On our second full day, we were a little wiser. We didn’t rush to get up and get ready as we knew where we wanted to eat and knew the city didn’t really come alive until 9. Our plan was simple: breakfast, see all the things we didn’t see the day before and mix in yummy food and drinks as often as necessary, in an effort to beat the heat, of course.
A simple breakfast (not as delicious as sandwiches and cake the day before) and then we began our trek for the day. We had plans for a mid-morning cake break. We were wiser and more prepared than the day before- if anyone was going to try to hustle us, they would need to bring their best game. We were ready and still a little ticked about the deal with René and his friend, (or at least I was).
Sure enough, as we were heading along, we bumped in to our friend Lenny from the day before. He recognized us immediately and greeted us with his big grin that spread ear to ear. I wish I had taken a picture of him. He asked if we would meet him for dinner with his “girl” that night. Unfortunately I think we were still a little scarred from our interaction with René the day before so we made up a story about plans with the same “friends” we had met for lunch the day before and though disappointed, he wished us a good day and headed on his way.
It was a day for repeated trips, as we made our way to El Capitolio (the National Capitol building) and back to the apartment, then to the Casa de Cambio and back to the Capitol building. We wandered near to Chinatown, (but never actually found our way inside); it is the only Chinatown with no chinese people, or so one of the locals told us. I don’t know how true that is, as I have looked it up since and found that there are Chinese that still live there, though many do live outside the area. We found areas that we didn’t know existed and were quite happy to just spend the day at a leisurely pace. 
A stroll through an outdoor art market, getting to know some local artists, and then it was time to stop in to the Hotel Inglaterra for a little lunch and a mojito. Since coming home I have learned that the Hotel Inglaterra is the oldest hotel in Cuba- it opened two days before Christmas in 1875. It was announced earlier this year that it will reopen in August of this year. It will “become the first US-managed hotel since the Cuban Revolution” (in over 55 years) according to Wikipedia. I am glad we saw it when we did and before it goes through such a change. The changes are going to be interesting… I can see why the Cubans are apprehensive. While the tourists snacked and drank on the patio, homeless and hungry men stood on the other side of the garden hoping for a little food, or money or whatever someone wanted to give them.
Old cars in just about every colour you could imagine surrounded Central Park, one of the busiest parks in Havana. I am generally not a fan of pink but for whatever reason I had my heart set on taking a tour in a pink car. This was next up on our list of to-dos and I was excited. I picked the car, we negotiated a price, posed for a couple of pictures and then we were off, or more truthfully, we putt-putted our way along. At certain points I wasn’t sure we would actually make it. I quickly understood why the tour was an hour and a half- it gave them tons of time to slowly tour around the city. Our car couldn’t have zipped around, even if we had wanted it to, which we didn’t. It was great- though being in a convertible was rather toasty as cruising along at a relaxed pace didn’t create much of a breeze. 🙂 I guess you can’t be too choosy.
We took our time getting back to the room. I was so lathered in sunscreen in an effort to not return to Canada the same colour as the car in which we toured the city that by mid-afternoon I had so many layers from reapplication that I needed to have a shower to see skin again. As the temperature and the humidity increased, so too did my hair. Before midday on day 1, I had a great head of travel hair- wavy and big and matted… so pretty! Every time I took a shower I complained about how I wouldn’t be able to fix my hair and look decent the entire weekend because there was barely a trickle coming out of the shower- the pressure was that bad. Not to mention that I was showering in ice cold water which did not make sunscreen removal easy.
As refreshing as a cold shower might sound, it needs to be noted that the apartment was kept at 16 degrees so a cold shower was no longer refreshing. Glenn didn’t understand. According to him, the water pressure was good and he commented that he had to actually increase the cold water because his morning shower was too hot. I figured our different amounts of hair could account for the very different opinions… perhaps. It wasn’t until the evening of the second full day (our last day) that he insisted on showing me that he wasn’t lying and that the water was in fact really hot and that the pressure was good. After a few minutes of waiting, water was only coming out of 7 of the 40+ holes in the showerhead and the water was really cold – this was what I had showered in each morning. He kept insisting his showers were better and so I started to play with the taps. Suddenly we heard the hot water heater kick in and sure enough, the water blasted out of the showerhead and the temperature soared. I couldn’t believe I had been taking cold showers all weekend! It seems whoever takes the second shower would always have a hot one. Who would have known?
