Category Archives: sailing

Farewell to Cuba with a Surprise Stowaway

Our final day in Cuba – Pandora on the dock at Marina Hemingway. Isn’t it a lovely spot? Most days were a bit too hot, but our last day was picture perfect.

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We made plans to meet with a number of our new cruising friends for a goodbye drink—Anne and Christian aboard Tidom (France), Lars aboard Luna (Norwway), and the Trudel family (Silvain, Natali, Romane, Elisa, and Victor) aboard Masqueret (Quebec), and Addison and Pat aboard Three Penny Opera (Ontario). Some of us made plans to walk into Jaimanitas for dinner at a paladar that has a great reputation.

Jaimanitas has a section that is done in Gaudi-style mosaics, and it is a wonderfully colorful place. The mosaicist lives in the neighborhood and continues his homage to Gaudi with ongoing projects.

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The paladar was also wonderful. I did not get the name, shame on me! Beautiful ambience, room after room of open air seating and terrific food. Our two best meals of the trip took place here and at the paladar in Old Havana—Paladar los Mercederes.

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Early the next morning (April 29), we rose at 5.30 to head to the Guarda Frontera office to check out of Cuba. Bob took this photo of my exit interview with the Guarda Frontera before they warned him that photos are not permitted.

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What a sight to see the sunrise over Havana as we headed north for Florida in the early morning.  The odd shaped tower that gets a bit wider at the top on the right side of the photo is part of the sprawling Russian Embassy.

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It was a rough crossing, and I did not fare well. I had about 30 hours of mal de mer on the journey to Ft. Lauderdale, and that meant that poor Bob had to stay awake and do all the navigating during the trip. He was really tired when we finally arrived.

A couple of hours after leaving we noticed a snowy egret flying very close to us. He was very far from shore and was clearly getting tired. He made quite a few attempts to land, but he was having a lot of trouble landing onboard, both because he feet are not made for perching and the wind was quite strong.

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He tried several times to land on the lifelines near the stern of our boat, and he attempted to land on the dinghy up in davits a few times.

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Finally he made a successful landing up on the traveler, on the windward side. He stayed with us for the entire day, and luckily we stayed on the same starboard tack for most of the day. Whenever Bob adjusted the traveler or the sails the egret got very nervous, but he did not fly away. I felt terrible for him.

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Later, just a short time before sunset, we needed to tack to head up the coast of Florida. We knew it would startle our Cuban stowaway into taking flight, but we hoped he would return once the boat settled into its new course. The egret took flight and appeared to head right back for Cuba. He never even looked back. It was getting dark, and now Cuba was more than 60 miles away. As a wading bird, egrets cannot land on water. We had already watched him try to land and flounder a bit as he struggled to ascend again.

I had imagined that this bird, like all birds, must have some inborn navigation sense, and I thought there’d be a good chance that this bird knew we were sailing northeast. He might not know that there would be land to the northeast, but I was hoping he’d want to stick with us to find out. Certainly it would have been an easy trip for him if he could make peace with confined so close to us. But he headed right back to Cuba once we frightened him by changing tack. I was heartbroken by this. He had almost no chance of making it all the way back.

And speaking of stowaways…. as we left Marina Hemingway and entered the Straits of Florida, we heard the power yacht that had cleared out of Cuba just before we did, call Marina Hemingway to report what they thought were two boats in trouble:  a small fishing boat far offshore, and a small sailboat.  The sailor immediately answered the call to say that he was not in trouble.  No info on the fishing boat–most likely because they didn’t have a radio.  We saw a large Guarda Frontera cutter (possibly an ex-US Coast Guard cutter?) come out from the harbor to check things out.  Look at the gun on the bow!

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Moments later a bright red Donzi-type speed boat joined the cutter and both boats circled the small sailboat for quite some time.  The sailboat lowered its sails and drifted as the two Guarda Frontera vessels checked things out.  In the end, both Guarda Frontera boats went back to the harbor, which means they never did check out the report of a fishing boat in trouble.  Hmmm….

Clearing in with Customs and Immigration in Ft. Lauderdale was quite an experience. With the quickly changing rules about US citizens visiting Cuba, no one really knows what the procedure should be right now. We expected to be visited by the health department and immigration to check for stowaways and rum and cigars, and any forbidden food items in our fridge/freezer. When Bob called to find out where we should go, he was given numerous phone numbers and no one at the other end of the line at any of these numbers knew what to do with us! In fact one phone number gave us nothing but a recorded message saying that this office is now officially closed and no one would be checking messages henceforth! 24 hours after arriving we got a phone call from one of our previously called contacts asking us to present ourselves at the immigration office at the ship terminal. We only needed to present ourselves, not Pandora, so we rented a car to get there, which allowed us the ability to do some shopping and dining afterward. When we arrived they did not look at all the papers we brought with us— such as our Commerce Dept. form that allowed us to sail Pandora to Cuba. They only looked at our passports, and asked us if we had a good time in Cuba.

You bet! It has been an unbelievable experience!

Basket Man

Yesterday may have been our last day to visit Old Havana, and I’m so glad I didn’t know it then because I would have felt a need to rush about more. Luckily we had a relaxing day and enjoyed some kind of holiday celebration that was happening.

We are trying to figure out the best ‘weather window’ for leaving Cuba. We knew we’d get the window some time this week, and now it looks like tomorrow is the day. So, here is our loose game plan. The winds are opposing the gulf stream a good deal of the time right now, but for the next couple of days those winds are pretty mild from pre-dawn until midday. So we will leave early in the morning, and sail in the gulf stream until the afternoon, when hopefully we will be near Key Largo. At that point we’ll head toward shore, out of the stream, and sail near the Florida coast until early the next morning when the winds die down again. We’ll head back into the Gulf Stream to Ft. Lauderdale, where we hope to clear in. By doing this we get a boost of speed from the northbound currents in the Gulf Stream while the opposing winds are mild, and when those opposing winds are stronger during the afternoon and evenings, we’ll slip out of the stream into the calmer waters outside the stream. I’m sure I’ll be sick, but hopefully less so than during some of our passages this winter.

The US Coast Guard sent us an email the other day (right after Bob had just composed a message to them) to ask if we were still on schedule for returning to the US by May 1. Bob responded, and we are hoping to hear back on whether we can clear in to Ft. Lauderdale. I have my fingers crossed about this because it will be more convenient for us to arrive in Ft. Lauderdale than in Miami. My flight home is Tuesday morning, out of Ft. Lauderdale.

Bob has just heard that the no-anchoring bill in Florida will indeed go into effect on May 1, so our plans for arriving in Ft. Lauderdale have to be adjusted. We will go to Miami instead, not a first choice for either of us. I guess we will rent a car to get to my Ft. Lauderdale flight. That’s boat life for you….you can make all the plans you want, even at the last minute, when you think you’ve got everything in hand, but the powers that be just laugh and laugh.

Yesterday we went back into Old Havana to look for the headquarters of the Women’s Federation for Handwork. Over the weekend we found the retail shop where the garments are sold, but the workshop where women take courses and make things for the shop is closed on the weekends. Yesterday we had a bit of a run around trying to find the workshop. When we did find it, we learned that all the ‘professores’ were gone since classes only take place in the mornings, while we arrived in the early afternoon. Maybe it’s just my imagination, and a leftover feeling from my visit to the workshop in Santiago, but I got the distinct impression that there would be complications trying to get anyone to see me. Yesterday I got to speak to a custodian and a language teacher, but when I asked for a ‘manager’ they both responded that ‘this was not possible.’ After meeting the open and generous women on the Paseo del Prada, and sharing such an excitement for handwork in spite of our communication barriers, I just couldn’t muster enough energy at this point to care if I met the administrators of this federation. I don’t think their goals are quite the same as mine. Admittedly I do not have the ‘whole picture,’ but from my limited perspective I believe their goal is to promote traditional clothing and make a successful business training women to keep these techniques alive and make the garments ‘saleable.’ It is a business venture that needs to succeed, and I hope it does succeed because that just makes handwork more valuable to everyone. But my mission is to meet women who love handwork and want to share what they do. I found that in spades with the group of women who surround Adriana Martinez.

