Lagos is not only the largest city in Nigeria but all of Africa. I am here to participate in the Nigerian Cardiovascular Symposium, which involves implanting pacemakers for the first two days, followed by participating in the conference for the next two.

Vaccination and Corruption

Upon setting foot onto the airport in Lagos, I was greeted by a large sign announcing the country’s efforts to eliminate corruption. It stated “If you see it, text it!” meaning to text the government with details of the incident. Little did I know that soon I’d have a good one for them.

The first line I stood in didn’t make sense. There were no signs for passport control, customs, or security. As I approached the front I noticed all the Nigerian citizens were quickly passed through but foreign visitors like me had to stay behind at a podium. Apparently it was a line to confirm yellow fever vaccination. Since multiple sources informed me beforehand that this was not required for entry into the country, I did not get the vaccine.

I told this to the woman, who then gave me a sarcastic response and had me stand there as she kept waving others through. Only once everyone from our flight had passed, she closed all the doors to this hallway, shutting us in, and then told me “What can you do for me?” Excuse me? So she repeated, “How much can you spare?”

Ah hell no. I told her “I’m not paying anything” and there we stood, silent, in a deadlock for 15 minutes. She kept pretending to read her book while I kept staring into space. During this time I started looking through my yellow vaccination card and noticed an amusing surprise – I actually had been vaccinated for yellow fever back in 2013! I eagerly showed this to her and she turned it down, the excuse now that its stamp wasn’t in the right section of the card. These people are ridiculous.

At this point I lost it and demanded to see my friend I was traveling with. We were reunited and he laid into her in their native tongue, saying how we were there to teach the locals and perform medical procedures.  She finally conceded and let us pass, noticeably ashamed for what she did. What an introduction to the country.

Had I remembered that phone number for the government, I would have sent them a very strongly worded text.

Pacemakers for All

Perhaps not all, but for four.

The healthcare system in Nigeria is in near shambles. A few select hospitals have acceptable facilities, but the vast majority has close to no resources. There are limited medications in their pharmacies, and anything more hi-tech like ECGs or echocardiograms are a luxury; cath labs are a rarity, and electrophysiology procedures are essentially non-existent. The only time a pacemaker is implanted is when a cardiac surgeon makes himself available once a month or so.

Thanks to generous donations from Biotronik, as well as Medtronic, we had the pleasure of implanting several pacemakers and defibrillators in patients here. We loaded many huge duffel bags full of devices and equipment in the van and headed to the hospital an hour away.

The local cardiologists had a surprisingly difficult time finding patients who needed such devices – if patients felt well they didn’t think they required treatment for anything. Even if a patient had complete heart block but didn’t die from it, they’d be convinced they must be healthy.

With four patients and four EP’s, we each performed one case. The lab was surprisingly modern, although many supplies such as scrub soap, sutures, and even surgical drapes were still limited.

My patient was a middle-aged man who was overjoyed to be getting his device and very grateful that I would be implanting it … I was quite honored especially considering we had never met and I clearly looked like a foreigner.

The implant went smoothly and safely, and he remained very happy. Here I am with some of the team.

This Nigerian Life

While I have seen some unusual sights (random men with machine guns walking along the highways) and eaten some unusual foods (snail stew, surprisingly tasty), it has been enjoyable here.

However, since kidnappings, car jacking, muggings, and burglaries are common in Lagos, security is extremely tight. Entry into the hotel grounds requires passing through a heavy gate where they inspect under the hood, look under the car, and check for any radioactive material around us. Inside the hotel there is a security guard on each floor 24 hours a day.

Almost Famous

While walking to dinner, one of the hotel staff approached me for and we had a short but interesting conversation:

Him: “Do you play ball?”

Me: “Depends. Which ball?”

Him: “Football”

Me: “American or soccer?”

Him: “Soccer”

Me: “No”

Him: “So American football?”

Me: “Um, definitely not.”

