Sadness, shame and something more
By Aurelio Pedroso
HAVANA – If the Cuban authorities are serious about promoting international tourism, they should cast a critical eye at José Martí International Airport (HAV) in Rancho Boyeros, Havana.
I suggest that the visit NOT be announced, because in this country – as in others – when superiors decided to inspect inferiors, word gets around and the latter prepare. Like faithful students at the Actors Studio, the underlings make sure everything comes up roses, with hugs and congratulations for everyone.
Another way to learn about unpleasant welcomes is to enter the airport not through the VIP or diplomatic rooms but as ordinary tourists, like the French (who are forever clueless) or the humble Guatemalan native who comes to Havana to visit his son (who is studying medicine, free of charge) after an overnight flight.
Let the incognito authorities stand in line and learn that airport hospitality is seldom in evidence and that repeat travel – that important element of tourism – will be abandoned by the tourists, who’ll go elsewhere in the Caribbean or test the Australian beaches.
It’s a lamentable state of affairs. And it’s not an occasional phenomenon on a bad day, but a scenario that has been repeated for a long time now.
In the country of colors, contrasts, clarity of landscapes and seascapes, the halls in the air terminal are steeped in darkness. I’m almost convinced that this is not due to faulty lighting fixtures but to some functionary’s opinion that electric power must be conserved. Energy savings is advisable in facilities other than airports, but Martí International should be exempt.
To fill a Customs or Immigration form you need 20/20 vision. And if you carry a miner’s lamp, so much the better. In other words, the picture couldn’t be darker.
Another element that deserves swift attention (and should not cost much to improve) are the immigration booths, which resemble the tents at an itinerant circus where they show the two-headed chicken. You enter, a buzzer sounds, a box opens and you see the bicephalous bird with a 360-degree vision span.
A smile should be a pleasant welcome to the island. Officials should ask questions, not interrogate for a long time. They should shorten a process, without skipping the essential requirements of any official institution in this world.
A Customs inspection can result in a lamentable spectacle. What I describe below happened to me at La Aurora International Airport in Guatemala City. A few minutes after I boarded the plane, three native SWATs surrounded me because allegedly ("according to the scanner") I carried explosives in my luggage.
I was taken to a private room where my bags were opened, revealing four cigarette lighters, the source of the concern. Not much different from the case of a tourist in Havana who, in sight of everyone, was ordered to unwrap and display a dozen lipsticks, meant to adorn women’s lips, not scribble graffiti on walls.
The Cuban Customs office (I am told by inside sources) has the most modern devices to detect the smuggling of drugs or explosives or other prohibited products into the country. It would be nice if Customs agents were more professional and not get rattled by a simple container of parmesan cheese in a transparent wrapping, just as it came from the factory.
The Customs inspector at HAV turned it upside down repeatedly, as if it were a sand clock. Filled with either doubt or ignorance, she summoned a "phytosanitation expert." The poor fellow was totally lost because he had no idea what parmesan cheese is. This, in a country where, out of necessity, Cubans eat spaghetti and other pastas with as much passion as (or greater gusto than) an Italian. Fortunately, the container was not confiscated, but its owner underwent long and bitter uncertainty.
My travel companion, the Guatemalan native, watched a detailed examination of all the food, typical or not, he brought for his son, a scholarship student at the Latin American School of Medicine. The foods passed inspection and by now have been consumed by his son and closest friends, because many low-income foreign youngsters graduate from that school as physicians.
One of the amazing Customs requirements is that the passenger must state how much he spent on the clothing he brings. What if all the clothes were presents, as it often happens among Cubans who travel to their homeland? Well then, contrary to the rule that you remove price tags when you give a present, travelers to Cuba will have to make sure that all price tags are retained, for the benefit of our Customs inspectors. It’s crazy, as my grandmother used to say.
At the Havana airport, several state agencies and organizations must operate toward a common good. They resemble a symphony orchestra, where one discordant note can ruin a concert. Regrettably, there is no conductor and the impression conveyed ranges from a sweet oboe to a noisy set of drums.
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