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Journalists share rare experiences during study mission to Cuba

Lewis McCool, managing editor of The Cortez Journal at the time, wrote this article for the newspaper trade journal, the Inlander, published by the Inland Press Association, which organized the journalists’ study mission to Cuba, Feb. 27-March 6, 2004. It appeared in the May 2004 edition of the Inlander. Photos by Lewis McCool..

After learning from my boss, Richard Ballantine, in November that I would be going to Cuba on a study mission funded by the Cortez Journal (where I’m the managing editor) and the Durango Herald, both owned by the Ballantine family, I did a lot of reading about the country. And I got excited. I wasn’t disappointed.

Inland Press Association Director Ray Carlsen takes a break while touring San Juan Hill near Santiago de Cuba.

In late February and early March, Ray Carlsen, Inland’s director and tour organizer extraordinaire, led 13 other journalists and newspaper executives on a nine-day journey to another world, a world of Communists, totalitarianism and remarkable contrasts.

Some 11 million people, most living on the edge of poverty, manage to smile, laugh and welcome visitors as guests and friends.

Born after the revolution’s success in 1959, the majority of the island’s citizens have known no other life than Fidel’s version of socialism. Indoctrinated in the party line practically since birth, they have little opportunity to learn about the rest of the world or the lifestyles and options that might be available to them if circumstances were different.

For the majority of our party, it was a return visit to the island. For us first timers, the excitement was piquing as our twin-prop charter made its approach, passing offshore of Havana en route to Jose Marti airport southwest of the city.

We’d been put through the wringer by security at Miami International Airport. I couldn’t figure out if they were just hassling us because we were heading to Cuba, begrudgingly licensed by the State Department as an exemption to the travel ban, or if they were concerned that we were carrying contraband or might hijack the plane – to Cuba.

Inland Press Association study mission members arrive at Havana's airport.

The plane touched down and taxied past a huge terminal building, coming to a stop at a metal-sided structure, emblazoned with large, block letters, “Jose Marti – La Habana.”

There was a wait for customs/immigration officials to arrive, but there was no hassle or inspection. Our journalist visas were checked and stamped. We grabbed our bags and away we went.

Outside, our greeter, guide and government handler for the duration of our visit, Renier Rodriguez, along with our driver, loaded the modern, if undersized, bus with our luggage and us and steered us toward downtown.

Suburban Havana was a clear reminder that we were in the Third World.

Dilapidated buildings were everywhere, paint, obviously a luxury item, was in short supply.

But Havana is alive and, well, not well but alive and showing no signs of imminent death.

The Parque Central Hotel, background, was the Havana home of Inland Press Association study mission participants.

Its people are living – by and large – in decrepit housing, driving decrepit cars, if they have cars at all. But though they live near the poverty line, they do not appear to live among squalor nor are they destitute. They make do with what they have and somehow maintain a spirit of pride in their perceived equality and their accomplishments in the face of hardships that they blame, universally, on the United States’ economic embargo.

Our guide, Renier, told us that he’s a member of the Communist Party. Not many Cubans are, but it can’t hurt a career. He is a personable fellow, surprisingly candid about Cuba’s problems and shortcomings of the social system. In adequate English, he couched his criticisms in jokes. But he also devoutly defended his homeland. “I don’t think you will convince me of your system,” he told our group on the bus ride into Havana.

Throughout our journey, our accommodations were excellent, comfortable, clean and sanitary. The food was good, varied and tasty. There were the staples, chicken, rice and beans, but there was steak (filet mignon), fish, even lobster. The buffet breakfasts at the hotels were more than ample. The rum – delivered by way of mojitos, daiquiris and pina coladas – and the beer, Cristal and Bucanero, were first rate. Those who sampled (and collected) the cigars had no complaints.

Associated Press bureau chief Anita Snow visits with Ray Carlsen, Bruce Campbell and other Inland Press Association study mission participants at the Parque Central Hotel in Havana..

In Havana and elsewhere on the island, we met politicians, bureaucrats and journalists, all touting the government line. We met musicians and bartenders, pitching good times for dollars. We met a few regular Cubans, who were surprised and delighted to meet Americans.

To evaluate their hardships, I had to keep telling myself, “This is a Third World country.”

Winston Churchill described socialism as “the equal sharing of misery,” and in a sense he’s right. But what I observed in Cuba – and, granted, there was much we were not shown – was not misery. I observed a poor people with a lively spirit.

Cuba is overflowing with contradictions. Cubans speak of freedom, but they are not free. They dream of opportunity, but there is practically none. They have decent, free, universal health care and education and few taxes, but their government does not pay them enough to live on, regardless of their job or profession.

At the opulent residence of James Cason, the director of the U.S. Interests Section (the equivalent of an ambassador and an embassy), we met outspoken Cuban dissident Oswaldo Paya, who spoke of Cuba’s ills. “Cuba needs radical and profound change … peaceful change.”

In a conference room at our hotel (the Parque Central) in Havana, we met with Ricardo Alarcon, president of the National Assembly, Cuba’s parliament, who spoke of the evils of the United States. “Let Cuba be Cuba” is the government’s mantra.

