How to Visit Cuba Without Pissing Off Your Cuban Parents: Part 2, Where to Eat

By Joshua Abril Mon., Apr. 4 2011 at 10:00 AM

Categories: Culture

Flickr CC ASurroca

Fulano, the Miami Cubanaso, has all the know-how you second-generation Cubericans need to visit the motherland without (hopefully) getting disowned by your exiled grandparents or by your Bay of Pigs-veteran old man. Here's Part Two: Where to Eat.

¡Que bola, aceres! In Part 1, we told you how to stay at a casa particular when you finally go to check out your roots. Now we gotta tell you where to grub, because sleeping on a bench ain't nothing as long as my stomach has something good in it. Pero before we do that, we gotta explain you Cuban money.

You got two kinds of money in Cuba: the peso nacional, which is what the Cubans use, and a type of flow that tourists are supposed to use called the peso convertible.The tourist money has got mad other names such as C.U.C., cuc (bro, like kooky), convertible, and chavito. We think they started using this because money's dirty, and they don't want foreigners bringing stupid diseases, like that democro-fever that's been spreading lately.

One dollar is worth like 24 pesos nacional, or something like 80 chavito cents. So obviously you wanna be spending pesos nacionales, right? Dog, you can do that and put the flow back in the people's pockets.

Photos by Joshua Abril

The Paladar:

These are like the casas particulares of the Cuban food world: People give up tax money, and they can sell food and stuff out the crib. Pero just 'cause they're serving up food straight out the kitchen doesn't mean that they're all cheap. If the menu's in chavitos, you could be spending mad cheddar, like $8 a plate or more.

That's cool if you roll like that, but some of us gotta make ends meet. If you're broke, don't get all scared off just 'cause some place looks scrubbed out. We found this one place once... it was just a sign out front of this sketchy ally. Pero we were broke and said what the hell.

All this place was was an open door, a short menu over the ringer, abuelo sitting on the couch watching TV, and abuela in the kitchen. We rang the bell, and some guy brought us each a box with puelco, congri, and a small banana and salad. Like 25 nacionales! The guy was mad funny, too. He spoke like four different languages. We're not gonna front like it filled us up, and the meat-to-rice ratio was kinda slack, but it did us right. And for a dollar, come on.

The thing is, paladares don't always have signs. There's the cafeteria windows on the street with refrescos and pizza and sandwiches and whatever (if you see the lasagna, run). Then you got the spots where you can sit and eat, and you can usually get a full plate of something. Pero sometimes you can get a plate at the window. Bro, you'll figure it out.

Think like this: if it looks like it was built to be a restaurant, it's probably state-run. If not, it's probably a paladar. If it's late night, you might be out of gas and have to hit a spot owned by the state. Just a heads up, if you eat the hot dogs, don't make plans for the next day.

The Meat-Rag Rumor:

We heard a rumor here in Miami, right, that there were paladares selling rags disguised as meat. ... dog, okay, check it out, if you get ducked out by someone feeding you a rag... Brother, we're not saying it's never happened, but if anyone out there actually comes across this, bro, PLEASE, take a picture, write down the street, and send it to us for our meat-rag alert.

So, now you know where to sleep and where to eat without feeling like a total sell-out. Next time, we'll wrap this whole thing up with how to get around. It might sound a little shady, pero we guarantee you won't see any other tourists.

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