JAN McGIRK
THE American economic blockade of Cuba keeps petrol-guzzling vehicles on the road long past their sell-by dates, while petrol is scarce. Caught in this double bind, residents of Cuba's decaying capital have devised any number of ingenious ways of getting around Havana on the cheap.
Not for them the sleek Citroen tourist taxis which charge a couple of dollars to go just a few blocks, or a stretched Lada limo. Locals who want to be on the move get the authorities to organise hitch-hiking for them.
At every major junction leading out of Cuban cities, the amarilos - traffic wardens clad in bright yellow - halt traffic to ask drivers about the final destination of all trucks and vans. Passengers, who must chip in a few pesos for fuel, line up on the roadside and wait for the wardens to direct them to the correct vehicle.
Once they arrive in the capital, they switch to a more complicated system N the colectivo. At first it looks as if most of Havana is out for a joyride along the Malecon, the wide seafront boulevard that curves round the city. By the half-dozen, people keep piling into old cars as big as boats, say a fuschia-toned 1955 Chevrolet or a robin's-egg blue Buick with a chrome grin and jutting fins.
Without warning, these cars will swerve to the side of the road to let someone jump out, slam the door, and wave goodbye before roaring off again. Valda, an exchange student from Guildhall in London, explained that these jalopies are actually communal cabs on unmarked routes.
"You have to pay attention, but a ride should only cost you a peso," she said. "It's best to climb in back straight away."
Indeed, Valda quickly discovered that chivalry had nothing to do wth being offered the comfy front seat.
"If someone sits in the back and a person joins later and sits up front, the front passenger gets stuck paying what's on the meter if the others get out first. That's the custom."
Ordinarily, one rider in effect charters the taxi from point to point, but then picks up others along the way who can offset the cost by paying a peso apiece. By law, only Cubans paying in local currency are supposed to use the colectivos, but Valda, with her West Indies heritage, doesn't appear foreign unless she opens her mouth.
"My accent is rubbish," she shrugs, "but I'm learning Spanish quickly. Though I am running through my money even faster. That's why I take the colectivo." She hailed a yellow Cadillac and, winking, scrambled into the back seat.
Catching the bus is more economical but waiting at a stop reqires honed social skills. Although it appears that everyone is just milling around, there is an invisible queue. You must be aware of who arrived immediately before you and, if you are not quick on the uptake and miss the subtle gestures, are expected to ask (in Spanish) "who's the last?"
Unless you communicate with the person before you, you are not considered part of the queue and will be jostled out of the way.
Pitifully, you will not be allowed on the departing guagua until you figure out the system. Up to 300 people can cram on to a standard city bus in Havana. These are very distinctive: an enormous double- jointed dromedary of a vehicle pulled by a truck. According to Raes, a hustler who prefers to walk, the nickname for this type of omnibus is "Saturday night at the cinema".
It's not that the bus can seat as many people as a cinema, but because the wild ride "will expose you to sex, crime, and alcohol".
Exposure to the elements is unavoidable on a motorcycle, and a least half the motorbikes in Havana have an old-fashioned side-car. The outrider often is draped in a nylon poncho during the rainy season, making it difficult to see the road, but there's no telling what might turn up beside you in these pods. I swear I saw two piglets in one sidecar and an old-fashioned double-bass in another.
Taking corners and roundabouts in one of these contraptions requires considerable nerve. "After a while, you get the knack," assures Panho, who once managed to knock his mother-in-law, sitting in the sidecar, against a post when he turned to gawk at a broad-hipped habanera swaying along the pavement.
Now she insists on taking the colectivo. - The Independent, London