SHOPPING IN HAVANA
Photo: Aniko Papp
Q) How do you make a Havana shopkeeper laugh?
A) Ask her if you can buy some eggs.
I love to cook, and while renting a Havana apartment – complete with ceramic tiled kitchen and a fridge to match the ’55 Chevies cruising the streets, self-catering seemed to make perfect sense. I should have had a clue from the beginning really. It was the first night, relaxing with a Mexican Cointreau on the roof of the century-old abode, when I asked my host Rafael where to buy some basic needs: “Vegetables, four blocks that way, milk two streets down. Butter over near the square and bread you can find at the little bakeries not so far down the road,” he explained. I didn’t ask about eggs. He added that I would need Nationales currency for the vegies and the bread but Cuban Convertibles for the dairy products.
We found the vegetable shop first. A fading quote from El Che had been painted on the wall some time in the long forgotten past; We don’t kill men for their faults, we look after them even with their faults. This was comforting given the legs and ribs of some recently deceased animal which hung along the eaves to attract the crowds and flies. The selection of greens was sparse indeed and we soon realised that the menu would be determined by the shopping, not the other way around. Still, a dogged determination saw us embark on our first tour of Old Havana – mission: to buy a bag of rice. Helpful locals sent us in various directions (obviously, where can I buy a bag of rice? is not a stupid question in Havana,) and indeed certain tiendas were discovered, each providing a perplexingly narrow range of goods. Finally we struck gold! A shop which offered rice, noodles and gigantic tins of mushrooms on one counter (with its own till of course,) cigarettes and sweets on another, and joy of joys – cheese and butter on the third.
photo: Aniko Papp
The Cuban people that you meet on the street are some of the friendliest and most helpful folk one could encounter anywhere in the world. It is not unusual for somebody to jump on the bus with you and chaperone you to wherever you are planning to go with no expectation of return. Those who work in the shops however, are another breed entirely. Who knows? Maybe they have bought into the socialist ideal that selling is inherently a bad thing and the less commerce they can make, the better their karma will be. I took on the queue for the dry goods while Aniko waited around at the dairy counter for the surly attendant to finally take notice of her. Several pieces of white and yellow cheese – cut, wrapped and priced, awaited our purchase. The butter, however was in a massive block and was impossible to buy. I guess the person who cuts and weighs had already gone home and so we went without. Aniko did return next day as instructed, but that is another story entirely.
While searching for a Salsa venue one Saturday afternoon in Verado, we found a shop stacked floor to ceiling with crates of eggs, it was ridiculously exciting. Do you think that we could purchase some? With two local currencies, US dollars, Euros and even a few Aussie and Canadian, they just were not available to buy. Six eggs per month on your ration card if you are local and that is as far as it goes.
photo: Aniko Papp
With its world renowned health system, I figured Cuba would be a cinch when it came to getting hold of medicines. No big deal, some sleeping tablets and eye drops were all we needed. The rickshaw driver scratched his head when we asked for a pharmacy but did deliver us to something of the kind. Unfortunately, this splendid, palatial building – replete with stained glass domes and hundreds of ancient ceramic jars was more of a museum than a functioning shop. They did have a few boxes of Asprin on offer and a frugal cache of herbal tea bags, but meaningful drugs were not to be found. This time however, the golden hearts of the Cubans overcame our woes. On one of her wild goose chases, Aniko wound up being sent upstairs by the glasses seller to a woman who had both Asprin and Ibuprofin. When she explained that she had trouble sleeping, the shopkeeper took pity and gave her a foil of tablets from her personal stash. Likewise, when I asked the guy who sells nothing but internet cards (don’t get me started on the internet) about a chemist, he diagnosed my conjunctivitis and produced a bottle of antibiotic from behind his booth. Neither of them would accept payment for their kindness.
Just for the record, rum beer and cigars are in plentiful supply and you can eat a meal in a local restaurant for less than a buck. Eventually, somebody gave us two eggs.