Cuba Libre: Santiago de Cuba

by Brenda Yun on

Since it is almost on the other side of the island from Cuba’s most popular destination, Havana, few tourists make the long journey to Santiago de Cuba. The few who do, however, are treated to a unique cultural experience, as Santiago de Cuba has a strong Afro-Cuban history and also is the sight for many Revolutionary events such as the historic July 26 attack on the Moncada barracks and Fidel’s victorious march into the Plaza de la Revolucion on January 1, 1959. In addition, Santiago boast its own brand of salsa called “son,” which means steamy, sizzling nights are ahead of you in such well-known establishments as La Casa de la Trova or Casa de las Tradiciones.

Getting to Santiago de Cuba
From anywhere west of Trinidad, there is only one bus, flight, or train per day that goes to Santiago de Cuba. Normally, it takes 12 hours to get to Santiago from Trinidad, I had a stroke of good luck at the Trinidad bus station when I found out a taxi was heading to Santiago directly, thereby saving me 3 hours of needless stopovers along the way! was in luck! I was very grateful for the ride, got to sit in the front seat, and practiced my Spanish the whole way down, asking lots of questions to my driver Jiovane. Nine hours seemed to whiz by, but I certainly got a better sense of the transportation system in Cuba.

As you would guess, transportation all over the country is quite unreliable. There are essentially two bus lines that travel across the island: Viazul and Astro. Viazul is the preferred bus line for tourists and richer Cubans. Astro is about 20% cheaper, but sometimes a little less reliable and more crowded with Cubans. The other option for nationals is to stand on the side of the road, hold out a peso or two, and hitch a ride with any passerby. The only problem is that few Cubans have enough money to own a car or travel long distances, so you could be waiting a long while for a single car to cross the national highway.

It is impossible for tourists to hitchhike in Cuba. The government considers it illegal to give tourists a ride — even if it’s a few blocks. There are hefty penalties including imprisonment if private transport is picking up a local Cubano or if locals are spotted giving tourists a ride.

My taxi ride to Santiago
National taxis like the one Jiovane drives are not allowed to pick up Cubans, or the driver will lose his job. It’s common to find at least a dozen Cubans at any given bus stop waiting – some patiently, others not so patiently. On our 9-hour drive, we passed at least 10 men waving money in the air, visibly upset that we weren’t stopping to let them in. It didn’t help that there were plenty of seats available in our taxi van. Only once did we pick up a mixed-race couple with their daughter from the side of the road on the last hour of our journey. Jiovane kept repeating, “Lento! Tan lento!”, complaining how they hopped in the car so slowly, which reconfirmed the risk he was taking to give them a ride. We dropped them at a junction about 20 minutes later.

My journey covered the southern and central coast – nearly half the island. We passed through several small towns, but more notably Sancti Spiritus (known only for a scenic bridge), Camaguey (a fairly well-kept colonial city), Las Tunas, and Holguin (with some good northern beaches closeby). We also passed through Biran, the town where Fidel was born. They turned his childhood home into a museum.

Cuban curiosity
Jiovane was very curious about life in the U.S., and even spoke openly about the injustices in Cuba. I was very interested in snapping photos of the propaganda scattered on “billboards” along the highway (Cuba propaganda will be discussed in greater detail in a post tomorrow) , so Jiovane purposefully slowed down at nearly every one of them to let me take good photos. I explained to him that we don’t have any patriotic signs like these in the U.S. When I told him the only signs we have on the side of the road are advertisements for Coca Cola and commercial products, Jiovane laughed and then proceeded to ask me how much my iPhone cost or how much money I make as a teacher per year and how many taxes I pay. I was honest in my reply, and Jiovane was quite silent in response (he was probably struck by the unfathomable numbers I gave him).

Is this the right casa particular?
Ask any independent traveler in Cuba about how they came upon staying at their casa particular, and nearly every one will tell you it is a purely arbitrary happening (unless that traveler made plans several weeks ahead of time). If you’re using the Lonely Planet guidebook to Cuba, there is little to no chance you will actually be able to stay in one of the recommended casas particulares in any given city. This is because of the casa particular two-guestroom policy. It is illegal to rent out more than two guestrooms at a time.

