I hate the feelin’ when you’re looking at me that way cause we´re North Americans

We arrived in Havana airport with tonnes of time to spare before our flight was scheduled to leave. As we had no interest in buying any Ché merchandise we quickly joined the incredibly long check-in line. When, after more than an hour, we eventually got to the front of the queue the check-in lady asked us to show our onward journey ticket from Ecuador. We showed her our ticket from Brazil back to Europe at the end of October. No, no this is not good enough she said excitedly. You need a ticket out of Ecuador. We tried to assure her that our ticket out of South America would be sufficient proof that we were not planning to settle down in Ecuador and raise a family. Not convinced, she led us to a back room where her infectious worry and excitability quickly took over everyone else in the room and they explained that they wouldn’t let us board unless we bought a plane ticket out of Ecuador then and there. Faced with the prospect of having to stay in Cuba, possibly forever (I get a tad dramatic in tense situations) we both got weak in the knees and my Newfie (who has a masters in International Diplomacy) put on his best persuasive and charming voice and did his best to woo the room of excitable, yet powerful, airport staff. In his most calm and authoritative voice, he informed them that he had contacted the embassy beforehand and was assured that there would be no problem. Still not budging they told us we would have to buy onward flights then and there.

Seeing the look of absolute terror that was spreading across our faces they then calmly asked my Newfie where he was from. Upon hearing that he was in fact Canadian and not a dreaded American they relaxed and even flashed a smile and helpfully told us they could print us out a fake reservation which we could take with us just in case we ran into any problems in Quito. Overcome with relief we almost hugged the people that only minutes earlier we had hated so much and raced to catch our flight.

It’s no wonder that Americans put Canadian flags on their backpacks to fool people. In Cuba things are so bad that if your bank has any connection with an American bank your card will spat back out at you in seconds at an ATM. But then you can kind of see why. These people can’t even buy soap for themselves. On numerous occasions women asked us if we had any soap or shampoo we could give them. We had brought exercise books and pens for school kids but had not thought of anything for adults. And this was absolutely nothing like begging I’ve experienced in Asia. It was not that they couldn’t afford these items particularly they just weren’t even available to buy or save up for them. Is this the Cubans’ fault or because of the American’s embargo? I’m pretty sure it is both. The Americans seemed to make things unnecessarily difficult for these unfortunate people while their own government doesn’t seem to care much for its nation.

Fortunately everyone loves Canadians and I learned that it’s ever so useful having one with you while travelling. Especially when they can so easily sweet talk people out of difficult situations. Now if only I wasn’t so powerless to these charms myself…

In a country where they turn back time

Finally reunited with my Newfie I was able to complete my tour of communist countries. After Laos, Vietnam, China and DPR Korea all that was left was Cuba. We arrived in Habana with little or no idea what to expect and two weeks to see what it would offer. My guide book informed me that the often unbearable heat of Cuba can result in many conditions including apathy. We started feeling that apathy about three days into the trip.

By the end of the two weeks both of us couldn’t leave the country fast enough. The food had been the worst of anywhere I had ever visited, the prices outrageous and the people among the most uninterested in foreigners I had ever come across.  Every day we were treated to canned green beans and rice for dinner and charged a hefty fee for the privilege. Lacking in adequate foodstuffs we felt we had to stock up in vitamin filled fruit and leafy green plants. And indeed the lime and mint packed mojitos in Cuba were among the scrummiest cocktails I’ve ever had. In fact every day we saw Cubans beginning to drink their beloved rum far before midday and continuing on later than we stayed up. In one town we witnessed the beer tank rolling into town as large queues of men gathered to fill up their empty plastic bottles of the cheap potent liquid. Within an hour the town was full of merry men swaggering about the place. Unless you are into spending hours on the beach there isn’t a whole lot to do in Cuba…

The double currency also irritated me greatly. We got some local pesos and found it close to impossible to spend them. In fact the only thing we managed to buy with them were slices of Cuban pizza sold on the streets or from hole in the walls. These pizzas had more in common with a pancake than anything remotely Italian but as we were constantly hungry in Cuba they were hugely welcome. Everything else was bought with the CUC (Convertible Cuban Pesos) which is almost on a par with the US dollar.

Despite the fact that everything in Cuba is crumbling, decaying and of outrageously inferior quality they charge tourists European prices for it all. I spent as much in Cuba in two weeks as I did in Nepal in six weeks and Nepal is far more enjoyable on just about every level.

Almost every Cuban we actually got to speak with wanted to leave and I can’t say I blamed them. We were considering hijacking a fishing boat and sailing to Florida ourselves at one point. What I couldn’t understand is what the government is doing with the fortunes it is making from the tourists. It is certainly not going back into the country that’s for sure. One man we spoke to is on a monthly wage of 6 CUC from the government institution he works for. The rent for his tiny apartment however is 50 CUC! Therefore he has to do lots of odd jobs just to make ends meet and there is certainly never any money left for anything approaching a luxury. Upon hearing these kinds of stories which are, I believe, the norm I was almost tempted to begin a new revolution for the people. After all Ché was part Irish himself.