It was some kind of holiday yesterday, but I never understood what! Several people wished us a ‘happy holiday,’ and museums were open in Old Havana that had been closed during our previous visits. While we were in the ceramic museum, I asked our guide what holiday was being celebrated, and she replied that it was the national holiday for ceramics. Bob and I are not at all sure we understood this properly. All kinds of museums were open that have been closed during our previous visits…maybe the holiday was really about Cuban heritage. Anyway, our guide still maintained that it was a ceramics holiday.

The ceramic museum was in the home of an historic ceramic artist who had a workshop and shop on the ground floor and living quarters for his family on the upper floor. The building was from the late 19th century with a central courtyard, and it made a wonderful museum for a history of Cuban ceramic artists. Each room featured a different time period of artists’ works. The courtyard was devoted to vessels and large figures.

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Our guide understood enough English for me to tell her that one of my good friends is a ceramics artist who does large figures in terracotta. I took these photos for her.

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Somehow in our conversation it came about that our guide loves to knit. She took us to the entrance of the employees lounge and asked us to be very quiet since her boss was in there. She went in and came back moments later with a little bag of her knitting. It was the same ecru cotton floss type thread that the women on Paseo del Prada were using to crochet and make lace. I wonder where they get this material. Our guide told us she’d like to knit all day long, but can only find a few minutes here and there during her breaks at work. She said she never gets any time to knit at home because she has to cook and take care of her family. Sound familiar?

There were so many places open for touring or for business that had not been open all weekend long. It was a festive day, and there women dressed in traditional costumes on many street corners. You could take a photo of there for $5 CUC, which seemed a bit dear to us. Near the end of the day, Bob managed a discreet photo from a distance.

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One of the places that had been closed over the weekend was a perfumerie. We had looked through the windows of this museum/shop and admired the antique brass containers used for distilling fragrances, the wonderful colonial furniture and display cabinets, and the glass apothercary jars that held the fragrances. I was thrilled to get into this shop to see things at close range! Bob took some photos while I smelled the fragrances and bought a ceramic jar of violetta for myself and lavender for my sister.

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Every store has a beautiful courtyard since they are housed in historic buildings. This is the courtyard of the perfumeria.  Bob and I had been admiring the stained glass every time we walked by this building over the weekend.

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In the late afternoon yesterday, Bob and I happened upon a young man making baskets from palm fronds. In his large basket he had a number of exquisite, small items made from the fronds….birds, and a little house with a cricket on top.

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He was easy to talk to and knew enough English that we could communicate quite well. As Bob and I were marveling at the fineness of these tiny basket creations, he offered me one of his ‘birds.’ It appeard that he was giving me a gift, but I wasn’t entirely sure. Here again was someone offering a gift and letting fate take his generosity where it would. I put the bird back in his large basket and asked him for the little house with a cricket on top. Buying that took a bit more time and frustration than we’d anticipated! First, Bob could not find his money, and as he searched we had the sickening feeling that maybe we’d lost all our money. After a few heartstopping minutes he did find his stash of money, but then we did not have exact change to buy the little cricket. The basket maker could not make change for us. So Bob went in to the local bar to ask for change, but they did not have it either. Then the basket maker left his spot to go buy a beer which would give him change. (You can walk about the streets in Havana with alcohol). He came back smiling, and yet he still did not have the necessary change! In the end, laughing, he accepted somewhat less than his price, and he still handed me the little bird as a gift.

Bob and I went to dinner with my little house with cricket and my birdie sitting on the table before us as a quirky centerpiece. We kept admiring both these baskets, and I decided I had to have another little house with cricket as a present. I hoped we’d still find our basket maker on the street where we left him by the time we left the restaurant—which was a beautiful courtyard that had once been a print shop.

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Restaurant Imprenta:

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When we got back to the spot where we’d seen the basket maker, the other street artists had just finished packing up their wares and were headed home. Likely the basket maker would soon be doing the same. But we’d gotten there just in time to ask if we could watch him make a little house with cricket on top, and he seemed happy to oblige even though he still had one already made. It took about 20 minutes for him to make, and we had a wonderful conversation with him as he worked.

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He started with two long palm fronds and crossed the fronds (north/south/east/west) over each other in the middle of the frond lengths. Starting with the ends that taper down to points, he began to fold each frond over the other in a consecutive direction. Since the fronds were tapering down to their outer ends the little box he was making got smaller and smaller, tapering like the fronds themselves. This made the roof of the house.

 

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Then he went back to the other half of the fronds that led to the base of where they’d been cut from the tree, and he made the same consecutive folds for making a square. This made the house itself. Very clever. He cut some frond strips to insert into the box for doors and windows.

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The exquisite litte cricket!

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As he worked we talked…. He loves to make baskets and these little figures are things he ‘invents’ himself. He is always thinking of ways to make some kind of little structure or animal out of the traditional basket making techniques that he uses to make regular baskets. He took out his phone and showed us photos of his baskets. If he’d had any of these with him I would have bought some too! He does careful work that results in beautiful baskets!

I told him that I sometimes make baskets too, but not from palm fronds since there are no palm trees where I live. Bob took my phone and began showing photos of my weaving and bobbin lace since he could not find any photos of my baskets. When Bob showed a photo of my tatting the basketmaker’s face lit up and he said his wife does this! I asked if his wife also does crochet and ‘tejer,’ and of course he said yes! He said she loves these techniques and loves to work with her hands. We had a little discussion of how it feels to let our hands work the repetitive motions of these crafts while our minds are free to ponder. Making things with our hands allows our brains time to contemplate many things.   He also told me he plays the piano and the violin. Someday he’d like to have a cello. He loves the cello most of all.

After giving me the little house with cricket he’d just made, he asked if I’d like him to make a snake. Naturally I said yes. I was curious to see what other techniques might be used to make these little figures, and the snake involved a different kind of manipulation of the fronds. When he finished he gave me that too. He really was most generous!

The only downside of our visit with him happened when a woman stopped for a moment to watch while he was making little cricket on top of the house for me. He offered her the one that was already completed. When he told her the price ($3 CUC) she said, “Big city prices….no thank you!” and walked away. We were all stunned. Yes, there are vendors who have high prices for things and who expect you to bargain, but these are mostly vendors who sell things that they have bought to sell. The artists we’ve encountered sell their work for very little, and I cannot imagine haggling with them. Perhaps I’m wrong about this, but how can you expect to pay even less for such an exquisite concoction of creativity? $3 Cuc for 20 minutes of work? Also, as a craftsman myself, I have stood in my own booths over the years and overheard people say that handwoven items are too expensive—that you can buy something just like it in a store for far less.

Well, you cannot buy a little basket woven house with a tiny cricket on top in any store that I know of. I was disappointed in this exchange. It would have been better for her to acknowledge what a little gem he’d just handed her, but that she could not spare the money at this time. It’s such a sad commentary that she felt she had to devalue his work in order to get away.

During all our cab trips to and from Old Havana we drive through modern Havana, including Embassy Row.  The US Embassy is newly opened and has never been on the avenue where all the other embassies are.  Most of the embassies are in historic colonial buildings and are quite a sight.  The Russian Embassy is the exception, although it too is quite a sight!  It is an wonderful example of Soviet architecture.

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Tonight we’ll have drinks around the pool here in Marina Hemingway with some of the other cruisers we’ve met in the last few weeks, along with Lars whom we met as we arrived in Cuba two months ago.  Some of us will walk to a local Spanish restaruant in the nearby town (Jaimentio?–something like that) to have a final dinner together.  Then is farewell to Havana and to Cuba.  It’s been great, but home is beckoning.  Bienvenidos Florida by this time on Friday!

