Sightseeing

OK, so here are some traditional sights of Copenhagen. I have to say that it is a very pretty city even in the dead of winter. It must be truly magical in the summertime.

Let's start off with the 100 year old, bronze and granite statue of the original Little Mermaid from Hans Christian Andersen's (not Disney's) fairy tale that guards the entrance to Copenhagen harbor.

And here's a picture of the two of us on Nyhavn. Say "Freeze".

 

Here's Michael proving that it's not all about gourmet meals here in Copenhagen. We hit the classic Danish hotdog stands more than once already to work our way through the selections.

 



And Macys Christmas windows have some steep competition when here in Copenhagen they decorate OUTSIDE the windows. This ambitious design features life size (well if you can call man-sized mice life size) figures roaming across the second through fifth stories of the building's façade all draped in a pretty curtain of lights.

 

Ho Ho Ho!
 

NOMA

OK, spoiler alert. If you do not care about food stop reading now.

Next, viewer discretion advised. This is not burgers and fries. Much of the food at NOMA is gathered in public parks, picked up at the beach, and often in various stages of decomposition (known in the gourmet vernacular as aged or fermented).

Note: Some marine creatures, insects and birds were harmed in the preparation of this meal.

The meal consisted of 11 appetizers, 7 entrees, 2 desserts and 3 sweets.
(apologies for the new phone and the resultant questionable focus on some of these).

First gooseberries and elderflowers in pine oil with lemon and Nordic Coconuts

 

Then Fried Reindeer Moss (the white part not the green as the folks next to us found out)



 

Black currant juice formed into balls with roses

 

Two Cheese crackers topped with rocket stems

 

Pickled and smoked quails eggs

 

Very Cold (frozen) monkfish liver slices with carmelized milk

 

Danish pancakes made with bee larvae instead of egg yolks, stuffed with greens and glazed with bits of grasshoppers

 

Chestnuts with trout roe 

 

Sea urchin on toast covered with crispy duck skin

 

Grilled (Burnt) Leeks (they open like a canoe and you eat what's inside)

 

Squid with green walnut shells and broccoli stems in a lovely ice bowl

 

Fresh Milk Curd with Blueberry preserves and tiny lemon thyme leaves

 

Onions and Pears with wood ants (the wee brown bits)

 

 Beets and fermented plums with aromatic herbs

 

Carmelized cauliflower steak and pine (not for eating) with cream and horseradish

 

Potatoes roasted in barley with a ball of bright yellow bleak roe

 

 

And just when we'd given up hope for meat, the real knife appeared for the aged wild duck with pickled pears and fried birch leaves on a sauce of kale

 

Then we went on to desserts apparently to be differentiated from the later sweets. Imagine our surprise when this Aronia berry gelee on ice cream made from seaweed (isn't it all? apparent no most ice cream is made from something extracted from seaweed) turned out to be the only fishy tasting item on the entire menu....ewwww....but it was pretty.

 

But then we were treated to this little trio of a cream infused with plum kernels (that tasted of amaretto) with sweetened mashed potatoes (not sweet potatoes) and a plum compote. 

 

Then for sweets...caramels made from sourdough bread with a mix of Icelandic yoghurt and Nordic cranberries topped off with elderflower salt

 



Very mild Ethiopian coffee and a classic danish (sorry I can't flip the image)

 

 

And FINALLY crispy fried pork skins coated in milk chocolate and blueberries!

 

Afterwards we toured the kitchens, met lots of young people from the United States working there (primarily as unpaid interns) and were not over full in the end. (Far less so than after Thanksgiving dinner.)

 

So, Merry Christmas to us!

 

When Climates Collide

Before I proceed with the lengthy process of documenting a 23 course, 3 hour lunch, I would like to put everyone’s minds at ease. I know that many of you were worrying about how we might survive in the Nordic environment. So far, so good. The only problem thus far is that Michael’s warm, hiking shoes apparently suffered from the tropical climate, as many of the souls/soles of ‘real’ shoes do and the glue has given way. He thought it odd that his right foot seemed colder than his left foot all day walking in the misty, overcast weather. Mystery solved.

 

Warped Time

Yes, I thought it was a bit challenging getting out of Cuba. Little did I know.

