I grew up in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba (1959-65). Back then, Cubans would be allowed to come on base during the day to work. Castro took most of their wages of course. But many only came to eat. That way, their food at home would go to their families.
The Naval Base is small, only 45 square miles. One Cuban woman told me you could feed the entire nation of Cuba with the scraps from the tables on the Naval Base.
I heard of a man from a Soviet nation who came to the states. He froze up in the supermarket, saying he didn’t know which items he was supposed to buy. His daughter had to explain he could buy whatever he wanted: the government doesn’t tell you what to buy.
We were on a cruise of the Black Sea. Two of the ports were in the Ukraine.
The immigration officials that stamped our passports were anxious to bring their families on board because they wanted the food. The average monthly wage back then (1998) was $30.
They had restored a beautiful opera house in Odessa, but could not afford to pay anyone to perform there, so it sat unused.
The conditions in Bulgaria were pretty grim also.
I know a man who does occasional mission trips to Cuba. He tells me he could leave his wallet on a bench and come back later it would still be there, because people are so terrified of the police.
But the real danger is falling buildings. He said almost every trip he sees a building in Havana collapse from disrepair.