Curious Americans getting a taste of forbidden island
U.S. law can't hold back tide of eager tourists
By Ginger Thompson
Tribune Staff Writer
HAVANA -- American flags waved from most of the boats at the
Hemingway Marina the other day. Two 54-foot fishing boats, the kind that
would have made the marina's namesake swoon, cruised in from Austin,
Texas, on their way to Southern California. There were sailboats from New
Orleans, Miami and Wilmington, Del.
And there was the 41-foot yacht "Chip's Ahoy" from Danville, Ill. Owner
and
captain Chip Lucas said he bought the boat three years ago, when he turned
50. Since then he has been living his dream. He cashed in his restaurant
and
package store, put his house up for sale, moved his wife and teenagers
onto
the Chip's Ahoy and cruised all the way from Lake Michigan.
"We can go just about anywhere our hearts desire," said Lucas, between
swigs from his bottle of Bud Light. "One of the places our hearts desired
was
Cuba."
Despite strict travel restrictions and frigid relations between the Cuban
and
U.S. governments, thousands of Americans are defying U.S. law and
spending their vacations in Cuba, this hemisphere's last Communist outpost.
Under the 1963 Trading with the Enemy Act, Americans are allowed to
travel to Cuba, but they are not permitted to spend money there as tourists.
Exceptions are made only for foreign journalists, diplomats, academics,
religious officials and people with relatives in Cuba.
But the law seems unable to hold back the wave of American tourists coming
into Cuba by sea and by air. Last year, some 20,000 American tourists
traveled to Cuba, most taking flights from Canada, the Bahamas or Mexico.
While still a small percentage of the total number of tourists to Cuba
-- 1.7
million who came last year mostly from Spain, Italy and Canada -- the
Yankee invasion is growing fast.
Citing the historic visit to Cuba by Pope John Paul II in January, Cuban
officials expect the number of American tourists to double this year.
Most are coming to Cuba on flights from Cancun in Mexico, Toronto,
Jamaica and the Bahamas. Others cruise or sail from the Florida Keys.
President Fidel Castro, who is relying on tourism to keep his country's
flailing
economy afloat, couldn't be happier.
"Let them come," Castro said, referring to Americans in a speech last
February. "We will treat them excellently."
Indeed, wherever they were found last week -- napping in the breeze at
the
Marina Hemingway, prowling for "chicas" at the Copacabana nightclub or
buying Santeria paintings in Old Havana -- American tourists said they
were
having a ball.
Altogether, they were an eclectic, eccentric bunch drawn by curiosity about
the forbidden island. Like all tourists, they like to play and said they
enjoyed
the pristine beaches, the lemony taste of a genuine mojito rum-and-mint
drink
and the live music that fills the streets. However, some also took hard
looks
at the dismal lives endured by most Cuban people.
Zenobia Brown, a family practitioner from New York, spent a day talking
to
doctors at an emergency room in the beach resort of Varadero. Another
couple, in their 60s, rode a rusted, creaking train for eight hours from
Havana
to the eastern city of Santiago, and back.
"It was an exercise in Purgatory," Charles Kanter of Key Largo, Fla., said
with a laugh. "But we figured it would be a good way to really get to know
the place."
When asked what their three children and eight grandchildren thought about
such escapades, Kanter and his wife declared in unison, "They think we're
crazy!"
Some of the American tourists were afraid to give their names for fear
of
prosecution when they returned to the United States. Others, defiantly
opposed to the U.S. travel restrictions, insisted on being identified.
But all spoke openly about their visit, and their stories provided a look
at how
average Americans feel about this nation--a target of hostile U.S. policy
for
almost four decades--and how those feelings are strengthened or changed
by
their time there.
"(The U.S.) should definitely lift the embargo because it's ridiculous,"
said
Brown, 27. "It's sort of one of these things that because Cuba wouldn't
become a colony, they wouldn't become Puerto Rico or St. Thomas, we're
going to bleed them dry."
At the Hemingway Marina, site of the pre-revolutionary Havana Yacht Club
about a half-hour drive from the historic city center, Chip Lucas of Danville
opened another Bud Light. He looked like a man who hadn't been at work
for a while--his skin dark tan, and his gray-blond hair in need of a trim.
He
strolled on deck wearing only a pair of Tommy Hilfiger swim trunks and
a
medallion on a gold chain around his neck. His wife, 39-year-old Kathy
West, showed off pictures of family and friends.
They had heard sketchy reports back home about bombs going off in a
church. But, when they are on the boat, they said, the only news that matters
to them are weather reports.
Their 12 days at the Hemingway Marina had been peaceful bliss, they said,
except for a few loud parties on the Italian boat behind them. The marina
is a
plain-looking resort, with a bare landscape and a few tourist stands at
the
entrance. During the day Lucas and his wife relax or clean the boat while
the
kids -- 15-year-old Jake and 18-year-old Jesse -- Rollerblade or ride their
bikes with other boaters' kids.
