Havana to Vinales
26.7.10
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We woke to a crisp blue sky in the Vedado area of west Havana. Anita had not slept well as the security guard at the Casa Particulares (Bed and Breakfast) had been a bit noisy through the night. We asked Mayda over breakfast why she had a security guard as it seemed to be a very safe neighbourhood. She replied, "I always get a security guard when an Italian stays. You never know how they will go when they bring girls back. And sometimes the girls are under 18 so I always check their papers." We chortled on our eggs and toast as we realised her main clientele were Sex Tourists and their Jineteras/prostitute "girl friends". Hmmmm.
We were soon on our bikes rolling west to the Sierra Rosaria and the last leg of our very long cycling trip. Our final and last 6 days of riding - some tough, some easy, but all beautiful and full of reminiscing on nearly a life time full of adventure packed into a year.
The scenery was splendid until we reached Mariel where we turned in land. We stopped at the petrol station to buy some soft drink and some ice cream. In a country where it is close to impossible to buy milk (as a tourist) - ice cream is a cyclist necessity. I KNOW - the suffering, the HARD ships! Nestle Ice Cream has clearly moved into Cuba and they must be loving their market position with no competitors and a country of consumers excited just to be able to buy some ice cream. The freezers seem to generally have one flavour - either chocolate, vanilla OR Moncada (Caramel - sort of) but rarely all three at once. In some locations you might be lucky to find specialty ice creams on a stick but we always stuck to the tubs; at $1.35US for 450g it was a bargain!
Feeling super charged with Ice Cream we powered out onto the curious, demoralising, and empty Auto Pista (highway). Cuba's Auto Pistas are an anomaly. Sometimes 2 lanes but often 3 to 4 lanes wide in EACH direction they have to be some of the most under utilised pieces of infrastructure in the world. As you roll along these highways the reality of so few vehicles makes you think that Armageddon has already arrived to planet Earth. But maybe it wasn’t the empty highway that was demoralizing. Likely it was the head wind and the fact that we weren't ever quite sure where the turn off was. We asked at every intersection and off ramp - sometimes having to back track just to confirm our course. Finally at the town of Cayajabos we reached a consensus where two out of three people agreed we were correct to turn off despite the insistence of that one cheeky fellow that clearly didn't know what he was talking about.
The highlight of the nearby park of Las Terrazas is the vegetarian restaurant called El Romero. We stayed at a B&B outside the park and had to ride about 8km to find it. But OhMyGod were we glad we made the effort. The guide book described the place as something out of San Francisco and we couldn't have agreed more. It was about as UN-Cuban as you could get without leaving the island. Tempura vegetables, Bean Pancake, Potatoe delights, Cactus & Pineapple Juice, Anise coffee, and homemade Vanilla ice cream. After lunch we rode up to check out the high class eco Hotel Moka and slipped into the pool for some terrific "trespass" relaxation in the sunshine. I tipped the bartender and he happily let us hang out with the other guests for the rest of the afternoon. Amazing what you can get away with when you have some audacity and a bicycle!
As we rolled up to the intersection the next morning we had to convince our bellies that El Romero was still closed in order to gain acceptance of the sad fact and roll on without eating again. We soon arrived at yet another T intersection and made our last big adventure decision of the year. The guide book recommended we head south where there were plenty of hotel options and easy riding. We went north because there was no where to stay in the guide book and it had more adventure written all over it. In a moment of frivolity and spontaneity we threw ourselves to serendipity. By lunch time we were sitting in a restaurant with a menu that should have been titled “We rip you rotten”. After ordering the minimum possible we evacuated and found a Peso pizza joint where the food was worse but at least we were paying a more appropriate quality/quantity to price ratio. Needless to say, serendipity in Bahia Honda seemed to be as far away as Sri Lanka*! But cycle touring proved itself again with friendly folk and finally the cosy Casa Particulares called Villa Jose Otano in Playa Mulata. Salvation was ours as it was the only place to sleep for about 60km.
Jose, Maria and their daughter Cari were simply lovely and the Pargo(?) fish was to die for. Our luncheon memories soon faded as our appetites were appeased we sat on the porch of the tiny bungalow, rocking in the chairs and watched the local community stroll, roll, drive and tractor by. In Playa Mulata we surmised that every child is made a rocking chair at birth and that they carry that treasured piece of furniture throughout life – every porch in the village had a minimum of 2 to 4 rocking chairs on each porch.
