Five Cuban Minutes

Dropping into the Miami Airport from a cruising altitude of only 6000 feet, the transition from the 1960s to 2024 only took 45 minutes. Behind us, life in Cuba continues much as it has since the Cuban Missile Crisis. Old American Chevys, Fords, and Dodges blend with Russian and Chinese trucks, cars, and tractors, belching smokey toxins, watering the eyes, and clogging sinuses. Horse-drawn buggies transport workers to the fields and produce to market, slowing traffic on narrow roads clogged with bicycles and pedestrians. It's a chaotic flow that is both speeding out of control and crawling at a snail's pace; it just depends on your mode of transportation.

Our second visit to Cuba and the Garden of the Queen started in Havana, which seemed an eternity ago, when, in fact, it was only a little over a week. Life aboard the Avalon Fleet II tends to wash away the sobering reality of everyday life on this archipelago as gourmet meals and relatively comfortable accommodations soften the visuals of a crumbling city that once was a shining example of opulence and style. Now, only the government-owned buildings stand polished and painted, while classic architecture crashes to the streets below with each passing storm. Still, some windows into the city's past survive, tucked away on narrow cobbled streets, coming to life when the sun goes down. Music and the smells of food, rum, and cigars drift through the neighborhoods, pulling patrons to their favorite night spots to savor the best of Cuba.

During daylight hours, we toured the city, visited a local school and brought needed supplies, lunched on rooftop terraces, walked through Hemmingway's crumbling estate, and, of course, visited a cigar factory. We sat in old convertibles and watched Cuban life plod on as we tried to take in everything we passed through a whirlwind haze of exhaust. In the end, photographs captured the images but left the emotions of the experience for each of us to contemplate.

For our final meal in Havana, we met our friend, Johnny, the psychologist turned restaurant greeter, at his new job at an upscale establishment called Restaurante Paladar. King Charles, when he was just a Prince, dined at the same table we found ourselves enjoying a delicious meal and private concert surrounded by Cuban history and an eclectic mix of vintage clocks, paintings, and photographs. It was an appropriate way to end our brief time in Havana. We said farewell to Johnny, not knowing if we would ever meet again, and then headed back to our hotel to pack.

The six-hour bus ride to the port city of Jucaro provided a contrasting view of Cuban life. Vintage cars gave way to horsecarts and bicycles as we cut through the center of the island. Chickens, goats, and cattle grazed along the roadside while crops of mangos and sugarcane blended with native jungle vegetation, reclaiming old buildings of unknown purpose. Small villages with houses mere steps from the roadway allowed a glimpse into Cuban country life through open doors and windows. In one home, a pump hen sat comfortably on the arm of the sofa just inside the doorway, enjoying the coolness of her shady perch.

Our bus rolled into Jucaro early in the afternoon, and we were greeted by Ari, our host for the week aboard the Avalon Fleet II. He transferred our luggage to the boat and informed us lunch would be served once we had settled into our cabins. Since a strong breeze blew from the south, our departure would be delayed until after we dined. No matter; the fishing portion of this adventure started in the morning. We found our cabins and then returned to the dining room for lunch. Ari appeared and said lunch would served in 5-minutes, then corrected himself: five Cuban minutes. We ordered mojitos and settled into island time.

End of Part One, now click over to Part Two ~ Fish of Opportunity