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Published: April 4th 2011
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The roads in Cuba are, well, interesting. They're not the worst roads in the world, but they're deceptive. From a distance the highways look very good, but up close you realise that there is a good reason no that many people in Cuba drive on them. This all made the bus trip a little longer than it should have been, but we made it.
Coming down into
Santiago de Cuba was very nice. The bus descended into the valley through the palm trees, past the tropical vegetation and the run down houses. Santiago de Cuba is Cuba's second city, and maybe just a bit nicer than Havana. We stayed at another homestay, this time the house of Iliya. She was very nice, although she spoke Spanish very fast and completely dropped the 's' from her words – apparently that was how they did it in the east. She also had a pet turtle in a bucket. A bit weird.
It was at this point, too, that we really started to get into rum. Now, I know what some aussies might be thinking, but the rum, in Cuba was actually good. Really good. A lot of people would get
a Cuba Libre (rum, coke, touch of lime juice, and ice) but the Cubans would generally order a bottle of Havana Club and a 2L bottle of Coke for the table, and start the night there. I learned, however, to simply ask for “una reserva, doble, con hielo”. This would get me a double rum on ice, aged 7 years. Costing not more than $10 a bottle the Reserva left every other rum I've ever tasted in the dust. I will never again be able to drink Bundy without making a face. If only the Cubans would market it worldwide they would solve their debt problem.
Santiago was also the site of the 26th of July raid on the Moncada barracks by the incipient revolutionary movement in the early 50's. This was the unsuccessful raid led by Fidel Castro which is generally acknowledged as the first military action of the Cuban revolution. The barracks was turned into a school after the revolution triumphed, but there is one wing given over to a museum.
There was a lot of interesting stuff there, and disturbing – they have left Batista's torture room mainly intact as a reminder of the atrocities of
the previous regime.
There was quite a bit to do at Santiago – plenty of good places to have a drink and good food, sights, churches and what not. One of the must sees was the changing of the guard at the tomb of José Martí, which we made just in time, and the firing of the cannon at the fort. For this we got there just on sunset, having been sidetracked on the way by a sneaky visit to a lighthouse. With strict instructions not to point cameras to the left towards the military installation, we were allowed to go up to the top – for a reasonable under the table fee, of course.
Once at the fort we sort of hung about, waiting, until a small troop of army cadets marched up, dressed in period linen tunics and carrying replica rifles. With great ceremony they charged the cannon and shot a blank of heavy cloth towards the ocean as the sun dipped below the horizon. Disappointingly the use of cannonballs went out of fashion a while back for safety reasons.
Less exciting was the baseball game we endured the following day. For some perverse reason
baseball is the national sport of Cuba, and they're very good at it. Good show to them and all, but, good lord, it's a boring game. At least with cricket the players have to catch with bare hands, and they bowl faster – the baseball players get excited when a so-called 'fastball' makes its leisurely way to the bloke with the stick at about the same speed as a Warnie text conversation.
A mute magician, some more rum, and we were done with Santiago.
After a quick look around Bayamo – where the Cuban national anthem was sung for the first time and the local authorities have done the mall up with pretty good sculptures – we ended up on the far eastern tip of the island at
Baracoa. Baracoa would prove to be one of the highlights of the trip. Fewer tourists, an incredibly laid back vibe, and a perfect climate.
Klaire and I ended up at a homestay owned by a bloke who was quite the entrepeneur. It turned out that a few licenses had been granted to private citizens to seat up to 20 people in a restaurant, and this guy wanted to impress
us, and through us impress Tony Mas, the guide, who had a great deal of influence – impress Tony enough and the business would be practically guaranteed. And impress us he did – the accommodation was great, the food perfect, and he even hired a waiter to wait on us on one of the nights we ate in his restaurant. The restaurant was being built while we were there, and it was being well set up.
In fact, the whole street was slowly being set up for these small restaurants. Not a bad way to do it, actually. The restriction of size means that a good atmosphere will build up in the area – lots of little places, variety, rather that the domination of one or two big establishments. It seemed that Raul was loosening the strings a bit. Possible moving a little too slowly, but definitely better than the free for all that would result if the restrictions went all together.
And there was some very nice country around the town, too, which we managed to have a look at. Treks through tropical farmland, into the forest to a hidden waterfall – not a bad way to
spend and afternoon.
But the trip was almost done. We had to catch a little plane back to Havana to wrap it all up, where, apparently, it was cold. Yeah, cold like Darwin, with the people to match – pulling out gloves and jumpers because the temperature had dropped below 20 degrees C.
Flicked on the telly back at the Hotel Victoria, which was the first time we heard about the floods back home. It was more than passing strange to see Brisbane as the lead news story in Cuba, and not for a good reason.
The farewell dinner was at a place called Bom Apetite – again the Cuban system surprised. Imagine rocking up at someone's house, walking in the side gate to the backyard...and discovering they had built a very flash restaurant in the back verandah capable of seating 40 odd people. Anyway, the food was excellent, and relatively cheap.
We said our farewells, and also farewells to the Hotel Victoria. We had an extra night in Havana, so we had to find alternative accommodation – which we found at an old apartment building directly across the road from the Hotel Nacional. Wandering past
Church, Baracoa
This is supposed to have been the first church in the Americas. That's right, the pillage started here. we noticed the sign for the casas, and it happened that virtually every apartment in the building let rooms out. The residents had formed sort of an unofficial co-op and even had one of them acting as a doorman – keeping track of whose rooms were rented out.
Across the road we finally discovered that the Hotel Nacional had a huge cigar shop, to the right once you enter through the main doors. Then down a hallway down to the right past the lifts. We already had our cigars, but it was good to know. Wandered back up to the old quarter for lunch at a Middle Eastern place which was surprisingly good.
We decided to head up to the Nacional for a farewell to Cuba mojito and to smoke the last of the cigar. The cigar had gone stale, the mojitos were more expensive than we remembered, and there was a caberet show on.
Instead, we walked across the road and went to a place with plastic chairs. There were only locals there, and us, good cheap food, and a lot of drinking, singing and laughing from a few tables celebrating a birthday. It was a
much more appropriate end to Cuba.
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Sam
non-member comment
Best rum I've ever had was from Guatemala: Ron Zacapa. If you get it, try it. And I hate rum.