 

Magical Havana

What else could I possibly say about a first visit to Havana, where Bob and I found everything we’d hope to find and more that we didn’t expect, other than it was magical?

Saturday morning we took a cab from Marina Hemingway to Havana Viejo. Months ago I posted information about a woman named Adriana Martinez who teaches bobbin lace and tatting and other lace making techniques in an outdoor setting called the Paseo del Prada. This is also the area where you can find well maintained American cars from the 1950s on display.

Our taxi driver dropped us near the Capitolio (currently under renovation that will make this landmark look positively new), and I struggled to find the Paseo del Prada on our map of Old Havana. I was looking at all the little green squares that signify a ‘park,’ but in fact as we wandered, we found it before I ever located it on the map. We saw a lot of art and handwork on display on the park-like median between two large boulevards that starts right at the capitol.

There were brightly colored paintings on display and several ‘workshops’ set up for children to try their hands at painting. But there were just as many women with handwork on display, mostly crochet. I was impressed to see so many women sitting on portable chairs in front of their displays, watching the crowds walk by while their hands were literally a blur, turning out crochet projects at impressive speed. The crochet work is really fine and beautiful. Cotton blouses with lace crochet insets, crocheted shawls and dresses, many dresses for little girls—all of it done in ecru cotton.

And then, before I recognized what I was seeing, there was a group of women clustered around one woman, and about half the women were working on lace pillows while the other have were tatting or crocheting. Moments later when I took my eyes from the bobbin lace work and the tatting, I recognized Adriana Martinez from the link I had found last summer about the arts of Cuba and Joan Sperans’ photo of Adriana.

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Can you imagine hearing about an artist who has a display in a park in New York (or any major city in the US) and going there and finding that very artist within moments of arriving? Maybe it could happen, but I can’t tell you how shocked I am to find the very woman, the only woman, I’d heard of doing bobbin lace in all of Cuba. I am stunned!

In this photo Adriana is helping a student with their bobbin lace project (bolillo).  Under the student’s pillow is Adriana’s project: a blouse made entirely of bobbin lace!

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While I talked to Adriana and a woman named Nancy who knew a bit more English, Bob took my phone and began showing photos of my own work to the other women: tapestry, knitting, bobbin lace. I gave Adriana and Nancy my card, and then all the students wanted cards as well. I was so touched that these women were interested in me, but naturally we were all interested in each other. It is thrilling to find people in a distant location doing the very thing you love to do so much! We were all quite intrigued with each other! At one point Nancy called a man over to interpret for us, and I was shocked at how many textile words he knew. I don’t know if he was related to one of the women doing lace or if he was just someone with his own artwork on display nearby. He was a young man named Hidalgo, rather macho looking, wearing a muscle shirt and smoking a cigar, and he knew all the English words for the techniques and materials the women were using.

And speaking of men, I have to mention that every time an official has come onboard Pandora, either from the Guarda Frontera of the Health Department, or even the fishermen who have rowed these officials out to inspect us, all these men have known that the pile of yarn and needles laying about our cockpit is called ‘tejer.’ Every time, no kidding, one of the men will point to my knitting and say ‘tejer.’ Presuming I might not know what they’re saying they will often put up both their hands and make a pantomime of knitting. There’s no mistaking their pantomime for crocheting or any other handwork. And I can’t help but think of all the American men who always assume I’m quilting, whether I’m sitting in front of a loom or a spinning wheel, or holding knitting needles or have a lace pillow in front of me. When I tell them the name of what I’m actually doing, the standard response is “Quilting…knitting…whatever.” How refreshing that Cuban men know the difference!

Here is a photo I meant to use weeks ago, on my first trip into Cienfuegos. Again, one of the Guarda Frontera had seen my knitting and correctly identified what I was doing. I already knew that many women in Cuba crocheted. I had made a joke to Bob that I could not imagine what women might knit or crochet in such a hot climate. And then I saw this!

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The day only got more and more magical. Bob found lots of wonderful antique cars all along the Paseo del Prada and along the road that edges the coast and the Havana harbor. I found the location of the Quitrin shop that sells traditional clothing. I asked if the school of handwork was nearby, and they told me where to find it, although it is closed on the weekends. I hope to visit on Monday.

Every aspect of the day had a touch of magic to it. Walking through the pedestrian only, cobbled streets, we came to the privately owned restaurant (called a paladar) that was written up in the Lonely Planet Guidebook as the best restaurant in all of Havana. We were wilted from the heat and not feeling appropriately attired for such a nice restaurant. But we both felt that since we’d found it would be a shame to pass up such a chance. Paladars are a recent business venture in Cuba, a chance for Cubans to own their own business. Almost all businesses are owned by the government. There are lots of rules about running a privately owned restaurant, from how many tables you can have to who can be hired for staff. Just a couple of years ago the restaurant staff had to be family members of the owner. This restaurant, Paladar los Mercaderes, had quite a large staff, and clearly were not related.

I was asking our waiter for recommendations and also explaining that we’d like to try some traditional Cuban items when man seated at the adjacent table, having dinner alone, introduced himself as the owner of the restaurant and began making recommendations of what we should try.  After we ordered, he also insisted that we try a glass of the French Medoc he was drinking, and it was delicious, of course! Yamil Alvarez Torres and his wife and one of his cousins are partners in this venture.

Yamil owns two fishing boats, one on the north coast and one on the southcoast, which supply all the fish for the restaurant. Yamil used to live in this beautiful space with his wife and daughter, and he says he did all the renovations himself to turn it into a stunning setting for his restaurant. When you arrive you walk up a staircase strewn with red and white rose petals to a beautiful dining room appointed with ornate colonial furniture. Our dinner was octopus boiled and then grilled (very tender!) served with two sauces: one was lightly sauteed onions and the other a house-made pesto. Our main course was braised lamb with green olives, onions and small red and green peppers in a bittersweet dark sauce. The flavors were wonderful together! Tangy olives and pungent peppers in a mysterious dark, bitterweet sauce. Dessert was a layered chocolate confection with a torched sugar topping (like the topping on a crème brulee) that I simply cannot describe! It was all excellent, and momentarily after arriving both of us had lost our wilted, bedraggled feeling and were thoroughly enjoying ourselves!

Perhaps the end of the evening was the most magical part of the day. Earlier we had noticed a large park being set up for a dinner. Tables and chairs draped in white cloths (what do you call those covers for chairs?) with centerpieces of red roses filled this square near the San Francisco ship terminal. There was a stage being set up and some dancers were milling about wearing angel costumes. We enjoyed the scene and then wandered on our way. At the end of the evening we found the event in full swing. It turned out to be an American tour group. While I stood in the square transfixed by a harpist playing Debussy’s First Arabesque, Bob began chatting with a couple who’d stepped away from their dining table.

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On the one hand, I could not believe I was standing in a square in Old Havana, listening to a harpist play one of my favorite pieces of music, while Bob was learning about the tour group who was having such an extravagant event on the square. It was a large group of people from the AIA, the American Institute of Architects, a group that Bob’s father was closely involved with during all the years he was publisher of “Progressive Architecture.” When I joined the conversation, the man speaking to Bob was saying that he read “Progressive Architecture” for many years.

Bob has moments almost every day when he thinks of his father and wishes he could make a quick phone call to his dad, even though it’s now been over two years since his dad passed away. We were both pretty stunned to find that this extravagant event that we’d watched being set up earlier in the day and that was now in full swing, brought Bob’s father back to us so intensely. It ended our evening in Old Havana perfectly.

Finding a cab back to Marina Hemingway late at night was not quite as easy as we’d imagined. All the taxis wanted more than twice the fare we’d paid earlier in the day. In the long run we found a taxi willing to take us back for only a little more than we’d paid in the morning.

Our driver calls himself Shrek and has a well-preserved red Chevrolet convertible with an almost spotless white interior. It was a terrific ride along the coast back to the marina.

