mark S.
A stay I'd rather forget. Never again. I've been visiting Isla Grande, Cuba, since November 2001, and have stayed in hundreds of casas particulares across Cuban cities and small towns. I've never had an experience this negative. The rooms themselves weren't bad, objectively speaking, but getting to the two rented rooms meant using a very steep, narrow staircase with uneven, high steps. It would be impossible for elderly or disabled guests, and even carrying luggage up was a balancing act. The house is also at least 3 km from tourist spots like Plaza de Marte, Ferreiro, Hotel Santiago, and Plaza Cespedes, as well as restaurants, bars, and swimming pools. There isn't much nearby besides run-down houses and roads full of potholes and puddles, apparently from pipes that are constantly leaking. The neighborhood felt extremely dangerous, with burglaries day and night. At night it was like a Gomorrah-type movie: police cars chased scooter thieves while the neighborhood cheered them on. There were strict visitor rules. We were told at the outset that no visitors, male or female, could come in before 11:00 PM. They weren't allowed in the morning or afternoon, and after 11:00 PM only one person per day could visit. A dear black friend I've known since 2004 was turned away when he came by at 7:00 PM. We weren't told when people came looking for us, whether by phone or in person. Once I had to speak through the window to let my visitor know I was home, after being told I was out. They said I wasn't there when I was. The owner's father, the Zucel woman's father, ran the house and made all the decisions, but didn't seem to know how to treat tourists. His requests and comments were absurd and almost incomprehensible, as if from someone with a psychiatric disorder. After breakfast, I kept a micro banana peel in the fridge in my room and was even asked where I'd thrown it. I was also ordered not to move the television from one table to another in case it fell, which made it impossible to use. There was constant nagging about closing the door and gate properly, meaning not slamming them, even though I never slammed them. They came into the room suddenly to check on things, which felt like a manic invasion of privacy. Breakfast was a pitiful three cuc: one orange for two people, one coffee each, and tiny portions. The gate was another ordeal, with a latch, a padlock, and a lock that took three or four minutes to open. At night, when you wanted to get inside safely, that was a long time. The owner herself told us she made a motorbike taxi driver wait while she unlocked it before she could get safely into the house. You had to reach through the bars by touch to put a key into the unseen lock, pull a latch by feel, then struggle with a lock that often failed and needed repeated attempts. A nightmare. The rooms may be all right, but everything else about the place and the way we were treated made the stay inadvisable and one I would never repeat.
