Old Havana Part 2 (by Beenie Girl)

So we went walking about in old Havana to do a little shopping. We went to a "feria" (basically an open air market) which featured mainly touristy-type items such as souvenirs, paintings, sculptures, leather hand made stuff like slippers and handbags. First of all, it is an area with some kind of make-shift tents, cause they dismantle them every evening and re-build them again the next morning. They provided good shade from the sun so I was thankful. However, my problem is, I need to leave them a little note asking them to kindly raise them all about 6 inches, just so I can walk around comfortably without having to bend or get my afro puff caught in the wires used to mount the tarpaulin! My mom had to pick pieces of stuff out of my hair the rest of the day LOL The feria was not set up for 6 footers! But anyway, moving along!

In and around the feria everyone is selling something … apart from the vendors in the booths, there are people walking around tryin to make a buck. Selling cigars, offering horse carriage rides, offering island tours, offering to braid your hair (yes braid, I should go open up a braiding stall, right Sylph?) Right near the feria there was a coconut vendor, who came in very handy in the midday heat. The coconut water was nice and coooold and my jelly was a bit firm but sweet. He even gave me a straw. Yes I know a true Trinbagonian does not drink coconut water with a straw, but I do eat roti with a fork anyway, so I guess I am not normal!

The place is really lively and I did get some nice stuff - some wooden sculptures, some really quirky jewelry, some tiny guayaberas for my nephews- it was a cool scene till you get fed up of people hounding you at every turn to buy things and you need a break. It is a little annoying after a while because people make you out as a foreigner and practically mob you to buy things, or beg you for money.

While I am on the topic of beggars, when we were done at the feria, my mom and a coworker and I were walking along one of the main streets in Old Havana looking for something to eat. My mother was behind me and I hearing her saying “No, no, no”. So I look back and she is talking to this man, who I assume musbe was either homeless or very poor based on his condition. Now my mother knows no Spanish (ok maybe she knows Buenos dias, manzana, leche, adios, about 20 words or so) but the last time I checked NO is the same thing in Spanish and in English, so if she say “no” he should be understanding her, not so? Next ting I see Mr. Man grab on to my mother hand. So of course I switch into “insane” mode. I told him leave us alone (in Spanish). My boy look at me and GROWL. Yes I said growl, like a dog. So of course at this point I start to laugh. I say wait, this man feel I am the average tourist? That a growl will make my run away and cower in fear? He don’t realize my country’s capital is the PARADISE of mad people and vagrants. We interact with them everyday. They barter with us for money and other loot, quarrel wid us when they don’t get enough, they wine in the band like normal fuh Carnival. Well don’t talk about pipers, they come in handy for cutting lawns and moving heavy objects…but back to growling man… So after I had my fill of laughing I told him “Man, I will hit you ONE bag!” I dunno how he knew what I said, but probably my stance and the way I took my hand bag off my shoulder and held it like a sling, he deduced what I was saying and left speedily!

So we walked a little bit more and finally found a place selling these mini pizzas. The man was making them right on spot, they smelled and looked good, so we say nice, this looking like lunch. Then we realize the crowd of people on the sidewalk is actually the LINE. So I don’t know if maybe the fellah saw the look on my face when I saw the line, but nex ting we see him motioning to us, callin us by the side of the shop. Before we know it, the man serving us our pizza from the side of the shop. WELL YOU KNOW I WAS GLAD cause my my belly was in my HAND! So the man show me 2 fingers, I took out 6CUC (three mini pizzas multiply by 2CUC). I find he watchin me weird and pointing at the money. So I start to wonder, I mean 2 x 3 is still 6 isn’t it? I know I don’t like math, but I not THAT bad. Same time Mr. Pizza man’s co-worker looks out the side and ask him “¿Que pasa?” So he close the door before he get catch givin us a ‘bligh’. You know the following week when I went back I realize it was not 2CUC, but 2 Cuban pesos for that darn pizza. Now let me update you, Cuba had two currencies in operation - the official currency is the Cuban Peso then there is the Convertible Peso (CUC) which is in a sense a local alternative to foreign currencies. 1 CUC is equal to 24 Cuban pesos, so basically my 6 CUC paid for pizza for all them people on the sidewalk that day and a few more I am sure. Steuuups! That’s what I get for breaking the line, right?

Old Havana, never a dull moment!