The Today Show to Air Cuba Special

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When people ask me what it is about Cuba that so enthralls me, I invariably tell a real-life tale that best epitomizes the country’s unique blend of eccentricity, eroticism and enigma.

In fact, that’s what I told NBC Today Show anchor Natalie Morales last week when she interviewed me in Havana.

The Today Show Cuba special will air on December 16th and 17th. Be sure to watch!

The NBC film crew tagged along for three days during National Geographic Expedition’s recent 10-day “Cuba: Discovery it’s People and Culture” trip (November 26-December 5).

Natalie interviewed me during a Sunday afternoon rumba—an Afro-Cuban music and dance session—in ‘Salvador’s Alley,’ where trip participants were fulfilling a requirement of the U.S. licensed trip… namely, a “people-to-people” educational exchange with Cubans involving meaningful interaction.

When Natalie asked me what it was about Cuba that was so special, I told her that walking Havana’s streets I often feel as if I’m living inside a romantic novel. I don’t want to sleep for fear of missing a vital experience.

On my first visit in 1993, my first reaction was of being caught in an eerie 1950s time warp.

Fading signs advertising Hotpoint and Singer conjured up the decadent decades when Cuba was a virtual colony of the United States. High-finned, voluptuous dowagers from the heyday of Detroit were everywhere, too: chrome-laden DeSotos, corpulent Buicks, stylish Plymouth Furies and other relics of 1950s ostentation, when American cars reflected the Hollywood Zeitgeist for excessive wealth, fantasy, gaudiness and sex with which Havana was at that time synonymous.

Before the revolution, Havana was a place of intrigue and tawdry romance. The whiff, the intimation of romance, of conspiracy, is still in the air.

One of the first moves of the revolutionary government was to kick out the Mafia and close the strip clubs, casinos and brothels. Not quite! Hints of Havana's old sauciness linger on at the Tropicana cabaret, the pre-Revolutionary open-air extravaganza – now in its sixth decade of stiletto-heeled paganism.

Alas I didn’t have time to tell Natalie my favorite anecdote that best sums up Havana’s surreal blend of socialism and sensuality.

On my last night in Havana in 1996, during my motorcycle journey through Cuba, I finally visited the Tropicana (I tell the full tale in my book, Mi Moto Fidel: Motorcycling Through Castro's Cuba).

I watched, mesmerized, as pink and mauve searchlights swept over hordes of voluptuous showgirls, gaudily feathered, parading twenty feet up among the floodlit palm trees. Suddenly, standing in front of me was the most exquisite of Tropicana's gorgeous showgirls. Our eyes met and I registered a mutual fancy. I leaped into the aisle, snapped a quick photo, and blurted out "You're beautiful! I'll wait for you outside." To my astonishment she appeared, dressed all in white. The moonlight shone full upon her white turban (she had shaved her head!), blouse, shawl, and calf-length skirt that billowed around her legs, now adorned in white stockings. Copper and bronze amulets glinted upon her arms, and she wore many necklaces—collares—of colorful beads. Mercedes was a santera, a follower of the santería religion; dressed thus, I knew that she lived at this moment in a high state of grace. Our smiles ricocheted. She took my hand, and I sensed the simplicity with which in Cuba desire can strike flaming miracles from charming scenes of tropical naiveté.

We hailed an illegal taxi, tucked ourselves in the back seat, and rode hand in hand through the dimly lit back streets of Havana. Suddenly, a policeman leaped into our path and frantically waved down the jalopy. A man lay bleeding in the street, he explained to the driver. The policeman wanted to bundle him into the car and commandeer it for a trip to the hospital.

"Ay, mi dios!" Mercedes exclaimed. She leaned forward and spoke through the driver's window. "Estoy de santera. No se puede!"

The policeman, a young black man, looked aghast, then waved us on and ran off to look for another car.

"What did you tell him?" I asked, astounded.

"I am not myself. I am Santa Teresa, patron saint of the dead," she replied. "If he had put that man in the car, I might have killed him."

I felt a chill run down my spine and pondered what my final few hours in Cuba had in store.

Now that you’re inspired to visit and to plan your travel in Cuba, buy Moon Cuba

For further information on Havana, buy Moon Spotlight Havana

Disclosure: I occasionally accept free or discounted travel when it coincides with my editorial goals. However, my opinion is never for sale. The opinions you see in Cuba & Costa Rica Journal are my unbiased reflection of the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Copyright © Christopher P. Baker

Photo of Christopher P. Baker and Natalie Morales © Dave Compton