He then proceeded to tell me that I look like a well-known European soccer player, which was pretty flattering.

This topic actually became a recurring theme with multiple hotel staff. For example, the security guard on my floor told me on my first day here that I look like a famous soccer player (different from previous guy). And now every day when he wishes me good morning, he calls me that guy’s name. We both share a good laugh together, with me feigning that I know exactly who he’s talking about, and then I get on my way, still confused who he thinks I am. Every day … same thing.

Nigeria isn’t exactly the safest country at this time, and so the list of things that threaten me on this trip is a little longer than the usual my international escapades. Here’s a brief rundown:

Travellers diarrhea

Nothing new for international travel, but a recent discussion with one of our Infectious Diseases doctors frightened me into loading up on multiple antibiotics, just in case. Ain’t nobody got time for loose movements.

Zika virus

I have no plans on getting pregnant there, so I’m probably safe with this one. Some microcephaly may actually improve the size of my head.

Terrorists

Boko Haram is no joke. Every time I forget about them, they surface again in the news in frightening ways. Luckily the part of Nigeria I will be in is quite far away from where they operate.

Nigerian email scammers

Prior to preparing for this trip, my only connection to Nigeria was that a few years ago I found out I was the recipient of a very large fortune due to the untimely death of one of their royalty. I kept in touch via email with a very polite Nigerian prince telling me how to cash in on this event. However, the next thing I knew I had lost $50,000 and had no fortune to show for it. Turns out it was all a scam … who knew.

In all seriousness, as I was applying for my visa, the list of required documents – as instructed by the Nigerian embassy, mind you – included the following:

• Letter of invitation from the host
• Hotel reservation confirmation
• Evidence of funds to cover stay in Nigeria (letter from bank etc.)

Invitation letter: check. Hotel confirmation: check. Evidence of funds…wait, what? This sounded suspiciously similar to the hundred scamming emails I’d received in the past. I reluctantly sent them a screenshot of my bank account with appropriate parts blacked out, but I still had a very uneasy feeling. Luckily I have yet to receive a response along the lines of “I know this message will come to you as a surprise but I am a well known wealthy business man…”

See you all on the other side.

HCMC (as we like to call it) is a major city, full of traffic, massive pollution, high-end department stores and brands, and motorbikes like I’ve never seen in this country.

Ho Chi Minh City has a very nice skyline. Way off in the distance you can see the Bitexco Financial Tower, the tallest building in the city whose design was apparently inspired by the lotus flower; I only see it as a tall CD rack.

Cu Chi Tunnels

A few hours outside of Ho Chi Minh City is an area known as Cu Chi, which played a significant role in the Vietnam War. Nothing you see here reveals any of the vicious fighting, bloodshed, and destruction that occurred…

…but that’s because you need to go underground:

The Cu Chi tunnels were a vast underground network of tunnels created by the Viet Cong (communist North) that spanned 250 km, went several stories deep, and included living areas, kitchens, weapon factories, and hospitals. To camouflage these tunnels and make them difficult to detect, they were often booby-trapped with crude yet brutal devices. This legendary area was where some of the most significant bombing, gassing, and destruction occurred, as the United States tried to eradicate these difficult-to-reach tunnels.

There was a 100m section that’s been left in place for tourists to crawl through and experience what life was like. Here I am in front of that entrance:

If you squat, like the person behind me, you can get through this dark, cramped, and hot tunnel. I was too claustrophobic to go through, as were all the guys in our group!  Also, the original tunnels were much smaller – approximately 50cm (20 inches) in diameter – and so to accommodate more normal sized people, they’ve had to be expanded twice over the years.

Pretty impressive, the creativity and resourcefulness of people in times of war.