So I wasn’t that surprised when the casa that Margaret (the host of my casa in Trinidad) had reserved for me was unavailable, and I was promptly transported across the street and a few houses down to another casa particular. Manrique, my host, was a perfectly nice gentleman, the casa was in a perfectly convenient location just blocks from Parque Cespedes (Santiago’smain plaza), my room (though smaller and more expensive than the one I had in Trinidad) suited me just fine. I also had to share the bathroom with the other guest, an Italian guy by the name of Andrea, who served as my travel companion for the rest of my stay in Santiago.

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Suena Cubano, where are you?
I had come to Santiago on a mission to find Suena Cubano (the band I had liked in Trinidad) and possibly serve as their “groupie” for the remaining days of my stay in Cuba. I circled the city twice over, asking every music venue in Santiago whether they knew of the band or where it played. The only lead I got was from a man at Santiago’s Casa de la Musica, saying he had seen the band’s director earlier that morning, and that if I really wanted to find the band, I should find the director. He gave me the director’s address, and I embarked on an hour-long manhunt along the streets of Santiago looking for this person.

By the time I found the director’s place, I had been discovered by two “jineteros” (or Cuban escorts who latch onto tourists hoping to serve as longer term companions). When I finally spoke face-to-face with the director, informing him that I was a writer hoping to write about their band, he looked at the men on both sides of me and pretty much scoffed, told me they wouldn’t be playing until Wednesday night (the day I was leaving for Baracoa), and shut the door in my face. My conclusion: my request got me nowhere because I was surrounded by Cubans requesting my attention. I kindly told the “jineteros” that I preferred to walk alone, and they promptly let me go.

Salsa and Son
Andreas and I enjoyed two evenings out in Santiago listening to Santiago’s unique salsa music. On our first night, we went to the Casa de las Tradiciones, a smaller, more authentic music house in the quaint residential neighborhood of Barrio Tivoli. Here, we listened to an 8-piece salsa band as we sipped on mojitos and danced to slow son-bolero music.

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The next evening, we made our way to the more touristy Casa de la Trova, just a block from Parque Cespedes on Calle Heredia. The dance floor was twice as big here; the live music twice as loud; and the drinks twice as expensive.

The following morning, I would be heading to Baracoa along a scenic and winding mountainous road, so I retired at an early hour and readied for my final destination.

For a complete listing of my Cuba Libre posts, please click HERE or skip straight to the good stuff —

Cuba Libre: Trinidad

by Brenda Yun on

From Havana to Trinidad
The 8 hour bus ride to Trinidad was pretty uneventful, as the road is pretty flat and straight. We passed a lot of farm land and occasionally parts of the southern coast. There were just two notable sites along the way: Playa Giron (a.k.a. the Bay of Pigs), which Castro and Kennedy made famous in 1961, and Cienfuegos, where tourists can enjoy a little of the beach and a bit of the outdoors. I had initially planned on stopping through Cienfuegos after Trinidad, but my plans quickly changed after the events that night.

My first casa particular
I arrived in Trinidad at 2:30 as planned and was eager to experience my first casa particular. Peter and Frank were staying at a casa near the Plaza Mayor, and there should have been someone waiting for me at the terminal, but I instead found my way to the casa on my own by foot. Margarita and her husband Roberto greeted me warmly and showed me my lovely room set in a courtyard. The room was spacious with its own bathroom with a hot water shower. There was a kitchen just for guests that was separate from the kitchen for the family. The resident dog (a part German shepherd) served as our guard at night. This being my first taste of a casa particular, I must say I was spoiled. Not all casas resemble mine, nor do they have such nice, accommodating and helpful hosts. Casas particulares can only (by law) host two separate guests in two rooms. The families that host them pay a steep tax, but get paid in convertibles rather than the local national currency (which is 20 times less expensive).
The Plaza Mayor
Peter and Frank were out and about, exploring the steam train that took them to the Valle de los Ingenios, an hour east of Trinidad. I left them a note and took off toward the old part of the city, which is situated around Plaza Mayor. Trinidad as a colonial city is pretty cute, with cobblestone streets and colorful homes. It reminded me of a more colorful version on Barichara, a small town in Colombia. Aside from the church and some mildly informative museums and towers with nice vistas of the city and its surroundings, there’s not much to speak of in terms of things to do (other than shopping).

