Romanticizing Cuba: good for tourism, bad for locals
As the plane dips in the sky, under the clouds, I am finally able to get my first glimpse ofCuba. Rolling green hills and dark dirt patches litter the landscape. From up above, the country does not look so intimidating. It is just another part of the earth, the same earth that I have seen from many other planes, flying overhead in America.
As we drive through the streets in an air-conditioned tour bus, I see some of the old mansions — somedilapidated and falling at their foundations and some with a fresh coat of paint and intricate ornamentation. On the edge of the Malécon, layers and layers of these mansions crowd against the edge of the water. The sun, high in the sky, washes out the vibrant colors of these houses, bleaching them pastel.
That first day some new friends and I go out to a café, sit around and talk, getting to know each other. It all feels inherently Cuban for some undefinable reason. The limited access to our phones and the Internet forces interaction at all times and the casualness with which we are able to get to know each other is new to me. It is as if the naturally relaxed nature of Cuba has rubbed off on us in less than 24 hours.
Open markets invade the streets, especially fruit stands, which boasts wide arrays of pineapples, mangos, and plantains — so sweet as to make your mouth water just by looking at them. Color surrounds us and vowels drop from the Cuban Spanish as it sumersaults out of the mouths of the locals. It is easy to see why so many people of the past regarded this place as a paradise — a land of enchantment and exoticism.
But don’t romanticize Cuba. As romantic, stunning, gorgeous as it is, it is also a place of poverty and social issues.
The U.S. media likes to paint a negative picture of Cuba. Since the early 60s with the rise of Communism on the small island, U.S. citizens have been made to believe that Cuba is a society of silenced people who resort to crime to make ends meet and who hate the U.S. with a passion. Although I can say with absolute certainty that Cuba is not as terrifying as the U.S. media likes to make it, there are underlying problems in Cuban society which need to be addressed before Cuba can truly become the paradise it claims to be in tourist magazines and pamphlets.
It is easy to idealize the island itself. After all, the things that made it so special in the 1960s are still, for the most part, intact. The old cars are still driving the streets, of course, and a wide array of building styles and colors, ranging from postcolonial to Spanish Baroque, litter every nook and cranny. “Hemingway’s Cuba,” i.e. rum cocktails and lush forests, is an image which still resounds in the minds of tourists from all corners of the globe. The idea of a tropical adventure is both enticing and somehow dangerous.
Although as a tourist it is hard to see at first, the struggle of Cubans becomes apparent the more locals one speaks with. In a large outdoor market that boasted an impressive collection of souvenirs, a man ceremonioously put a parrot on my friend’s shoulder. He asks if we have a camera so he can take a picture, but not wanting to risk paying money for the service, we say no. When the man learns we are American, he forgets all about the pictures and becomes animated. Although this was not uncommon, as some Cubans have either never officially met an American or are just familiar with our “reputation,” what this man said next gave me pause.
“I’m going to be a refugee in the United States. I just have to finish the paperwork,” he said.
It is such an odd thing, to be excited about leaving your home behind. When we question him, he leans in to converse in a quieter voice, looking over his shoulder for plainclothesmen listening in.
“You come here, as tourists, and you think this is paradise.” He explained. “For us, it is not paradise.”
This ideology about Cuba was repeated through out my journey. Over and over Cubans would be hesitant to talk to strangers, but would all arrive at the same idea — that Cuba was not as it seemed for locals.
The buildings, as one goes deeper into the maze that is Old Havana, become more and more decrepit. People sit out on the streets, lean out of the windows, seeking any breeze that might blow by. It is not uncommon for multiple families to live in one house. The average wage of 30 CUC a month (the rough equivalent of 30 dollars a month) makes it difficult for a person to have much more than the bare necessities.
Although under the socialist government families are given rations, many people claim the process to be flawed, while others claim that rationing still does not cover items that we Americans would consider commonplace, such as toys, toiletries, etc. Tourist areas sell cosmetics and clothes, but for a price that a Cuban cannot always pay.
Education is free in Cuba, a huge achievement which shoudl inspire other countries, including the U.S., to do the same. However, based on the way in which the economy of Cuba operates, not every field of study is a lucrative one.
As mentioned in my previous article, I had met with a student of the University of Havana who had gotten his degree in marketing. However, the Cuban economy has somewhat banned advertisement.Billboards are scarce; magazines, newspapers, commercials are even scarcer.
This does not just apply to the field of marketing either, but industries like chemical engineering, physics, and chemistry, just to name a few. To make a livable wage, many Cubans found it easier and more profitable to just sell souvenirs or drive a cab for tourists. Cab drivers, in particular, became very interested once I and my friends said we were students. They were excited to learn what we were studying and would always share their own academic backgrounds. Some had gotten degrees, while others still had gotten PhDs in their field. And yet, nothing in Cuba is more gainful than the tourism industry.
Outside of city limits, in the interior, the poverty is striking. These areas are mostly home to dilapidated apartment buildings, surrounded by farmland. It gives off the aura of a dystopian town, where agriculture is the only means of survival. A couple of kids play outside, kicking around a ratty soccer ball.
In another location, a beautiful, castle-like beach resort overlooks the vast ocean. It boasts its own private beach spa. Behind it lie tiny, concrete homes, one story high with tin roofs.
At one hotel we stay in, located in a jungle-like area in the mountains, the bartender tells us that the staff is bused in from villages at the base of the mountain. They work 24 hour shifts 3–5 days a week, and then are bused back down to see their families for the weekend. These kinds of resorts, isolated, all-inclusive, do not help foreigners understand the bigger picture of the tourism industry in Cuba.
Progress in Cuba comes slowly. On the day the U.S. Embassy opened, a protest against U.S. involvement in Cuba’s economy marched down the streets. For many Cubans, the U.S. is an imperialist country and, thus, a threat to their way of life. After many years of resisting U.S. control, the opening of relations feels like to some to be a defeat. However, to others, the opening of the embassy means that little would be different.
“Nothing’s going to change,” the man with the parrot told us. “Not for me,” he gestured to the other vendors in the market place. “Not for people like us.”
To this Cuban, and many others, the rich would capitalize on the openings of relations, not the working class. Sure, vendors would get more tourists flocking to them in search of souvenirs, but in terms of things Cubans really want — real freedom of speech, the ability to travel, a free market — those things will take time.
