Concerts in the park, and on a roo
Soon we'll be setting sail for Baracoa on Cuba's Northeast
coast. The historic place came highly recommended by the crew of the Russian
ship we share a dock with. Supplies have to be bought, gear has to be checked,
authorities to be notified, bills to be paid It all takes time but at
the end of the day we are ready to go.
CONCERTS IN THE PARK AND ON A ROOF TOP
Our friends at the tourist department tell us that there'll be an evening
concert at the Parque Cespedes, a huge square and the very heart of Santiago.
None of us want to miss another opportunity for yet another experience and
a jolly good time.We even remember to bring the video camera.
A stage has been built, a military band is playing, a crowd of hundreds applaud
the perfectly executed march. Flood lights around the square light up gables
dating back to the 16th and 17th Century.All of them perfectly restored and
turned into musea, coffee houses or boutiques. The band plays another number,
then start packing its instruments to make room for a salsa group.It is when
scant dressed gorgeous female dancers and singers begin their show
that we suddenly find the 16th Century Catholic Cathedral an odd backdrop.
Now clearly this is the kind of music the crowd had waited for. The rumba
has everybody swaying. Literally everybody..............We see 6 year old
kids moving like seasoned dancers and 70 year old ladies displaying a
body language we hardly expect of seniors. But we are in Cuba and perhaps
we better get used to people happy with their situation and showing it. The
salsa band is a succes. A fat lady grabs a 10 year old kid to dance. Only
at first does the kid show some embarrasment, but once they dance it is all
rythme and melody that matters. They get a big applaus.
Then everything goes silent .A thirty-something woman.unpacks her guitar,
finds a microphone and sings. She is a national treasure and we try to find
out what her name is. No luck, but no matter. It is her own composition, it
tells about the horrors and heroism of the Cuban men and women in
the Angolan war. Macho guys in the audience pull a hanky from their pants
pockets............. just in case. Sending troops to South Africa cost the
Cuban Nation dearly. Hundreds returned in body bags, thousands terribly
wounded.But Nelson Mandela would later declare that the Cuban victory over
South African troops in Cuito Cuanavale, Angola was instumental in ending
Apartheid and the beginning of democracy in South Africa.The singer receives
a thundering applaus. The salsa band takes center stage again, we are now
the main attraction. The kids discover that they can see themselves moving
around in the viewer of the video camera. They had never seen a video camera
and when Big Ed shows one how he moved with the salsa music, they all want
a private screening, which, of course, they get.
But Bill and Lucho and I are about to find out what is going
on next door. Next door is the famous Santiago de Cuba Landmark of the Casa
Granda Hotel,a well preserved relic of Spanish rule. Pleasant sounds, laughter
and applaus are coming down from the roof top.
Of course we had to know what was going on. Our Dollars did not impress the
ticket office.
We had to think of something else because clearly this event is for VI'Ps
only and we don't look the part. We try another angle. We are merchand
mariners from a British ship in the harbor. ID's? no, we didn't bring
cause we didn't know we were going to need them. Sorry....,
We are about to throw in the towel when a well dressed gentleman steps out
of the shadows.
He talks swiftly with the ticket seller, turns to us and points us upwards.
It is a long climb but when we reach the rooftop the reward is breathtaking.
There we land in the middle of a world class spectacle one would only expect
to find in Paris' Moulin Rouge or Lido, certainly not on the rooftop of Casa
Granda in Communist Cuba. But it is there alright, all 80 musicians,
singers, dancers, stage hands, lighting experts and actors. It is a touring
version of Havana's world famous Tropicana and they are here to reward high
ranking party faithfuls and their guests.
No questions asked. We cannot believe our luck and buy incredibly cheap Mojitos
and Cuba libres for our hosts. After a while nobody knows who ordered the
drinks on the table or who they are for. So we just help ourselves inhaling
the finest entertainment while slwoly passing out in the wee hours. I don't
remember how we got back to the boat Neither does anybody else..................
BASURA? NO PROBLEMA............................
It is close to noon when we wake up with a formidable hang-over. But hang-over
or not we have to leave. As the crew unties the mooring lines I notice a big
black plastic bag of ship's garbage forgotten to be taken out to the dump.
Then I remember the papers I signed as the captain, not o dump any garbage
in the bay under penalty of astronomical fines and years of imprisonment.
So now what? We certainly don't want to keep the stinking bag on board for
any length of time and it is too late to turn back for a proper disposal.
I hope our escort of harbor authorities and military to the Bay's entry
will have an answer to my predicament. They sure do.... When one of the escorting
boats gets close enough I connect with an officer, point to the bag and ask
him what to do with the basura (Spanish for garbage).......... For a moment
he looks puzzled, as if he hasn't understood the question. Then he expresses
empathy and points to the water with a smile.
"Just throw it in the bay man, where else???? He seems to say. But I
can't get myself to break the law while being watched by so many and I wonder...............
doesn't he know any better? Or, does he know and doesn't care? Or does he
want me to break the law and be a hero when he arrests me? I decide to keep
the smelly cargo for a few more hours then throw it over the side in International
Waters. The officer looks puzzled again........ Stardate works her way slowly
against the tide and clears the cliffhanging Morro at sunset.
US AIRCRAFT CARRIER RAMS S/V STARDATE..................almost
Our course is SE along the remainder of Cuba's Southern Coast. Bill is on
watch when we pass Guantanmo. He is an experienced sailor. He has sailed
his own FD12 called "Sneaky Tiki" back and forth to Hawaii and navigated
all the islands there. When the rest of us tries to catch up on our missed
sleep the night before we do it trusting Bill's experience.
So when I hear cries for help coming from the cockpit I am puzzled, but not
for long.
Bill's eyesught has gone downhill. He has glasses but he lives in denial so
he doesn't wear them . Not even when he is alone. If he had he would have
known that he was about to be crushed by a US aircraft carrier heading for
Gitmo instead of a distant cruise ship he mistook the brilliant lights for.
Other than thet, our trip around Cuba's Easternmost point was an uneventful,
smooth sail to Cuba's first Capital BARACOA.
to be continued