Cuban Airports - The Chokepoint

Cuban Airports: The Chokepoint / Yoani Sanchez
Posted on November 17, 2013

People crowd together in the suffocating heat, some are holding signs
with names printed on them. The flight from Madrid just landed at José
Martí International Airport, bringing tourists and many nationals now
living in Spain. Each person must wait forty minutes to an hour — at
least — before finally passing through the exit door. Havana is one of
the world's slowest airports, the worst lit, and with the fewest
services for the traveler.

In a country that receives almost three million tourists a year,
updating its airport facilities is vital for the economy. If these
places don't meet international standards, it's unlikely that the island
— in the short or medium term — can play host to more visitors.

Aware of its major shortcomings, ECASA (Cuban Airports and Aeronautical
Services S.A.) has begun a process of remodeling some of its arrival and
departure lounges, but the problem requires more than adjustments and
redesign. Its principal limitations are not only material, but also its
excessive controls, the lack of comfort, and the attitudes of its employees.

Departure lounges, restrictions and inadequacies

Alina has arrived at the Havana airport three hours early, but it may
not be enough. She can check in only at the airline counter, as there
are no machines to perform the procedures independently. This limitation
lengthens the lines, slows the whole process of obtaining a boarding
pass, and feeds the image of an always crowded lounge that characterizes
José Martí Airport.

A frequent traveler to Spain, thanks to her new EU passport, Alina has
come prepared for a cramped and awkward process. She flies through
Terminal 2 because Terminal 3 — larger and more modern — is being
remodeled and recently experienced a fire. In her bag she carries a
snack made at home, because she knows the prices there are stratospheric
and the offerings are very limited.

Poor signage completes the picture. For ten minutes the frustrated
customer looks for a bathroom but the directional signs are scarce and
not very visible. Few of the ceiling lights are on, which makes the
various areas of the lounge dark. Still, every passenger must pay the
airport tax. In the line to hand over 25 convertible pesos ($28 US), one
hears the tourists complaining about the tenuous relationship between
the price and the quality of the facilities. Cuban passengers, however,
remain silent, not wanting to cause problems for themselves just when
they're about to leave the island.

Without a Wi-Fi network to access the Internet, any modern airport falls
several points on the scale of quality. With regards to communication,
no embarkation point in Cuba is competitive, not even Varadero. The few
public phones and the lack of a wireless network diminish the chances to
communicate. To this is added the TVs buzzing away with their tired
tourist announcements or overly ideological programs like Cubavision's
Roundtable. Nor is there a stand selling magazines or newspapers, just
some souvenir kiosks where they sell the works of Ernesto Guevara and
the speeches of Fidel Castro.

Alina is also prepared to avoid boredom while waiting, and has brought
some headphones to listen to music on her phone. She waits at the exit
doors — there are only two: A and B — until an employee shouts out that
her flight is already checking in.

Arrivals and the collision with reality

Humberto arrives after a trip to the United States. This was his first
trip abroad, so he's still stunned by the size of the Miami airport. On
the plane back to Cuba he's filled out the Customs form and in his
pocket he has a copy of the boarding pass he got at the exit. He joins
the long line for immigration and next will have to answer a brief
medical questionnaire which he will also have to sign. A few steps away
the luggage waits, the slowest point in the entry to Cuban territory.
Every suitcase will be put through a scanner to investigate its contents.

After analyzing each bag or suitcase, they will attach "markers" to
those that need to be inspected. A small red strip tied to the handle
may mean it contains some home appliance or computer. If instead, it
contains an external hard disk, then they write some initials on the
paper strip that identifies the flight. There is no way to avoid this
process. The customs officers are trained to keep out a long list of
objects.

Humberto's granddaughters, born in Coral Gables, have given him a laptop
and a smartphone. So he must go to the table where they open his
suitcase and minutely search everything. They take the computer to an
office, where they probably inspect its files or make a copy of them.
He's already waited an hour and a half since the plane touched down and
will probably wait a little longer.

While they search his belonging they tell him he can't make calls on his
cellphone. "Welcome to Cuba," he tells himself when an officer asks what
those "bullet-shaped" pressed cotton things are. "Tampons for my
daughter," he responds grumpily.

Two hours after arriving in his own country, Humberto passes through the
gate in Terminal 2. At the same time, Alina is already seated on her
flight to cross the Atlantic. Looking out the window she whispers,
"Goodbye Havana airport, I hope I don't see you for a long time!"

The post Aeropuertos cubanos: el nudo en el embudo appeared first on
Generación Y – Yoani Sánchez by Yoani Sánchez

17 November 2013

Source: "Cuban Airports: The Chokepoint / Yoani Sanchez | Translating
Cuba" -
http://translatingcuba.com/cuban-airports-the-chokepoint-yoani-sanchez/