Saturday 2/25/2017 Cuban cables (or lack thereof) and horns

It is another beautiful day. The sun is streaming onto the front terrace. On the back terrace two french girls are having a full breakfast. Scrambled eggs, sliced pineapple and papaya, puffy rolls, fresh squeezed fruit

juice and coffee. We just yearn for cafe con leche. There is an issue with the gas supply. The stove flame is low and the heat is slow. Lingering on the front terrace is no trial.

Yesterday's attempts at finding a internet connected printer and usb cable, have made me curious about Havana shopping. We have seen some flea market / 14^th street NYC type open stalls in downtown Havana and some tourist shops in the old town but little by way of stores. Private ownership and commerce has only been permitted over the past four years, and then only on small scale. If you have the cash where do you spend it? Monica advises us there is a mall at the end of Paseo by the Malecon, just nine blocks past our banking destination yesterday. To spare Francis' back we'll catch a cab.

The mall, Galleria Paseo, is a four-story ramp reminiscent of an enclosed parking garage. Each level has one large shop except the top floor which has several small clothing stores. On the first floor is a household equipment store. A few gas stoves, clothes washers and refrigerators are on display. Not quite the display one sees at Best Buy. There is a counter with computer cables, including the usb we sought yesterday.

On the second floor is a super market of sorts. The shelves are filled but there is little selection. An entire aisle is filled with a single brand of saltines. Another with two flavors of the same brand of cookies. Francis has read that there is no beef available. There are a few steaks on display in a small fresh meat case and many bags of frozen hockey-pock burgers in the freezer case. The wine and liquor sales have a dramatically wider variety; there is every type of hard liquor: rum, vodka, rum, gin, rum, brandy, and lots more rum. International wines are represented, all countries except the US. No California Chardonnay here..

Across Paseo, The galleria faces the Melia Cohiba International Hotel and fronts onto the Malecon facing the Sea. The Hotel Melia Cohiba is a beautiful modern structure. The open lobby is cool and inviting and they have business center open to the public! Yes, internet access is available with printing capability! A sign states access is 5CUC per half hour but the agent provides a card valid for 75 minutes. The process is a bit confusing but she clarifies and after a bit od keyboard fumbling, we have a Googler login. 300 messages to delete unread and a few requiring response. Most importantly Francis' lost phone can be suspended and we will be able to return and check in for our flight home in a few days.

A small park and fountain sets between the Malecon and Paseo. A young woman is walking a great dane. The lumbering beast jumps into the fountain, laps up a drink and shakes itself off. I'm glad we are on the far side of the fountain as the owner tries to avoid the spray.

We notice there are cones along the Malecon drive and no cars. What is going on? Then a man running slowly approaches from the direction of old town. Another runner follows far behind him. They have numbered chest tags. It must have been a Marathon and these are the stragglers finishing. Fast or not, they are hot in the tropical sunshine. One discards a water bottle and wipes his brow before heading further West. The ground is littered with empty water bottles scattered between the traffic cones with the glittering Caribbean the background.

We cross and sit on the seawall watching giant cruise ships in the distance, small brightly colored fishing boats pass closer by and a snorkeler paddling just off the seawall. Groups of young boys carrying fishing tackle walk on top of the seawall accompanied by their dogs. One says “excuse me” in English and looks pleased with himself. He then jokes “one dollar, one dollar” with hand outstretched

. His friends look slightly embarrassed but we all laughed at his audacity.

Our missions accomplished, cable and internet pass in hand we wander back to Monica's. The first new yellow licensed taxi quotes us 10CUC, the next an older model quotes 3. Francis opines that the older the taxi the lower the price. From then on we flag down the beaters.

We rest before our evening out at La Zorra y el Cuervo, the fox and crow. This club dates back to the 1950's. While the Copacobana and La Parisian go for the glitzy Vegas show-girl style revues, this is a Jazz club. It is all about the music. The location itself is interesting. Imagine a old-fashioned red-painted wood and glass window phone booth quarded by a tall gentleman in a red and black tuxedo suit. Entering the phone booth you discover a hidden flight of stairs and a large night club, the music venue version of Dr. Who's inter-dimensional Tardis.

The show starts at 10 PM. We arrive a few minutes before 10 and the line already extends all the way down the block. Meiby is nowhere to be seen but the couple from Delaware is already in line, chatting up another American couple. Francis has brought a wrap for the sprained ankle. With her ankle supported she is looking forward to an opportunity to salsa. As we begin to chat, Meiby appears. We have tickets and reserved seats, she tells us, go get down the stairs! The three New York gals are not apparent so the other couple tags along with us. The show must go on.

The club is dark. Dark walls and low lighting make it hard to calculate the exact size but it is a big room. A full stand up bar runs along the central staircase with flanking rows of seated cafe tables ranging out from the bar. The stage at the opposite end of the room from the bar and entrance is surrounded by more cafe seating. We are escorted shown to seats at the very center front edge of the stage. A drum kit sets at the back, with a stand-up base to the right and a electric piano to the far right. Several styles of brass, keyed trumpet, flugelhorn and slide trombone set at ready to the right. Colored lights wash across the instruments as the single and soon to be stressed waitress brings us our complementary mojitos.

Very quickly, the tables, chairs and stand-up bar are filled with patrons and the musicians begin to take their oplaces on stage. We are close enough to reach out and touch Yazak Manzano as he welcomes everyone. The acoustics are excellent, the sound balanced not loud. He begins to play, starting with the trombone. He makes the brass cry and moan. The base lays back, providing the foundation beat, while the drummer syncopates and weaves complicated rhythms, which the pianist intertwines with his notes and solos. A second horn player on saxophone similarly trades off with Yazak. The set ranges from standard jazz with a mid-century California mellow style to Santeria rhythmic chant inspired syncopated songs. All the performers are superior, immersed in their instrument.

It is electrifying performance. Yazak moves from trombone to to horn to flugelhorn with ease. He and the sax literally step aside in order that the drummer, piano ad bass have the limelight. The drum solos are inspired. Never before have I seen brushes and sticks used under and over the drum bodies, heads and cymbals to create belended tones. The pianist is excellent combining Bill Evan-ish riffs into Latin Rumba tunes. The base is more laid back just thrumming a solid beat. Between the two sets CDs are available. Definitely, this is the souvenir to take home.

2 one hour sets is a long experience; the musicians maintain their power to the end. At the end of the second set Meiby is convinced to get up on stage, where she sings a traditional Cuban Son trading choruses in a duet with Yazak's trombone. Yazak makes his brass come alive and sing. She sits down and he continues his own scat singing and trombone duet to close the show. 

As we emerge through the phone booth, the streets are thronged with crowds of young people. We hail a taxi back to Calle B. The basketball games are still full swing under the lights but we are ready to retire to bed.