Cuban Travelogue, Part IV

     One of our most interesting tours was the H. Upmann cigar factory in Havana. Inside a cement building five stories high, iron railings surrounded an open atrium. There was no air-conditioning. A huge photo of Fidel holding what must have been an Upmann cigar hung down the inside of the building in front of us. "Sorry, no photos above ground level," the factory guide warned us. "No stealing secrets."

Fidel and his cigar watch over the factory.

     The tobacco leaves had been cut in the fields and dried on racks in barns, where they were spritzed with a combination of water and a flavor (rum, e.g.). Because of the humidity in Cuba, the environment served as a natural humidor. Originally, field hands read Romeo and Juliet or The Count of Monte Cristo to those cutting in the fields. The cigars took their names from the books being read. Today, I wouldn't be surprised if cigars were named Fifty Shades of Gray (or 64 Shades, because there are 64 cigars in a box).
     We began by walking up cement steps to the fourth floor, where women and a couple of men sat behind glass in rows of high-top tables, removing veins from the dried leaves and sorting them by color and shade. There were three colors and eight shades of each color. One woman had her daughter sitting next to her doing homework. Both waved at us.
     We walked down the stairs to another level. On this floor, employees rolled, pressed, and cut the leaves into shape, securing the end with a rubbery natural liquid from Canada that acted as glue. Each worker had a different quota per day, depending on the shape and size of the cigar. A worker rolling and pressing Monte Cristos, for example, had a quota of 90 cigars/day. We watched through the glass as workers at long tables, both men and women, smoked cigarettes, drank beer, or watched movies on their cell phones between finished products. The jobs were highly paid and handed down through the generations, provided the applicant passed entrance qualifications. A ten-month training period was mandatory for everyone in the factory. On another level down, a paper ring slid onto the shaft of each product, which was then boxed in an adjoining room.

One of the products of H. Upmann Cigar Factory in Havana

     Back at our hotel, Geo. Lopez-Sanchez, Professor of Economics and International Relations, discussed the Cuban economy. When the U.S. OK'ed flights into the country, the total number of tourists rose from 500,000 to 1,000,000 in one week. Canada sends the highest number, with the U.S. in second place, though declining. "What infrastructure can be fixed if goods and remittances coming into our country are hidden and can't be taxed? What should the visitors' revenues be used for first?" he asked.

     The Executive Director of the Fundacion Ludwig de Cuba gave us a tour of the National Museum in Havana. "There is one work that depicts our country's recent journey," he told us, leading us to the collage titled, "Revolucion" by Alejandro Aquilera. "The word 'Motherland' is a colloquialism for us, referring to a political movement that is unfinished and constantly changing. Our allegiance after the Revolution is not to individual rights but to independence as a whole. In this collage, the artist started on the left with strong letters, which deteriorate toward the end into fragments. It is a mix of many materials and scenes, just as Cuba is a mix of peoples and beliefs. The bloody revolutionary fervor no longer sustains us, but the concept is unfinished. We are mingled in grayness."

"Revolucion" by Alejandro Aquilera, National Museum, Havana

     Confirming that point of view, our Cuban tour guide told us, "In general, Cuban people today have no specific religious beliefs. We pick and choose a little from this and a little from that. If we were born after the Revolution of 1959, we have no idea what Christmas represents. Christmas trees are only placed in tourist hotels. Our backgrounds are Spanish, African, English, Chinese. The tribes native to the island were almost completely exterminated when they were used as laborers by the Spanish."

Art from the Revolution, National Museum, Havana

 
        On a free night, Charley and I walked to Sloppy Joe's restaurant near our hotel. It was an offshoot of the bar made famous by Hemingway in Key West. Hemingway had befriended the owner there and persuaded him to open a second establishment in Havana, where Hemingway had a residence.

Hemingway's boat dry-docked on the tennis court at his Havana estate

     We both ordered cheeseburgers. They arrived an inch-and-a-half thick. "Could we have some ketchup, please?" Charley said.
     "I'll look," the waiter said in English.

   


     He came back several minutes later. "Sorry, but this is the only one I could find. We don't expect another shipment this week." He handed Charley a bottle of congealed red paste, stuck in the neck of the bottle.
     "Cuba is like a 40-watt light bulb," one of our group members quipped.

                       To be continued...