Читать книгу 100 Places in Cuba Every Woman Should Go - Conner Gorry - Страница 21

I LIVED IN HAVANA FOR years under the mistaken impression that the giant parade ground that hosts hundreds of thousands every International Workers Day and the occasional pope, high-profile funeral procession (both Hugo Chávez and Fidel Castro were mourned here) and military displays, was constructed by the revolution. But like many buildings, plazas, hotels, and monuments, the Plaza de la Revolución was built by previous administrations, in this case by the infamous Fulgencio Batista. Back in those days, when it was known as the Plaza Cívica, no one imagined eight-hour speeches by Fidel Castro attended by a million admirers or Pope Francisco taking several turns around the plaza, without bulletproof glass or added protection in the Pope mobile, like happened in 2015. The giant sculpture of José Martí looming over the Plaza is one of the few full-body depictions of the “Apostle” in Havana. In 2018, an exact replica of the José Martí statue at the entrance to New York’s Central Park, a collaboration between the Bronx Museum and Cuba, was unveiled on Havana’s Prado; another one is Marti holding a baby and pointing (accusingly, say folks who like to read into these things) toward the US embassy. Both the Plaza de la Revolución and the “Protestódromo”—the open parade ground along the Malecón directly in front of the embassy—were once the preferred sites for railing against “yanqui” policies, but since the ascension of Raúl Castro to the presidency (and by the time you read this, there will no longer be a Castro as President), the rhetoric has been tempered mightily. No one says yanqui anymore, for instance; the preferred term for foreigners is Yuma and you’ll hear it wherever you go. There are still giant demonstrations held here, however, and if you can catch one, don’t miss it for the insight into how Cubans rally en masse.

Theories abound as to the origins of the slang term Yuma; most agree it comes from the Hollywood western 3:10 to Yuma, based on the story of the same name by Elmore Leonard.

It always makes me cringe to see folks visiting this monumental space under a blazing Havana sun. Don’t make this mistake: the emblematic Plaza de la Revolución is a wide open concrete parade ground (imagine a football stadium parking lot) completely devoid of shade, your photos will be totally burned out, and the risk of sun stroke is high. Besides, it’s one of the stops on the ubiquitous convertible car tours so some randoms from Kansas or Moscow are likely to make their way into your trip photos. At night, on the other hand, the bronze sculptures of revolutionary heroes Che Guevara and Camilo Cienfuegos are attractively backlit, the Memorial José Martí is illuminated from below and it will be deserted.

Time a visit on a Saturday night and you can catch the city’s best drag queen extravaganza, Divino, in the Cafe Cantante, below the Teatro Nacional. Early morning is another good time to head to the Plaza, when throngs of Cubans in olive green are arriving at their Ministry of the Interior posts (where the Che sculpture hangs), and workers are making their way to surrounding buildings, including the Ministry of Communications (where Havana’s main post office is housed) and the National Library. The one bonus to visiting during the day is you can access the Memorial José Marti—the giant phallus fronting the plaza. There’s an art gallery on the ground floor and an elevator that takes you to the top of the monument, delivering 360° bird’s eye views of Havana (or more precisely: buzzard’s eye views—the scavengers are constantly circling the monument, eliciting all manner of morbid commentary). Walk around the back of the memorial and there are some cafe tables and chairs and a full on view of the Comité Central, the seat of Cuban government.