Almost immediately I spotted Peter’s recognizable backpack and we were promptly reunited at the Museo de la Lucha Contra Banditos. I accompanied the two of them as they did some last minute souvenir and gift shopping in town. Frank bought some a really cool fish carved from a bull’s horn, and Peter bought a cool Afro-Cuban mask made out of wood.

Lobster dinner in an unofficial (illegal) paladar
We returned to the casa and readied for dinner at an unofficial paladar that they had made a reservation at for our last dinner together. By the time we made it to the paladar, Frank and I were pretty buzzed, as I had brought with me what I had left of our stash of Havana Club rum from Habana. We each ordered the lobster dinner and enjoyed our unofficial paladar meal tremendously.

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Live music
After dinner we went to the open stage by the Plaza Mayor to listen to live music. After one kind of dreary set, Frank discovered the official Casa de la Musica, which was situated just above where we were sitting. We sat down at a table and watched as a band set up for their concert. When they finished with the sound check I overheard that they wouldn’t begin playing until midnight, but confirmed with one of the band members (the cutest one, mind you) to make sure of their start time. He and I started talking, and I asked him as many questions I could think of to keep him conversing. His band had traveled from Santiago to Trinidad just for this concert, and would be leaving the next morning (Saturday) at 9:30. The band’s name is “Suena Cubano” and they’ve actually played abroad in Mexico (all over the country for two months) and Italy (Milan for a few weeks). I was excited to hear them play, but we returned to the open stage for an hour, where an Afro-Cuban band and dance team played to pass the time. Meanwhile, Peter, Frank, and I drank several “canchanchara’s,” a local drink that is made of lime, vodka, and honey – quite tasty!

Midnight was almost upon us and we returned to the casa, where I talked some more with the band member. I learned his name was Odernis and he has been playing with Suena Cubano for six of its eight years of existence. He plays the guiro, which is a percussive instrument made of a dried gourd. There are 12 members in the band, and they play mainly salsa and son music. He told me his band traveled a great deal around the country and hoped to travel abroad even more. (I told him that, as a travel writer, I would try my best to promote him and his band). He said that only a few Cubans are allowed to travel – mainly just doctors, business professionals, artists, and musicians. The host country must sponsor their visit, pay for their travel expenses, along with their accommodations and food, and explain the request.

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Suena Cubano singing “Cuidado, Cuidado”

The music started soon after, and the band was stellar. It turns out Odernis plays the guiro and also raps for certain numbers. I must say I was immediately smitten by him, as he was not only an attractive Afro-Cuban that could dance, but he honestly looks like a smaller version of Kobe Bryant! (Even Frank and Peter agreed that if they were women they would dig him!). The band played several different numbers – most fast, some slow, but almost all of them were danceable. The locals outnumbered the tourists here about 4:1.

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Odernis (a.k.a. Mini Kobe Bryant) rapping a modern salsa tune

The cave disco
When 1:30 rolled around (and the band was still going strong), Peter and Frank wanted to make sure we got to experience one more thing: a cave disco on top of the hill past the ruins. While most discos resemble caves, I’ve actually never heard of one that is housed in an actual cave! We snuck out of the concert (and in my mind I hoped we would return in time to say goodbye to Odernis), and made our way to the cave disco.