Firing Range

Oh and I may have fired a gun for the first time. Actually, a machine gun. As staunchly anti-gun as I am, I couldn’t resist the opportunity here at Cu Chi to visit their firing range. For a small fortune, visitors are allowed to fire one of several different weapons. Initially I’d hoped for a AK-47 but because they only had Chinese (and not Russian) bullets, there was a chance that sometimes – but not always! – it would malfunction and send back debris into the shooter’s eyes. I don’t like “sometimes” and I do like my vision, so I ended up choosing what they called the M30 (it had the biggest ammunition), even though researching it later I realized it is technically a Browning M1919. In any case, wow. Not only did it obliterate the targets in front of it, but it threw me back as well — all 250 pounds of me. Police and military always say they shouldn’t point their weapon at anything they’re not willing to destroy…I believe it now.

I must say, I look pretty bad ass.

War Remnants Museum

Formerly known as the Museum of Chinese and American War Crimes, the War Remnants Museum pays tribute to the victims of the Vietnam War. Rarely do we as Americans get to hear the victims tell their side of the story, and so it was a fascinating if not disturbing experience.

As expected perhaps, this museum provided an extremely one-sided account. The anti-American language and propaganda were not subtle:

Or other captions, such as:

“With their merciless bombs they wanted to destroy the peaceful cities of Vietnam.” 

“For her actions, she was awarded an American-killer hero award.”

“Like a batch of crazy devils they fired at women and children, schools, Buddha statues, and pots and pans.”

Room after room showed many graphic depictions of the atrocities of the war. Without a doubt the most disturbing collection was dedicated to the aftermath of Agent Orange, the chemical used for deforestation that unfortunately had terrible effects on people exposed to it as well as their children. Trust me when I say this photo (of a girl born to parents exposed to Agent Orange) was the mildest of the birth defect photos I saw. A quick search online will reveal more horrifying ones.

One room portrayed the international protests held against US involvement in Vietnam around the 1960s. I found this protest in Cuba somewhat interesting given my recent visit there.

The only thing that should be taken away from a visit to this museum is that war is a horrendous thing for all sides involved.

Final Foods

Ho Chi Minh City is actually a great food city, so on my final day — as I always do — I hit all my favorite food and drink stands (AKA, the day of 5 meals). A few highlights: banh mi (a French-influenced baguette sandwich stuffed with pork, cucumbers, daikon-and-carrot pickles, cilantro, and spicy sauce), big bowl of pho, vermicelli bowl with everything, and the uniquely tasty Vietnamese iced coffee that has condensed milk in it.

Vietnam’s food scene did not let me down.

Not All Fun and Games…

This trip hasn’t been all leisurely activities. Believe it or not, between many of these activities I’ve been busy editing manuscripts, writing grants, or preparing lectures.

…But Still a Great Trip

Overall it was a phenomenal experience visiting these three very different cultures, and I look forward to visiting all three again – Cuba, once our diplomatic ties are soon fully re-established; Italy, to visit its many other unique cities; and Vietnam, to explore more cities and fill in many of the knowledge gaps I now have about this country.

Adios, arrivederci, and…um…bye.

Hue

Hue (pronounced “way”) was the former capital of Vietnam during its imperial years. The capital has since moved to Hanoi but Hue is still filled with palaces, pagodas, temples, and this citadel:

This large citadel also features that large flagpole…in fact, it’s the largest flagpole in Vietnam. Why are communist countries so obsessed with having huge flagpoles? That’s right, I’m looking at you North Korea.

We also visited the Thien Mu pagoda, the largest religious building in Vietnam. They enforce a strict dress code, including no showing of the knees. I would have worn my blue jeans but it’s so unbelievably hot here that I almost passed out from heat exhaustion when I tried them on for a few minutes as a test. Instead I bought these very lightweight pants that went just below my knees. Here I am, sporting them in front of the pagoda:

Yes, they make me look irresistible. Please try to control yourselves.

This pagoda also houses the Austin vehicle that transported the monk to the site of his 1963 self-immolation in Saigon, in protest against the government’s regime. As soon as he stepped out of the car, he assumed the lotus position on the street, doused himself with gasoline, and lit himself on fire. He never moved or said anything, which led to the famous photograph. (Of note, his heart remained intact and did not burn.)