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He’d never been to Marina Hemingway before so we had him deliver us right to the side of Pandora tied up along a bulkhead. I tried to get photos of the car and Pandora together—not too easy late at night! And Shrek took photos on his phone while Bob and I did the same.

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It was a fun ending to a magical day!

 

A Couple of Perfect Days

Bob’s mother was notorious for invoking the saying “It’s always darkest before the dawn,” whenever anyone needed some cheering up. It’s uncanny how often that saying is true.

We’ve now had three very easy days of sailing and peaceful evenings at remote anchorages along the reefs and cayos in the Archipielago de los Colorados.

The morning after Bob’s visit with the fishermen we were all up about the same time. By the time Bob and I decided to up anchor, the crew, minus the captain, had donned full-length wet suits, and were jumping in the water with plastic bins tied to their waists on a long tether of wire. Considering what we’ve seen of fishermen, it has to be unusual for these men to have wet suits. The bins had a bit of Styrofoam on each side to help them float, and each man had his own bin. They made a circle around our boat, so that we could not leave. It was fascinating to watch them. They were picking up something that definitely wasn’t lobster or conch. Eventually one of the men’s bins was very close to us, and we could look down into the bin to see a healthy catch of sea cucumbers. Based on how often the men surfaced and threw a pile of these into their bins, they were having a very good catch of these creatures. We are guessing that these might get shipped to Japan. Still, I’m sure it’s the Cuban government who makes a good profit on these delicacies—not the men.

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When the men moved off a bit we were able to up anchor and head out. Our destination was another Cayo Levisa, about 30 miles east. At the end of the day we stopped at Punta Alonso Rojas, which I thought was a cayo, but which turned out be a large clump of mangrove in the middle of the longest run of mangroves I have ever seen. It was most of our horizon! It looked like a series of islands, but on closer inspection each ‘island’ was a massive grove of mangroves. In fact, some of these mangrove areas looked like hills, but it turned out that there were very large mangroves in the middle that had to be over 75 feet tall with younger smaller mangroves growing outward from the giants. I had no idea they got that tall!

Just as Bob was putting the dinghy in the water so we could go ‘exploring’ a very small homemade fishing boat approached. Two men were rowing with homemade oars (I should mentioned that every row boat we’ve seen has had very rudimentary, homemade oars) on a boat made out of wooden slats, like a raft, with truck tire inner-tubes for floatation. The inner-tubes had been cut and straightened, then somehow tied closed at each end and filled with air. They must leak and need re-filling all the time, yet these guys had been out on the reefs all day and were returning home as the sun got lower. We bought two big lobster tails from them—again $5 CUC for both. Bob threw in a bar of soap –boy, was that the dumbest thing we brought along, based on very outdated advice from someone. So every day from now on we are giving out at least one bar of soap.

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I happened to read The Boys in the Boat earlier during this trip, and I cannot help but compare the local fisherman here to the men who race rowing shells. I am convinced this sport must be about the hardest thing a body can do. When I see how far these fisherman row, in boats that do not skim the water easily, and with oars that are far from sleek, all the way out into ocean waters, no matter what the weather…well, I’m speechless. Crew is an amazing sport, but what these men do is just beyond comprehension to me.

Then the most amazing sight occurred. We were so impressed by the ingenuity and industry of these two men who fashioned a fishing boat out of a wooden raft with tire inner-tubes, yet that was nothing compared to what they did next. They raised a gaff rig sail made of dozens of pieces of scrap fabric. And I’d bet money those scraps had been sewn together by hand…it was an impressive sail made of years of leftover fabric scraps. They were running downwind on two inner-tubes with a sail from the rag bag, and it was quite a vision.

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We took the dinghy to inspect the maze of little waterways between these mangrove ‘islands,’ and saw that the older plants in the center had huge trunks, as big as any maple or oak we’ve got at home. How old is a mangrove that big?? We threaded our way through lots of estuaries. It was fascinating how many mangrove ‘islands’ there are here. Each time we headed toward what we thought was finally going to be real island, perhaps even the place where the fishermen had returned home, but as far as we went it was all mangroves. There were miles and miles of shallow water supporting this mangrove forest. I don’t know how far those fishermen had to go to reach real land.

Since finishing the cabled sweater I’ve been inundated with ideas for projects. In one case I think I’ve improved on a project already underway. I’ve got yarn onboard that I was using to make a shadow knit sweater for one of my nieces. I was knitting the shadow stripes so they’d sit vertically on the sweater, and I was just beginning a funnel neck collar for the back when I set it aside a few weeks ago. Suddenly I just wasn’t that enthralled with my design. Then just after cabled sweater completion I had what I hope will be a brilliant idea to make an Einstien jacket (Sally Melville) out of the two yarns I was shadow knitting. I think that will be quite effective – vertical stripes below the empire waist and horizontal stripes for the bodice and sleeves, with fun buttons to gild the lily! It will be a classic shape, executed in a fun to knit structure. The bad news is that I don’t have the Einstein pattern onboard with me! Drat!

Moving On…Chivirico

We stayed in Santiago de Cuba for six days. It was such a bustling place that we were quite exhausted about halfway through our stay.

I don’t believe I mentioned that after we were cleared in with the health official from customs, we moved Pandora into the part of the harbor for pleasure boats. As we were getting ready to take the health official back to shore and go to the custom’s office for our interview, we noticed some young men calling to us from shore. We both waved to them all, and that seemed to be some kind of signal for all of them to jump in the water. I swear they were swimming out to us! We quickly locked up the boat in case they were planning to board while we were ashore. Once ashore we asked the customs official about them, but he said they were harmless.

We already knew that no Cuban may go onboard a private boat without written permission from some government bureau issued 24 hours in advance. I did not think these young men would board our boat right in front of customs and immigration officials. But shortly after we sat down in the customs office one of the officers came in and asked Bob to escort him out to our boat in our dinghy so he could scare off the young men (they ranged in age from teens to early 30s). He assured Bob that they meant no harm and most likely would not actually get on our boat. But they had surrounded the boat at this point, and a couple of them were climbing the anchor chain. I was very glad to realize it was Sunday and at least for the next few days they should all have to go to school or work.

Drivers and taxis are quite an experience. On the one hand there is an official fare that cannot be changed so you will always pay the same fare for the same route. In our case, that was to and from the marina and the center of the city. Noel was recommended to us as a good driver with excellent English. Many people who work with tourism want to have lots of practice with their English. A few English people come here, but not enough to help the locals practice on a regular basis. So any English speaking people are popular targets. Noel really was as good as his reputation. Other taxi drivers get $10 each way (and remember this is $20 each way for us since we had Canadian money) to pick up or deliver people to the marina which is well outside the city. Noel would spend time with us after getting into the city, waiting for us at the Cadeca to exchange money, taking us to the large local produce market where he changed our tourist pesos (CUCs) for local pesos and then helped us pay for our goods!

3-8-16d 001Yet there was a downside. The first day we used Noel he helped we arranged for him to come back at a certain time to pick us up. He gave us his mobile number and told us to ask any Cuban on the street to make the call. When we did that later, Noel told me he was not free to come get us. His transmission had malfunctioned and his car was not drivable. Okay….time to try a local taxi. It all went fine. It was just a hassle to brave the phalanx of taxi drivers at the Parque Cedespedes to get one. Each taxi has two men: one to walk the streets hawking you to take his taxi, and one who stays with the car and is actually the driver. There is a sea of the taxi hawkers and it’s a bit overwhelming to try and approach one while at least 10 others are vying for your business. I know they don’t get into fights over it, but it looks like they come just shy of fighting for customers.

Due to Noel’s transmission problems, the next day we used a ‘friend’ of Noel to drive us into the city. He did not speak one word of English so it was too difficult to do any of the shopping we had hoped to do. Anyway, I spent at least half the day at the Women’s Federation, so it didn’t mater that much.

