In The Steps Of Ernest Hemingway
Josephine Jones
©
Copyright 2018 by Josephine Jones
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I
wanted to go to Cuba because it has an interesting history, from the
overthrow of Spanish rule and slavery to a communist state which
allowed Catholicism and now permits private enterprise and encourages
tourism.
Next
I tried to get books written by Ernest Hemingway from the Library.
The only one I could find was Islands
in the Sea,
set around
islands off Cuba.
Then
I looked on the net and found several of his books for £8 inclusive,
from the Book People. I had already read The Sun
Also Rises,
a novel
about Italy in the Second World War. I also enjoyed For
whom the Bell Tolls,
about the Spanish Civil War. Both had been made into films which I
had seen.
So
a trip to his house and the bars where he drank was a must for things
to do in Cuba. And now I was thrilled to be actually in Cuba after I
had read so much about it. The day before Hazel and I had booked a
Hemingway trip with Giaviota,
a company that had a desk in our hotel. So at 9.15 a.m. we were
standing in the crowded hotel foyer waiting for what we thought
would be a coach.9.30a.m; no sign of our coach. The Receptionist on the
Giaviota
desk
rang up on our behalf. “They
are on their way.” Eventually the tour guide, a pretty, olive
skinned girl, wearing the green t shirt of the company came up to
us. We were looking for a coach but to our surprise she led us
outside and a few yards down the road was a newish shiny, black saloon
car. It had been raining off and on that morning so we were
wearing our rain jackets. May is the start of the rainy season.Maria
our guide carried a brolly, for use against rain or sun.
We
drove past large hotels situated in Miramar along the Malecon that
runs along the coast. Then following the coastline, with ocean
views, into the old Havana. We were dropped off in Plaza
de Armas where the attentive driver, Rafael, in white shirt and black
trousers helped us out of the car. There was a line of well kept
classic American cars of many colours, pale blue, pink, yellow. Many
were open with immaculate, pale leather seats Their owners were
touting for passengers, as were horse and carriage owners and rickshaw
owners. The square is lined by baroque Spanish buildings
and to the right a large 16th century fort. We walked through the
centre of the square which is a park full of tropical vegetation. We
were approached by women in bright, colourful long dresses and
turbans. They would not have looked out of place in Nigeria. I
thought they were
jineteras,
hustlers.
But I was wrong. Apparently they are employed by the Government, and
for a price you can photograph them or be photographed with them.
From what we could see old men tourists liked the latter.
As
we followed Maria we noticed that every corner of the streets, with
tall buildings, was filled with the melodies of musicians. They
were also selling CDs or hoping for a small donation. We continued
along an ordinary work a day street to the unimposing entrance of
the Hotel Ambos Mundos. We went up for a view from the fifth floor
with a lift operator in a creaky, old lift with the old-fashioned cage
like doors. We walked around the open area, which was used as a
restaurant, weather permitting. It seemed that all Old Havana was
visible, a mixture of buildings from the modern white smooth
walled university, and 19th century sedate, to near derelict
blocks of flats where washing was hanging out. The bright colours
were reminiscent of bunting.
Then
we went into the room where Hemingway stayed before he bought his
house. Another guide talked to us. Most was self evident. His
typewriter was on a table in a glass case. It was similar to smaller
version of a portable I bought in South Africa in the sixties.
Apparently he typed standing up because after sustaining injuries in
two aeroplane crashes in Africa he was unable to sit for long
periods. His bed was in the corner. Behind the
partition for his bed was a shower and wardrobe. Our viewing was
privileged because waiting for us three to leave was a a large party
of Americans waiting to fill up his room.
Next we poked our heads into
a tiny, crowded bar, La Bodeguita del
Medio, little shop in the middle, referring to its origins as a food
shop and a bar was added later. The bar was of dark wood, and the
shelves behind ,full of bottles of drink. The walls were crammed full
of memorabilia, old framed photos of Hemingway, and other famous
people . There was no room for anymore visitors signatures on the
walls. Some were famous, most were unknown. Hanging on the wall was
a framed, paper signed by Hemingway. ‘Mojito
in La Bodeguita and daiquiri in La Floridita.
Next
to a flying visit to the Floridita where Hemingway invented the
cocktail daiquiri consisting of rum lemon juice and a few drops of
maraschino. I preferred the mojito which he also drank, a long drink
made with fresh mint leaves in a glass with rum, ice, lime juice and
sparkling water. If my husband had been with me he would have said
that I would write better having been to Hemingway haunts. He said
that when we went to famous Parisian cafes frequented by famous
writers. We only poked our heads in these bars. It was later when I
tasted these drinks, obtainable in any bar throughout Cuba.
