Say anything you want about Hemmingway, he was an alcoholic, a womanizer, perhaps you don’t even enjoy his writing that much, but the man had impeccable taste particularly when it came to his home. His taste was so fine he could even pull off 20 different deer heads mounted on his walls, a cheetah skin strewn across the couch, lizards his cats caught floating in formaldehyde filled jars over the toilet, and the giant head of a buffalo in his study.
Hemmingway spent a lot of time in Cuba and owned a small estate called “Finca Vigia” which was originally a lookout point for the Spanish. Today, the home functions as a museum and on Friday after class we went to visit. It’s a fairly small house and all the rooms flow together, there are very few doors. From the back you can see the ocean, then the skyline of Habana, then the outskirts of Habana until you hit the edge of Hemmingway’s property. We saw all of his things, his ridiculous number of boots, his taxidermies from hunting excursions, his knick-knacks that he collected during his travels, paintings, and photographs, his anti-dandruff shampoo. The house was left exactly as it was. All his furniture was made with dark, warm wood that shined despite looking lovingly worn and the floors were all tile but were intricately patterned. He had left the walls white except in a tower he used to entertain mistresses and occasionally write which he had painted a bright turquoise that contrasted nicely. On the wall in the bathroom he had carefully noted his weigh for five years not from month to month, but instead from meal to meal or before and after exercised or different times of the day. We were shown his two “cat rooms,” it’s rumored that at one point he kept up to 55 cats at the house and he would place the photos of his preferred cats on the dining room table. The cat rooms were really just guest bedrooms that the cats had taken over. We also got to see his 7-man yacht that him and his buddies used to go out on in order to search for Nazi Submarines during WWII. I can only imagine a skunked Hemmingway with all his friends yelling that they’ve spotted an enemy sub and radioing it in, only to find that it’s a whale or a sandbar. They even had a secret society called, “ The Crook Factor.”
What I loved most about his house though was that almost every room was lined with bookshelves. Our guide told us that there were over 9000 books in the house and all of them were on those shelves. He had shelves of all different sizes, some big ones that reached the ceilings and then lower ones on top of which he kept collections of animal skulls, sea shells, feathers, wooden carvings, and all sorts of things. It was absolutely incredible and if I could have any wish I would wish to spend the day in Hemmingway’s house just looking at the books he owned, running my fingers over the bindings, flipping through the pages, and perhaps even settling on one and spending the afternoon reading it. I love looking through peoples’ books, seeing what they’ve read, what they’ve chosen to display or keep close to them, and I imagine Hemmingway’s selection would be very intriguing. I also realized that I hope once I own a home some day I want to be surrounded in books like that.
After Hemmingway’s house I came home and took a little nap and then set out for an art opening called “Landings.” It was pretty mediocre and I think I missed the point although visually there were a few interesting pieces. All of Habana’s hip cats were there and that was kind of cool. It’s funny; no matter where you are art openings are always the same. On our way to the opening though, we were drawn into a yard where terrific jazz music was being played. A band was set up outside with piano, drums, bass, alto sax, clarinet, and soprano sax. We went in and no one objected so we sat down and listened for a few songs. The alto sax player wasn’t too good, I thought his tone was terrible and he couldn’t improvise but all the other musicians were phenomenal! It seemed like they were playing songs that were fairly new to them but perhaps that made it even more interesting to watch them signal at each other with different expressions when someone played something wrong or missed a cue or when someone should have started their solo.
After the opening Ana, Tiana, and I went to Habana Vieja because Thursday and Friday marked the anniversary of the founding of the city and there’s a special ceiba tree that you walk around three times and each time you get to make a wish. First though we decided to conclude our Hemmingway day by going to a bar called “The Floriditia” which is not only the “cradle of the daiquiri” but was also one of Hemmingway’s favorite hangouts. I got a coconut daiquiri and it was amazing, Ana got strawberry and Tiana got mint (I liked mine the best.) Unfortunately we couldn’t get a second because they’re pretty expensive so we had to sadly pay our bill and leave.
We made our way to the ceiba tree, which was only a few blocks away, but there were hundreds of people there so we had to wait in line. While waiting we started playing 20 questions and when we realized that everyone around us in line was watching we started playing in Spanish and everyone started guessing. This very sweet old man was so enthused about the game he interrupted on the 15th question with his own item that he described and we all had to guess. He continued doing this for the next hour but all of his words were antiquated or kinds of furniture that no longer exist, so when he finally told everyone what it was, no one had known the word anyway. We stood in line for about 2 and half hours chatting with people and asking them about school and where we should go in Habana, and trying to find out the history of this tree, which no one knew. Everyone got a laugh out of the fact that they had done this tradition almost every year of their life yet they had no idea why. The whole experience was perfect, it’s been very difficult for me to find people to talk to who I actually want to talk to during my time here so having an entire evening filled with good conversation in Spanish was great.
As you got closer to the tree a hush fell over the line and people were ushered into the yard where the tree sits in groups of 6. It’s a really beautiful tradition and feeling the smooth bark of this massive tree under my hand and stepping over roots with a wish repeating over and over in my head was a nice feeling and would have been a release from reality had these idiot guys not been yelling from across the yard, “¡Ay! ¡China! ¡Qué Linda!” Afterwards we said goodbye to all our new friends with the customary kiss on the cheeks and even exchanged numbers with one girl who we will hopefully see again. We then piled into an ancient rumbley maquina and fell into bed, exhausted.