On a less morbid note, motorbikes are everywhere in Vietnam, and I mean everywhere. The country has approximately 90 million people and there are close to 40 million motorbikes…compared to only 2 million cars. The streets are congested with motorbikes, and every time you cross an intersection it’s like playing a game of chicken with 10 motorbikes driving straight at you. And they certainly cram as many things onto them as they can: children, animals, and even other motorbikes.

After street food, the other thing I can’t resist when I travel is getting on a motorbike. I did that this time too and got a nice tour of the city. Along the way I got a hands-on lesson how to make incense sticks and also saw an old American bomb that had been cut in half and turned into a boat.

It’s too hot to talk anymore. I’m really not cut out for this weather. Luckily my hotel room has great air conditioning…and this beautiful view.

Hoi An

Hoi An is a beautiful and quaint city oftentimes described as “delightful” and I agree completely. It has interesting architecture and a river that lights up at night with thousands of lanterns. Here’s a panoramic shot that doesn’t do justice to the view.

I spent four days here where I roamed their massive marketplace, bought a tailor-made suit, took a cooking class, found my favorite street food thus far in Vietnam (I may have eaten there three times), and went on a great bike ride through the city’s outskirts. On the bike ride I lucked out and was able to interact with some local farmers…who put me promptly to work:

Another proudly showed off his water buffalo to me. He wanted me to stand on the animal to show how strong it was, indicating he was a successful farmer. I was a little afraid of this giant beast, but it turned out to be a gentle giant.

If you have the opportunity to visit Vietnam, definitely do not skip Hoi An.

Continuing eastward on my journey, I am now in Vietnam after a very lengthy 12-hour flight. I plan to explore the country from north (Hanoi) to south (Ho Chi Minh City), with plane, train, and automobile…and the occasional boat. For you visual types:

But first, a brief rant…

Rant

Delta Airlines: you’re awful. After waking up at 4am to take a train from Florence to reach Milan for my flight to Vietnam, I couldn’t check in at the airport. An airport customer service rep looked up my account and noticed Delta inactivated all my flights for the remainder of my trip. That’s certainly a new one. She called Delta and was put on hold immediately. (Meanwhile, she asked me if I happened to knew of a better number to reach Delta at!) After 15 minutes on hold – an eternity, when minutes are being counted – she finally reached someone who sadly couldn’t help us. Not because my situation was unusually complicated but because Delta didn’t pass 5^th grade geography. Our side of the conversation went as follows: “Hello I’m calling from Milan International Airport and…yes, Milan…Meeeeelan…no, it’s in Italy.”

Ultimately I did make it to Vietnam – with only minutes to spare – but not without newfound resentment for Delta. Anyway, once I was picked up at the airport by my driver I forgot all about my troubles.

Food

Vietnam is often considered the culinary capital of Southeast Asia, even though Thailand tends to receive the mainstream attention. Touring the country from top to bottom will therefore offer a sampling of the country’s regional cuisine and, in turn, their culture. I’ve long felt the best way to learn a culture is through food, and so I’m excited to try everything from street stalls to upscale restaurants.

Vietnamese food can be characterized as “fresh and light”, neither of which are terms typically used to describe Asian cuisine. Their dishes are filled with piles of fresh greens and other fruits and vegetables, and the streets are packed with women transporting greens on their back, selling them, or cooking them right there on the sidewalk.

Don’t worry they have meat too, although the USDA would probably have a few questions about this setup.

Here are some other food highlights.

Pho

Vietnam’s most well-known dish is pho, or noodle soup with thin slices of meat and handfuls of fresh greens. It’s pronounced “fuhh” – like “fun” without the n – and not “foe”. Great pho depends on great broth, which involves many hours of cooking. Walking down the street of Hanoi smelling the aroma of pho is very tantalizing.

