Getting to Cuba is still very easy. You can obtain a visa with a few clicks on the official website, pay 22 euros, fill out an online declaration, and buy a flight ticket, which today is up to half as cheap as before all of Trump’s statements. I paid 580 euros for my ticket and flew with Turkish Airlines, which still flies here every day.
I have written “so far,” haven’t I? That is because some European airlines have canceled their flights precisely due to the major statements by the U.S. president. These have also caused the plane to be barely 30 percent full. On the one hand, you are pleased – you have three seats to yourself and can stretch out during the long 13-hour flight. On the other hand, however, you feel a certain uncertainty. How long will this situation last? Are we standing at some significant historic crossroads? I am asking myself these questions, and I am slightly convinced that something will happen in the near future. Only time will show whether I was looking properly into the crystal ball – which, by the way, I do not own.
We land exactly on time at 7:50, and the entire airport, named José Martí, is immersed in morning fog. Passport control goes through extremely quickly, and no one asks me anything. This is a big difference compared to my last visit fifteen years ago. Back then, tired and nervous customs officers in those strange green military uniforms asked a lot of questions. It was enough to answer a little less submissively, and they would nicely take you aside.
Maybe I was lucky, but today it goes quickly. I had less luck, however, when buying a local SIM card, where the now non-existent system almost tried to cheat me. Never mind that we paid 35 euros – the small plastic card simply lacked a chip. Lesson learned? In Cuba, check everything and allow time for it. A rule that has not changed in these fifteen years. The staff member wondered how this could have happened, and after a few minutes miraculously found my prepaid card.
How do we get into the city? We can take public transport, which runs once every 40 minutes, or a taxi, which will take you exactly where you need to go in this city of 2.5 million people (though take that figure with a grain of salt, as many people have left the country). But you have heard that there is a shortage of gasoline here, with prices soaring to 7 euros per liter – in a country where the average salary is 20 to 50 euros (more on that later).
We are waiting for Peťo, who is flying in from Miami, and I am watching the life around me. I see gasoline being traded everywhere, and the Turkish Airlines flight attendants are waiting in vain for their pickup. Simply, no one knows anything. It will come eventually – you just have to wait to see who gets the gasoline. If you have it, the ride to the city center, where we are supposed to stay, costs 35 euros.
Yes, it is a lot compared to what it cost just a few months ago, but the price of gasoline is working wonders with prices. Tourists who come here without contacts pay as much as 60 euros. We, however, know through locals how much we should pay. This brings us to the question of whether we should pay in dollars, euros, or the local currency. What can I say? Everything is changing as dramatically as the speed at which you are reading these lines. One way today, another way tomorrow. If you type into an internet search engine how much you get for one euro in local currency, artificial intelligence will tell you approximately 23 pesos. Reality? 543 pesos to the euro. And I will bet a bottle of good rum that tomorrow it will be different again.
The roads are relatively empty. It is clear that there is less gasoline, but they are not as deserted as some media outlets write. I am constantly comparing my observations with what I once saw here during intensive guiding, which I did on the island of freedom between 2008 and 2011.
This time, however, we will not be staying in a hotel, even though prices have dropped to a quarter of what they once were. We do not want to support state-run behemoths that only want to take money and add no extra service (believe me, I know what I am talking about). We choose to stay with my friend Diana, who has been living here for several years.
The old, beautiful house with a view over all of Havana offers something you would not get in a hotel: high ceilings, a grand terrace, and artfully arranged photographs from trips taken by this likable Slovak woman. Of course, we were worried about power outages, water cuts, and who knows what else, but we are lucky – Diana has not been heavily affected by these issues so far.
“Yes, we have not only local but also nationwide power outages lasting several hours,” she explains. “People take it as something normal and do not complain too much. The question will be what happens when greater heat arrives and even the fans stop working – not everyone here has air conditioning.”
We have a strong coffee with milk and immediately head to a local shop to buy basic groceries.
To be continued next time – about what the shops and the rationing system look like.
