This February Sheryl and I joined an Oregon State Alumni tour of Cuba. Since we left from Miami and it was winter here in Oregon we decided to first spend a week in Florida where we visited Keith McNeil, a good friend from days gone by, and then just drifted around South Florida and soaked up the ambiance of that state. Other than alligators and birds what we mostly saw was money. And lots of it. Holy cow, is south Florida just reeking of riches. Sure there are neighborhoods of poverty and such but if you get near the water it makes your head $pin. The jillion dollar yacht$,and gatrillion dollar home$ are $omething to $ee.
Then Cuba...
Cuba is quite simply a country in decay. The place is falling apart, rotting away, and a testament to the economic "success" of Communism.
We had 12 Beavers in our group plus an OSU professor and a guide. We saw Havana, Santa Clara, and Western Cuba. Everywhere we went it was the same. Gorgeous old homes, waterfront shops and small villages, all were falling apart. That greenish crud that we saw all over Asia is also creeping from the floors and up the walls of most buildings in Cuba. Roads are a wreck, wiring is haphazard and strung all over the place. Toilets seldom have seats and usually don't flush. The place is simply falling apart. They would like to blame it on the US embargo but it looks to me as if it is simply a failure of their form of communism/socialism. They simply don't make anything to generate wealth.
Havana has a beautiful natural harbor and there was not one ship moving, one crane working. It's dead. The island nation has no boats out fishing, sailing, or moving about the island. (Some said this is because folks might just sail away to the USA.) They sell some sugar and tobacco but it simply is not enough economic fuel to run an entire country. For a while the Russians supported them and they get some help with oil from Venezuela but basically we just felt sorry for the Cubans as they are among the nicest, friendliest people we have ever met.
Che is the hero that is pictured everywhere, not Fidel. They clearly are the George Washington and Thomas Jefferson of their country. Along with Jose Marti these three heroes of the revolution are lionized.
The races intermingle better here than anywhere we have ever been and in many ways the social fabric they have woven is superior to most of the places we have ever been. Its a VERY interesting place.
Cuba is well known for its plethora of old US cars, and although the reputation is well deserved these famous old beasts are usually a Chevy/Ford body from the 50's with a Russian engine and a Japanese transmission. The Cubans are wizards at cobbling things together. Virtually all of these old beauties are quite simply Taxis for the foreign tourists. If a Cuban is rich enough to own a car it's usually an old Russian Lada, a boxy piece of crap that barely grinds down the road. Many many Cubans still travel by horse drawn wagons and horse drawn taxi/buses, as the average wage is still around $45 a month.
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| Of course we had to visit a tobacco farm and in this drying shed (below) a guy rolled cigars for us. |
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| Western Cuba |
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| Everyone in Cuba gets a government ration of food. It's a small quantity of rice, beans and flour. This is the government ration store in a small town. |
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| They have very few goods to buy. |
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This guy is showing us his ration book.
It was suggested we might bring various gifts so I brought some baseballs which were a big hit. It actually was this little guy's birthday so he and his mom were thrilled by a new baseball.
Mohitos were the drink of choice these days in Cuba.
And of course in the midst of all these wonderful Cubans living in poverty we were put up in the likes of Hotel National every-night.
And as soon as we got home we turned right around and went to
Loreto in Baja California (Mexico)
with 13 of our great friends from Klamath.
This pretty much sums up the week.
Pool Vollyball was a hit.
One day we boated out to an island and went snorkeling. On the way we were astounded to see several enormous blue whales. We were only allowed to get within a hundred meters of them but they still were very impressive.
A guy on our Cuba trip had informed us that about 30 miles up in the mountains from Loreto there is a little mission the Spanish built in the 1600s. It's in a magical little oasis in this parched land and we all enjoyed the adventure of driving the little stream fording road to see this magnificent old church in San Javier.
Of course Sheryl played golf. This is one of those holes you have to hit it about a mile across the water and then cross the bridge to hit it again.
Randy and Jaime Albert along with Grant Pine joined me on a fishing trip chasing yellowtail. We all hooked one but only Grant landed his...a 55 pound beauty that later that night fed all 15 of us and we still gave a lot to Pedro Davis our boat captain.
It was another great trip with our Klamath friends but perhaps the highlight for Sheryl and me was the day we, along with Patty and Andy Reeder, drove across Baja from the Sea of Cortez to the Pacific side and the little bay of
Adolfo Lopez Mateos
where the Gray Whales come to give birth.
Unlike the blue whales that are unapproachable in the gulf, these friendly leviathans allow you to slowly come alongside with small boats and actually pet them. It is an absolutely amazing experience that brought tears to Sheryl's eyes. I reached out and put my hand on the lower lip of one mother and she let me run my hand all the way up the lip to the front of her mouth. One calf acted like a puppy that wanted its belly rubbed and we all screamed like a bunch of kids it was such a thrilling expierience. Over the years we have had some special wild life experiences but this one would be hard to beat.
And then as soon as we got home from Mexico it was off to
Seattle
with our Beaver friends Jim and Cheryl Henderson to watch the OSU women's basketball team play in the PAC 12 tournament.
Yikes! What happened? Our heavily favored girls lost their first game so we spent the night walking all over Seattle to find a blended margarita. (Don't ask, its a l-o-n-g story). We never found one so we ended up at a Pie Bar and while standing in the street we drowned our sorrows in calories.
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