Even though I generally prefer other Vietnamese dishes, I certainly don’t dislike pho so my first goal here was to get a bowl. I ended up at Pho 2000, a local chain. (Yes, goofy name but sit tight.)

Simple as it may appear, it was…pho-nomenal! I was afraid the clear broth meant it’d be devoid of flavor, but not at all. This wasn’t their first time doing this.

Also it turns out that then-president Bill Clinton ate here in 2000. What the pho?!

(That too marked the first time an American president visited Vietnam since the war.)

That’s now three times I’ve followed Clinton: first for beer in the Czech Republic, then hot dogs in Iceland, and now this. Where will he lead me to next?

Street Food

If food is being sold on the street, chances are I’ll be standing in line for it. Lucky for me, Hanoi is known for being one of Asia’s great cities for street food.

“Restaurant” is a bit of a stretch for what these places are. They’re more like one-room shops where the food is being cooked in the corner or in front of the shop. In Vietnam they all have a propane or charcoal stove and seating is a table or tiny plastic stools. Most feature only one or two dishes that they have perfected and sell for ridiculously low prices. It’s a wonderful thing to walk in, take a seat, and soon have delicious food placed in front of you, all without saying a word.

My favorite in Hanoi was this place, which I ate at three times:

They serve only bun cha, very flavorful grilled meat with rice vermicelli noodles and a mountain of fresh greens. I wasn’t familiar with this dish before this trip, but I am a loyal fan now.

That bowl in the upper right isn’t rice…it’s chopped up chilies and garlic, and you know I loaded up on it. Although I had fierce garlic breath – and a churning stomach – afterwards, it was well worth it.

By the way, their “menu” is simply this poster on the wall:

The conversion rate is 1 USD to 20,000 dong, so bun cha is $3, beer $0.75, and water $0.50. Yes, beer is less than $1.

It’s Communist, but…

Vietnam’s political system is communist, and there’s no confusion there.

(Any place you see the Vietnamese flag (star, on the right), you’ll see the old USSR hammer and sickle flag next to it.) Their economy, however, has realized the benefits of a free market and thus capitalism is thriving here. And everyone is out to make a quick buck.

Case in point: when I landed in Vietnam I saw a non-official taxi driver approach an unsuspecting tourist asking if he wanted a taxi. The rogue taxi driver flashed him a ID card with a phony logo of the city’s official taxi company, so the tourist believed him and hopped in his taxi – his plain unmarked van, that is. Then, instead of being charged approximately 150,000 dong, the poor sucker was charged 700,000 dong.

In case you can’t tell, that poor sucker was me.

Halong Bay

I took an overnight trip to Halong Bay, a beautiful bay with more than 2000 limestone islands popping out of the water. It’s a UNESCO World Heritage site, and with some others we hopped aboard this boat:

One of the islands had a small temple at the very top that you can reach, but only after climbing up 430 steps. Normally that’s doable, but in this unbelievably hot and humid weather, it was grueling. Here’s a selfie from the top:

A fun — but damp — trip. Nothing ever fully dries on a boat. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve worn dry clothes for a month.

Italian Fashion

People at home routinely mock my impeccable fashion sense. One person in particular, let’s call him Mitul – because, well, that’s his real name – likes to give me grief about the length of my pants, calling them too short. What’s the point of awesome socks if people can’t see them?

Anyway, within my first few minutes of arriving in Florence I saw this dapper guy:

When the town floods, this guy will never need to worry about wet pant legs. I’ll now return back home with renewed confidence, and who knows…I may even let my ankles go commando too.

Uffizi

The Uffizi Gallery is the jewel of Florence’s cultural crown, full of Renaissance art. It is a huge U-shaped gallery on two floors, and it takes several hours to go through it all. Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and Raphael all have their works displayed here. The artists, not the ninja turtles.