In the evenings, people gather around the pool, at the marina bar, or they
meet at one boat, bring a television set on deck and watch movies.
On a few days, Lucas said, he took his family into town to try to get a
sense
of how Cuban people live. He was surprised to find that there really is
no
shortage of food in Cuba. There are only shortages for most Cuban people.
Tourists or Cubans with dollars can buy any kind of fruit or vegetables
they
desire.
Most Cubans, however, earn pesos, a currency that is all but worthless.
And
they are forced to rely on food rationed to them by the government each
month. Those rations are often stale or rotten.
Still, Lucas reasoned, at least no one is left to starve. "The government
gives
people food as long as they go pick it up," Lucas said. "They give them
jobs,
they give them everything they need."
West added, "I know their food is bad, but I think people here are used
to it.
If you have never tasted candy then you don't know what you are missing."
When asked why he decided to bring his family to Cuba, Lucas opened
another beer and began to philosophize. He called himself a "red-blooded
American." He served in the Navy, pays all his taxes and obeys the law,
including the U.S. trade embargo against Cuba. His family brought all their
own food and supplies with them, he said, so they didn't spend money in
Cuba.
"We are not here to go against our country," he said. "We love our country."
Looking over at Kathy, he said, "My wife has a saying: `If you've never
traveled, you've only read one page in the book.' Who are we to say that
what this country does is right or wrong? All I want to do is enjoy my
family
and broaden my mind."
Lucas, like most other American tourists in Cuba last week, predicted that
the U.S. embargo could be lifted soon--either because Cuba's 73-year-old
president will die or because American attitudes about Cuba are changing
fast.
Fishermen on a towering boat from Austin were astonished at all the new
hotels, the Bennetton stores and the restaurants in Cuba.
The crew had come to Cuba on their way to deliver the million-dollar fishing
boat to a client in San Diego. The Hemingway Marina was the first stop
of a
journey that would take them past Belize, Honduras, through the Panama
Canal and up the western coast of Mexico.
Cruise magazines have published a lot of stories about Cuba. They said
they
wanted to see it before the whole island is turned into a big shopping
mall.
"A lot of Americans have come down here and they told us how beautiful
it
was," said one 28-year-old with a buzz cut and sun glasses. "When we
passed through the Coast Guard station, they asked us if we were going
to
Cuba. And even they told us, `You're going to love it.' "
What was striking to him, he said, was the enormous potential for wealth
he
saw all over Cuba. All the things that once made Cuba one of Americans'
favorite playgrounds are all still there. They just need the boost of some
American capital.
During his week in Cuba, he said, he visited a tobacco plantation in the
western city of Pinar del Rio. "It was really sad," he said. "The owner
had
something like 30,000 pounds of tobacco and he had to sell it to the
government for about $200. What a waste."
The Texas crew asked not to be identified for fear that they would be
prosecuted for spending money in Cuba. However, one of them said that he
went to high school in Little Rock, Ark., with President Clinton and that
he
plans to write some letters about Cuba to the White House.
"As far as I am concerned, the U.S. is responsible for a lot of the way
people
live over here," he said. "If this place opened up to (American) tourism
the
economy would be booming overnight."
Even with the U.S. embargo, tourism has become the engine of Cuba's
economy, said Miguel Figueras, an adviser to the Cuban Minister for Foreign
Investment. Estimated revenue from tourism last year was $1.4 billion.
The
number of hotel rooms in Cuba has increased from 13,664 in 1990 to about
26,000 today.
By the year 2010, Figueras said, the government expects some 7 million
tourists to visit Cuba. Plans have been made for the construction of almost
60,000 hotel rooms.
One negative product of the tourist boom is rampant prostitution. Hotel
lobbies, discos and the Malecon, Havana's seaside highway, are filled at
night
with girls wearing Spandex catsuits and platform jellies who offer their
bodies
for dinner and $5, more than average Cubans -- including college graduates
-- earn in a week.
One American screenwriter in Havana two weeks ago said candidly that sex
was certainly one of the reasons he wanted to come to Cuba.
"Sex is a big draw," he said. "Guys definitely come here to get (sex).
The
average American slob, with 500 bucks in his pocket, is big bounty. He
can
get lucky, cheap."
But on the morning after his first night in Cuba, the desperation of the
women
he met turned him off. So many women accosted him as soon as he walked
out of his hotel, promising to do anything he wanted, that it ruined his
mood.
"Part of it is that the whole sport is turned around. There is no challenge,"
he
said. "I feel like they are the fishermen and I am the big fish in the
sea.
"It's all so disheartening. It's all so exploitative."
Those feelings of concern subsided quickly. He had to make some calls to
make plans for that night.
"A friend told me to go to the bars in Miramar," he said, referring to
one of
Havana's last elite enclaves. "They attract a different class of women."