Smoky edge to cheerful Cuba

IT'S impossible to resist the vibrance, colour and magic that is Havana, writes Clair Weaver, as she discovers the bustling Cuban city and its friendly locals.

Vibrant ... music is an integral part of life in Havana, with Cubans regularly filling the city's many upbeat nightclubs. Picture: AFP

"PSSSSST, lady - you want cigars?" We are wandering around Havana's colourful street market, which is teeming with obligatory Che Guevara T-shirts, bold artwork, eye-catching handmade pottery and cheerful wooden instruments.

It's a shopper's delight, and many of our group are already laden with bags of trinkets and souvenirs.

But here is an irresistible invitation into a market of a different kind: the black market.

Intrigued by the offer and eager to bypass the expensive state-run cigar shops, we follow our little salesman and a boisterous woman who appears to have joined the negotiation down a bustling cobbled street.

When we reach a blue wooden door, the woman darts inside and I am directed to follow her.

Her arm yanks me into the alcove behind the door, where she pushes a varnished wooden box of 25 fat Cohiba cigars into my hands.

Satisfied that I've had enough time to examine the contents, she stuffs the box into a big yellow envelope and asks for 45 convertible pesos ($60). The equivalent would cost 300 pesos in the state-run shop.

Before leaving, she sticks her neck out into the street and looks both ways to check for police. It's all clear and we go our separate ways.

Hearts thumping, we hurry back to the main street clutching the concealed cigars close and hoping our dodgy transaction has not been reported to the authorities.

Cuba is an exciting place to visit, trapped in a time warp and cut off from the outside world. Just being there makes you feel as if you are part of history in the making.

Two days before our arrival, we hear a news report on CNN saying that President Fidel Castro is terminally ill.

Qantas security staff accompanying our Captain's Choice Tour are concerned by the announcement, and make contingency plans to flee if unrest breaks out during our three-day stay.

Strangely – or perhaps not in a communist state where information is carefully contained – most Cubans seem unaware of Castro's bleak diagnosis. A tour guide cheerfully tells us "his health is improving every day" with a full recovery expected.

The unanimous verdict is that Castro is being treated by doctors in an unidentified hospital somewhere in Havana city.

A local English language newspaper does not even mention his illness, describing him as "beloved", while another article mocks arch enemy US President George Bush's personal "intelligence".

National political sentiment towards Mr Bush is made evident in everyday life.

Outside our grand old hotel (the Cuba Nationale, a popular haunt of the American mafia in the 1930s) there are a string of anti-US billboards. One depicts an equation showing a black and white headshot of President Bush, with evil-looking red eyes, a plus (+) sign, a headshot of alleged Cuban terrorist Orlando Bosch and an equals sign (=), followed by Adolf Hitler's face.

Nearby, dozens of black protest flags on tall poles flap in front of a US administration office. An armed security guard is happy to allow us to take photos of the propaganda.

In the picturesque old town, we meet an eccentric man who has trained his pet sausage dogs to growl and bare their teeth whenever he pulls out a toy replica gun and says "George Bush".

Despite this ever-present animosity, Cubans always retain a sense of humour, with a sparkle of mischief evident in their eyes. They are naturally friendly and flirtatious, dancing like libidinous Latinos in the city's many upbeat nightclubs.

It is impossible to resist being enchanted by the vibrance, colour and magic of the place.

Some of our group become distressed during a visit to Havana's state cigar factory, angrily branding it "a sweatshop".

Workers sit in rows at old-style wooden desks, dextrously hand-rolling a variety of cigar types, as the day's news or perhaps a novel is read over a tannoy to entertain them. "The work can be boring," our guide admits.

It is undeniably warm, the curtains are yellowed from tobacco stains in a room heavy with cigar smoke and there is no trace of recent technology – and yet no one seems unhappy. Many, including a cleaner with a mop, merrily chuff away on large cigars while they work, and chat and smile as we pass.

We learn each employee is permitted to bring home five cigars a day, as well as smoking as many as they like on the job – hence my black market supply.

Perhaps our group is guilty of judging Cuban living and working conditions by Australian standards.

While it would be wrong to make light of the poverty that afflicts Cuba, the people do seem content – more so than your average Westerner. The complete absence of capitalism means Cubans are not obsessed with getting the latest plasma TV, the biggest house or reading the latest celebrity gossip magazine.

Instead, people get together to talk, socialise and spend time with their families and friends.

My strongest memory will be the sound of laughter.

The writer was a guest of The Captain's Choice Tour.

The Sunday Telegraph