Cops and Robbers in Havana
I wanted to take a short break in my series of posts on my visit to North Korea last year to tell the story of an interesting “adventure” I had on an earlier trip to Cuba. I traveled to Cuba in 2005, as part of an academic project sponsored by the Wharton School. Since we were traveling legally, under a U.S. Treasury license, we actually flew direct to Havana from Miami (yes, to my surprise there’s actually a regular Continental Airlines charter that services visiting relatives, journalists, and humanitarian aid workers, tucked away in a small corner of the Miami airport). The trip lasted about a week, and could not have been more different from my experiences in North Korea — not because I came away any more impressed with the system (I didn’t) but because I was able to freely travel and talk to a wide range of people, most of whom had at least one relative in Miami. I’ll try to relate some of these experiences and my impressions in future posts.
The story I want to tell today, though, took place on the last night of our visit, in Havana. Before leaving the U.S., I bought a bagful of sundry items — little sample-size tubes of toothpaste, bottles of shampoo, bars of soap, a couple packets of cigarettes — to take with me as small gifts or tips for people I might encounter. Such items are very hard to come by in Cuba’s economy, and much valued and appreciated. Even if someone doesn’t have an immediate use for them, they can be traded in the country’s thriving black market for something they do need. I found them to be a great help in thanking people when they welcomed me into their home or posed for a picture. One female guard at the old colonial governor’s palace even took me furtively aside and offered to lift the velvet rope and photograph me sitting in the King of Spain’s personal throne in exchange for some Head & Shoulders. (I gave her it as a gift, but declined the photo-op for fear I might break some precious historical artifact!)
