SPRING 2014 CUBA PART 1

Time for a new installment of the Ashland Avatar.  It’s not like we haven’t been traveling, a very unlikely  occurence for the Church family, it’s just that there haven’t been any grand adventures.   By all rights this begins to look like an adventure and we haven’t even left Ashland.  

Let’s begin, it’s Sunday evening.  We are packed and ready to take off first thing in the morning on a two month odyssey to Cuba, Miami and the U.K.  Remembering, at the last minute, that we can check in online, Mick powers up his laptop and brings up the Alaska Airlines website.  It only takes a moment before he gets an error message, something akin to the blue screen of death, asking he contact the airline directly.  The 800 number gets him to customer service agent who informs him there is a discrepancy between our itinerary and the ticket that was issued.  Not only is there a discrepancy but we cannot check in with Alaska Airlines despite the fact that we will be flying with them out of Medford first thing in the morning.  The ticket was issued by American Airlines and to please call them.  The recording, on reaching American Airlines, informs us there will be 35 to 55 minute wait for the next available customer service representative and would we like a call back? The answer, an unequivocal “YES PLEASE!”  By the time Call the Midwife has finished the phone is ringing, and the next available customer service representative inquires “can I help you”?  The answer to that, it would seem, is no.   And so, a transfer to yet another department and thus begins another 55 minute wait for the next available customer service representative.  That puts us at roughly the two hour mark on something that should have taken 3 minutes.  Not entirely certain what has happened.  In the end American Airline re-issues our tickets which match the itinerary we already possess.  With re-issued tickets, a confirming email, and we are good to go!

Marti Memorial

It’s five a.m. and the alarm is sounding.  Time for a cup of coffee, a bowl of fruit, a tooth brush and a face wash before our chauffeur service, aka Jim Tabor or Neighbor Tabor, arrives.  We are whisked off in the predawn twilight to the delights of the Medford Airport and TSA baggage restrictions.  It is all beyond me, I get a TSA dispensation, I don’t have to remove my shoes but Mick does.  Mind you, you’re not going to hear me complain, already did that trying to downsize shampoo, toothpaste and deodorant in an attempt to comply with the latest carry on restrictions.  It’s almost enough to make you want to pay the extra $25 just for the privilege of checking your baggage.  You might ask why carry on . . . the truth, I didn't fancy ending up in Cuba with no underwear or toothpaste.
      

A 5 a.m. wake up call has us in the lobby by 5:45 and ready for the transfer to the Miami airport and our charter flight to Cuba.  Typically an airport at this hour of the morning is an empty and spooky place.  Not here.  There are Cuban families everywhere toting massive heaps of luggage and shrink wrapped parcels.  Consumer goods are expensive and in short supply but the import market, thank you, is alive and well.  If you have the dollars and a visa, a shopping trip to the United States can be a lucrative proposition.  It is cheaper to purchase items like television sets and refrigerators in the US, bring them in through customs and pay the duty, than to buy them in the government stores.  

Che Guevara

It has been a series of early mornings and late nights but we are now situated In The Hotel Nacional in the city of Havana, Cuba.  As I sit here at the window I can see the the Atlantic, or is it the Caribbean, crashing against the seawall of the Malecon.   Our trip is authorized by the US as an educational, people to people activity, and as such will leave very little time for conventional sightseeing but should leave us with a better understanding of Cuba, its’ people, politics and economics.   Just to give you a for instance on how jam packed our days will be, I already mentioned about the 5 a.m. wakeup call.  Off to the airport, cheking luggage, weighing everything including carry-ons, security and we are on the ground in Cuba, through Cuban immigration and customs and on the bus by 10.  Here we met our guide, Hector and bus driver, Julio, both of whom are Cuban natives and residents.   Off first to Plaza de la Revolucion; this square is where many political rallies take place and the venue for Fidel Castro’s multi hour speeches.  I was somewhat underwhelmed, it doesn’t begin to hold a candle to Plaza Major in Mexico City and more than that there is a road through the middle of it.  Fortunately there simply aren’t that many automobiles on the road in Cuba, so it wasn’t terribly disruptive. There was the requisite memorial to José Marti, an early revolutionary and philosopher, Che Guevara and Camilo Cienfuego who was instrumental in removing Bautista from power.