Rafael Dausa, director of the North American division of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, took a hard line, demanding respect for Cuban sovereignty while describing “tremendous room for normal relations” with the United States.

Nowhere in Cuba could one escape the icons of “The Five,” the Cubans arrested in Miami in 1998 and convicted there on spying and other charges. They are serving long terms in federal prisons in the U.S. The Cubans say they were anti-terrorists gathering information about plots against the Cuban government.

Our delegation countered with expressions of concern about “The 75” Cuban dissidents jailed in March 2003 for “acting against the revolution.” Cubans say they were agents of the U.S. Depending on who’s coming from where, allegations of human rights abuses of “The Five” or “The 75” abound.

During a rooftop gathering for lunch at our hotel, Anita Snow, The Associated Press bureau chief in Havana, reassured me that my confusion wasn’t surprising.

“Cuba’s weird,” she said, putting it neatly in a nutshell for me.

The Parque Central scene on the edge of Old Havana was abuzz with activity. Beggars, mostly polite if insistent, staked out entrances to the hotels and popular walkways. There were ample bars and small private restaurants (paladares), some, at times, doing a brisk business. Musicians and dancers entertained customers for tips and the chance to sell a CD, invariably for $10 (with no guarantee that it’ll play when you get it home).

There were propositions aplenty for black-market goods and a variety of , uh, services.

There were crafts shows and art shows near the Malecon, the city’s waterfront roadway.

The city’s colonial architecture, long in disrepair, is a sign of wealth long gone. The city begs for restoration – it could be one of the hemisphere’s most beautiful.

The government is not oblivious to the problem. Asked by our group about the country’s most pressing needs, Alarcon relied, “What needs to be done is enormous. I wish the National Assembly could pass a law to make it beautiful. The main problem is (the lack of) material resources and capital.”

When it comes to capital, Pedro Alvarez is the man to see. He’s the head of Alimport, Cuba’s foreign trade agency, and he’s looking for business. Obviously aware of the limitations he faces representing a socialist society and confronting the U.S. trade embargo, he is, nonetheless, an optimist eager to find a way to accommodate foreign investment in his country.

“We are not only ready for American companies to be our suppliers, but to be our partners” he told our group during a meeting at his office. “We are ready for an invasion of Americans, an invasion of peace. … We’re ready right now.”

In spite of the itinerary crowded with meetings, we found time to sightsee. Some took in beisbol (baseball) at the 55,000-seat Estadio Latinoamericano, classic baseball. Some visited the National Museum of Cuban Art, the Museum of the Revolution and the Capitolo, all within easy walking distance of our hotel.

A musical ground, touted as the Buena Vista Social Club (though not the performers featured in the documentary by the same name), entertains tourists at the Hotel Nacional in Havana.

The Buena Vista Social Club (a so-so knock-off of the group featured in the movie of the same name) delighted tourists and some of our group at the stately Hotel Nacional.

We toured Marina Hemingway on the outskirts of the city. The facility is being remodeled as a destination resort for the international yachting community. Nearby (but unseen), is Fidel’s primary residence, or so we were told.

Also in the neighborhood is the fanciful home, workshop and studio of painter and ceramic artist Jose Fuster. You have to see it to believe it. “Humor is everything, and it is reflected in my work,” he said. That’s for sure. He’s known as the “Picasso of the Caribbean.”

Cuba’s Latin American medical school was also on the schedule. The school trains foreign students – for free – who upon graduation are expected to return to their countries to treat the needy and, no doubt, advance Cuba’s message. About 7,000 students from 24 Latin American and African countries and the United States are enrolled in the program, initiated at Fidel’s suggestion in 1999. The first class graduates next year.

Members of the journalists' union in Santiago de Cuba meet with Inland Press Association study mission participants.

Our group also met with Cuban journalists. We toured the offices of Prensa Latina, the Havana-based Latin American News Agency, which produces about 50 publications. There was a cocktail party with selected “outstanding journalists of Cuban media,” including some from the international shortwave station Radio Havana. Later in the trip, the group met with journalists in Santiago de Cuba.

In each of the meetings, we posed questions regarding freedom of the press, and, specifically, the freedom to criticize the government and Fidel.The question elicited one frank response: No, you cannot criticize Fidel.

“In that case, we would be criticizing the revolution. That is a project of all the people. Fidel represents the project,” one female journalist from Santiago said. But, she continued, when Fidel makes a mistake, he admits it. “Then the press can cover it.”

“Maybe there is a small difference in what the press is doing here in Cuba than in other countries,” another said.

There was a lot of bus time involved in covering the 600 or more miles (along our route) from Havana to Santiago de Cuba. There were intense conversations – and debates. And there were interesting diversions.

Consider the beach resort of Varadero on the Atlantic, where (mostly) Europeans and Canadians manage to find a warm, first-class escape from winter. It’s also home to the country’s only 18-hole golf course, served by Xanadu, built by the DuPonts in 1930 as their Cuban mansion, now a hotel, restaurant and clubhouse.

