efficiency, unity, productivity and the like. Zimbabwe is similar. And I hope the British Prime Minister is never tempted to sign anything with his first-name only: first-names and dictatorships go together too. Cubans seemed nice - though my lack of Spanish didn't particularly facilitate extended political discourse - partly reflective of their Latino stereotypes, but with an underlying sense of hopelessness. I'm told that the Cuban dichotomy is one between pride in plucky little Cuba sticking two fingers up to the Yankee Imperialists, as they are known, and a deep awareness that things could and should be so much better. There is much that is simply not available and the contrast between crumbling Bulgarian-style apartment blocks and ever larger numbers of ever richer foreign tourists will, surely, eventually create profound dissatisfaction. It remains to be seen what impact their first encounter with the developing world has had on the boys. Timothy was appalled at overhearing my being offered marijuana by a Havana hustler and wanted the police called immediately, incensed that there should be "drug dealers" on the streets and out of jail. Edmund finished his holiday in a haze of cucumber salad having discovered a newfound passion for this particular fruit - useful as Cuba seems to grow a lot of them. He also had the charming but slightly cliched habit of speaking slowly and increasingly loudly in English to any Cuban who appeared not to understand him first time around. Full marks for confidence if not cultural sensitivity. 6. So a wonderful ten days with the amazing hospitality and generosity of Sam and Alex. |