When we rolled into Puerto Esperanza the next day we were disturbed to find that half the town was calling out to Anita. We soon learned that Cari had called ahead and to ensure we didn't leave she had told our new host Teresa that Anita loved lobster. Lo and behold just as we arrived Lobster! was ready for us and Yes! we were ready to all of it. And then Lobster was ready again for dinner that night. It was nearly ready again for breakfast but Anita determined that we might be depleting the national resource and therefore graciously declined.
Our last night of cycle touring was spent camping at Cayo Justia. It took a whole bunch of convincing to get Anita to accept her last challenge but she finally caved into my incessant requests and granted me my final wish: to camp on the beach. The beach at Cayo Justia is beautiful and one day may have one of those all inclusive resorts splayed all over it. Fortunately for the time being there is only a restaurant and if you are polite you can camp there for a night. It wasn't cheap as there were a few different people hanging around with their hands out but we dutifully paid the minimum required to ensure future cyclists are greeted equally enthusiastically. It is a day and night that neither of us will soon forget. We met a couple of Canadian girls that were cycle touring in Cuba (Hannah and Leyla?), an older British woman with her young Cuban boyfriend and Miguel the park/security guard. With the sun setting over the sea and our bellies full of seafood and a few beers the hard sand was a small price to pay for a sleep just 5m from the sea. (Right Anita!? :^)
Our last day on the road ended at Vinales. They say Vinales is Cuba's largest hotel with nearly 300 Casa Particulares. Most of the B&B's only have one room but if your chosen place is full you just knock next door until you find one you like. Vladimir and Gladys were great hosts and they maintained the reputation set by nearly every B&B we had already stayed with in Cuba: great food, lots of food, clean rooms and good beds. Vinales was the end of our line. The end of nearly 12 months of cycling and associated adventures. The beginning of the end of what many might describe as the Honeymoon from Hell but for us it was the end of a beautiful time in our lives and the start of our new life together.
But while the riding was over, in reality the adventure won't ever be over. The next day we had one of those perfect days of travelling. The local baseball diamond was 3 doors down from the B&B so we sat down at about 11am to watch an inning. The players weren't going to get a gig in the American League but the pitchers were throwing some pretty fast balls. While we watched, a local tried to drum up a tour opportunity by telling us about the "Bailer de Gallo" that day and the concert later in the afternoon. We thanked him but declined and set out for the Mural de la Prehistoria. As we started our walk we were very impressed by the karst limestone rock formations. Supposedly the landscape was all up on a plateau but many years ago the underground streams ate away at the limestone and it all gave way and collapsed to form the Vinales Valley of today.
It was VERY hot in the sun and as we strolled we could hear an increasing noise that sounded like rain falling. It was very strange until we found we were being passed by many men riding on horse and cart and realised the noise was coming from people. When one young fellow stepped out of the cart and fell down and his Rum bottle dropped from his hand we knew we had stumbled onto the "Bailer de Gallos", the Dance of the Roosters or Cock fighting. With a little convincing Anita agreed to sit through one round. The Dance of the Roosters is a curious affair. Many people find it too cruel to contemplate never mind watch. To be honest, after so many sleepless nights in Spanish South America BECAUSE of Roosters, I was somewhat morbidly fascinated at the thought of one of those noisy, irritating creatures meeting its maker.
The roosters somehow become agitated in each others company that they start to fight. The owners put spurs on their legs to help the fight but most of it is simply instinct that drives the fight. The crowd is 99% male. They cheer for their favoured rooster. The stadium is behind a bunch of trees and bushes and a LONG way from the town. There are no children. The roosters are plucked to varying degrees to keep them cool and assist their stamina. They are powerful birds bred purely for the purpose of fighting. The owners must surely do some betting but you can see in their eyes that to them the birds are like minature boxers and the fights like a match for the Heavy Weight Belt of the World. It is quite likely that my morals weren't heavily offended as the fight we watched didn't end in obvious death of the loser. There was a clear loser and he might have died later but he was whisked away while the winner was being declared victorious.
It was fascinating to watch their fighting techniques, from their initial contact with neck feathers blazing to the dance and strike of the fight to the final cowing by the loser. It was a little like watching the National Geographic channel but the heat was on, the beads of sweat on my back, the shouts and curses from the crowd, the owner blowing on his rooster and then spitting in its mouth (to keep him cool and give him a drink?) were all real and in full technicolour with surround sound.
With that experience ticked and no need to watch the next round Anita had already shifted to the outside of the ring. We quietly moved on while the betting for the next round began again in earnest. It wasn't long before we saw our friend from the baseball diamond. He was surprised to see us and more than just a little wistful at having missed a tour guide commission. We laughed and wondered if we might stumble onto the concert next.
