Charley Visits Cuba

Location:
Cuba

Hurricane on holiday

By Rhian

Charley Visits Cuba

As the taxi crested the drive of the Brises del Caribe resort in Varadero I was somewhat taken aback at the sight of sudden and rampant construction throughout the grounds. In hindsight, traveling during the hurricane season was perhaps not the best of ideas, but still, you don’t expect to return to your hotel after a morning of sightseeing to find it transformed into something that would not be out of place in a siege.

The day had started fairly innocuously with the same glorious hot sun and bright blue skies that I had come to expect during my time in Cuba. My two friends and I took a bus ride into town to wander around and barter – pathetically - for goods in the town market:

Me (using a neato combination of mime and broken Spanish): “Yo le daré cinco dólares para la tortuga de piedra” (an attempt to say “I will give you five dollars for the stone turtle”)

Market Vendor: “¡Seis dólares!” (translation: “six dollars!”)

Me: ¿Urgencias, bueno, qué tal cuatro dólares?? “ (“er, ok, what about four dollars?”)

Market Vendor: “¡Siete dólares!” (“seven dollars!”)

Me (confused): “¿No es supuesto usted estar bajando de precio?” (“aren’t you supposed to be going down in price?”)

Market Vendor: “¡Doce dólares!” (“twelve dollars!”)

Me: “pues . . . ” (“um . . . ”)

After buying a small stone turtle for the approximate cost of a real one, I left the market vendor counting my money and had a leisurely lunch with my remaining funds. Arriving back that afternoon the three of us were greeted with the sight of the hotel being boarded up with sheets of plywood over every window and most doors. By way of an explanation the front desk, which had been displaying small hurricane warnings all week, now had a large white sign up that read "HURRICANE IMMINENT."

It seems that I had inadvertently chosen to travel during a time when most of the Atlantic area was experiencing a peak in tropical storm and hurricane activity. In fact, 2004 was a year of strong hurricane activity in the Atlantic, with approximately 15 tropical storms and nine hurricanes, at least six of them considered severe. Not that I think any hurricane could be considered mild! When I arrived in Cuba a tropical storm known as Bonnie was brewing. Hurricane Charley, the one who was about to visit our island resort, had been but a twinkle on the radar map as Bonnie took centre stage. As it turned out, Bonnie huffed and puffed and blew herself out before ever turning into a true hurricane, but Charley charged up behind her, well traveled from the coast of Africa and determined to wreak havoc, obtain some media coverage, and ensure a unique holiday memory for many travellers.

Picking my way through nails and wood, I made it down the now stuffy and boarded up halls to my room, where I discovered a big “X” in brown packing tape across the sliding glass doors to my balcony. To warn against going outside, or to try and protect against glass breakage? It was unclear as to the intent - or of the ability of the flimsy tape to do its job. Matches and candles were laid out on the desk. Guests were confined to their rooms after ten in the evening. The kicker, though, was that the free alcohol was cut off! I am not sure what would have been worse: inebriated people going “hey, let’s go watch the hurricane come ashore from the beach, that sounds like a good plan!” or sober people saying “hey, let’s go watch the hurricane come ashore from the beach, since we can’t drink.”

I was worried but not panicked that I was on an island due to be visited by a hurricane, as the resort was not in the direct path of Charley - until the hotel staff came around handing out survival packages that consisted of two huge bottles of water, two cartons of sickly sweet pear juice, and a bun with ham and cheese on it. They looked agitated and in a rush, although this could also have been attributed to being responsible during a hurricane for a thousand plus resort guests who had been drinking since 8 a.m. The climate dictated that you eat the food right away as there was no fridge to store it in. So my friend and I had bread and cheese, our other friend had all the ham, and we all threw out our sugary pear juice. I guess we would not make very good survivors since we clearly did not understand the concept of rationing supplies, but I preferred this to eating the food later and coming down with food poisoning during a hurricane, or developing diabetes from the juice.

Bored with waiting, my friends and I wandered down to the beach for a look-see (see above re: alcohol). All the white plastic loungers were gone, and the thatched umbrellas were strung together with twine. I didn't know how effective that was going to prove against hurricane force winds, but I guess time would tell. The ocean was devoid of swimmers, and even the daily fixture of Cuban women offering to braid your hair for an exorbitant price were also nowhere in sight -- now that was scary.

It was now the sea and the sky that commanded attention, rather than the frequent refrain of “braids?” The ocean was dead calm. Now, I know people use that word, but until you have actually experienced the calm before a hurricane, it is not possible to fully comprehend what this means. The sea was like smooth glass: not a ripple, not a splash, not a fish to be seen -- in fact, no movement whatsoever. Gone were the brilliant aquamarine waters of the morning. The sea was now a metallic and unfriendly blue-grey color that appeared very foreboding. The air had a suffocating and deathly still quietness to it. In the distance the sky was purple and indigo for as far and as high as the eye could see. The wind was starting to pick up, whipping sand around and rocking the thatched umbrellas in their posts, but there were no waves yet. The weather was still warm enough to wear a tank top and shorts, but the air felt very charged. Eerie would be a good adjective to describe this small section of the world at that point in time.