And he is everywhere in Cuba. His image is used as revolution propaganda and a socialist inspiration as well as  in government-produced money making merchandise. In fact as often as I saw Kim Il Sung in North Korea I saw Ché in Cuba. Although he is a figure that doesn’t interest me in the slightest and therefore know very little about the man I am fairly sure he would be horrified at what Cuba is like today and how poorly the people are treated by their government. What does it say about the leaders of a country where practically the entire population wants to leave? 

In fact North Korea and Cuba had far more in common than I ever would have expected. Both populations live under the cult of one figure whose successful branding is one that makes people believe that their every move is made for the good of the people. Both are hugely questionable. Shops in both countries are also very similar. They stock a ridiculously narrow range of goods, mostly canned food and charge an arm and a leg for them. It is also remarkable that normal citizens of both countries don’t have anywhere near enough money to buy any of these goods.

But it wasn’t all bad. I thoroughly enjoyed wandering the picturesque streets taking hundreds of photos. It is very safe to walk about with your camera and it is one of the only things you can do in Cuba that won’t break the bank. Every street corner was worthy of a picture and the fact that Cubans live outside in the streets because of the heat made it all the more atmospheric. Both my Newfie and myself went crazy snapping all around us but it wasn’t only because of the gorgeous 1950’s cars, super attractive people and elegant colonial buildings. It was also one of the more effective ways of taking our mind off the constant hunger until we could forgot about it again soothed by more liquid vitamins and leafy greens.

You can see all my Cuba photos here.

The Leaders of the free world are just little boys throwing stones

The whole time I spent in North Korea was bizarre in the extreme and even though we were constantly being brought to places, I will remember each and every stop we made. I would certainly recommend a visit if you want to go somewhere truly different from what you know.

One experience sums up DPR Korea nicely for me. We were taken to the Korean Film studios where all North Korean films are made. After being taken around the vast grounds to see their various sets we were treated to a twenty minute clip of a film that was to be released shortly.

It was about a farmer who wanted to get married but had failed to reach the required harvest quota. We saw him sitting with his friends, distraught that he could not marry because he had let down his family and country. Somehow or other, however, the Dear Leader, Kim Jung Il heard about the case and granted him special permission to marry. Not only was he so kind hearted to do this, but he also paid for the wedding and provided all the food – the camera does a very slow movement from the bottom of the banquet table to the top showing off foods that most North Koreans could only dream about. To top it all off the Dear Leader also sent them the gift of a brand new tractor!

The clip ends with the wedding speech. The groom struggles to get his speech out as he praises the Dear Leader for his generosity and kind heartedness and in the end just gives up and sobs out of love from Kim Jung Il.

We were almost crying ourselves at how ludicrous it all was. But then when you think that this is all the people get to see you realise how sad it is too. How many Koreans live in the ridiculous hope that the Dear Leader will do something similar for them?

The two guides we had were both very kind and intelligent people. They were constantly professional if not overly cautious. They were very careful about everything they said and about what they allowed us to see. Only when we took the long drive to another city did they relax somewhat. During this trip their curiosity overtook ours as they asked to look at the books we brought and listen to our ipods. This was one of my favourite moments on the trip where the guides allowed themselves to be just like us. They also asked us lots of questions about the outside world, what was going and what the rest of the world really thought of their country. We struggled with how to answer these questions. They are intelligent adults and to hide the truth seemed insincere and pointless. At the same time they are trapped in a country where any difference of opinion is clearly not an option. What good would it do to explain the truth to them.

Finally it is only our truth that we could offer. Fine we can travel and criticise our leaders if we wish, but how much do we really know about what is going on in our own countries? Like the North Koreans we generally accept that what we heard on the news and in the papers is the truth. We are the good guys and the North Koreans are insane and possibly even evil.  Well I certainly do not believe that the North Koreans are any different from us. They have had a very difficult history and are now dealing with that legacy. I hope that someday they get the freedom to question and be allowed to decide for themselves which answers they believe in.

At the Demilatarised Zone on the border with South Korea we asked our army guide if he could ever see a day when the country is reunited. Of course he replied with a hopeful face as soon as the US imperialists withdraw their occupation of South Korea.

You can see all my photos from North Korea here.

Crazy in Love

How should one dress when going to visit the dead body of a dictator/country’s saviour/national lunatic/renowned egomanic/saint? We were warned that jeans would not be acceptable and if at all possible a tie should be on show to demonstrate how seriously we were taking the visit. Needless to say a tie hadn’t made it on my list of things to take around the world with me so I had to borrow one and buy a new pair of black pants for the occasion.