Unfortunately, my knowledge and appreciation for art is limited, but I’ve included some of the more interesting pieces and what I feel their names should be:

“Disco Fever”

“I Should Photoshop His Face”

“Importance of Checking for Diabetic Foot Ulcers”

And finally this one:

Why this painting? It’s not particularly well known, but after 100 paintings it was a refreshing change of subject material. After all, there’s a limit to how many portraits of Madonna, child, or Madonna and child I can handle…

David

We saw the world’s most famous naked man today. The statue David was created by Michelangelo between 1501 and 1504, and represents the biblical hero (as in David and Goliath.) We went to the Galleria dell’Accademia to view it, but after yesterday’s tiring journey inside the Uffizi, we wanted to go straight to the good stuff. Bypassing all other statues, we looked only for these signs:

When we finally reached it, it really was incredible:

Photos never truly reveal the size of this great statue, which is close to 14 feet high. It’s actually quite amazing to think that this was created from a single piece of marble…a mediocre quality one that Michelangelo didn’t even select himself. Most impressive is the anatomic detail (especially considering how it was formed by chipping away with a hammer and chisel), in particular the veins on the back of the hands and arms.

The Uffizi gallery? Meh. But this was absolutely worth it.

No to Mafia

Walking down the street in Florence, I came across this:

I figured I should support them. In general it’s good to adopt a No On Mafia policy.

Favorite Italian Meal

Italian food…I’m sick of it. Really, I just can’t take another spaghettini alla this or pomodoro alla that. While Italian cuisine is tasty, I much prefer flavors that are more powerful and pungent (i.e. the foods I bring to work for my lunches everyday.)

Our last night in Italy, all of us felt the same. Thanks to a quick search online, we were able to eat the best meal of our trip to Italy: chicken tikka masala.

As a former medieval powerhouse, Siena is the first stop on our tour of Tuscany. Once upon a time (in the 1200s) it was Florence’s rival city, but after the black plague killed off many of its citizens, Florence permanently became the superior city. Still, Siena is still a great place to experience medieval life.

The narrow streets of Siena:

At the heart of the city is Il Campo, a plaza in the center of the city that spreads outward and forms an amphitheater of sorts. Both locals and tourists gather here all day long, and it really becomes packed in the afternoons and evenings.

The highlight of Il Campo is the Palio horse races of the summer, where the 17 neighborhoods of Siena are each represented by one horse and rider in a no-holds barred horse race. While we missed the race by one week, we did see the celebration honoring the winning neighborhood. Il Campo quickly filled up with people our first night there, and we took a seat to watch the craziness unfold.

Different groups and schools and clubs rode by on floats, and at one point a large group of little children monks (or something like that) marched by. They thought it’d be fun to throw hard candy at the spectators, and one landed at our table. To return the favor I thought it’d be fun to throw one back at them, but when I did it accidentally hit one of the mini-monks in the face, who then fell down. Oops. You know what they say: when in Rome…um, take out one of the Romans? (Then make sure to get the heck out of Rome.)

In the final moment of randomness, someone ran by and threw a piece of dry ice into my water.

Tuscan Food

“Farm to table” dining, such a fad at home, is the de facto culture here. All food is local and fresh, and the cuisine is always seasonal. The region’s specialty is wild boar (cinghiale) as is thick spaghetti known as pici, which pair well with each other. Other local specialties include all sorts of cured meats (salumi) and white truffles; upscale restaurants will offer this delicacy by shaving it directly above your pasta. Pricey yet tasty!

By the way, peoples, the pasta photos on the bottom right nearly cost me my life, reputation, and dignity. I wandered into a small pasta shop and started snapping away pics of their exotic pastas. Immediately an angry Italian old man grabbed me and dragged me to another part of the store with a sign that said “No Foto”. I apologized in a mix of English and Spanish (I don’t know, I just did) and started walking out. At the entrance to his shop, just before kicking me out, he loudly and passionately scolded me in Italian, complete with angry hand gestures and probably lots of profanity. My dad accidentally walked into this mess too, and after our 5-minute royal chew out session was over, we both walked away with our heads down in shame…but secretly laughing under our breaths.