Had I been by myself, there is no question that I would neither have found nor wanted to find the cave disco. The place sits on top of the hill and to get there you have to walk 10 minutes in the dark and uphill. It’s a pretty scary sight as you make your way there because the abandoned ruin glows up top like a haunted house. We made our way to the top with no problem and were surprised to find several other locals and tourists enjoying the club scene inside. The entire club is inside the mountain – even the bathrooms are tucked into smaller caves inside. The dance floor is sizeable, and it has an enormous ceiling. There were two bars – one on the dance floor level and another near the entrance, and three levels (a patio, a seating area, and the bar/dance floor).

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Frank singing to Bob Marley in the cave disco

Needless to say, we had a blast. The music was a mixture of Latin and American club tunes, and the locals outnumbered the tourist here 3:1. I even snapped a shot of Frank and a gay Cuban clubber! I had read that gay/homosexuals were sometimes imprisoned, but was pleased to discover liberal Cubans enjoying the Trinidad nightlife.

Change of plans
We were sufficiently tired by 2:30, and made our way back to the Casa de la Musica to see if he band was still playing. To my dismay, the band had not only finished their set, but already packed up their gear and left! I think it was at that point that I reformed my itin
erary to try to find Suena Cubano and Odernis again. Instead of visiting Cienfuegos, Santa Clara, and Matanzas, I would head to Santiago de Cuba and Baracoa.

For a complete listing of my Cuba Libre posts, please click HERE or skip straight to the good stuff —

Grammy winner goes for in-flight self-service?

by Tom Johansmeyer on

In-flight service took on a new meaning for Grammy award-winning singer Elvis Crespo. The Merengue singer was accused of having exposed himself to a passenger on a flight from Houston to Miami. He denies it, but it’s impossible to be sure. After all, he told authorities in Miami that he didn’t recall the incident. Crespo wasn’t arrested, and no charges have been filed.

Earlier this month, the accused masturbator married his manager … which likely supports the accusation of self-gratification in the friendly skies.

If it’s true that Crespo whipped it out, I’m curious as to why he didn’t just step into the plane’s lavatory. If it’s publicity he craved, he could have taken a quick snapshot of his handiwork and popped it onto Flickr.

Mezz vs. orchestra: It’s the people around you

by Tom Johansmeyer on

I settled into my seat at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre in Manhattan on Saturday well in advance of the curtain’s rise. My wife and I were eager to see “God of Carnage,” which had received great reviews and featured a high-profile cast. For a change, we had seats in the mezzanine section – rather than our usual preference for orchestra. It wasn’t a big deal, and we were prepared to accept the greater distance from the stage. By the end of the show, however, we vowed never to sit in the mezzanine section again. The people around us made the difference.

I see it all the time, and I know I’m not alone. A busload of tourists stumbles onto the sidewalk and crowds around the theater‘s doors. Some push; others linger. Both fail to understand the concept of forming a line … or joining one that already exists. Or, a group of people who live a mere hour from the city spend six months planning their annual trip into the thrilling metropolis and can’t contain their excitement at being able to see an actual celebrity working. You are noticeable a mile away, and yes, you’re being judged.

So, if you are headed into Manhattan to enjoy a Broadway production, please heed the following advice. You’ll make the experience better for everyone. Most of it is common sense, but unfortunately, there are people out there who need a detailed list.

Don’t be loud; don’t linger
As I climbed the stairs, I was stuck in the middle of a crowd of nine people who made their annual trek from New Jersey into Manhattan to get a bit of “culcha [culture].” They screeched as they plodded about how they should be featured as the Real Housewives of New Jersey, poking each other about their respective shitty marriages. The conversation kept them from taking their seats efficiency, causing a logjam that stretched all the way back to the entrance. So, while we were treated to diatribes about their husbands, guests out of earshot were stuck in place without even knowing why.

Advice: Shut up, and get to your seat quickly. Talk when you’re settled in … and do so quietly.