 

We left Anguilla around 11A on Tuesday heading to the airport in St. Maarten. Our plane coming in from New York was delayed so we were delayed leaving for New York. We only had about 75 minutes to clear immigration and customs, recheck bags and get to our London flight so we were a bit nervous. The pilot, however, made up the time and we got to the gate at JFK in plenty of time only to find no plane at the jetway. Our 7:30P departure was delayed until 8P. Then until 8:30P. Then until 9P. Finally we boarded. Then the pilot advised us that the cargo doors were still open. Oh wait, they were still open because we didn’t have all of the bags on board. Opps. Then he couldn’t communicate with the baggage guys coz somebody’s headset wasn’t working. Then they got a new headset. The we had to spend 40 minutes being de-iced.

Then finally we were in line for take off when the pilot informed us that two unruly passengers were going to need to be removed from the flight so we had to turn around and head back to the gate, have security remove the passengers, then have the baggage guys come back to find those passengers’ bags, and then we had to be refueled because we had screwed around for so long. In the end we left 5 hours late for London when our layover was only 4 hours to begin with.

Luckily Michael called American and got us on a later flight to Copenhagen. But even still by the time we got to the gate in Heathrow, the flight was already boarding. Just a lot of stress and very little sleep.

But we are here in Copenhagen now soaking up the Christmas spirit. I picked our hotel because we could get a room with a view of Tivoli Gardens and they did not disappoint.

 

Time Warp

Our last full day in Cuba was mostly a long bus ride back to Havana and then a lovely farewell dinner.

The next morning, we had a bit of a scare at the airport when just before it was due to depart our flight disappeared from the display board. Nobody knew why. There were no airline personnel on our side of the locked immigration doors and no way to find out what went wrong. After about 45 minutes trying to call the tour company in Washington state and the guide in Cuba (luckily somebody in the group had a global phone) we still had no idea what was going on. But at least all that effort took up time because then suddenly, still without notice, the plane landed, we boarded and off we went.

We expected a bit of attention upon arrival in the United States...at least someone verifying that we had not come back with the forbidden rum, coffee or cigars. But nobody batted an eye or asked a single question.

I think the hardest part of the trip was leaving our wonderful guide, Beatriz, behind. Whether she is free to admit it or not, I can't imagine that she doesn't realize the constraints of her life there and that makes me sad. As is usually the case in these situations, it's the people - not the ruler - who suffer. That's who we should think about when we consider lifting the embargo.

Meanwhile, we left this behind:

 

So that one day we were drinking Cuban Coffee and the next morning we were drinking French cappuccinos waiting for the ferry to take us home to British Anguilla. Now two days later we are off to Copenhagen and by Saturday we will be drinking tea with our British friends.

 

So in honor of the holiday season, I'll just say, "It's a Wonderful Life."

 

Santa Clara

Thursday morning we took a nice leisurely start to the day with a city tour of Cienfuegos. The town was founded by the French and you can see that in the older buildings. You definitely get that New Orleans kind of feel. There’s a cute little main square and a nicely restored local theatre. And most importantly, Michael and I managed to scoop up some sand to bring home for our collection.

Then we were off driving to Santa Clara. Tonight we attended a local block party that was arranged as a means for us to really interact with locals on an intimate level. We were expecting what we would consider a block party in the United States and had even been instructed to take some food and drink to the gathering. It turned out that this was really an opportunity to tell us about the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution which are comprised LITERALLY of the residents in one city block. In this case just under 100 people. This is a university town (there are four here) and with education being free in Cuba this is a highly educated population. Six doctors live on this little street along with professors and other professionals. And yet it is still a very simple life.

When we first heard the term ‘neighborhood watch’, we were thinking of the equivalent in the U.S. where you watch out for your neighbors to protect them from outside threats. However, this neighborhood watch apparently watches your neighbors for subversive threats to the government. Sort of a lower tech NSA. Everywhere in Cuba there are sign imploring Obama to pardon and return the five Cuban “spies” jailed in the USA to Cuba and that point was made again here as our delegation stood on a little, dark street at night with the neighborhood chanting “Free the Five, Free the Five”…. But just for an awkward minute. Then we all drank rum and chatted and had a good time.

The next morning we strolled around Santa Clara as Michael continued on his week-long search to find Cubilette (a dice game where you play poker hands with the dice). He had been unsuccessful thus far. Nobody had them. And then at one of the crafts places one of the guys said that they can’t sell them because they are for gambling and gambling is illegal (as if no one bets on the ubiquitous dominos!). Anyway, we had resorted to asking bartenders and suspicious-looking characters on the streets. Today Michael asked one guy on the corner who said no. But then another guy in the group called us back and offered to run home and get us some. So we made the entire delegation sit on the bus while we waited on the corner for his return. Finally, a taxi rounded the bend, a hand reached out of the moving bus and handed off the dice to the guy waiting with us as the taxi continued on its way without stopping. They aren’t the prettiest looking plastic cubilette dice in the world but at least we bought them in Cuba in a strangely covert transaction.

