Daylight Robbery in Havana
In Havana, there is an old man working in the John Lennon Park. His job is to place a pair of glasses on Lennon’s sculptured face when someone wants a picture with the bronze Beatles star. All day long this man can be found staring into space and standing behind the statue with a copy of those familiar round-lens glasses in his hand, just waiting for a tourist to come along.
To me, this man is a perfect symbol of Havana – where the boundaries between the real Cuba and the Cuba available to tourists are distinct. A city whose citizens are like actors in the wings of a theatre, who are on standby there until the tourists – the stars of the show – are positioned centre-stage. Only then are the locals welcomed into the spotlight.
I initially became aware of these boundaries on my first day in Havana. Strolling through the old city my friend and I were accosted by two remarkably friendly locals – a brother and sister, apparently, who were professional salsa dancers, apparently. As soon as they found out we were from the UK they invited us to their favourite local bar because “we love English people and we’re about to perform and we’d love for you to come and see us dance!” I eagerly agreed, thinking I was about to see the real Cuba. I didn’t consider until later why these “authentic” performers spoke such perfect English and what a coincidence it was that the so-called “local” bar was packed full of groups of tourists accompanied by pairs of Cubans, just like we were.
We sat down at a spare table with the brother and sister, who I’m sure were actually a couple. They ordered mojitos and banana-chip snacks for everyone and gave us presents – a special Che Guevara coin for me and a flower for my friend. Ten minutes passed and then fifteen – by twenty I was becoming suspicious. “We’re performing in a few minutes!” they kept repeating, but showed no sign of moving from the table which was almost creaking under the weight of all the drinks and dishes on it.
It was when they got out the “limited-edition” Cuban cigars from under the table and attempted to sell them to us that we got up to leave. It was clear that they didn’t “love English people”, they loved English people’s money. Yet the waiters barred our exit to the door and it suddenly dawned on me that all the staff and most of the customers were in on this tourist trickery. We had no choice but to pay the extortionate bill – I didn’t want things to get nasty. We fled the bar as quickly as we could.
Our indignation at the situation quickly turned to hilarity as we began to see the funny side of being basically mugged, or at least “mugged off”, in a busy bar in the broad daylight on our very first day of travelling.
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