On the Drivers of Cuba

[luckme10]

"Welcome to Cuba!" This is the last thing my phone says to me while losing reception. I'm simply at a loss. How it's been so long since I've braced myself for being on a trip with no reception. I guess I needed to get out more. Those words would have so much more meaning than a simple greeting. They would become the words that might as well say, this is a foreign country. Best of luck! Can I get by solely on those undeveloped social skills that have become so suppressed though the luxury of instant knowledge constantly at your disposal - the click of a button? I suppose if you're accustom it's a laughable problem. But it gave me, the millennial, pause.  As I continue to wonder if my dependency on modern navigational technology has aided in personal ineptitude, the nagging question arises:  how does one traverse while relying solely on the kindness of strangers? 

Imagine a society where there are no GPS and people don't really use maps. What is relied upon instead is a foundation of locals who are all very friendly and helpful, guiding our driver through off shoot roads and pathways getting to unmarked areas. I'd imagine a tightly knit community would be exactly this, a mutual understanding forged only by knowledgable people, and a communal reliance upon each other.

Anyways, my friend and I come out of the airport and grab an overpriced cab. 

"40 CUC," he says.

Lesson 1 that we later learn: If they speak fluent English, the costs are premium. The driver was a skinny balding gentleman in his mid 50's who seemed nice enough, and we really didn't know what we were doing. Or what we would be getting ourselves into. My friend and I were treated to an eye opening drive. A tropical area that hasn't had much rainfall, one part Miami and one part Africa. He takes us down Old Havana to our casa.

We arrive at Old Havana and it was simply ineffable. Gorgeous, deteriorating buildings surrounded people not bounded by sidewalks. He leads us down a narrow alley and while another car approaches from the other side. So if both car fits, why not go together?  The driver of the gorgeous 50's classic Chevy coming towards us didn't seem to mind, since they simply knew they could pass us in that narrow alley with a whole inch to spare.  And he drove by he did, without even flinching. Our driver was an engineer graduate from the University of Havana, and didn't think twice either, so perhaps he just knew a little more about careful measurements than we.

"We're all a little crazy, so don't worry about it," said our driver.

So we spend the day in Havana and catch a shared cab to Vinales.

Today, we're heading to the beach from Viñales. When you take a cab for the more local destinations, you're bound to get a wide variety of potential modes of transportation. We ended up getting a Russian car from the 70s. There are missing seatbelts, and smells reminds me of a lawnmower. Wonderful! We get in and start driving. Well, the guy takes a pretty sharp turn avoiding a pothole and the door flies open. The padding is stripped and did I mention I'm without a seatbelt? Naturally, I'm being pushed out the door with a centrifugal force. Luckily, I grab the frame of the car while being pulled out.

The driver's response? "It's Cuba!"

I'm thinking, when did a whole country become a colloquial for I'm about to #$*% my pants?

 

A few days later, we start heading back out to the urban areas. This time, our destination is Cienfuegos.

The lady at our Vinales casa has prepared a joint taxi for us, and in lieu of our last taxi, my friend requests if we can take a slightly more modern vehicle for the 5 hour drive.

"Don't worry," she replies, "The taxi is comfortable, American comfortable." 

"Yes," I thought.  American comfortable, as if the Michelin man himself had flew all the way over here to give me a big hug.

And so, a late 90s Peugeot arrives to pick us up. The car is perfectly normal except for one feature. All the windows were tinted pitch black. In fact, with the all of the windows so tinted,  inside was perpetually dark, regardless of the daytime. Not to fret, the front window has small rectangular un-tinted section, for the driver to pier out onto the road. And they can apparently can see quite well. They could see the police officer hiding along the corner. The taxi driver's buddy  jumps out of the running car and  to bribe the police officer camping out on the other side of the intersection. He's gone for about 10 minutes, just shooting the shit, while the rest of us try to figure out what's going on. 

"My friend is a little crazy." The cab driver said, as his friend pops back in the cab.

Meanwhile, I'm beginning to  understand just why we have certain driving regulations in place. Given the tinted windows, this could be quite a peaceful journey: Then came the crabs. 

Indeed,  a migration of crabs have decided to reenact World War 2's invasion of Normandy Beach.  I'm from the Bay Area, and we go through a lot of seafood here. Though never have I witnessed anything close to the massacre of hundreds of crabs, while our driver winces over every newfound casualty, praying his car remains intact.  Some of the other passengers start to joke uncomfortably. The way an immature 1st year med student would act as if cutting through a corpse for the first time. Because there is virtually no way around the crabs. And there are no ordinances that prevent the traversing though the only road though the area.

Inevitably, we had to stop for a tire patch while the driver cried "!el pinchazo la goma!"

In Berkeley, they close off the upper pass by Tilden Park for the protection of the Salamanders.  I always thought the excess of policies there were so ridiculous, including this one. People in Berkeley are just a little too concerned about their causes, they always cared a little too much. But maybe I understand a little more now.  Maybe I didn't care enough. Maybe it's normal just to be a little crazy. 

Looking back at my travels to Cuba, a place where the drivers are swerving around the roads, not because they're intoxicated or belligerent,  but because they have a hosh posh of obstacles thrown at them, from modern European vehicles to horse carriages to classic gas guzzlers to random  livestock all traversing along these dilapidated roads. As if someone screwed up the timeline and we just entered a realm culminating with a rich stew of technological history.  What they consider normal sometimes gets a little crazy. Yet, there's a calm kind of craziness, a functional chaos if you will. It's different, but it just works. Afterall, it's Cuba. And well, life just doesn't have a GPS.

[rguinn]

Enjoyable read, thanks! I also had a door fly open on me while in a taxi (50’s Chevy) in Havana. The driver seemed unphased as if it happened often. I chalked it up to part of the experience and didn’t think twice about it really until your post! 

[oliverdst]

I bought a printed map of havana last week.

I have absolutely no idea the last time I used a printed map.

[...]

I used the app Maps Me last time. Fully off- line and quite practical 

[Kitchen]

Last time I was in Havana, I took an unregistered taxi down the Malecon.  The door did not latch shut; the driver just looked back at me and said, "just hold it closed."  

[Derboesekoenig]

59 minutes ago, Kitchen said:

Last time I was in Havana, I took an unregistered taxi down the Malecon.  The door did not latch shut; the driver just looked back at me and said, "just hold it closed."  

I started taking randos because they were half the price of a regular taxi. 

[helix]

Had an old Lada 2105 with doors popping open over bumps and heaves in Havana , the car was flexing from rust and fatigue . We were pretty hammered and LOFAO .

Best choice is official taxi's and don't rent or drive yourself .

[Ericbrobes]

Great read! Some of the most interesting things on international trips are the cab rides