Lactuca, Barcelona. November, 2010

Sometimes you just want a salad. Especially after you’ve been enjoying a series of savory regional specialties on a food-rich vacation. When I was 20 years old and returning home after a full summer in London, all I wanted was fresh vegetables. And our recent trip to Barcelona prompted a similar reaction: seafood and ham tapas were all great. But when we happily and accidentally stumbled upon this salad bar in the Eixample neighborhood, we were overjoyed. All you can eat (buffet libre) from a wonderful array of greens, beans and all the accompaniments you’d expect. There’s also a selection of two or three hot entrees (pizza, pasta, paella). And a dessert bar with cake and self-serve ice cream. All for 8.95 euros at weekday lunch time (10.95 Euros at noches, fines de semana y festivos.) Drinks (except water, tea, coffee) extra. Lactuca (Catalan for lettuce) is a limited chain with a few outlets in Barcelona, developed to appeal to the growing number of resident and visiting vegetarians. It’s a good place to know about, because sometimes you just want a salad.

La Habana Vieja, Cuba. February, 2012

This Art Deco charmer stands out on its street corner in Old Havana. It’s the city’s major bookstore, a cavernous repository for government-approved literature, posters, notebooks, maps, some other items. Unlike the USA bookstores we’re used to, its shelves are not chock-a-block with merchandise. Instead, a few tables here and there, some displaying a handful of cookbooks (mostly from Spain) or children’s illustrated books, picture books for the tourists and, of course, polemics from Fidel, from Che, from Karl Marx. There was an abandoned coffee bar in one corner, guards checking bags on the way in and the way out. A revelation in its spareness.

Cienfuegos, Cuba. February, 2012

Walking along a quiet street in the slow-paced Caribbean coastal town, I met this lovely woman selling polvorones from her living room open to the street. Because I love the Mexican version of these simple butter/sugar cookies, I had to indulge. For professional reasons, of course. And so, my first encounter with the differences between the two types of money that circulate in Cuba. Moneda nacional, or CUPs, for Cubans themselves. And CUCs (Cuban convertible pesos), the “hard” currency that we tourists use. Both monies called pesos (and centavos), both designated in print with a $. Her cookies were 1 peso (moneda nacional); I only had CUCs (Cuban convertibles). So I gave her one CUC (pronounced amusingly as “kook”) and she figured it was the equivalent of the huge stack of cookies she gave me. (No problem. I found a number of enthusiastic takers in my group.) All this and a wonderful conversation as she welcomed me into her parlor to take this photo. Gracias, señora.

Plaza de la Revolución, Habana, Cuba. February, 2012

Yes, the great cars. This lovely example, just one of the fascinating beauties seen all the time on the streets of Havana, on the highways, even in the smaller towns outside the main cities. Old Chryslers, Chevrolets, Packards, Cadillacs, the occasional Edsel or DeSoto. I stood on a corner counting one afternoon and one in every four cars that passed was from the American 1950s. (My friend Jane, who’d visited Cuba last Christmastime, told me that, “You’ll be amazed when you see them for the first few days, but then you’ll get so used to them, you’ll almost forget to notice.” Hard to believe, but somewhat true.) Many of these cars, like this one, are colectivo taxis, following certain preordained routes, stopping for people on street corners, packing in as many folks as can be managed, then dropping passengers off at their desired destinations. (I was told that until recently it was illegal for the colectivos to pick up tourists. But “illegal” is a pretty flexible word in Cuba and while I didn't see many tourists in these cars, I did see some.)

La Bodeguito del Medio, Habana Vieja, Cuba. February, 2012

Though some doubt the veracity of the Hemingway quote indicating that La Bodeguita was the home of his favorite mojito, just a whiff of truth has been enough to establish this bar/restaurant as a major tourist attraction. (And most of the visitors have “immortalized” themselves by signing every available inch of wall throughout the place.) Fortunately our group lunch occurred in an upstairs private dining room, sparing us much of the fracas in the bar. Instead, a welcome meal of Cuban standards: roast pork, picadillo, fried ripe plantains, moros y cristianos (black beans/white rice combo), salad, chicken and, of course, mojitos all around. The bonus: a really expert strolling trio delivering up other Cuban standards like “Guantanmera,” “Besame Mucho” and “Quizás, Quizás, Quizás.” Hold the mojitos, fellas, just bring on the music and the food.

Plaza Major, Trinidad, Cuba. February, 2012

Here’s my friend Lisa, chatting with the sweetest security guard in the world, going through the book he’s using to learn English. He’d heard us speaking, asked if we would pronounce something for him, then showed us the sentence: “You carry on straight on.” We surmised quickly that he was learning British English and told him that Americans would say, “Go straight ahead.” He smiled, told us he meets a lot of tourists and that he thinks Americans pronounce their Ts like Ds, whereupon he kindly mimicked for us how USA folks say “beDDer” instead of “better.” I asked him about mantequilla, and he slowly said, “buDDer.” Our lovely midday conversation with this amiable man would have been reason enough to travel to Cuba. Hope he’s still there guarding the main square the next time we head back to this beautiful Caribbean coastal town.

Cienfuegos, Cuba. February, 2012

I was traveling in Cuba as part of an “Art & Architecture” tour with New York’s Center for Cuban Studies, legally, with a people-to-people license from the US State Department. And for me, the best part was, appropriately, the people I met throughout the country. Like this young woman who was just enjoying the warm afternoon breezes through her living-room window in this southern coastal town. So lovely and welcoming, she laughed and spoke with many of us as we tried out our Spanish and engaged in one of the many casual connections that made this trip to Cuba so very special. It was remarkable to see how open-hearted so many of the people I encountered in Cuba were. Forgive my naive observation, but it was almost as if these people, many of whom have so few material goods, value instead the rewards that come from genuine and warm interactions with family, with friends, with total strangers like me. Lessons to be learned.