Since we were on the edge of the danger zone the hotel was not being evacuated, but the Cuban government did issue an evacuation warning for over 230,000 citizens and almost 160,000 animals in the areas of expected impact. I am not sure how many animals were literate enough to be able to understand these warnings and organize transportation.

Evacuations to sturdier and safer areas in Havana numbered almost 50,000. I hope that the cats in Havana that I fed my lunch to were part of this exodus.

Retiring to my room, I watched sporadic and fuzzy CNN, absorbing all the hurricane facts, updates and evacuations, and whiled away the evening. I carefully packed my expensive stone turtle against breakage. I watched more breaking hurricane coverage on the television. It was odd to be watching information on Hurricane Charley coming ashore when all I really had to do was look out the window. In fact, I actually went to bed, and to sleep, and so missed some of the gale force winds throughout the night. Yup, that's right - I slept through a hurricane. Talk about being blasé! I wasn’t, it was just that there is only so much news you can watch before it begins to be repeated, and we weren’t allowed outside.

Overnight, Charley crossed Cuba as a category three hurricane. It made landfall in southern Cuba in the area of Playa del Cajio with winds of 190 kilometres an hour. Crossing the island Charley lessened in intensity and passed through Havana (only 140 kilometres from my resort) at a sedate 180 kilometres an hour. Charley would later increase in strength again and make landfall in Florida both as a category four hurricane and as their second major hurricane of the season. At its height, Charley reached winds of 240 kilometres per hour.

The morning after the storm the resort in Varadero looked like the weather had had a raucous party with it. Everywhere you looked there were broken palm fronds and branches, overturned chairs, and debris in the pools. The tape on my balcony doors had half done its job – there was no glass breakage, although I had gone outside. Miraculously, the twine tied umbrellas were still on the beach; they must have been cemented in. Sand had been formed into new and creative looking hills. The sky was no longer the indigo purple from yesterday but it was still a very dark blue and steel grey with low hanging clouds for as far as you cared to look.

But it was the sea, again, that commanded attention. The water was still not the usual brilliant turquoise but had progressed from a metallic blue-grey to an angry slate grey. The noise of the surf rushing towards shore was quite loud compared to the gentle lapping from the day previous. As each wave of water crested over and crashed onto shore all the sand that the waves were churning up made the waves look brown. Lifeguards sat on their high chairs staring intently out to sea. The yellow flag was out, indicating that it was OK to go in the water, but to exercise caution. So of course I went in –- everybody else was doing it, so it must be safe, right? Wading in ankle deep was as far as you had to go before feeling the pull of the current. Waist deep was as far as I ventured, and already that far out it was impossible to stand up straight or even to stand still. I was pushed down the beach several feet in a matter of seconds. In retrospect, the red flag should probably have been out, the current was that strong. The bright red towel that I had left on the beach as a reference point for when I came out quickly became smaller and further away. And I have never had so much sand in my bathing suit!

Charley was actually the strongest hurricane to come ashore since Hurricane Andrew in 1992, claiming the lives of at least four people in Cuba and leaving a clean-up estimated at over one billion dollars. According to one news report, Charley was the worst hurricane to visit Cuba since Hurricane Michelle in 2001. As I found out later, the old section of Havana where I had been the day before was quite obliterated, so I guess I had chosen the right day to see it. Farms, houses, fields, plantations, buildings, thousands were re-modeled thanks to Charley’s efforts. Not content with making land once, Charley also came ashore in Florida and South Carolina before being absorbed into another storm front. Quite the trip for a little wave from Africa.

A phone call home to give assurances that I was fine was met with an "OK." I guess when you are so far removed from the situation it does not seem real. And in fact, just one day after Charley’s visit, my last day in Cuba, dawned bright and hot. To look at the resort, you would not have known that a hurricane had just gone through it. To look at the sky, you would not know that tropical storm Earl was brewing far out to sea, yet to visit.

So what did I learn from this trip? I was given the opportunity to see first hand how a resort and a country handles hurricane preparations. I was able to experience looking out a window at gale force winds. And I learned a new Spanish phrase: ¿Es eso un huracán fuera de mi ventana?

Or, “is that a hurricane outside my window?”

Further Information

Other helpful information: The sun can be very fierce, so be sure to pack a lot of sunscreen (and make sure it has not expired, which is what happened to me). Bring some additional money for optional day trips if you are staying at a resort, as there are lots on offer. Try not to travel during the hurricane season.

Must see/do at this place: Varadero has some spectacular beaches, and the sand is like fine white flour. The sea is very warm, and the whole is conducive to relaxing. The old part of Havana is also worth taking in.

You should avoid here: Avoid drinking the water -- the water at resorts is supposed to be OK, but if you stick to bottled water, it is probably safer.