Meanwhile, Noel dealt with his transmissions problems, not by taking his car to a garage….there aren’t such services here. He hunted around for a part off another car that would do the trick. It certainly didn’t have to be from the some make of Czech Rebublic car either. The part he found did not fit his car so he just drilled new holes in it to make it fit. I wonder how many times that happens before your car is no longer sound due to having so many holes drilled in it?

On day three, Noel was back in business. He offered to take us to a Cadeca again, to a bakery and then to lunch overlooking the harbor and then to the Castillo de Morro—a perfect plan for a beautiful day! He had our jerry jugs for diesel in his trunk, and at the end of the day would take us to a gas station to fill them. But we were barely out of the marina and still outside the city when a policeman pulled us over, and in checking Noel’s papers found that his license was 15 days expired. Noel said that he has 30 days to renew, but clearly that is not what the policeman thought. He allowed Noel to drop us in the city, but then Noel was required to go immediately to the police station. So there went our carefully planned day.

Fruit at the large market

3-8-16d 008At the end of the day Noel returned, but still without the proper papers so he was not allowed to have us as passengers in his car. He brought a friend (no English!) to drive us to the bakery and to a gas station, but not out to Castillo de Morro that we’d been looking forward to seeing. Noel was very insistent that he keep the jerry cans in his car, while his friend drove us. I think he wanted to keep us as his customers rather than loosing us to his friend. Anyway, these predicaments seem to be the fabric of life for the Cubans. Noel was not put out at any time over his car problems or his license. He said this is just the way it is in Cuba.

A very odd situation cropped every day when we arrived in downtown Santiago. Men would approach us and say that they recognized us from the marina. These were people we had never seen before! Some men would even say they knew we were on the ‘dark green boat.’ The first man who did this really conned us. I wrote about him in the first post about Santiago de Cuba. He said he recognized us because he was on duty in the customs office when we checked into the harbor. Believe me, I was so nervous and enthralled by that first check in to this forbidden country, I would have remembered him…yet I didn’t. Still, he was very convincing. The paladar he took us to was more expensive than any other place we’ve eaten during our entire stay, although it was very good. And, since we walked past the custom’s office every time we got off the boat, we realized that the man who took us on this little farce has not turned up there during our entire stay.

How could so many people know about us? The marina was a long way from the city center—15 -20 minutes by car. It felt like there was a pipeline of information being passed around about each tourist. And I can only imagine in a country where ‘one hand washes the other,” and “who you do and who you know” might mean that everyone involved got a little piece of the pie.

Also, I think I might have indulged in one too many ice cubes. I seem to be a bit under the weather and experiencing a general malaise. Bob is feeling a bit less than stellar as well. We have each indulged in a couple of lemonades and mohitos during our stay, in spite of my determination not to have anything with ice. Ah well…

So we are now spending a couple of days in a small harbor called Chivirico, a few miles to the west. It was quite a leap of faith to get in here, following the waypoints that Frank Virgintino gives in his guidebook—though we think his final waypoint is a mistake. All went well. We had to navigate through a very narrow cut between two coral reefs, with breaking water on both sides of us (that’s a sure sign that the water is very shallow! And coral reefs are very sharp and dangerous!). Once in the tiny harbor, in calm water, it felt like we’d really accomplished something to arrive here.

Wouldn’t you know that within the first hour of arriving we were barraged by a gaggle of young boys who swam out from where they’d been playing along the shore. One boy was bold enough to begin climbing up onto our swim platform at the stern. But the moment Bob said, NO, you don’t!” the boy slid back into the water and shortly after they all swam back to shore. In spite of knowing that this is a very friendly culture with a social distance much closer than I am used to, I still can’t help being a bit unnerved by all this…what to call it? Exuberance? Opportunity? There is very little privacy! …even in such a small harbor!

3-13-16b 008We had a relaxing late afternoon and evening watching men fishing with hand lines from the shore, watching the same group of boys jump from a tree into the water, and some men in dories throwing round nets. There were men who worked in groups to stretch gill nets or seine nets completely across the entrance to this harbor. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon for us and for the boys, but not for the men, and likely not for the women either.

Late at night while we were watching the stars a boat arrived flying the Norwegian flag. There was no way to signal them about the nets, but they seemed to enter the harbor easily and left just as easily just after dawn this morning. I have no idea when the men might have taken down those nets! We did not see them do it.

There is always some chore that needs doing on a boat, just like at home.  During the past few months our sail cover, which protects the sail from damaging UV rays, has starting to deteriorate.  Just like the sail itself, it is also affecting by UV rays, and the stitching that it was sewn with has come apart in places.  No problem for Bob, who brings his heavy duty sailrite machine with him everywhere we sail.  Here he is with the sail cover spread all over the foredeck, mending away.

3-13-16b 010Here is Pandora sitting pretty in Chivirico.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAAs I write this I am high up on a bluff in Chivirico called Hotel Brisas.  It is a stunning spot, and hopefully we will have photos by te next time I post.  We are here for the internet and some lunch.

There is a charming town here in Chivirico that looks like it was frozen in time during the early 20th century.  Plenty of old cars here, but even in more abundance are mule drawn carts.  From the boat we can hear the clop-clop of their hooves as they trot through the streets.  People here have tidy little houses with immaculate gardens.  The shop fronts along the main street are also very charming and neatly kept.  I´m looking forward to buying some Cuban coffee when we leave here in a bit.

The Democratic Women’s Federation for Handcraft

Does that sound like a bureaucratic department in a communist state? Bingo. I am sorry to report that my visit to the Women’s Federation was a bit different than I expected. Yes, it was exciting…but it was also heavily overshadowed by some restraint on the part of the women I met. They had a reserve that was a bit unnerving to me, and none of them showed the enthusiasm for the handwork we had in common that I expected.

I met Noelis at the shop where the traditional clothing is for sale. Maria Estar was again on ‘display’ in a window making a small crocheted embellishment that would be attached to some item of clothing when finished. Noelis was happy to see me and led Bob and me on a walk for several blocks to the building of the Women’s Federation.

The building was a lovely old thing—I’d guess it was once a 19th century residence, one storey with a lovely front porchl.  From the street entrance we cold barely see into a large, dark front room with a hallway running back. Beyond this was a wonderful view of the inner courtyard that had a lathwork ceiling draped in a bounty of magenta bougainvillea blooms.

3-10-16b 006Noelis took us in to the first room where about a dozen women were sitting in a circle practicing their crochet. There was a man who was monitoring who came and went from a desk at the entrance. Noelis asked us to sit down near the desk while she got the ‘manager’ to come out to meet us.

Some of the women looked up from their work and smiled at me. I was very excited at the prospect of getting to see what they were doing! I was right near them, but I already had the sense that I needed to stay in my seat as Noelis had instructed.

The manager was a woman about my age. She looked very approachable, and I think we could have had a great conversation if we had not needed a translator. Noelis was our translator, and I trusted her, but she had such a deference for the manager that I think she translated my words very formally. Certainly what she told me the manager was saying was also very formal. I was not speaking formally to these women, and I have a feeling from the friendliness in the manager’s eyes that she was not speaking formally to me either. I think a LOT was lost in translation.

They told me the purpose of the federation was to keep the techniques used in traditional textiles alive and make sure the traditional garments of Cuba continued to be valued and worn, if not for everyday use, at least for use in life’s traditional ceremonies, such as weddings and other religious events. The women pay to go to this school (60 pesos for 3 months of study and including a hot lunch), and then have the opportunity to make money with their handcrafts after reaching a certain level of proficiency.

There was a class going on in the lush courtyard and there was a large studio with sewing machines where women were sewing various items of clothing. The machines were all Jukis. The only clothing being made that I recognized with certainly was the men’s wedding shirt, called a guayabera. Noelis told me there are many traditional women’s costumes that have the same details as the guayabera.