Camilo Cienfuego

From there it was on to a tour of the cemetery, lunch, a performance by a modern dance company, a chance to view a holocaust memorial in the ex-synagogue which was home to the dance company, a tour of our hotel, roughly an hour and a half to unpack and put our feet up before dinner in the hotel garden.  I’m exhausted just writing about it!

Where to begin and how can I possibly  explain or describe the Cuba I am experiencing.  What did I expect?  For whatever reason Castro is/was a bogeyman.  He is a socialist, perhaps a communist, he definitely consorted with the Soviet Union.  There was a Cuban Missile crisis but what do I know of Cuba today, nothing really.  The Soviets have been gone for more than 20 years and I am here to tell you there is no evidence they were ever here.  I don’t know what I expected.  Yes the old cars and the peeling paint on buildings, cigars and rum.  The books we read before leaving painted a grim picture of Cuba during what is referred to as the “Special Period.”  A land deserted by the Soviet Union, experiencing shortages, blockaded by the US, a country where the black market was a way of life.  A place where many people could not obtain what we would consider to be the necessities of life.  Simple toiletries, soap, toothpaste, even toilet paper were difficult if not impossible to find.  

I don’t pretend to understand the US position on Cuba.   Perhaps it is true to say the most people and possibly even most of the government do not understand or care to understand our current policy.  There are those who say the US stand on Cuba derives almost exclusively from the Cuban refugees who have left Cuba over the past 53 years.  The majority are in Florida, most specifically Miami, and if you believe the books we read, hate Castro with a passion.  If I understand correctly the original refugees were the well to do businessmen, owners of sugar plantations, employees of Bacardi, manufacturers of cigars, corrupt politicians, bank owners and the American mafia.  They fled the revolution with suitcases filled with cash and no clothes, expecting things to return to normal within a year to 18 months.  

 

Mal Paso (Bad Step) Dance Troupe

Street Scene

I think it must be time to quit before this becomes a political dissertation.  So will share this for now, with more to come soon

2005

I know I haven’t written in a long while, so I guess I owe you a wrap up on my summer.  It was adventure in the best sense of the word, excursions in southern Oregon, new people and places, an opportunity to see what the world thought of my “art”, all in all an exciting and fulfilling opportunity.

I coerced a neighbor into joining me in my rambles and our first outing was to Crater Lake.  She

Crater Lake

doesn’t own a car so it was fun to share some of what I had seen previously and explore the new.  Our first stop was at an old mill in Eagle Point.  We met the new owner who had taken it over from an older couple who felt they could no longer manage the business.  Thank goodness he was as interested in preserving the property as building the business.  It still has an old stone grinding wheel which had once been powered by water.  They still grind flour and other grains and sell them in a retail store in the original building.  Although it has been electrified much of the original infrastructure remains.  He was busy cleaning out the lower level and rediscovering some of the artifacts which were piled willy nilly throughout.  It was dusty, with light filtering through the chinks in the building, all very artsy and atmospheric.  I left Mary Ann to explore the shop and had a mad half hour shooting old wheels and cogs, dust motes and boots, shovels and other paraphernalia of days gone by.  Much more exciting and gratifying than landscapes and definitely better than people.  If only the rest of the world thought it as exciting as I do. 

Back on the road, with a brief stop in Shady Cove, not much there to catch the eye.  Then, up in to the Cascades in search of Crater Lake.  Summer is the time of road works in Oregon and the rest of the world I suspect.  We squeaked through as the last car in the first one we came to.  The signs had said expect 20 minute delays, so we felt especially good about missing out on that.  A couple of quick stops to explore old lava tubes left from the eruption of Mount Mazama (aka Crater Lake) and an opportunity to stretch our legs.  One of the pull outs had a mile or so  hiking trail that parallelled what must have been a piece of the Rogue River.  It runs in a deep chasm churning and roiling down the gorge and then disappears in to a lava tube only to re-appear 100 yards later.  Back in to the car and then the turn-off and a long climb toward the summit.  The trees are sparse and you can see the remains of a fairly recent fire.  The forest is trying to reclaim the land and there are saplings and trailing vines and wild flowers, not at all like the devastation that clear cutting produces.  Tall trees still stand, some are damaged with the scars from the fire still apparent, some seem untouched stretching to the sky.  The road is empty, it is midweek after all and all is serene. 