Shopping

My dad, brother, and I walked into a shoe store and ended up buying shoes…the same one. All three of us.

(I’m the skinny hairy one.)

This puts that whole Swim Trunk Fiasco to shame.

While our trade embargo with Cuba still remains in place, restrictions between the two countries have been eased so opportunities now exist to travel to Cuba legally. Tourism is still not permitted, but Americans can travel here via licensed educational exchange trips known as people-to-people tours. These are education-based trips that can only be offered by travel companies that have received a license from the Treasury Department’s Office of Foreign Assets Control – it’s all about the dollars. If you’re eager for more details, see 31 CFR § 515.565(b). And if you’re not down with the latest CFR §, it basically says go, but don’t deal too much with the Cuban Communist Party.

Arrival

The night before departing to Cuba there was an introductory meeting where we met our group, and thankfully no one seemed too annoying. The next morning we hopped on a chartered American Airlines flight, and 45 minutes later landed in Havana. I stepped off the plane onto the runway and took in a deep breath…it smelled ripe with communism. After a very painless checkout through passport control – where the most intrusive question they asked me was “Is this your passport?” to which I replied “Si” – we were ready to explore the country. (And no, that wasn’t Rosetta Stone talking…that’s 12 years of living in Southern California. What’s up.)

Initial Thoughts

Cuba is a poor country. The impact of both governmental control and the US embargo are noticeable everywhere. Infrastructure in Havana seems developed, but it’s very outdated and dilapidated – clearly a reflection of more prosperous years past. Also, whether a result of the communist regime or simple poverty, it seems there’s almost nowhere to spend money, both for tourists or locals. There aren’t many restaurants, I haven’t seen a single grocery store or corner market, and the one furniture store I saw was empty inside. This may be the first country I’ve visited where it may not be possible to live like a local. It doesn’t help that there are two currencies in Cuba: one for locals (pesos) and one for tourists (the CUC, pronounced “kooks”, or as I like to pronounce, “Cubans”.) Local establishments – if they actually exist – will accept either, but no tourist place will accept local pesos.

Finally, God forbid you forget about Fidel Castro or Che Guevara for even five minutes…their names and faces are everywhere.

Communism

As expected under communism, the government owns most businesses and services, such as hotels, restaurants, and entertainment. The country is actively working to improve its economy by privatizing many of these companies by local and foreign investors, and it was interesting to see common items being owned or produced or run by the government: sodas, nightclubs, clothing, etc. Cuban cola was essentially free; Coca-Cola cost was expensive.

A uniquely communist practice here in Cuba is that of rationing. Every Cuban citizen is given monthly rations, and everyone takes advantage of the program. Rice, beans, toilet paper, rum…most products needed for daily life are included. Old or young, every Cuban received rations their entire life, and the only thing adults got that children didn’t was coffee. Here was a typical ration store. It was far from glamorous, but it was effective.

Rationing also affected us tourists in a very real way. Every day we would receive two bottles of water. And even though I toured harder than every other member of our group, I still only received two bottles. It’s tough being a communist.

Cigars

Cuba’s most well-known product and export is the cigar. Producing over 250 different kinds of cigars, Cuban cigars are considered by all to be the highest quality in the world. We had the opportunity to visit their main factory, La Corona. This factory, doesn’t produce just one brand of cigars, but all the top brands – including Cohiba, Montecristo, Romeo y Julieta, and H. Upmann.

And in what turned out to be my saddest moment of the trip, we were told there is a strict no photo policy inside the factory. Feel free to take pictures of their military, airport security, and police…but don’t dare photograph the cigar factory.

So allow me to paint a picture with words. The factory consisted of row after row of the most low-tech technology you could imagine: people sitting at small desks, pulling up one large tobacco leaf after another, and rolling it by hand. After these filler leaves were rolled together, they were put into molds on top of their desk where they were manually pressed for 30 minutes. Then a nicer, wrapper tobacco leaf was rolled around it, creating the final cigar. It was quite impressive watching a messy pile of brown leaves quickly turn into a nearly perfectly symmetric and sealed cigar before your eyes.