The manager’s office was a cramped space with no window. The four of us—Noelis, the manager, Bob and I—were quite challenged in the space. At one point another woman came in and joined us. I know that Bob and I created some curiosity, but it seemed that most of the women did not feel comfortable showing it.

While I could see that all the sewing was being done with commercial white fabric (and I had felt the shirts in the shop, and they were not traditional 100% cotton, but some kind of cotton/polyester blend), I still felt compelled to ask if anyone in Cuba was weaving traditional fabric. Noelis did not recognize words ‘weaving’ and ‘loom’ so while we chatted Bob searched the photos on my phone for images of my looms and some of my handwoven fabrics. Once he found these both the manager and Noelis confirmed that no one is weaving in Cuba. They do not have the equipment, but they said some women ‘do this with a needle.’ Hmmm…. I wonder if they meant some kind of needle lace. They saw some photos of my tapestries (tapisaria) and said that is not done in Cuba either.

We talked for a while about bobbin lace, tatting, knitting and crochet. Bob asked if we could take some pictures, and this is when things got noticeably awkward for the women. The manager said (through Noelis) that we would have to go to the Federation headquarters in Havana to ask for permission to photograph. Hmmm… They seemed a bit leery of us from that point on. I tried to explain that women in the US who do handcrafts are very interested in knowing what women in other parts of the world do. That did not go well either. The manager gave me a brochure about the Federation and told me to visit Havana for permission. Bob attempted to tell them that we are living on a boat ….that this method of travel means we will not get to Havana until mid April and we will not get back to Santiago de Cuba, but they said they could not do anything without permission from their headquarters. So, very sadly, that photo at the beginning of this post is all I have to show.

Noelis took me on the rest of the short tour. It was afternoon at this point and almost all the women were sitting together in the courtyard, all eating the exact same lunch on plastic trays with molded dividers to separate the food items—very 1950s. Lunch was white rice, some kind of meat, and some vegetables. As I looked to the side of the courtyard, along the hallway we were walking down, I saw there was a large kitchen where lunches were prepared. So some women work at the Federation as kitchen staff.

Noelis took me to a group of women at a small table just at the back of the large front room we had entered first from the street. Behind a room divider separating them from the space where the crocheters had sat in a circle for their class was a large Spanish carved colonial dining table (and large, ornately carved Spanish china cabinets along that back wall) where women were sitting practicing their tatting…or frivolite. Noelis introduced me to the teacher and then asked me to show her my tatting. I was a bit horrified because of all the textile techniques I do this is the one I am most UNproficient at doing! I did not want the teacher to think that my work represented the quality of work done by women in the US! I asked Noelis to explain to her that I am very much a beginner, that I only started doing this when we left on our trip a couple of months ago, and that this was my second attempt at a trim of rings and chains for the neckline of a blouse.

Naturally, the teacher found all my mistakes in a moment! She had Noelis tell me that I didn’t always have the same number of stitches between my picots, and I must strive to always have the same number. Well, yeah… I do know that even though I haven’t managed it yet. Wish I could have explained that I did this work while bouncing about on a sailboat, usually sailing in gale force and near gale force winds…but I realize that would have been just looking for reasons to explain my faults! Then she said my picots were rather good but there were still tiny differences in sizes, and I needed to get more consistent with that as well. At the end she said that if I was a beginner I was doing very well. Still, I left feeling pretty mortified that of all the things I could have shown a teacher in this school, wouldn’t you know it would be the one thing I barely know!

Noelis escorted us out of the building, and as she left us to return to the shop where we met her (in the historic district) once again she said that she hoped we’d come back with permission from Havana, and that she ‘would be waiting for me.’

This incident put a quite a damper on my enjoyment of the rest of the day, I must say. I always get so excited to meet other textile makers, and I usually feel that it is a language we all share and a place where we can all have the same enthusiasm and ability to teach and to learn from each other. The whole proletariat attitude really took the wind out of my sails–sorry for the dumb pun–but I really felt deflated. Here were a group of women I would love to communicate with about subjects near and dear to all of us, and there was this terrible pall over the whole thing. There was a definite sense of propriety that these women exuded, and they seemed to be weighing their interest in talking to me against the rules of what was expected of them in representing this federation.

After a short walk back to the historic district, we were standing in the main parque when we were approached by someone who said he knew we were staying at the marina… I did not recognize him, although he said he works for the customs department at the marina. He remembered us from when we checked in, but I knew I had not seen him. He offered to show us some sights and find a place for us for lunch. In my newly deflated state I wondered if there was some agenda to his offer….

Well, there was, of course, but also he was generous with his knowledge. He took us to a local restaurant that I’m sure was owned by his family or friends. That was okay because it was a great place, and we would have no idea of how to find such a good local place on our own. ‘Paladares’ are family owned restaurants that the Cuban government has now sanctioned. There are many rules for running one of these: a limited number of customers may be served (I think it is 12), and they cannot serve foods that are reserved for gov’t run hotels and restaurants which includes lobster and the better cuts of chicken. Paladares may serve pork, some chicken, and local fish. We let the waiter choose our meal for us, and it was excellent! This particular place was on the 3rd floor balcony of a small residential building (typical Soviet block cement structure), and up on the balcony was an amazing view of the decayed apartment buildings all around that could have been anywhere from Kabul to Cairo with a backdrop of the stunning harbor.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA3-10-16b 012Some of the surrounding buildings had no roofs, or had makeshift roofs of corrugated tin with many holes and many repairs. All the buildings had windows with no glazing. On one rooftop balcony near us there was a dog that looked very much like our son’s dog Bobi. This gave me a little tinge of homesickness on the very day I was missing my son’s birthday. Well, I was certainly thinking of him.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOur customs official cum tour guide offered to get us things—cigars, rum…from places that tourists cannot visit and therefore much less expensive. He admitted that he had some ‘relationships’ with these places that would give him a commission for what he sold. It was all a bit overwhelming for me. He said he got his very good job working for the state because of who he knew. He used the phrase “Who you do, who you know,” which sounded like everything was based on what you do for someone and who you know that can improve your own situation. I got that, but he must have wanted to make certain I understood because he added, “one hand washes the other.” –he could not possibly know that I learned this phrase in Latin in high school, about a million years ago! I guess I was too hot and too disappointed in my visit to the handcraft school to enjoy this information. Now, a day later Bob and I have discovered that he does not work for customs at the marina. He’s not the first person to recognize downtown in Santiago de Cuba—every seems to know who we are. I think we were had, but it was kind of fun anyway. Boy, these people know how to turn a trick.

The day was hotter than the previous day, and when we returned to Pandora we had a very cold gin and tonic and a simple dinner of cheeses from France and Italy, and crackers from the UK , that we bought in Nassau. After washing a local mango in a basin full of water mixed with hydrogren peroxide, we ate it. No ill effects today. I might also add that I had a mojito at the paladar and a lemonade at the Casa Granda Hotel, both with ice cubes, and I am still alive. Whew!

National Day for Women in Cuba

Our first trip into downtown Santiago de Cuba happened to be a national holiday for women so the city was hopping. Men and women clogged the streets, children were not in school, street vendors were selling flowers and candy, and there was such an air of festivity all around us.

The streets are old and narrow, and the sidewalks even narrower! It’s a given that pedestrians do NOT have the right of way, so you step into the street at your own risk. Very few intersections had traffic lights and even fewer had the little walk/don’t walk signal. The sidewalks were so narrow that many times you had to step out into the street just to move through the crowds of pedestrians. It was a great day to see this city in full swing!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWe had been advised to change our money at a Cadeca (a money changing facility) because the lines at any bank would be frightfully long. As it turns out there were lines at the Cadecas as well, but they were somewhat shorter. It was all very 3rd world and communist. The lines form outside these establishments, on the hot and narrow sidewalks. There is a guard who lets someone into the building each time someone leaves the building. Inside there is a shorter line, and another guard signals the person at the head of the line to move to next free teller. It took us about 20 minutes to get to a teller, and when I saw a couple of banks later in the day I can see that we made the right choice.