We were assembled at the entrance to the complex (for it is a massive spread of buildings) early in the morning not knowing what to expect. When I was in Hanoi I had popped in to say hello to Uncle Ho’s body so I assumed that this would be similar. I had practiced my straight face and overtly earnest look for that visit so I reckoned that I was well able for this. How wrong I was.

After dealing with some security issues and ensuring all coats/cameras etc were handed in we were allowed to begin the long, impressive journey that eventually bring us face to face with Kim Il Sung himself. The first part we came to was an extremely long, narrow corridor which had a travelator to carry you along the route. But before we could step on the travelator we first had to step on a machine that cleaned our shoes lest we bring in dirt from the world’s cleanest city.

Everybody stood still as the travelator took us slowly along the way for what must have been twelve minutes or so. Perhaps the idea was that this time afforded you the chance to reflect on the gravity of what you were about to witness. Finally we arrived at a massive, cavernous room which was entirely empty apart from a huge white statue of The Great Leader at the far end. In this imposing space we felt tiny walking the long way up the statue. When we reached the top of the room we had to form ourselves in lines of four. Each line would then approach the statue and bow in unison before we were allowed into the next room.

The next large space provided portraits of the grieving DPR Korea after they had heard the horrific news of the Eternal President’s death. The pictures covered every wall and as we entered we were each handed an audio guide which told us the story, in English, of just how distraught and shattered the people were when they heard the catastrophic news. This is, without exception, the funniest thing I have ever heard in my life. The text ran on for about eight minutes or so as we were guided from one image of a sobbing Korea to the other. It contained such priceless commentary as ‘so distraught and inconsolable were the people upon hearing the horrendous news that their scorching tears fell to the earth and fossilized instantly on the traumatised ground below them’. Keeping a straight face in that room has to be my single biggest achievement while travelling to date. I knew I couldn’t look at any of my fellow travellers in the face or I would erupt in hysterics. I was also aware that for the Koreans this really was an almost religious experience and the seriousness with which they took it all was completely sincere. No matter how ludicrous I felt it all to be, it still deserved my respect – or as much of it as I could give.

After regaining my composure it became apparent that we were almost there – the Great Leader was only metres away. Before we were allowed into the ultimate room we had to pass through enormous machines which blew wind from all angles at us to ensure we weren’t bringing as much as a speck of dust in with us. With great effort I resisted the urge to do a Beyonce impression – I mean am I ever, EVER going to have industrial wind machines at my disposal again???

Finally the long wait was over and I snapped out of my popstar daydream and could enter the sombre room which was almost completely dark with black walls and very low, dim lighting apart from a bright red spot light which shone down on the glass coffin below which held the body of Kim Il Sung.

Again we had to line ourselves into four to approach the coffin and had to bow at his feet and at his right and left sides. We were instructed not to bow behind his head as this would have been sacrilegious.

Before we knew it we had left his presence again and were led into a room which was a showcase of awards, honours and gifts that other (communist) countries had bestowed upon the Great Leader during his life. And that was it – apart from being shown the train carriage he had used to move about the country alongside a giant map of the world showing all the places he had ever travelled to and in which year. We made our way back outside where thousands of school children were taking part in some important ceremony. Still in a daze from our audience with the Eternal President this next display was just icing on the cake. In few other countries (if any) would it be possible to witness such displays of extremism and be struck my both awe and laughter. As I tried to let it all sink in however I just couldn’t shake one thing from my head: the same line over and over again… got me looking so crazy right now, your love’s got me looking so crazy right now…

Still wearing a red red ribbon

After Loas, Vietnam, China and DPR Korea I thought that Nepal would be a respite from the communists before my Newfie and I head to Cuba to complete my hammer and sickle tour of the world. It seems not so! The Moaists here are getting their knickers in a twist and demanding that the Prime Minister (Mr Nepal of all names) resigns and recognize their greatness. The result of this is a national strike which has shut down everything.; Shops, busses, taxis, restaurants and more.

Still I can handle all that the reds throw at me as my Occasionally Glamorous Sister and her husband have arrived and planned a wonderful two weeks for the three of us. We begin with a four day trek in the mountains and true to her name it is rumoured that we will be accompanied by a guide and seven (!) porters bringing along what amounts to a mobile luxury hotel. It won’t come as a shock to learn that what we are heading off on is known as The Royal Trek! Tomorrow our whole entourage begins with an hour long walk out of the city as all the roads are blocked and no vehicles are allowed in. I might have to proudly wear all the DPR Korea badges I bought just in case we come across any angry communists.

I’ve settled nicely into Nepal which I am now referring to as India Lite (with added mountains). It has a lot of the quirks of its big brother but at a much more relaxed and less chaotic pace. And it has Yak’s cheese which is becoming more and more of a problem for me! Just as well that I have four more days of exercise coming up!

Mister Big Stuff

He really is everywhere in Vietnam.