Arrive on time
This seems as though it shouldn’t need to be said, and I’ve only rarely encountered it when sitting in the orchestra section. Yet, in mezzanine, it’s more common. A man arrived around five minutes after the production started, had trouble getting to his seat in the dark and tripped over my foot (okay, I’m not entirely innocent here). He was the punctual half, though. His companion arrived 15 minutes later and made an even bigger scene.

Advice: Do I have to spell it out? You know when the show starts: plan accordingly.

Don’t clap when the curtain comes up
Yes, when you see the likes of James Gandolfini and Marcia Gay Harden on stage, it’s exciting. Your urge is to applaud, to slap your hands together as violently as possible. Meanwhile, what are James Gandolfini and Marcia Gay Harden doing? They’re talking! And, we can’t hear them! Let the actors perform. That’s why they are on the damned stage.

Advice: If you just want to see celebrities, hang around outside the theater and wait for them to arrive or depart. Otherwise, watch and listen. That’s the whole reason you spent $70 a ticket.

Don’t talk during the show … duh
Again, does this really need to be explained? For some reason, the people down in the orchestra section have figured out that the actors do the talking; the audience does the listening. In the mezzanine section, however, the actors do the primary talking, and the spectators provide a running commentary. Guess what? Everyone knows that James Gandolfini played Tony Soprano. They don’t need to be reminded. And, it’s no better when you complain about the nine New Jersey housewives in front of you who have been talking through the entire play. Are you really any better?

Advice: Shut your mouth, and remember that the only people who should be talking are (a) paid to do so and (b) told what to say.

That’s all it takes – four simple rules. I know it seems unwelcoming of me to dump all this on you, but if you exercised even a shred of common sense this article would be unnecessary.

Now, if you live in New York – or did at one time – here’s the best advice of all: sit in the orchestra section. At the risk of being called a New York snob (as my wife and New York snob friends have done already), you’ll have a better time if you join the other New York snobs who … guess what? … are there to enjoy the production.

Porn industry disgusted by flight attendant side job

by Tom Johansmeyer on

“Look, we all have standards,” an adult entertainer familiar with the full- and part-time work of Ryanair flight attendant Edita Schindlerova told The Independent. “I think it’s disgusting that she works for Ryanair. All of us here at Biggus Dickus Productions feel really let down by her. If only she had told us she worked for them, maybe we could have done something to help her. Now, she has lost all our trust. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m off to do a three way.”

If you’ve seen Monty Python’s The Life of Brian, you know not to treat “Biggus Dickus” as a joke name.

While many look down their noses at the porn business, it looks like the airlines are able to give even those in the skin biz someone over which to hold a sense of superiority. Of course, the porn folks could learn a lesson in tolerance from Ryanair, which doesn’t care about Edita’s side job as “Edite Bente.”

If you’re surprised to see the porn industry claim any sort of moral high ground, don’t be. Anyone who has spent a bit of time in this business has had to listen to more than a few hours of First Amendment tirades, claims of wanting to be left alone and so on and so on and so on. Yes, it can get tedious, even though some of it is warranted. Either way, it’s pretty crazy to see the porn industry piss all over the airline business. What happened to “live and let live”?Ryanair flight attendant Schindlerova was recently outed as a part-time porn star by London tabloid The Sun. Her employer doesn’t care, and she hasn’t denied the allegations. She was also featured in the airline’s 2009 calendar, a collection of the sexiest employees that the low-cost carrier has to offer.

Her cover was blown by a pilot who somehow stumbled upon her work. Either this was an incredible coincidence, or this guy, who has not had to see his name in the press, spends a hell of a lot of time cruising the web for porn.

Julia Molony, who covered this story for The Independent, suggests, “Watch out fro the free-orgasm-with-every-flight offer on a billboard near you.” Such naïveté … does she really believe that Ryanair would give “free” anything?

Okay, through some investigative journalism on my part, I’ve been able to find some of her night job work. This is absolutely not safe for work or around children.This is not an adult website, rather it is a Czech tabloid, but do understand that they are able to push the envelope a lot farther than we can in the United States.

See our first story on Schindlerova’s erotic escapades.