The Cigar Lounge: Cuba up in smokes

Now, though, it’s more like the classified football results, as the reader proclaims the weekly salary, based on output, of every roller on the floor. The room, of course, is all ears — many of the workers admit to hearing the reader’s voice in their dreams.

The Sunday Times - TravelPage 1 || Page 2Now, though, it’s more like the classified football results, as the reader proclaims the weekly salary, based on output, of every roller on the floor. The room, of course, is all ears — many of the workers admit to hearing the reader’s voice in their dreams.

We finally reach the alpha-workers’ desk — the tasters. Lighting more than 40 cigars a day, they can spot a flaw in a single puff, and will send the whole batch back. The best salaried job on the shop floor carries its own risks — the tasters are loathed by the rollers, who don’t get paid for the rejects.

Eager to understand whether I’m standing in a sweatshop (if you’re holidaying in Cuba and you don’t become fascinated by the realities of life, you’re not really holidaying in Cuba), I press Maria for details of the workers’ deal. Not, on first impressions, a loyal employee, she grudgingly admits that the pay, job security, holidays and notoriously wild office parties add up to a decent package. On balance, let the revolucion roll.
And as the morning wears on, and the regular stops for a stiff mojito start to kick in, Octavio begins to reveal some potentially valuable connections. Might we be interested in taking home some of Cuba’s finest cigars, straight from the Fabrica de Tabacos Partagas, for a very good price?

With factory workers allowed to take home three cigars a day for “personal use”, Havana’s black market in tobacco is generously stocked, and in just a few minutes we’re peering into the gloom of a mouldy ground-floor apartment, where a fat man sleeps on a bare mattress in his fetid underpants, surrounded by wooden cartons. Octavio shakes him awake, and the transaction is swift — a box of Hoya de Monterrey, one of the mildest and smoothest brands, at a plump discount, with a plastic bag full of H Upmann’s (a more everyday smoke) thrown in for free.

Now, though, it’s more like the classified football results, as the reader proclaims the weekly salary, based on output, of every roller on the floor. The room, of course, is all ears — many of the workers admit to hearing the reader’s voice in their dreams.

The Sunday Times - TravelPage 1 || Page 2Now, though, it’s more like the classified football results, as the reader proclaims the weekly salary, based on output, of every roller on the floor. The room, of course, is all ears — many of the workers admit to hearing the reader’s voice in their dreams.

We finally reach the alpha-workers’ desk — the tasters. Lighting more than 40 cigars a day, they can spot a flaw in a single puff, and will send the whole batch back. The best salaried job on the shop floor carries its own risks — the tasters are loathed by the rollers, who don’t get paid for the rejects.

Eager to understand whether I’m standing in a sweatshop (if you’re holidaying in Cuba and you don’t become fascinated by the realities of life, you’re not really holidaying in Cuba), I press Maria for details of the workers’ deal. Not, on first impressions, a loyal employee, she grudgingly admits that the pay, job security, holidays and notoriously wild office parties add up to a decent package. On balance, let the revolucion roll.
And as the morning wears on, and the regular stops for a stiff mojito start to kick in, Octavio begins to reveal some potentially valuable connections. Might we be interested in taking home some of Cuba’s finest cigars, straight from the Fabrica de Tabacos Partagas, for a very good price?

With factory workers allowed to take home three cigars a day for “personal use”, Havana’s black market in tobacco is generously stocked, and in just a few minutes we’re peering into the gloom of a mouldy ground-floor apartment, where a fat man sleeps on a bare mattress in his fetid underpants, surrounded by wooden cartons. Octavio shakes him awake, and the transaction is swift — a box of Hoya de Monterrey, one of the mildest and smoothest brands, at a plump discount, with a plastic bag full of H Upmann’s (a more everyday smoke) thrown in for free.
...that's more my kind of trip...