Back
to our waiting car to go off to Finca La Vigia, Hemingway’s
house in San Francisco de Paula . We travelled the 15 kilometres
through poor districts interspersed with open grassed areas and
large acacia trees with yellow or orange blossoms, these also lined
the wide roads. The most spectacular trees were the tall wide
spreading flamboya trees with their bright red flowers. San Miguel
was a large shopping area with a market consisting of a mass of
people in from the surrounding countryside. There were queues of
people waiting for what could only
be described as cattle trucks. In fact cattle would have had more
space. A vehicle with open slits in the middle where people were
sitting and standing . There were also proper buses but they were
also packed to more than official capacity.
Leaving small old wooden one storey houses, we entered a drive
through a well wooded area of big solid trees which led to the large
white house built on raised ground. I imagine in Hemingway’s
day it would have been in the heart of the countryside.
The
grounds were full of tropical trees and plants, deep purple , and
dark red bougainvillea. It was the mango season so large green mangos
hung from large trees. There was a fresh smell from the damp earth
and the scent of blossoms filled the air.We climbed up steps to the
house. The curator opened up the door and we were allowed to look
inside but not enter. As it had been raining, and had now stopped we
were lucky because on wet days they do not open the doors and
windows,in case the rain damages the inside. You can never walk
inside the house. Apparently the museum is afraid that people will
steal all the artefacts around. Hemingway had 9,000 books spread
throughout the house. On the walls of the sitting room were the
heads of animals he had shot. A buffalo and several different
antelope. I read The
Green
Hills
of Africa.
Such a
lovely title, which did not live up to my expectations. It was a list
of the biggest animals, he had shot. Elephants, rhino and various
types of antelopes. To top it all he was in competition with a friend
as to who could shoot the biggest animal in each catogory. It was
quite sickening. I enjoyed reading The
Snows of Kilimanjaro
after seeing the film with Gregory Peck, my favourite film star, and
Ava gardener. It was about a man dying of blood poisoning. While
waiting for the rescue aeroplane he was regretting all the books he
had not written. Apparently he was based on Scott Fitzgerald
whom Hemingway thought had wasted his talent by living an
extravagant life and not writing more.
The
house looked really comfortable not too big. His fourth wife Mary
Welch had a tower added to the building so that he could write in
peace. Although he never did write there. Our guide said the
telescope was there so that he could watch Ava Gardener when she
bathed naked in his swimming pool. Perhaps she was joking.
Hemingway
was fond of cats and was reputed to have 50 over his time in his
house. In his garden were small tombstones for four dogs, Black,
Negro, Linda and Neron. There was no mention of where the cats were
buried.
After
I bought a sugar cane drink from a vendor outside the house we went
on the short journey to Cojimar. This was where Hemingway moored his
boat Pilar and set out on his big game fishing trips. The boat,
which we had just seen is now preserved in his house which we had
just visited. Cojimar was the setting for his prize winning novel.
The
Old Man and the Sea
which I did not enjoy. It is about a man who dies trying to tire out
the fish.
While
there we went to the restaurant, La Terrazzo , a government
restaurant. There were also private restaurants but a tourist cannot
tell the difference. At the wooden bar we were treated to a blue
cocktail in a baby sham glass. It was real touristy full of Japanese.
Through the open window you could see the turquoise water and the
green vegetation of the other side of the bay. The best view would
have been from a table permanently set for four with the same china
and cutlery that had been used by Hemingway and guests. Did they
expect ghosts? What a waste of such a vista.
It
was an enjoyable experience, even without a view, as we did not sit
near a window. Hazel and I sat with Maria and Rafael. While we were
enjoying a paella she told us that she had one daughter who was two
years old and did not think she would have another
child for economic reasons. Apparently most couples are not having
more than two children.
For
the last leg of our wonderful trip we walked with Maria the short
distance along the coast road to look at the 17th Century fort
right on the sea front. Opposite is a small square named Hemingway
and in the middle is a bust of the head of the author. His fisherman
friends donated anchors, hooks and tools to pay for the casting.
Safely
back at our hotel we were unsure how much to tip. We obviously tipped
too much because when Hazel handed over her money, Maria said that
your friend had already tipped. Hazel assured her it was correct. We
agreed that the trip was worth every cuc. and more.
(Unless
you
type
the
author's name
in
the subject
line
of the message
we
won't know where to send it.)
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