The Bay of Pigs

On Wednesday we headed out of Havana to the southern shore to the Bay of Pigs stopping along the way at the little village called Batey Soplillar. It is the site of a famous Christmas Eve dinner that Fidel Castro shared with two local, charcoal producing families the first year after the Revolution. So there’s a tiny, little museum set up there memorializing this event. It was a simple dinner with the families but it held great significance to the country as a demonstration of Castro’s commitment to the poor.

The Bay of Pigs museum was just a small little two room building chronically the 72 hours of the invasion and Cuba’s victory over the invading mercenaries. As is often the case, the result of the attempt ended up being the complete opposite of the intent. Whereas the United States’ backed invasion hoped to overthrow Castro and to weaken his support amongst the general populace, in fact, the invasion (and the victory) only made the people more resolute and determined to preserve their new government. Viva la Revolucion!

Wednesday night we stayed in the World Heritage Site town of Cienfuegos.  Dinner was on our own, so Michael and I and another couple took the opportunity to stretch our legs by walking along the boardwalk into town and ate a nice dinner at a rooftop restaurant all decked out with Christmas decorations.

Oh and if you ever wondered where maracas come from…apparently they grow on trees.

Cuban Lemonade Stand

During one of our stops in downtown Havana, we clamored off the bus to find this young woman sitting right on the sidewalk with her little table selling drinks. Not lemonade but rum, of course. Just selling shots on the sidewalk. Gotta love it.

 

Clinics and Cannons

Tuesday was also full of professional meetings. The first at the Latin American School of Medicine where every year Cuba educates thousands of doctors from over one hundred different countries including (quite surprisingly) the United States and then sends them back to their home countries to provide care to those in need. After lunch we visited one of Cuba’s third and highest level of care medical hospital/institutes. We didn’t really get to see anything by way of the physical facilities, but did have some interesting conversations with the doctors. In spite of caring for 1500 cases a day, they profess to have a staggeringly low number of complaints (10 a year) which they conclude is a credit to their strong focus on communication with both the patient and the patient’s family. I’m sure there is some of that and some difference in the culture in general, but the fact that the hospitals are owned by Castro's government must have some part also.

For dinner Tuesday night we went to the National Hotel in downtown Havana. First we had a drink at the bar where the walls are covered with montages of celebrities who visited the hotel grouped by decades. Everyone from Johnny Weismuller, Betty Grable and George Raft to Jimmy Buffett and Leonardo DiCaprio. Then after dinner we piled back onto the bus to travel via the tunnel under the harbor to the Morro Castle which was built around the turn of the 17^th century to defend the city against pirate attacks. Nowadays they hold a nightly ceremony to reenact the old cannon shot that used to signal that the gates of the city were closing to secure the area for the night.

Unfortunately it started raining, More unfortunately, in spite of the fact that I was the one who had sent out an email to all of the delegates encouraging them to bring an umbrella because you ‘just never know when a squall is gonna kick up’ in the Caribbean, I did not have my umbrella with me. Our tour guide, Beatriz, was apparently pretty surprised that we elected to go on out to the point to see the firing of the gun. At every dry spot, she would stop and ask if we were all continuing on. We would say, of course. She would seem surprised. And then we'd go a bit further. The rain was off and on and variably heavy, but it was a lovely view from up on top looking back to Havana. And, seriously, how many times do you think you are going to be in Havana? So rain or shine, we were watching the cannon shot.