Now here is the funny thing about money—the exchange rate seems to be whatever the Cuban government wants it to be. The US dollar is .87 to a Cuban CUC, and I feel quite certain this not supportable in the world market. We had read in two guide books that there was an extra ‘tax’ on US dollars and it is better to have either Euros or Canadian dollars to exchange. We opted to bring CAD with us. Well 1 CAD is .55 a Cuban CUC, so we have only half the money we thought we had to spend here. Yikes! We should have brought Euros, which have an even exchange rate. Because we are from the US we cannot get any funds from our banks, and we cannot use our US credit cards, even the one that we got for use outside the US. When we returned to our boat last night, we took a hard look at what we have and made a budget. I think we can just get by!

Like many old cities Santiago de Cuba has a public park every few blocks running up Aguilera Boulevard from the harbor up the steep hill that eventually leads into the rural Sierra Maestro range. This is the oldest part of the city, crowded but beautiful, with old colonial architecture. Santiago de Cuba is known for having the unspoiled colonial architecture, along with the oldest surviving building in all of Cuba, the house of Diego Valazquez, built in 1522.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAAnd it is also known for having the most motorcycles in Cuba, and this is what pedestrians must take care to avoid when walking about the streets. It is amazing how many motorcycles there are, most with no mufflers. They dart in and out of traffic, so that you can never be sure when you step off the curb that one might not suddenly cross your path. The streets were full of interesting vehicles and all seemed to love honking, all day… old American and European cars that had been repainted many times. We’ve heard that the engines are most likely no longer original, but a mixture of whatever can be found and refurbished. Many of these cars have Russian or Eastern European engines. There were plenty of small Russian Lados on the streets, and our driver, Noel, shuttled us about in a car with an unrecognizable name from Czech Republic that was 30 years old . Many of the American cars, being so much larger, had been converted into ‘buses’ by removing the back seat of the car and adding on something like a pickup truck bed on a larger scale. There were benches back there that could hold 10 or 12 people, and these vehicles seemed to be getting a lot of business. I was very glad to have a driver with a car! He’d been recommended to us by a Canadian couple who were just leaving this port when we arrived.

This Carmen Ghia is now a taxi. Tempting…but quite small for taxi, don’t you think?
3-8-16b 009We had planned to spend our day walking through the historic district, having lunch at the Casa Granda Hotel, then touring the Casa de Diego Valazquez. But just walking around took longer than we expected, and by the time we got to lunch—roughly 3-ish—which also took longer than we expected, we decided to relax on the balcony of this stately old hotel at a table overlooking the square with a delightful breeze blowing straight up from the harbor. So we never made it to Valazquez’s house. We will definitely get there before we leave.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAEarlier in the  morning we stopped at a café and had a wonderful Cuban coffee with steamed milk. After that we walked along the Jose A Saco Boulevard, which is for pedestrians only (thank heaven!) and has many shops and street vendors selling crafts from woodworking to leather work (very little textile handwork). It was fascinating to us that so many shops sold exotic birds. I wonder if Cubans keep birds for pets the way we keep dogs and cats. I’ve never seen so many colorful parrots and lots of other beautiful birds that looked like variations on quail or guinea hens.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThe shop entrances are a bit high off the street, maybe just above knee height, and there are the tiniest little cement block steps to enter these shops. There are no railings to hold on to, but sometimes a metal bar in the wall that you can grab if you are feeling unsteady on your feet. I am always feeling unsteady on my feet! Only one person at a time can go up or down these tiny steps so that seems to manage the flow of who is coming out or going into the shops.

The highlight of my day—and probably the biggest reason why we did not have enough time to see the Valazquez museum—was that I saw a woman sitting in a large unglazed window doing some very fine crochet work. Her window was next to a shop full of men’s wedding shirts. I went into the shop thinking I could access the room she was working in from there….but no. There was a door that probably led to where she was, but it was closed. So I went back out on the street and talked to her from there.

3-8-16d 013First I should say that I had already questioned a few people, and then tried to confirm my knowledge with Noel, about the Spanish words for various types of handwork. Crochet is crochet, ‘tejer’ is knitting, ‘bolillo’ is bobbin lace. Noel, our driver, said that many women do handwork but that he is not familiar with names of all the things they do. He said his grandmother had been doing ‘tejer’ for about 75 years, and he confirmed that it is knitting by saying it has two needles rather than one. I said that I had been doing ‘tejer’ for over 50 years, and he found this amazing. It made me think that his grandmother is probably only a bit older than 75, and that he did not realize how young many women are when we learn these techniques.

So I tried to have a conversation with the woman doing crochet in the shop window. I asked her if ‘muy mujeres’ did crochet in Cuba, and she said yes! Most women do lots of ‘projects’ in their homes. I was quite enthralled to learn this. I took out my tatting-in-progress and asked her if this called ‘frivolite.’ Yes, it is.

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After a few more minutes of struggling to communicate, the crocheter called another woman over who spoke English very well. Her name is Noelise, and the crocheter’s name is Maria Estar, and they both work at a local school for textile handwork. I immediately thought of the lace school in Via de Conde, Portugal, and thought that I may have hit pay dirt here in Santiago de Cuba.

Noelis asked to see my tatting and said something like many women in Cuba want to learn this. I was not certain if that meant that no one knew how to do but want to learn, or if it is a popular thing to do. She said the handwork school was closed for the national holiday celebrating women, but that it would be open today. She has invited to come to see it this morning , so that is the focus of my day! She said she will wait for me at the location where I met her yesterday, and she’ll take me to the school. Her last words to me were, “I will wait for you tomorrow!” So charming!

So I don’t plan to dawdle this morning! I have a lot to learn!

Exciting Stuff

We are leaving the safe confines of Over Yonder Cay later this morning.  I’m excited and more than a little nervous about what lies ahead.  The winds are still challenging, so for some of this week we will be looking for another good hiding place to stay safe.  Rather soon we will be headed out in the Atlantic to Great Exuma — specifically to a large settlement called Georgetown where we can get good provisions for our last 6 – 8 weeks of sailing.  From Georgetown we will either leave for Cuba or we’ll sail east to Long Island and leave from there.

This map shows a bit more than you need to know.  Can you find the tiny Great Exuma and Long Island in the Bahamas chain? You can click on the map to ‘bigify.’  We’ll sail down past Crooked Island and Mayaguana and Grand Inagua without stopping, and then go through the Windward Passage between the eastern tip of Cuba and the western tip of Haiti.

We’ll sail past Guantanamo on the eastern most tip of the southern coast of Cuba–well offshore as the Coast Guard requires.  Then we’ll make landfall at Santiago de Cuba.  The trip from Long Island will be around 350 miles and will take us about 3 days.  It’s important that we arrive at Santiago de Cuba in daylight, and I hope that we can also go through the Windward Passage during daylight.  That is one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world.  So, yes, I am very worried about that! Am I scared?  Like you cannot believe!  I’ve been repressing this part of our trip for months now, and now I must face the fact that it’s almost time to do it.

So, farewell to lovely Over Yonder. Here’s Bob standing on one of the greens overlooking the Atlantic. We’re not golfers, but all the greens were wonderful to visit, just for the views!

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And here’s the pavilion at the ocean side beach we visited a couple of times. Can you tell how windy it is?  A couple of times we brought our books to read, but the view is just so arresting it was hard to read.  And with the wind howling it was hard to read through watery eyes!

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And here are the wind generators–the sight that makes Over Yonder Cay so easily recognizable, with the main house in the background.

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These pavilions built for meditation and yoga practice are new since we last visited here.  There are several of them, all from India–just another wonderful part of the Over Yonder setting that makes it so hard to leave.

