Greetings from Havana's Hotel Palco
I'm here for the Narrative Therapy Conference sponsored by the World Psychiatric Association. The conference doesn't start until tomorrow morning and there's a walking tour today at 4pm, but I'm free until then. I'm sitting around the pool and there are only two other women in area, so I guess everyone else is off being tourists. I decided to save my aching body until the walking tour, and rest, recovering from the arduous trip here.
I left home on Friday morning and changed planes in Dallas. After a 2 1/2 hour layover, we boarded the plane for Miami, and then sat on the runway, prisoners in a sardine can, for another two hours, waiting for clearance to take off because it was raining and there was no visibility. The man in the seat behind me said that sometimes the Dallas airport closes because of rain. Then, when we finally took off and drinks were served, by the time they got back to row 49, there were no more snack packages available and I was offered M&Ms or a cookie for $3! I told the flight attendant that I was outraged that they had the nerve, after being cooped up for two hours to run out of snacks and wanted to charge for something to eat--it should be free. She wouldn't budge on the price, though. I'm thinking I should write to complain to American Airlines.
I had arranged to meet an internet friend for dinner when I got there and in spite of the delay, she waited to hear from me. I had used my cell phone to call her after we were on the plane for 45 minutes and holding. So, it was about 10pm when she picked me up from the airport hotel, Miami International Hotel. By then the Peruvian restaurant and others she had suggested were closed, so we went to Flanigan's, a sports bar in the Coconut Grove neighborhood where she lives. Her daughter was our chauffeur. The food was fine--I had a salad with a tuna steak on top of it, grilled rare, and then the three of us shared a Bonzai Brownie dessert, with vanilla ice cream stacked in a tower over a large brownie, with decoration and elaboration. The problem was that the place was so noisy that it was hard to talk, with the crowd trying to talk above the sound of rock music.
By the time I got back to the hotel and into bed, without changing into nightclothes, it was 1:40a.m. and I put in a wakeup call for 4:15 a.m. I was supposed to check in at 4:30 for an 8 a.m. flight, but I figured 5 a.m. was soon enough. So, I paid $160 for 2 1/2 hours of sleep!
When I got to the check-in place, there was already a long line including mostly Cubans going back to visit family. Many of them were carrying duffel bags full of gifts, and were having them wrapped in plastic by a man and a machine for $9 each. I didn't think it was worth it, since I had a lock on my suitcase. Maybe it was something that was necessary for traveling to other countries, as some of them were in the same line, or one next to it.
The flight from Miami was 40 minutes. Waiting in line I met Karen from Virginia and on the plane met Sue and Vanessa from Philadelphia. Sue is a lawyer working on mental health rights cases. Vanessa is an African-American with long braids who is a social worker, teaching BSW.
Once we got off the plane, we had to wait two hours to go through Passport Control, and my back was already hurting. We met other women going to the conference and they said Andreas, the only man, must have gone through earlier. We were able to change money in the airport. Marazul Tours, I had bought euros in the Miami airport to avoid the extra tax on dollars, but only exchanged some of them in the airport, thinking I could change more at the hotel if necessary. Before we could leave the airport with our Havanatur bus/van we had to wait for a couple of women who had been taken in to an "interview," because apparently the airport personnel weren't informed about the conference. I had been asked at Passport Control how many were here for the conference, which I didn't know. She apparently thought we came as a group, but finally asked if we came from different places (I think she said "otro lados" or something like that) which I affirmed. She also asked if it was my first time in Cuba.
When we checked in at the Hotel Palco, I went to lunch at the poolside grill--the dining room buffet wasn't open--and then went up to take a siesta. Lunch was grilled fresh fish and a serving of rice in the shape of a cartoon bear's head, accompanied by a Cristal cerveza. After my nap, I took the 3 p.m. hotel bus with the others to Old Havana, with a guided tour in Spanish from the driver. The hotel is in Miramar, once an exclusive section of the city with old mansions and casinos from the 30's, 40's and fifties. The oldest mansion, from the 20's, was being renovated. It's called the House of Green Tiles.