The cigar makers work from 7am-3pm daily, producing ~100 per day. On top of their pay they also received 5 free cigars a day. The factory prided themselves them on having a 65% female workforce, because “women are good at organization”.

Even though photos were prohibited, I managed to sneak this one of an empty part of the factory floor. The things I do for you, people…

When in Cuba, do as the Cubans do. Here we are appreciating their finest. I didn’t cough (too much).

Rum

Cuba’s second famous product is rum. Most drinks contain it, and their main brand is Havana Club. And the way Morocco had mint tea and Brazil had caipirinhas, Cuba’s national drink is the mojito…a cocktail made with rum, mint, and sugar. It’s a tasty drink that goes down like water, and before you know it it’s mid-afternoon and you’ve already had 8.

Ernest Hemingway, the writer and America’s most well-known expatriate who lived in Cuba for much of his productive life, frequented the bar below for his favorite mojito in town.

Vintage Cars

To visit Cuba today is to experience a country frozen in 1950. Most notable are their cars. The roads are filled with vintage American cars, including Chevys, Buicks, and Pontiacs from the 1920s-1950s. Most are meticulously maintained and brightly colored. Even better, many were used as taxis.

Our taxi one evening, in Revolution Plaza.

Around Havana

Our first day we visited the city cemetery, full of large mausoleums containing the remains of famous and ordinary Havana citizens. Cuban Barack Obama showed us around and pointed out the more popular tombs, including that of Ernest Hemingway’s bartender and Amelia, a woman whose baby survived some great catastrophe and nowadays people visit her tomb to have their wishes granted.

We visited a local organization that acts as a community center for underserved youth to hone their creative skills and perform community service. Cuban Macy Gray charmed everyone with her voice.

Our final day we were treated to an amazing private show by the Havana Compass dance studio, a private dance company. They made amazing — and amazingly loud! — sounds with their drums, chairs, and sticks. Think of it as Cuban Stomp…but probably better.

Earlier in the week, Cuban Morgan Freeman grabbed me on the street. I thought that was strange and then he put me in a headlock…which was even stranger. We had to give him 2 pesos before he let me go. Sadly no one got a photo of it.

Parting Thoughts

I arrived in Cuba ready to show them how great America is…they could finally learn about affordable healthcare, gay rights, and bald eagles. But after a few days there I learned that despite their terrible economy, Cubans are a remarkably upbeat and happy people. They’re kind and welcoming, and they’re also incredibly talented and passionate in all things artistic and musical (I’ve never heard so much great live music.) There’s certainly a lot we can learn from them. And who knew…they already have affordable healthcare!

As a visitor I never felt threatened roaming around town, even in the middle of the night. Cuba is one of the safest countries in the western hemisphere, and it certainly felt that way. Above all, there were essentially no beggars. Almost never was I approached by someone asking for money…very refreshing. (Hint, hint, Morocco.)

Some countries are communist but still successful, while others have US-imposed sanctions and are (moderately) successful. The combination, however, appears to be the kiss of death. Hopefully each of these aspects will be rectified in the near future and create better opportunities for the Cuban people to prosper.

(By the way, because of this passport stamp, any time I re-enter the US in the future I need to show paperwork proving this visit to Cuba was in fact legal.)

Most people celebrate 4th of July by eating apple pie and watching fireworks. I, on the other hand, chose to fly to a communist country that has minimal relations with America. After a rocky set of outbound flights — Delta adding an extra layover to my itinerary last minute, and then another flight taking off without me (I wasn’t happy about that one) — I landed in Miami to meet up with my brother. We went to the beach, only to realize we had each – independently, mind you – bought the exact same swim trunks.

We went home and never went to the beach together again.