By Serge F. Kovaleski
Washington Post Foreign Service
Friday, March 5, 1999; Page A27

HAVANA—It was a Saturday evening, and Abel Nunez was bored out of his skull.

His girlfriend dumped him last month for a Spanish businessman. Waiting for him back home was a family dinner of government-supplied food rations, followed by a few hours of state-run television on a black-and-white set. So he passed the time by sitting on a park bench, gazing wistfully at the foreign tourists as they headed out from their hotels for a night on the town. He hadn't budged in nearly three hours.

"Sometimes I feel like the boredom is eating away at me," said Nunez, a 24-year-old custodian. "I do not like sitting in this park or at home thinking about my problems. I want to be able to lose myself in other things, like dancing in discotheques or taking a girl out for a nice meal. . . . But most of the time that is not easy to do."

For Nunez and countless other young Cubans, boredom is perhaps the most trying feature of a communist system whose shortcomings have been magnified by the U.S. trade embargo and the collapse of the Soviet Union, which once supported this island nation with huge subsidies.

Notwithstanding recent salary hikes for workers such as teachers and police officers, the overwhelming majority of Cubans can hardly afford to put food on the table, let alone spend money on luxuries. At the same time, economic hard times have forced the government of President Fidel Castro to cut back on such state-funded entertainment as restaurants, night clubs and movie houses.

"I think people would like a little more frivolity in their lives," said a former Cuban government official.

One exception to Cuba's generally dismal economic picture is its thriving tourist industry, with its growing number of shops, restaurants and other facilities that accept payment only in U.S. dollars.

But that has only compounded the sense of frustration that many Cubans feel. Cubans are constantly reminded of their limited horizons by the busloads of foreigners who frolic in dollar-only bars, discotheques and restaurants, some of which charge up to $45 for a single entree.

Some Cubans, of course, have benefited from the influx of dollars, which they acquire through working in the tourist industry or from illicit activities such as prostitution or selling cigars and rum on the black market. Still others receive money from relatives in the United States.

It is not uncommon to see Cubans dancing alongside foreigners at the trendy Havana Club Salon. But in a country where a doctor earns the equivalent of $240 a year and basic government salaries run to $7 or $8 a month, the have-nots far outnumber the haves.

Generous subsidies for food, housing and medical care compensate to some degree for Cuba's minuscule salaries. But Cubans who earn their pay in pesos have little left over for fun. On a recent night in historic Old Havana, a group of young Cubans, with no dollars and few pesos to speak of, were relegated to standing outside an open-air bar to listen to the band as throngs of tourists sipped drinks and danced.

"There are few places left where Cubans can go for a good time without dollars," lamented Giovanis Harriette, 24, a construction worker in Havana, who does not have access to U.S. currency. "When I see what tourists can do here for fun, I think to myself, 'They are lucky.' . . . They have options to make their lives more interesting that I do not have."

Some Cubans say they resort to illegal activities not only for money but also for something to do. "If I was not a prostitute, I would be bored to death," said Julia, 22, who lives with her brother. "How else would I spend my nights? I suppose watching television with my neighbors because I do not have a TV."

Jilberto Castenedo, 24, who is unemployed, said: "Cuba has many good things, but it is hard for us to enjoy them. It is like our national currency does not exist at times."

"It is hard for us to even buy clothes with our national currency," he added. "It can be dull wearing the same shirts and pants over and over again."

Another form of entertainment for cash-strapped citizens of the Western hemisphere's most closed society has been mingling with foreigners in the streets. But that has become more risky since Cuban lawmakers approved stiff new penalties last month for political activities seen as supportive of U.S. policy toward Cuba.

In Havana, police frequently stop Cubans and ask for their identification cards; talking to a foreigner is a sure way to grab their attention. "I would like to chat with you about Cuba and a lot of other things, but they will come over and say something," Juan Carlos Alfonso, 29, told a reporter on a street before being approached by a police officer.

In the four decades since Castro took control of this island, Cuba has never had an abundance of Western-style entertainment and other commercial offerings for its people. The 1959 revolution swept away Havana's casinos and nightclubs, seen by Castro as decadent symbols of ousted dictator Fulgencio Batista's rule and the excesses of capitalism.

At the same time, Castro's government has spent generously on the arts, from opera and ballet to museums and theatrical productions. Tickets cost next to nothing. There are also a vast numbers of sports and other activities arranged at the community level. Meanwhile, the Union of Young Communists, the youth wing of the Communist Party, has set up discotheques and other clubs where customers can pay in pesos. And the island's beaches are among the finest in the world.

"There is plenty to do in Cuba, it just depends on whether people are willing to seek it out," said taxi driver Miguel Gomez, 25. "Unlike other countries where entertainment is all around you and easy to fall into . . . you have to work at it a little harder in Cuba. But it is definitely here."

On a recent Saturday night, streams of Cubans poured out of the Karl Marx Theater in Havana, where they had paid pesos to watch a comedy show which, along with movies, is a favorite pastime on the island.

But what followed underscored another reason why Cubans have a tough time finding ways to enjoy themselves.

From the theater, most of the audience had to walk a long distance through a tunnel and into another neighborhood to find a bus stop. Once there, the wait was anything but short, reflecting the dearth of public transportation in a country where most residents do not own automobiles.

"If you decide to go out at night, it can be hours before a bus arrives to take you where you want to go," said Maria, a 19-year-old student. "Then, you have to think about getting home later, which is even more difficult. . . . Sometimes it is just not worth it."

Cubans also complain that despite popular soap operas and some U.S. films, the programming on Cuba's two state-run television stations is lackluster and ideological. Many Cubans have placed illegal TV antennas atop their homes to pick up stations from their neighbor to the north, but authorities have recently demanded that they be taken down.

Cubans recall with some fondness the Soviet era, when the island enjoyed more vitality than many Communist nations, in part because of its tropical ambiance and the gregarious nature of its people. And, with billions of dollars in subsidies rolling in from Moscow, there was more for Cubans to do.

"During the Soviet era, there were more possibilities. We could go to any restaurants, bars and hotels for a good time," said Maritza Martinez, 26, who works in a bank. "I have a lot of faith and patience, but life is boring."