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Published: November 22nd 2008
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Viva la revolution! I don’t know quite what I expected of Cuba, an idyllic microcosm of a fair and just society, all happily working and living side by side free from jealousy and injustice? Suffice to say my idealistic perceptions were rather shattered by the attitudes of those we met... although one must remember that the people had just gone through an incredibly destructive hurricane, and had another on its way and the general attitude where politics was concerned was, to paraphrase; ‘it would be better to have Fidel ruling the country lying on his bed, than Raul on his feet.’
Our Cuban ‘adventure’ began at the airport as James’ credit card was swallowed by the ATM at the airport.. Several hours later, somewhat miraculously, it was retrieved from the back of the machine by a less than gracious lady. An expensive taxi ride of 25 convertible pesos (the equivalent of a Cuban’s monthly wage) was taken to our Casa Particular, ‘Casa Iraida,’ from which we were taken to a different house, ‘Casa Ana’s as Iraida’s was full... Ana’s was lovely, although her husband was miserable, and we spent a happy two day enjoying the luxury of clean sheets,
a large double bed, our own bathroom, and no need for mosquito nets. We also managed to see jazz band at ‘La Zorra y El Cuervo’, (‘The Fox and Raven’) the most famous jazz club in Havana. We were informed on many occasions following this, however, that the Cuban people hate jazz! Less fortunate was our trip on Sunday to Playa del Este, were we spent most of the day hiding under a decrepit stone building while a tremendous thunderstorm played out dramatically directly above us... there was no counting time between the thunder and the lightning in this storm, they were simultaneous. A cold afternoon and an early night ensued. It was still raining heavily the following morning as we made our way to the bus station for the bus to Vinales.
Vinales is a delightfully small and friendly country town in a beautiful valley surrounded by tobacco farms interspersed with the odd coffee plants and sugar cane. Some of the best leaves that go into your typical Havana Cigar come from here (although a Havana cigar is a mixture of leaves from all over - the Vinales tobacco is weaker but smoother, or so we were
told). The place has a pre-industrial feel to it, fields are worked manually using wheel-less ploughs which are pulled by the bulls who wonder around the campo’s (farms) at their leisure. The odd tractor sits motionless on the side of the road. Chickens, hens, pigs, ducks and other livestock roam the streets freely, sauntering into people’s houses from time to time (provoking no sort of reaction).
5 relaxing days were spent at Casa Leonel y Amarillis - the most accommodating and kind couple in Cuba! They spoke no English which was a struggle, but a productive one. Great meals were provided each evening from which we saved a plate for lunch the following day and were still too full to move for several hours afterwards.
Activities included a guided tour of the surrounding farms on which we were shown how cigars are made and consequently bought both bad cigars and bad coffee. We were also taken to a sugar cane press and watched the process of extracting the juice from the cane. First, the ends of the cane are chopped by machete on a huge custom-made trellis, somehow reminiscent of an executioners table. The cane is then taken
to another worktop where it is beaten between the joins with a big block of wood to ‘ready the cane’ in the words of our guide. The press itself, exclusive to Cuba, was about the size of a sewing machine, made up of two rollers which were turned by a handle on the right. The cane was pushed through the rollers and the juice flowed. It was remarkable to see how much juice one can get from a seemingly arid stick. We were given a huge glass of the sweet stuff each, after chewing a substantial amount of cane on the way to the farm, and then we departed... buzzing.
Other trips included a trip to the beach (where we were attacked by a swarm of giant mosquitoes and consequently drank too much rum to console ourselves), and a cycle ride around the valley, taking in pre-historic paintings (re-touched many times using bright modern paints), beautiful views and a couple of expensive tourist traps which we admired from a distance.
On Saturday, we made our way to the coastal colonial town of Trinidad. We managed to negotiate a cheap room with breakfast included - although the man
of the casa ‘Norli’ continually reminded us of how little we were paying throughout the stay.
Our first day was spent checking out the various Playa’s (beaches) of the area on bicycles we had hired from Norli’s mate. We eventually found ourselves at a seemingly private beach, guarded by a man in a hut who took us snorkelling (individually - the other person had to guard our things) around the half-dead coral reef and sent his mate off to his mother’s house to get her to make us a lunch of fish and rice.
Trinidad itself is a quaint town, though far more touristy than Vinales, and we found ourselves being hassled quite a lot. We spent most of our time there simply wondering around, learning some Spanish and Salsa here and there (neither of which we’ve mastered at all), climbing some mountains and beholding the views etc. We also managed to obtain some local currency which made a favourable impact on our budget.
Our last day was spent sitting in various squares and trying to comprehend the rapid Spanish announcements coming from megaphones atop the military vehicles circling the streets. Although we couldn’t understand the Spanish,
it was clear that they were announcing the coming of another hurricane and advising people to take necessary precautions etc.
Our penultimate trip was to Santa Clara where we spent one night. We had hoped to get a guided tour of the town and get some inside info on the revolution etc. Instead, we spent the day wondering around hungry and uninformed. The revolution museum itself was interesting however, and we managed to find a cheap taxi that agreed to take us back to Havana (all the busses had stopped running due to the impending hurricane), so all was not lost.
We ended up, after much confusion, staying with a lady called Martha. She was incredibly generous and kind to us, cooking dinners, washing our clothes without expecting any payment - this was highly unusual. She spoke no English so it was a good opportunity to practice Spanish and we spent long periods talking and vaguely comprehending each other.
We felt rather sad leaving Cuba, the place we had thus far spent the longest in... and we had just started to feel that we understood how to get by there. Always the way!
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Yogi
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Viva la.. what?
Excellent read Lauren... interesting adventures that have the effect of increasing our jealousy levels (of which, unlike the Cubans, we Europeans are not free)... Keep up the good work. We miss you loads over here. Yiorgos (dude where the fuck's my car)