Cubans work at the Varadero but don’t get to play there. Juan Miguel Gonzalez, father of Elian Gonzalez works at a Varadero restaurant. The family lives in the nearby town of Cardenas.

The highest bridge in Cuban (370 feet) spans the Rio Bacunayagua canyon.

On our way to Varadero, we crossed the highest bridge in Cuba, some 370 feet above Rio Bacunayagua. The view is spectacular. The roadside tourist stop offers a welcome rest room, souvenirs – and the best pina colada in all the land.

Along the way, we saw royal palms, the national tree and symbol (for its ability to survive storms), citrus and tropical fruit plantations and, of course, fields of sugarcane.

A huge monument to Che Guevara in Santa Clara also houses a small museum and the remains of Guevara and other revolutionaries who were killed with him in Bolivia..

There was the obligatory stop in Santa Clara, the adopted hometown of Che Guevara, to visit the giant monument to Che and the mausoleum housing his remains and those of his comrades who were killed in Bolivia while fomenting revolution there.

Camaguey, the country’s third largest city, was most like what I expected – and hoped – to find in Cuba: an attractive city with a thriving central business district and beautiful plazas. Our hotel, the Gran, though not up to the five-star standard of our other hotels, was quaint, steeped in the past. It was recently restored, we were told. Its rooftop bar overlooked the city.

Camaguey’s streets were laid out centuries ago like a maze with twists and turns and dead ends, all to confuse marauding pirates. Even the “squares” aren’t square.

The local tourist bureau had arranged entertainment in advance of our arrival. The evening’s performance featured a hometown Haitian-style musical group, Desandann, and they were fantastic. The group has toured the U.S. and Canada, and I’m hoping to get a chance to see them again.

Aside from Desandann, perhaps the best entertainment in Camaguey was the farmers’ market. A hundred or more booths were crammed full of produce and meat, good-looking vegetables and fruits, some recognizable, some not. The vendors were friendly, recognizing us as foreigners and trying to pitch their products, smiling all the while.

The goods, we were told, were from private plots, allowed by the government for the past decade. There’s no beef, though. The cattle industry is completely government controlled.

The architecturally odd Hotel Melia Santiago was our home for two nights in Cuba’s second largest city, Santiago de Cuba, best known to Americans for San Juan Hill, where Teddy Roosevelt and his Rough Riders allegedly routed the Spaniards and kicked them out of Cuba in 1898. Who actually led the battle is in dispute. Regardless, it opened the door for American involvement in – or domination of – the island until Fidel’s revolution ousted dictator Fulgencio Batista and the American mafia-controlled gambling interests and nationalized all foreign holdings in 1959.

The Moncada barracks in Santiago de Cuba was the site of Fidel Castro's first assault against the Batista regime. The attack failed, and Castro was captured. Although the building is now a school, bullet holes, simulating the damage from the 1953 attack, remain visible..

Fidel’s first foray into revolution was the abortive attack on the Moncada barracks (now a school, complete with restored bullet holes) in Santiago in 1953. Fidel was captured, jailed and later exiled to Mexico, only to return to the city in 1959 to give his victory speech in the main square, Parque Cespedes.

After shopping there on our own, three of us took a “taxi” back to the hotel. The taxi was a 1930 Ford roadster, driven by Orlando, who seemed old enough to have been its original owner. He was mighty proud of his car and for some reason, still a mystery, kept referring to Al Capone.

Jeff Barnes, left, and John Sullivan, right, dance with residents of Santiago de Cuba during a party honoring Inland journalists.

Our last night in Cuba we were honored guests at a sort of block party hosted by the Committee for the Defense of the Revolution No. 3 in a Santiago housing complex. There was food and drink, a few speeches, of course, and dancing – camaraderie despite the language barrier. Residents invited us into their cramped but clean apartments.

CDRs are the foundation of Cuba’s political system, the equivalent of precincts in U.S. communities, but so much more: the neighborhood watch, only they’re watching each other. All adults belong to a CDR and they select representatives to local and region assemblies and, ultimately, the National Assembly. We were told that there are plenty of opportunities for candidates to compete for election, though the actual “democratic” process was unclear, as was the role of Cuba’s Communist Party.

The next morning, a Saturday, we were off to Holguin to catch our evening flight to Miami. We had several hours to visit the city, which was hosting a book fair. Books, newly approved by the government, were on display and for sale. Vendors’ booths were crowded. Performers entertained as residents milled about the plaza. It was a fitting sendoff to see Cubans enjoying life in a setting not so different from a traditional American scene – a county fair, perhaps.

Inland Press Association journalists, clockwise from left front, Rahne Pistor, Bruce Campbell, John North, Tim Brown and Jeff Barnes prepare for departure at the Holguin airport.

We were told to arrive at the airport three hours before departure. No one told the ticket agents, though. After an hour’s wait in an ever-lengthening line, the agents showed up. Our tickets were OK’d and we passed through immigration with only a minor hassle or two. A snack and one last beverage and we were set.

About a dozen Cuban émigrés were on our flight, heading for a new, and very different, life in the U.S.

When the plane touched down in Miami, applause broke out.

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