Michael at the Homestead in Regla, Cuba

The Buena Vista Social Club

Se puede Bailar

Monday morning took us to Regla. To visit the church there where most
people go to learn about the Afro-Cuban culture and especially
Santeria, an animistic religion that is practiced by many Cubans and
to see the famous black Madonna holding the white baby Jesus in the
local church.
Michael and I were also excited about visiting this area for a more
personal reason. When I was researching family trees on Ancestry.com,
I found a few Cuban addresses for Michael's great-grandfather listed
on various boat manifests back in the day of the family's frequent
travels back and forth between Cuba and Florida. One of these was from
1915 and was in a town called Regla. As one might imagine, the street
numbers themselves have changed. There is still a Marti Street (pretty
much the main drag) but the numbers start on the water with Number 100
and the address we had was 10. However, the general consensus between
one of our guides and the curator of the little museum was that #10
would have been right there at the "Mother's Park" where women would
take their babies down by the water. So even if we don't know the
specific house, his family must have lived right in this little area.
Very cool.
The rest of the day was filled with professional meetings with the
Ministry of Health and the Tourism folks, but Monday night we ate at
El Tablado de Pancho and then went to enjoy the show by the world
famous Buena Vista Social Club. The Social Club is an organization
dedicated to the preservation of the music from back around the
1940's. Not only is the music old but the band includes several
performers who were also popular at that time. It was not only
entertaining but also inspiring to see these musical artists in their
70's and even 80's singing and dancing and clearly having a wonderful
still enjoying performing. And the flowing mojitos, cuba libres, and
conga lines didn't hurt either. A good time was had by all.

Back in the USofA

We are safely back in the United States. In spite of everyone's
worries that customs and or immigration would be a nightmare given
where we were, nobody cared at all.

Getting out of Cuba was a bit stressful..not because of immigration
issues. But because we were all in the departures lounge waiting for
our plane to arrive, watching the board, when all of a sudden our
flight disappeared. Didn't change to delayed. Just disappeared. So we
were stuck there in the lounge with not a single (apparent) airline
employee to tell us what was going on. Some broken Spanish exchanged
with broken English netted us only the impression that nobody else was
much concerned. Then again all the folks queried were working and
living in Havana so what did it matter to them. Rather like when it
rains on vacation and you ask if the sun is going to come out....sure
eventually. Same with the plane. They all trusted that the plane would
arrive....eventually.

So there was a wee bit of stress and some challenging phone calls
(luckily someone had a phone with coverage in Cuba) to the tour
operator etc trying to get information. Don't get me wrong. We
received absolutely no help and no answers but the attempt kept us
occupied long enough until the plane finally landed (without warning
or fanfare). And we were off about 90 minutes late.

Rather than rush right into the Admiral's Club for the 4 hour wait for
our departing flight to St. Maarten, we stopped at the Cuban
restaurant here in MIA. As it turns out, Cuban Cuban food is not quite
the same as American Cuban food....close but just not the same. Rather
like two species of sparrow that started out the same but then through
some act of nature became physically separated and evolved just a bit
differently from each other in their disparate environments.

Now, we are trying to catch up in emails in the airline lounge where
quite honestly the wifi speed isn't all the much better than in the
hotel in Havana. But it is free. So I will soldier on and try to catch
up on the trip.....see subsequent posts.

Hola Habana

That first day, once we were on the road again, we went to Revolution Square where Michael impressed our guide with his extensive, childhood knowledge of the key players and the history of the time of the Revolution. Past the Capitol Building. More monuments. Along the sea wall to lunch at a local restaurant started off with, of course, Mojitos. A little more driving out to the hotel in the Miramar area. A little orientation. And then finally time to relax before dinner.

The buildings in Cuba are just as promised – dilapidated and decaying. Don’t get me wrong. I live in the Caribbean. I realize how hard it is to maintain a building in this environment. And these buildings are a whole lot older than my house. So it is not surprising to me at all that they look the way that they do. Nevertheless, when we were driving to dinner the first night and the bus slowed down, even I looked out the window and thought, “THIS is where the restaurant is?”

We were eating at a paladar which is a privately owned restaurant. Post revolution, all businesses were government run (which I imagine is why the gas stations and markets and restaurants don’t have names but appear to simply be marked by the location – like “4^th and Main Gas” or “Downtown Market”). Anyway, some years ago the Cuban government apparently decided to insinuate a wee bit of capitalism into the economy by allowing private enterprise. Hence the paladars which are privately owned (a percentage of course which is still government owned) restaurants established in people’s residences. We ate that first night at a famous one called Paladar Guardia which is known for being the setting of a very successful movie called ‘Fresa y Chocolate’ (Strawberries and Chocolate. It reminded me a lot of a restaurant we went to in Brazil. We entered the building on the first floor into a huge courtyard and then climbed 3-4 long flights of stairs up to the restaurant passing water tanks and clotheslines and residents on the way to the dining rooms that are all small, very personal spaces since they used to be rooms in the residence.