It’s those signs again, Road Work, Expect 30 minute delays, but there has been no evidence of road work and we feel safe.  Wrong, there ahead is a single figure holding a stop sign, we have missed the last caravan of cars and we are first in line.  We talk to the guy with the sign, yes indeed we probably have a 30 minute wait.  His job is to stand there and explain to all vehicles the rules, turn off your car, don’t stand in the road (what is there to worry about, we haven’t seen anyone in half an hour), stay near by don’t go wandering off into the forest and once we are allowed to go don’t pull in to any of the rest stops or  pull-outs to explore because you won’t know what direction the traffic is coming from when you pull back on to the road.  He  looks like an ageing hippy with a long grey pony tail and a hard hat.  He asks if we know what event has it’s 30 something anniversary today. . . the summer of love, no, the end of the war in Viet Nam, wrong again . . .  He gives us what he thinks is a hint by turning around to show us his pony tail and whistles a song that sounds vaguely familiar.  The Beatles, Janice Joplin’s death, no it’s the anniversary of Woodstock and he was there.  Now I do have to admit he is the first person I have ever met who was actually there.  Come to find out he calls himself Harpo, ring any bells?  Not for me either.  He is a musician and once played with Cream.  He has just released a CD, Half Way to Cleveland, and lives in Talent just up the road from Ashland.  I make some notes vowing to do a little research when I get home . . .

By the time our half hour is over there are perhaps another ten cars behind us as we follow the pilot car on up the hill.  It is seven miles of ruts and ditches, there is no pavement left.  The air is thick with dust and the smell of asphalt.  By winter there should be a nice new road but right now it is a mess.  We rocket back and forth between lanes, teeth rattling in our heads.  

We reach the lake and search for a parking space.  Given how few cars there were on the road I have no idea where all these people have come from, obviously not up the road we were fool enough to travel.  A picnic on the rim, a hike along a trail and a look at the Lodge.  It isn’t nearly as grandiose as the Ahwahnee or the Lodge at Old Faithful but pleasant.   The lake is incredibly blue,  there is some scientific explanation for it which I can’t remember and enormous.  It is very nearly impossible to photograph but I snap off a few shots. 

The day is nearly gone and we head for home.  Having no desire to sit through possibly two road works and wasting the better part of an hour we take the road that leads to Klamath Falls thinking it will be faster.  It would seem we have made another poor choice.  What do we find after a half hour of driving, a sign saying road works ahead.  We’re down in the Klamath valley, fields of hay and cattle and wide open spaces.  As we zoom by I see a sign pointing to Rocky Point, didn’t I see that on the map.  In a mad moment I decide to chance it.  A quick u-turn, there’s no one around to even notice and we’re off down a road to who knows where.  Maybe this way no one will be working on the roads.  Well I was right about the road works, there were none, but we are truly in the back of beyond.  The road goes on and on and on.  Off in the distance I can see what is probably Klamath Lake.  Rocky

Point turns out to be a boat launch site, there have been no cars, no communities no nothing (not even anyone headed out to launch a boat) in 45 minutes and were getting low on gas.  I have visions of sitting by the side of the road praying for a fellow traveller.  The fields turn to trees and then we begin to climb back in to the mountains, so what is the optimal speed for conserving fuel when driving up twisty back country roads, hell if I know. 

A sign pointing to Lake of the Woods and one of those slam on the brakes, sharp turns to the right (I know they have gas and the computer on the car tells me I have another 45 miles before I need to buy gas.)  The last time I was here there was six foot of snow and the lake was frozen, now it’s ATVs and fisherman.  Bought two gallons of gas at $5.00 a gallon, well all right 4.99.  Seems I was just getting in practice for post Katrina/Rita prices.  