We were dropped off just a stone's throw from the Malecon, and were told he'd be back at 5pm. We were just outside a children's park where there were blow up toys for jumping--I can't think of what they're called, something like a moonwalk. One was like Noah's Ark.
I left home on Friday morning and changed planes in Dallas. After a 2 1/2 hour layover, we boarded the plane for Miami, and then sat on the runway, prisoners in a sardine can, for another two hours, waiting for clearance to take off because it was raining and there was no visibility. The man in the seat behind me said that sometimes the Dallas airport closes because of rain. Then, when we finally took off and drinks were served, by the time they got back to row 49, there were no more snack packages available and I was offered M&Ms or a cookie for $3! I told the flight attendant that I was outraged that they had the nerve, after being cooped up for two hours to run out of snacks and wanted to charge for something to eat--it should be free. She wouldn't budge on the price, though. I'm thinking I should write to complain to American Airlines.
I had arranged to meet an internet friend for dinner when I got there and in spite of the delay, she waited to hear from me. I had used my cell phone to call her after we were on the plane for 45 minutes and holding. So, it was about 10pm when she picked me up from the airport hotel, Miami International Hotel. By then the Peruvian restaurant and others she had suggested were closed, so we went to Flanigan's, a sports bar in the Coconut Grove neighborhood where she lives. Her daughter was our chauffeur. The food was fine--I had a salad with a tuna steak on top of it, grilled rare, and then the three of us shared a Bonzai Brownie dessert, with vanilla ice cream stacked in a tower over a large brownie, with decoration and elaboration. The problem was that the place was so noisy that it was hard to talk, with the crowd trying to talk above the sound of rock music.
By the time I got back to the hotel and into bed, without changing into nightclothes, it was 1:40a.m. and I put in a wakeup call for 4:15 a.m. I was supposed to check in at 4:30 for an 8 a.m. flight, but I figured 5 a.m. was soon enough. So, I paid $160 for 2 1/2 hours of sleep!
When I got to the check-in place, there was already a long line including mostly Cubans going back to visit family. Many of them were carrying duffel bags full of gifts, and were having them wrapped in plastic by a man and a machine for $9 each. I didn't think it was worth it, since I had a lock on my suitcase. Maybe it was something that was necessary for traveling to other countries, as some of them were in the same line, or one next to it.
The flight from Miami was 40 minutes. Waiting in line I met Karen from Virginia and on the plane met Sue and Vanessa from Philadelphia. Sue is a lawyer working on mental health rights cases. Vanessa is an African-American with long braids who is a social worker, teaching BSW.
Once we got off the plane, we had to wait two hours to go through Passport Control, and my back was already hurting. We met other women going to the conference and they said Andreas, the only man, must have gone through earlier. We were able to change money in the airport. Marazul Tours, I had bought euros in the Miami airport to avoid the extra tax on dollars, but only exchanged some of them in the airport, thinking I could change more at the hotel if necessary. Before we could leave the airport with our Havanatur bus/van we had to wait for a couple of women who had been taken in to an "interview," because apparently the airport personnel weren't informed about the conference. I had been asked at Passport Control how many were here for the conference, which I didn't know. She apparently thought we came as a group, but finally asked if we came from different places (I think she said "otro lados" or something like that) which I affirmed. She also asked if it was my first time in Cuba.
When we checked in at the Hotel Palco, I went to lunch at the poolside grill--the dining room buffet wasn't open--and then went up to take a siesta. Lunch was grilled fresh fish and a serving of rice in the shape of a cartoon bear's head, accompanied by a Cristal cerveza. After my nap, I took the 3 p.m. hotel bus with the others to Old Havana, with a guided tour in Spanish from the driver. The hotel is in Miramar, once an exclusive section of the city with old mansions and casinos from the 30's, 40's and fifties. The oldest mansion, from the 20's, was being renovated. It's called the House of Green Tiles.
We were dropped off just a stone's throw from the Malecon, and were told he'd be back at 5pm. We were just outside a children's park where there were blow up toys for jumping--I can't think of what they're called, something like a moonwalk. One was like Noah's Ark.
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