Embracing Cuba before the big change

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I was the type of kid who dreaded going to summer camp. Sleeping in a bunk bed and following a rigid schedule was never my idea of a fun way to spend a vacation.

It turns out my idea of a good holiday hasn’t changed much in the past two decades. My favoured travel routine generally looks something like this: go somewhere warm and interesting, banish all alarm clocks, add a few good books and see what happens.

So it was with some apprehension that I decided to join an eight-night group trip to Cuba with Intrepid Travel in May. The itinerary would involve driving across the island with 10 other people while immersing ourselves in Cuban music and dance.

While the anti-itinerary free spirit in me was skeptical, there was no saying no. “Go to Cuba before the U.S. travel embargo is lifted” was second only to “Learn to salsa dance” on my bucket list (really).

With U.S. President Barack Obama working to reach a deal with Cuba by the end of 2015 that will allow American travellers to fly on scheduled commercial flights between the countries, the Caribbean isle is on the cusp of momentous change.

For Canadians who want to see the time warp version of communist Cuba — a country like nowhere else in the world, with its crumbling buildings, vintage cars and distinct lack of consumerism — the clock is ticking.

And so it is that I find myself taking an impromptu salsa lesson under the stars on a white sand beach near the 500-year-old town of Trinidad. It is our second night in Cuba and we’ve just finished having dinner around a bonfire, while the setting sun turned the sky a spectacular pink.

After a dip in the Caribbean, there seems to be only one thing left to do: dance.

Our guide Tony takes it upon himself to teach us hapless “yumas” (the Cuban term for foreigners) the basic salsa steps in advance of our first official dance lesson the following day.

Soon we are all clumsily sashay-ing around, using our van’s headlights to light the dance floor (i.e., beach).

Thankfully, this jibes perfectly with a key piece of advice Tony imparted on us earlier that day on our drive from Havana to Trinidad: “Whatever happens in Cuba, it’s all part of the charm.”

We all retire for the night to our ‘cases particulares’ — private homes with rented rooms. Mine is in the home of Rosita, whose living room I walk through to arrive in my bedroom, complete with yellow satin bed spread, air conditioner and en suite bathroom.

I note a tub outside my door with two small turtles in it and, even with my limited Spanish, manage to ascertain they will soon be made into a soup. (Repeat after me: It’s all part of the charm.)

Breakfast the next morning is typical of my week in Cuba: mango or guava juice, tropical fruits, bread and an omelette.

When I step outside to see Trinidad by daylight for the first time, I feel like I’ve stepped back a century. A man with a cigar dangling from his lips steers a horse-drawn carriage piled high with bananas down a narrow, unmarked cobblestone street.

Founded in 1514, Trinidad is the crown jewel of Cuba’s colonial cities, better preserved than any other. We have the morning to explore by ourselves before gathering in the courtyard of the House of Salsa for our afternoon lesson.

Our dance teacher has a take-no-prisoners attitude and quickly schools us in a few key salsa turns as we wipe the sweat off our brows in the mid-afternoon heat. By the end of the lesson, I feel like I might be able to pull it off if I can just find a very patient dance partner who doesn’t mind counting out loud.

Just two nights in, I’ve already managed to break a strap on one of my wedge sandals. Back at the guest house, I ask Rosita’s husband if he has any tape. He disappears for a long time and returns not just with tape — but also with an alternate pair of shoes for me to wear for the evening.

The kindness of Cubans is especially endearing given how little they have. The average monthly wage is about $20 and food and other staples are doled out via a ration system. The Internet is virtually non-existent outside of hotels. Cubans have only been allowed to buy and sell property since 2011.

In 1968, President Fidel Castro nationalized all enterprise. Even bars and restaurants were run by the state until the early ’90s when Castro cracked open the doors to limited private enterprise. By the end of 2010, under President Raul Castro, the government had awarded 75,000 new licences, allowing Cubans to do things like run their own restaurants and rent out rooms in their homes.

That has led to a boom in dining and nightlife options. That night, we head to Casa De La Musica, an outdoor amphitheatre-style club to give our new moves a try in the real world. Patrons line the concrete steps above the dance floor to watch the action below. Suffice to say it’s a tad intimidating.

Regardless, the group pulls me out of my comfort zone and onto the dance floor, where I try my best to do something that approximates salsa as the band pumps out dulcet Latin beats.

The next morning, we recuperate from our night out as our van catapults us east.  Our time on the road is hastened by rousing singalongs and the viewing of key films (Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights, anyone?).

Our next stop is Camaguey, Cuba’s third largest city, known for its eclectic design and arts scene. We visit a studio where an artist tells us it’s so hard to come by materials like paint that he uses the lead from car batteries to make it himself.

Where there’s a shortage of consumer goods, there’s an abundance of street life, which whizzes past me like a technicolour film as I ride in a pedi-cab zigzagging through Camaguey’s narrow streets.

We stumble upon a boys’ soccer game in a plaza and I join in, my bare feet scampering across the cobblestones, while the locals cheer me on.

Later that night, I’m puffing on a Cuban cigar in the same square after enjoying a steak at Restaurante 1800. There’s a long-running joke that the food in Cuba involves “rice and beans” and “beans and rice,” but at Cuba’s local restaurants, we are pleasantly surprised by everything from garlic shrimp and lobster to pizza and grilled fish.

We call it an early night in Camaguey, saving our energy for our last stop: Santiago de Cuba, the country’s centre of Afro-Cuban culture.

The majority of the 30,000 or so French planters and merchants who fled Haiti after the 1791 revolution chose to settle in and around Santiago, on the southeast tip of Cuba, creating a rich racial mixture and exciting music and dance scene.

As our van pulls into the city centre neighbourhood we are staying in, children run up and fight over treats such as stickers and pens. Walking the streets to my guest house, the grittier Afro vibe of this city is immediately apparent.

The next day I’m on a neighbourhood rooftop dancing with a fellow named Yudial, who leads so well that I feel like I can really salsa, twisting and turning to the rhythm.

That evening our dance floor is turned into a dining area and we are served a home-cooked feast including soup, lobster and fried plantains before hitting the town.

We walk through Parque Cespedes, a lively central square filled with people of all ages, which our guide aptly calls “the Cuban PlayStation.”

We dance the night away in several local clubs and at some point in the wee hours of the morning, I realize I’m actually passably salsa dancing with someone who’s not either in my group or being paid to be my partner. Success!

Lying in bed the next morning, I soak up a cacophony of street noise — dogs barking, cats fighting, kids yelling, whistles blowing, spontaneous street soccer games erupting — and I realize I’ve never felt this far from home before. It’s electrifying.

It occurs to me that I’d never have made it here without a group and an expert guide. Indeed, after my Cuban adventure, I might just have to kiss my anti-itinerary attitude goodbye …

If You Go

— Intrepid Travel runs an eight-night Cuban music and dance tour, including accommodation and transportation within Cuba, for $2,140.

— Air Canada flies direct from Toronto to Havana.

— Pack light because you’ll be moving locations every day or two.

— There’s not much in the way of Internet in Cuba, so rejoice and be prepared to be off-line all week.