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It will be sobering to return to the real life of sailing and looking for shelter!

I thought this would also be farewell to easy internet and cell coverage.  I’ve spoken to both kids now– to our older son who is in Amsterdam on business and who will spend this week in Paris and Geneva as well. And to our younger son in San Francisco.  I’ve written a lot of emails. But now Bob has pointed out to me that as long as there is a cell tower on a nearby island (and they are on almost all the islands now), we’ll be able to use the not-so-smart phone we got for the Bahamas as a hot spot.  Whew!  I’m not off the grid yet! Whew!

This morning I got an email from the friend who is weaving a lunch bag to coordinate with my sheep mug.  This was a guild project that started a couple of years ago.  In case you don’t remember my mug, I’ll remind you!  My younger son gave it to me a fews years ago.

And here is the warp that my friend Susan has created to go with my sheep mug!  The stripe colors she has chosen are all the colors that the mugs come in–isn’t that a great idea? It’s fabulous, and yes!!!! I’m excited!  Susan has promised to send more photos as the weaving progresses, so I’m also excited about being able to watch this fabric grow and turn into a lunch bag!

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Manatees, Eagle Rays, and Turtles!

It’s been positively idyllic spending time in Great Harbour Cay.  Yesterday, with calm winds and sun we took our dinghy on an excursion about 2 miles south along the western coast to enter a mangrove swamp called “Shark Creek.” (hmmm)  After a mile or so of motoring through very shallow waters with mangroves on either side and making a verdant canopy over our heads, we exited into a large shallow protected bay on the eastern side of the cay, into waters full of turtles and rays.

I followed a ray and various turtles around for close to an hour while Bob used the go-pro to get footage.  It was exhilarating to see so many turtles!

On our way back out of the mangrove creek which is only navigable for a short time before/during/after high tide, we motored over to a well known fishing boat wreck that’s been stuck on the sand flats for many years. It got caught in a hurricane years ago and was thrown up on a sand bar.  This is a great snorkeling and fishing spot for seeing lobsters and large snappers.

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On the way back to the harbour we saw some striking shore birds with bright orange/red bills.  I’ve never seen them in US waters, but after searching for them on the internet, we discovered that they are called American Oyster Catchers.  They summer along the New England coast and then migrate as far as Chile!  I have never seen one before yesterday, and now all at once I’ve seen a large flock of them.  We approached slowly to get photos, and it was a thrill to see them all take flight together!

Their bills are much brighter orange/red than this photo shows. In fact, what caught my attention from a long way off was all the bright dots of red I could see along the shore.

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While it’s been quite a bit colder than ‘normal’ in this part of the world, the manatees have been looking for warmer water.  They’ve been visiting in the harbor here, and yesterday a mother and cub were quite interested in hanging out behind Pandora.  They enjoyed drinking fresh water right the from hose on the dock, and drinking the salt water that came out of our stern from our refrigeration unit.  They particularly like having water from the hose aimed at their bellies when they roll over.  The mother seemed to be showing the cub just how the ‘rolling over’ trick is done. What fun!

Here are a few close ups of the manatees.  I was fascinated by their mouths….they seem to have hard gums rather than teeth.

Mom and cub sharing a drink of fresh water from the hose.

Mom looking forward to a splash of fresh water on her tummy.

A little salt water drink from Pandora’s refrigeration exhaust.

Quite an exciting couple of days!  Today we plan to walk to a land based resort at the other end of the island to check out their restaurant.  Then tonight I will attempt Valentine’s dinner in the smallest kitchen you can imagine (unless you are also a sailor!).  The menu is pan seared filet mignon with a butter/brie sauce, roasted cauliflower with tarragon, and hopefully lobster tails if the fisherman comes in today.  It should be quite a feat in this galley….

Great Harbour Cay

Great Harbour Cay is the major island in the north Berry Islands, which lie between the  Abacos to the north and the Exuma chain to the south. The Berry Islands are a stirrup shaped chain of thirty large cays and numerous small cays, totaling about thirty-two miles in length. The red bubble marks where we are located, at Great Harbor Cay Marina.

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There are very few protected harbors in the Berries and the Exumas, so I am  happy to be in such a spot, with 360-degree protection during these wild westerly and northwesterly winds that we’ve had for almost a week now.  It’s been blowing hard in general for over a month now, and from a particularly bad direction for boats in the Bahamas.

Look  how tight the cut is for entering the harbor! No matter how rough it is out side the harbor, once you enter the cut (about 40′ wide) you are in safe waters.  Whew!

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The folks who run the marina will do just about anything to make your stay as enjoyable as possible, and several of the locals have small businesses catering to us visiting cruisers.  On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays a local woman bakes bread and delivers it right to your boat.  She offers a choice of white, whole wheat, cinnamon, coconut, and raisin.  On Wednesday evenings someone takes that same white bread dough and bakes pizzas and calzones that you can order ahead of time.  These also get delivered right to your boat.  Bob and I ordered a calzone last week.  We were told to only order one since it would be too much for just two people.  It was HUGE and fed us for three meals!

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Another night of the week (Fridays?) someone comes to the marina with cold beers and meats to grill for the weekly “Grill and Chill.” There is a women’s lunch outing every Wednesday and the owners of the restaurant come to the marina to pick up the ladies.  There is a similar event for the men called ROMEO (Really Old Men Eating Out).  On Tuesday evenings there is a ‘drink and drift’ where all the participants get in their dinghies, tie themselves together, and drift about in the harbor getting to know each other.  The weather has not cooperated for this since I’ve been here.  On Sundays the local church sends a bus to the marina to pick up anyone who’d like to attend services.  Again, we missed this event because it was too windy to leave Pandora unattended. There is also a Sunday brunch at a local restaurant– weather did not permit doing that either.

Monday evenings are pot luck dinners, and we participated in the one this week in spite of the high winds.  Everyone was clinging to their plates and nothing stayed hot, but it was a lot of fun.

There are all kinds of little get togethers here.  For example, today there was a fund raiser for the school:  a craft project to make your own tropical fish from a coconut hull.  So, while I wrote this blog and baked a loaf of bread, Bob was ashore (under the same pavilion where yesterday I made my warp) with at least a dozen other people, making his coconut fish!

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The pristine beach on the ocean side (eastern) of the island is 3 miles long and boasts beautiful white sand.  There is a beach bar there with a glorious view.

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The beach is about a mile and a half walk from the marina, although on one of our trips we noticed we could take a short cut through the golf course.  Yes, there is a golf course.  Back in the 1960s, when this island was a hopping hot spot for glitterati there was a resort here that boasted an 18-hole course.  The resort has since failed, and the course was in disrepair for years.  Since the renovation of the marina the golf course has been restored to 9 holes.  It makes a lovely walk…

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The one market on the island is also a mile and a half walk from the marina.  In whatever direction you start out walking, it is guaranteed that a number of people in various kinds of vehicles will stop and ask if you’d like a ride.  You really have to want to take a stroll to actually walk all the way anywhere.

The mail boat arrives on Wednesdays, so the best day to shop at the market is on Thursday mornings.  We did not get there that day last week, so the fresh pickings were slim.

The fresh producs.

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The refrigerated items.

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The pantry items.

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There was quite a layer of dust on the some of the staple items, so I’ll be sure to check expiration dates before buying.

Before I arrived, Bob joined one of the excursions on a particularly calm day when the tides were right, for a dinghy trip down one of the mangrove swamps that cuts through the center of the island.  Bob and his brother Bill saw lots of fish and turtles in the mangroves. It’s been the highlight of visiting this island for Bob, and I hope I get a day to take this trip as well.

It’s so rare that Bob and I ever stay in a marina, and this was has been such a great experience, with the friendly islanders and visiting cruisers like us, and protected waters during these violent storms, so this has become one of my favorite places.  This sign at the airport pretty much sums up the camaraderie we’ve found here.  I’ll definitely look forward to coming back.

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