Did a girls day out with the neighbors.  What is a girls day out you might ask. . .  for us it was a trip to Montague where there is and Olde English Tea Shop.  You would think there would be one in Ashland with the Shakespeare Festival and all.  Actually that is Mary Ann and my foolish fantasy opening a tea room, lace doilies and all.  Why there would be a tea room in Montague is beyond me, it’s not exactly a thriving metropolis, it doesn’t even have a stop light.  The main street is two blocks long, on one side, the other side is a railway siding.  There are of course two bars in the space of those two blocks.  Anyway we went to tea and ordered their Princess Tea, which meant we got one of those three tiered dishes with sweet and savory goodies as well as a pot of tea each.  The place is all lace curtains and flowers and antiques.  They have a collection of hats, gloves, jewelry, boas etc and encourage you to dress up.  I ended up feeling rather foolish but have to admit with just two other ladies to see me it was kinda fun. 

In the midst of the market and gallivanting all over half of creation did manage a trip back to the Bay Area to see Mick before he left for England to celebrate his Dad’s birthday.  Confirmed that Sunday is the day that they have Mexican food at the Indian Casino and won about $125.00.  Lucky for me, not them, that it is only a rest stop on the way.  Otherwise I would probably sit and gamble it all back. 

Montague, remember the two bar no stop light town, had a balloon festival.  Got myself up at

4:00 a.m. to get down there before dawn.  Word had it they were doing a dawn ascension and thought it would be pretty cool to see the balloons all lit up by the flame they use to heat the air.  In the end it was daylight before they began but I did get to crew for one of the balloons.  I would have gotten to have a ride had I been willing to go with the chase vehicle when they came down but I had other plans so only assisted in getting them unpacked, up and away.  Didn’t get as many pics as I might have liked but I did learn a lot about ballooning. 

Okay, guess I have gone on long enough for now.  Watch for the last installment soon , , ,  Gayle goes to Washington.  Went back to my roots and did an anti-war protest. 

I thought I had said all I wanted to say about Oregon but of course as time goes on I think of other things which I did not share.  If you were part of my distribution list when I went to Montana perhaps you remember I used to end my note with things I have learned.  That seems the best way to finish off my Oregon adventure.

1. If you want to travel in Northern California or Southern Oregon in the summer be prepared for road works.
2. Every road in this part of the country, other than Interstate 5, is two lanes and they will be doing road works
3. You can travel most of the way from Ashland to Redding on the Old Hwy 99, which is of course a two lane road and they are doing roadworks.
4. There is no predicting who will buy a photograph or why.
5. People are hard wired to like flowers
6. There is no explaining why someone would go all the way to Ashland Oregon to buy a picture of a Scottish Castle . . . but they did.
7. Sundays on the market are slow, unless of course it’s the Sunday when everyone decides they haven’t anything better to do.  Then they go for a walk in the park and take a look at the market.
8. If I had a nickel for every person who treated my booth as an Art Museum I would be rich. 
9. If it’s a guy and he’s carrying a big digital camera be prepared to discuss photography, printers, lenses and all things photographic.
10. Don’t be offended if someone says, “oh, I could do that”.  It’s probably true if they take as many pictures as I do.
11. There isn’t much difference between 95 degrees and 105, either way it is bloody hot.
12.  I can drink a gallon of water when it gets that hot and hardly need to pee.
13.  The Scotts Valley is really beautiful and it isn’t really that far to drive.
14.  Pilots of hot air balloons are subject to many of the same tests and licensing as airplane pilots.
15.  The Klamath Falls/Lake area deserves to be explored.
16.  I like the California coast better than the southern Oregon coast.
17.  It’s okay to go camping by yourself when you’re an old lady, in fact it’s a lot of fun. 
18.  Digital cameras are great for color but not for black and white.
19.  The previous statement is not entirely true, it’s my printer that doesn’t do black and white very well.
20.  Don’t sit back and wait for adventures, go find them.  There’s a lot to see and do and the people you meet will amaze you.