Sunday morning we headed out on a walking of tour of Havana’s four main squares (Vieja, de la Catedral, de Armas and de San Francisco). Michael did manage to buy a cane for his collection from an elderly gentleman who actually wanted to be paid to have his picture taken but was willing to sell the cane instead (no doubt for a much better profit). We were supposed to visit the Fine Arts Museum showcasing Cuban artists’ works but a national day of mourning had been declared in honor of the passing of Nelson Mandela so that museum was closed.  So we substituted a visit to the Museum of the Revolution across the street where we saw lots of mementos from the glory days of Castro, Che Guevara and Cienfeugos including the preserved and highly-guarded boat that delivered the band of brothers from Mexico back to Cuba to start the fighting.

Sunday night was dinner ‘on our own’ so a few of us elected to catch a cab into Old Havana to stroll around and catch a bite. I have to say that I did not find the area as charming at night. But it was definitely good to get a feel for the night life of the city even if it was a bit subdued as a result of the day of mourning. We were on a mission to find Cuban sandwiches which seemed on the verge of certain failure when we finally found them at a little bar that reminded Michael of his grandfather’s bar in his old photos. They didn’t press the sandwiches like we expected but the bread was abundant and it was definitely a local’s place. So sandwiches and beer made for a perfect evening capped off with the requisite daiquiris at (presumably) one of Hemingway’s old hangouts, The Floridita.

A good day.

 

La Guardia Paladar

 

Day One - The Invasion

Day One. The Invasion.

(Aside: Internet access is as expected difficult and slow here. So I'll post a bit from time to time if I can but I won't really catch up and am not expecting to upload photos until I am back home. Meanwhile….)

Leading a group is never an easy undertaking. But getting checked in for a charter flight to Havana is another thing entirely. Mi amigo, Fabrizio, did not want to deal with everyone individually. So I found myself on the floor in the terminal at 5AM gathering together the required documents from each bleary-eyed delegate:  Passport, check. Visa, check. Travel affidavit, check. Airline ticket. Check.

Then a coffee break at the conveniently located Dunkin Donuts waiting for Fabrizio to call me back over to give me the return airline vouchers and another document requiring each delegate's signature. So commences the handing out of said documents to each delegate. Check. Then the gathering up again of the signed documents. Check.

Then each individual still had to check in at the counter to get their boarding pass and to check their bags so I helped the woman at the counter locate each person and get them through that process so they could go stand in line to wait again to be called in order to pay the $20 (take your bag to the airplane special fee) plus any charge for extra weight. (A total allowed weight of 44 lbs turns out to not be all that much.)

All in all checking in for the flight required 2 hours so that the 5A start for a 9A flight no longer seemed quite so insane. Plus, as an added benefit, if you need to attach faces to names of 20 new friends as quickly as possible, all of that handing out and collecting of documents turns out to be an extremely effective tool!

In the end, we all made it onto the plane for the short flight to Havana. I chatted in what I believe to have been reasonable Spanish to the wee, little old woman sitting next to me on the plane. (Do you live in Havana? My husband's mother was Cuban. He was in Havana when he was a tiny little boy but doesn't remember very much. And even, that it is interesting that in Miami everyone speaks Spanish and English but on the plane to Havana the woman (I don't know the word for flight attendant) only spoke in English.)

Anyway, they let us into Cuba. There's even a stamp (yet to be located) in the modern art project that is the mass of stamps in my added and added and added passport pages.

Of course, the first thing everyone sees when stepping outside for the first time in Cuba, which I think is because everyone is waiting to see them, are the classic, old cars that abound on this island. Granted they often sit next to a brand new Audi, but there is indeed an abundance of them everywhere you look. Some in seemingly pristine condition (at least on the outside) and some of them not so much. But clearly each and every one of them is treasured by its owner.

From the airport to lunch we mostly drove the streets of different neighborhoods in Havana. Looking at the gardens on our right or the hospital on our left. But barely 15 minutes into the drive, just as we entered an intersection PELIGROSO (a big roundabout), the bus died. Yup, really. I kid you not. The great thing about it was that it was so perfectly fitting. Here we are in a world where all those old vehicles are maintained with spit and duct tape, and our bus died. So our driver took off his shirt, neatly folded it and set it aside, pulled out a good-sized piece of cardboard that was conveniently stored on the bus, and set about fixing the bus. He located the problem as a break in the accelerator cable, spliced it together with lord knows what, tucked the cardboard away, donned his clean shirt again, and we were off in less time than it would take AAA to respond to your cell phone call in the States. It couldn't have been a more apropos start to the experience if it had been carefully orchestrated.