Our next spontaneous stop was at the farm house of Menebra(?). We were admiring her grinding some coffee beans in a mortar and pestle and soon we were drinking some of her Cuban Pure Organic coffee. I will taste that coffee memory for many years to come. She was very proud of her house with the solar panels from a French NGO providing her enough power for her lights and TV, a stone bowl for filtering drinking water (6L/day) and propane gas for cooking. It was a nice, albeit simple life she had set up. We bought some ground coffee from her and though I couldn't help but wonder that we had been a little "set up" with the mortar and pestle we enjoyed our small donation to her livelihood.
Across the field from Menebra's house we could see the Mural de la Prehistoria. It was started in 1961 and took 5 years to complete. It is an artistic monstrosity from my perspective but it provided the perfect back drop for, yep you guessed it, the concert! We made our way across the field, ate lunch, watched people, lay on the grass, took photos and finally listened to the band. We were finished before the band or crowd so we started our wander home. We were offered a lift in a horse and cart for $5 but I turned it down as I was feeling cheap and we were rewarded by hitching a lift with a car for free. We finished our day feeling tired but fulfilled with that warm glow of doing it your own way, on the cheap and being rewarded with the perfection of everything coming together as though it were pre-planned but completely spontaneous.
The next day we rose early to do some local touring to get some classic Vinales sunrise photos. The photos didn't meet expectations but we did catch Mark and Mary again (Australian couple in Havana) AND then Kare (from Norway). It was brilliant to chat to some other cycle tourists on the bus back to Havana.
Our last day and a half was spent visiting the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, buying some last minute Cuban souvenirs, checking out a few classic sites for the first, second and third times. The Hotel Habana Libre for its sculpture Carro de la Revolucion, the Real Fabrica de Tabacos Partagas for the Cigars, and the Malecon at midnight for its romantic crashing waves and 19th century style street lights.
I agreed to go to Cuba, slightly under duress as I did feel that Anita more than deserved a break after her amazing efforts from Santiago to Quito. Indeed I think it would be fair to say that we were both feeling a little worn out and decidely dubious about any further serious cycle touring in our future. What I did not expect was to come away from Cuba completely enamoured with the place. The people, their disposition, their dancing, their music, their resilience, their beaches, their food!, even their "all inclusives" and their friendliness are all in marked contrast to how the country is portrayed and perceived internationally. Sure we witnessed the worst of the worst in customer service apathy but we also ate some of the best food we had eaten in all of Spanish America. It is yet another country full of contradictions but that is a cliché all too easily applied to so many countries nearby.
Would I choose to live in Cuba? I can honestly and emphatically say No!
The libertarians will be pleased and say "Yes, because they have no FREEDOM". The capitalists will cheer and say "Yes, because they are so inefficient and ineffective and lazy they have nothing to BUY". The world of the over-privileged will shout for joy that another of the brethren has returned from such a philosophically dangerous place untainted.
The libertarian and capitalist in me understands and holds these statements so true that can be difficult to even consider another world through a different lens or reflect on a different paradigm. Indeed, we have been fortunate to have had these experiences over the last 12 months precisely because we live in a democratic capitalist economy that allows us to save and then to travel freely for a year. One by-product of this investment is unfortunately new a part of me that has some small trace of compassion in it. And out of this compassion springs somewhere inside of me a happiness in the relative fairness of Cuba. Cuba is safe, Cuba feeds all of its people, Cuba houses all of its people, and Cuba provides an admirable level of Medical care to its people and many in continental South America. In short, Cuba shares what it has relatively equally with its people.
To us in the wealthy “western” economies, life is often about the choices you get to/have to make. Depending on your perspective, the choices many of us make can send us towards either deep depression or delirious happiness – choosing to stay in the wrong relationship, choosing to sell a house at the top of the market, choosing to not face or accept our worst fears, or determining which couch is going to best suit your new flat. Curiously whether you live in Cuba or you are one of the millions of poor in South America your life is so much simpler and more stable because there are so very few choices to make. I do suspect, sadly for democracy and capitalism, if the world's poor, hungry and homeless were given an unbiased, un-bribed, un-tainted choice; they would choose Castro’s Cuba as if it were a fairy tale of indescribable beauty. And of course once they were well fed, housed and doctored they would immediately start yearning for more….more freedom, more stuff, more wealth...
Posted byStuart Kane at 10:47 PM
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This is an incredibly well written story about a Cuban adventure, thanks for sharing!