Our last dinner in Havana was at a restaurant on the Malecon across from the fort. At 9pm every night they light off a cannon and so we were seated and eating when the cannon went off. It was a little lackluster from what we expected but cool to witness. I had really yummy paella and Glenn had ropa vieja, which was also enjoyable. Some sangria and beer and we were done for the night. All the heat and the walking had done us in.
Hasta la vista, Havana! The world is a big place, so I am not sure I will be back, but I am glad we had this time together.
After a long-ish day of travel, we were tired but decided to follow our ears and find the music you could hear from every corner of the street. A short wander around Plaza Vieja and then it was off to bed- everything was closed and no longer serving.
Calle Mercaderes was noted not only in my guidebook but in a couple of blog posts and forums I had read so we decided to go for a stroll. We took some photos in the Plaza de San Francisco, rubbed the beard and held the finger of the Caballero de Paris and then continued exploring. It appeared that all the breakfast places wouldn’t be open until after 9. We bought matching hats from Lazaro who threw in a couple of necklaces for my nieces. We met a local named Lenny who decided to spend some time walking around with us and telling us a little about Cuba. He kept leading us to areas he wanted to show us which just made me nervous. I made up a story about meeting friends and we managed to get away from him so we could be back on our own, wandering at will.
We headed to Plaza Vieja and Café Escorial where we enjoyed a delicious, non-traditional breakfast. After sandwiches, coffee, cake, fresh lemonade and then more coffee, we were ready to go exploring some more.
The infamous Malecon was our next destination, even though it was sweltering and it felt like we were melting. Even some of the locals were commenting about how hot it was. Apparently it was more like summer than spring. All I know is that it was sweltering. I could feel my hair growing bigger and bigger by the minute.
More people stopped us to talk and finally a pair of men decided they would keep us company as we walked along the Malecon. They walked with us for ages, slowing down our pace, and eventually led us to Hamel Alley where they decided they would hustle us for a drink. By this point we were hot and bothered and much to Glenn’s dismay, I decided to just give them some pesos so they would let us leave. I wasn’t sure how we had got there, but there were locals all around and we were in a small room and I panicked a little. All I could think of was how disappointed I was in myself that I let us get to that point. In hindsight, I should have just said no and left. There were a lot of people around, even if they were locals. I should have been smarter earlier and Glenn was good about not really saying, “I told you so”. Kicking myself a little, we were finally on our way, a little angry and frustrated, but determined that we were no longer going to be the polite Canadians but be stern in telling people we were fine and not interested in where they wanted to take us. We were too hot to hold on to those feelings for too long though and set our sights on finding a good place to have a drink. 
Away from René and his buddy, we continued along the Malecon and then headed to Hotel Nacional where we stopped to rest a while, listen to the screech of the peacock, people watch and just stop sweating for a short while.
My trusty tour book was proving to have some good suggestions so we checked out somewhere to go for lunch and decided we could do a little more walking. Pizza at La Cuccheria and then we were in to a Coco taxi and heading back to our apartment. By this point we were both pretty tired and definitely overheated. A cool afternoon nap and a cold shower and we were both ready to hit the town again.
Everyone kept telling us that the food in Havana would be awful but thus far we were enjoying our meals. Either we had completely lucked out, or else things had just changed since our friends had been there last. We had walked almost 17km the first day, in the blazing sun, and it was taking its toll. We heard music from the square so before crashing for the night, we went to the Factorìa de Birra and listened to the band.
Memoir of a Wannabe World Traveller 